#teaching a new batch of kids and that’s always awkward for the first week

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I’m being so strong and brave about everything this week

[nctyhoney]

a helping hand (m)

Pairing: mark lee x fem!reader 

Genre: smut, fluff, office worker!mark, friends to lovers, office!au

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), car sex, dry humping, praise kink

Playlist:  pickled ginger - mac ayres, fill my holes - YESEO, wait for it - H.E.R.

Summary: You were used to workplace flirting. Everyone at some point would have a 'work bae'. Mark was different though, he was your intern. There were things you wanted to teach him, things he wanted to teach you and none of it had anything to do with work.

A/N: Mark in a suit is just too damn cute. This is my first fic on here so thank you for reading! There will be another part to this at some point.

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It’s just gone 8 am and you're on your morning commute to work. You have a car but the traffic in Seoul made it almost impossible to drive during rush hour. Your eyes still feel puffy from sleep, and you hope your mascara has masked their appearance somewhat. As you and a mass of other office workers spill out of the subway station, you're greeted by an autumnal wind. Although it felt mild for the time of year, you couldn't get used to the early morning darkness that the promise of winter brought.

In just 2 years, you'd progressed to head of the marketing team at Hyphen, Korea's biggest publishing house. You were proud to have landed a job at such a reputable company straight out of university, but with each pay rise came more responsibilities.

The elevator reached your floor, 39. Going through to the kitchen area, you put two iced Americano cans in the refrigerator. You weren't a fan of coffee but it got you through the day. As you were organising the refrigerator, you felt someone behind you and turned around quickly - it was your manager. He had a weird way of creeping up on his workers and you found him somewhat seedy. You always made sure to be polite to him, though.

"Morning manager Kim," you stand up, adjusting your pencil skirt slightly.

"Morning y/n! Here bright and early I see. Did you get my email last night?" He asks, his eyes flicking between your body and your face.

"Sorry, what email?" You ask, feeling slightly panicked.

"This year's interns start today. I sent it last night so you probably didn't get a chance to read it."

Crap. Interns. You didn't know if it was your imposter syndrome talking but something about being observed by interns made you feel underqualified. Perhaps you just got a bad batch of interns the first time around. You remembered Kyungsoo and Minhee from last year. Kyungsoo's uncle was CEO of Hyphen and he wouldn't let you forget it. He refused to work and you'd find him and Minhee coming back from their lunch breaks an hour late, often out of the unused stock cupboard.

"No sorry I didn't read it," you apologise, "when are they coming?"

"The receptionist said there are four downstairs waiting. They'll be up in a minute," manager Kim says checking his watch.

You nod, "How many will I be working with this year?"

"You'll each have one intern this year. You'll be working with Mark Lee, he's Canadian. A good kid. I think you'll like him."

Just then, the sound of the elevator reaching the 39th floor alerted you. Four of the interns shuffled out of the elevator.

"Welcome to Hyphen, I'm manager Kim, you might remember me from your interview," he said looking between his sheet with their faces and names and up at them.

"So we have Mark, Haechan, Jeno and Sooji. I hope you enjoy this year working in marketing. This is y/n, she's head of this department."

You exchange handshakes and bobs of the head, feeling relieved that these interns at least look shy rather than cocky rich kids.

"Mark you'll be giving y/n a helping hand this year. Y/n, I know you'll make him feel welcome. The rest of you, let's find the workers you'll be shadowing," manager Kim says before they're off out of the kitchen to one of the conference rooms.

Mark is staring at you from a distance, awkward and tense. His black hair falls into his eyes despite styling it neatly for work; he brushes it out of his eye nervously.

"Tea?" you ask him, grabbing your two favourite mugs out of the cupboard.

"Oh, yeah, please - if that's not too much trouble," Mark says hesitantly.

"Of course it's not. You can sit down, we don't start work for another 20 minutes."

He does as he's told, opting for one of the chairs closest to the kitchen worktop.

"Do you take sugar?" You call over to him.

"Two," he replies, fiddling slightly with his wristwatch. This boy is endearing you think, definitely an upgrade from arrogant Kyungsoo.

"How are you feeling about interning here?" You ask, stirring his tea, before coming to sit at the chair next to his.

He takes the mug, "Oh, thank you. I'm kinda nervous I'm not gonna lie, but thankful to be here."

You laugh, his casual tone is refreshing but he catches on and apologizes quickly.

"There's no need to apologize, you can be informal with me. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," you say, catching his eye over the rim of your mug. He's blushing slightly, and you wonder why you are too.

♡

It's been 3 months since the interns came. December comes and with it is an endless rain.

In those 3 months, it didn't take long for you and Mark to grow close. Sure, he still had his occasional shy tendencies but you spent all your working hours together. Rather than a forced relationship between a senior and their junior, this was something you both saw as natural.

You're just not sure if the feelings you've developed are natural, too. His eyes hold onto yours for longer at company dinners, his hands linger at your waist when he reaches to get a file from the shelf in front of you. And it sets something off in you. You crave the contact. Mark Lee is driving you crazy.

You certainly weren't imagining these moments. You were used to workplace flirting. Everyone at some point would have a 'work bae'. Mark was different though, he was your intern. There were things you wanted to teach him, things he wanted to teach you and none of it had anything to do with work.

When you first started at Hyphen, Johnny used to be heavy on the flirting with you, and being from America, he was confident with it. He’d make you cups of hot, sweet tea each morning. He gave you those flirtatious touches on your arms while complimenting you, and he’d always make sure you got home safe after a company dinner. But he also had a long-term girlfriend and you knew nothing could come of it. Johnny still flirts with you, but that’s just him. And when you first began working at the company, you fell for it...almost. It happened a second time, with Jaehyun but then you learnt that these were just the ways of the office.

Today was a Friday, which meant your division would have drinks with the manager. You weren't keen on drinking, especially not with your manager but your coworkers made it bearable. And since the CEO was attending this week, the manager wouldn't be bothering you, Yerin and Mina for the entire night.

You lean over Mark, reading through the document on his laptop. He's edited the press release you wrote for a new book launch.

He shifts around in his seat. You can't tell if he's nervous about you reading his work or nervous about being sat underneath you. You hope it’s the latter option, though. 

"As expected from our Markie. You're really helping me by editing these documents, it's great - thanks," you smile, moving away slightly.

He's blushing a violent shade of pink and touching the back of his neck. He couldn't get any cuter.

"It's not fair that y/n gets such a helpful intern. Sooji left early when she promised to help with my reports, that's the second time this week," Mina huffs, folding her arms.

"It's compensation for the hell I went through with the interns last year," you laugh.

Johnny walks up to you and nudges you playfully.

"Nah it's not compensation. Y/n is just so hard-working, that's why they gave you the most hard-working intern," he says winking.

Mark looks between you and Johnny, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, thanks for that Johnny but that's definitely not true. Not the part about Mark not being hard-working...or me, I mean, I am hard-working, just not the most," you stutter, suddenly feeling foolish.

Luckily it hits 5 pm before anyone can dwell on your tongue-tied speech. You're all tidying away, turning off your monitors and getting ready for a night of drinking.

You catch eyes with Yerin and go to the bathroom to touch up your makeup.

You're reapplying a dab of lipstick and Yerin brushes her face lightly with powder. She stops for a moment, glancing at you.

"You don't still like Johnny do you?" Yerin asks.

"Johnny?! No way, I'm not going back there," you laugh.

"You seem nervous around him," Yerin points out.

"Come on Yerin, that was awkward. It's weird when someone hypes you up like that. It's bad enough being marketing lead now, it's like I'm expected to be some bigshot when I still feel like a uni student," you admit.

"Yeah, I understand, but you're totally capable. Could it be that you’re feeling shy around a handsome, new worker, I wonder?" Yerin winks.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time with Mark recently. I'm left to take lunch with Doyoung. I mean I'm not complaining but you know, Mark does look kinda smitten."

You look over at your friend and catch her looking back at you, expectantly.

"We have to look after our interns, Yerin. And it's not every day that you get such a hard-working one like Mark. Remember the hell I went through with Kyungsoo? Let's just say I'm relieved I've got a good worker."

"Right...so you don't think he's even a little bit cute?"  

Hell yes, you did. But you couldn't admit that, could you?

"He's cute but like, in a little bro way. He's too goofy for me to see him romantically," you bluff but you know Yerin can see right through you.

"He's an intern, what's the harm? As long as Kim doesn't find out," Yerin says.

"Yerin! You're talking nonsense."

"I've seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you," she laughs.

"The way he looks at me?" You blurt out, "The way I look at him? We're just good coworkers."

"Girl, you're such a bad liar."

♡

Yerin's words stay in your head for the entire night. Suddenly you're thinking about what Mark's lips would feel like against yours. Wondering what it would feel like for him to touch you, more than the light touches in the office. You've thought about it before, of course. But mostly while touching yourself in bed.

Mark is sat at the low table opposite you, Yerin and Mina at either side of you. Mark is laughing, taking a shot of soju as Johnny pats him on the back. He clearly can't handle his alcohol because he's giggling like a school kid and his face is already flushed. He looks stupidly cute and you realize how much you want to hold him, feel his flushed cheeks underneath your palms. But you peel your eyes away, tuning in to a conversation Yuta and Mina are having about Christmas holidays in Japan.

Manager Kim announces that him and the CEO will be moving to drink somewhere else, stumbling from the long table and telling you to enjoy your night. You all know where that 'somewhere else' is, but you don't bother questioning it. Corporate culture can be parasitic.

Even so, you're relieved that they've left, the atmosphere less stuffy now. Things feel playful and flirtatious. Jaemin is whispering in Jeno's ear and Jeno is laughing. Yerin's hand is dangerously placed on Doyoung's thigh. 

You can't snatch glances at Mark anymore because he's looking right at you, his eyes filled with something you haven't seen before..lust? Maybe your tipsiness is altering the situation but you like it.

“Shall we play truth or dare?” Lucas grins, clapping his hands.

“Let’s just do truths, we’re in public,” Jaehyun points out.

“I second that! But this stays between us, company oath,” Mina says, taking an empty soju bottle and spinning it on the table.

The bottle lands on Jungwoo first and Jaehyun and Mark nudge him on either side, laughing.

“Jungwoo! Who would you date out of everyone here?” Mina asks.

Jungwoo’s eyes are playful and he throws his head back laughing.

“You want me to be completely honest? I’d probably say Lucas,” he says without hesitating.

Everyone is laughing and teasing the pair, except for Mina who nudges Lucas in the ribs to stop him from smirking.

“Moving on, where is the riskiest place you’ve ever had sex?” Jaehyun asks, spinning the bottle as it lands on Mark. 

Mark rubs at his nose, looking at you momentarily. You pretend to focus on your soju shot but you’re listening carefully. 

“I mean…a car I guess?” Mark chuckles, he’s bright red now and you feel jealousy rising inside of you.

Why were you jealous? He wasn’t even your boyfriend.

Johnny is ruffling his hair but Mark looks up at you, looking slightly shifty. Maybe you understand how Mina feels now. You can’t look at him.

“Okay, moving on,” Mark says taking the bottle, “Do you like anyone here?”

It lands on Jaemin and he reclines back in his seat. He raises an eyebrow, “Sure, they like me too.”

Everyone laughs at that and Jeno just shakes his head cutely, everyone knowing they’re practically an item at this point.

“Who would you make out with right now if we were doing dares?” Jaemin asks.

The bottle lands on Johnny. It’s Mark’s turn to pat Johnny on the back now and Johnny just smiles to himself.

“Aren’t you gonna answer, Johnny?” Yuta laughs.

“I’d make out with y/n” Johnny shrugs.

There are collective gasps, and you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. That wasn’t what he was supposed to answer, surely? He had a girlfriend; he could’ve passed on the answer. You look up at Johnny and as if reading your thoughts, he shrugs.

“I had to answer,” he says, putting his hands up defensively.

You laugh then, typical Johnny.

There’s a playful glint in Mark’s eye. Was he that unaffected? You suddenly felt annoyed, foolish for feeling jealous about Mark’s confession.

“If you could have a threesome with two people here, who would they be?” Johnny asks.

It lands on Yerin then, who is already flushed with embarrassment at the question.

“Doyoung, and hmm..” she pauses looking around, “Probably y/n, because we’ve seen each other naked.”

“What?!” Mark, Lucas and Jaehyun say simultaneously. Mark just about chokes on his soju.

“Calm down Mark, looks like someone’s getting a bit turned on,” Yuta winks but Mark’s eyes are still wide, shocked by Yerin’s statement.

Yerin was your best friend, all best friends had seen each other naked. It was perfectly normal. At least it was for you two. 

“It’s a girl thing,” Yerin says simply, taking another shot.

“Oh! I have a good one,” Yuta says grabbing the bottle, “Have you masturbated thinking about anyone around this table?”

Of course it lands on you. To be honest, you had touched yourself thinking about 3 separate people at the table but no one needed to know that. Everyone’s silent and you don’t know where to look. You could lie, it would save your reputation but where would the fun be in that? You were all as tipsy as each other. So you reply with a small “yes” instead.

“Who was it?” Jaehyun asks. 

“I’m not gonna answer that,” you laugh.

You try not to blush but you can’t help it and cover your face with your hands momentarily.

“She’s thinking about them again!” Yerin nudges your shoulder.

You didn’t want to look, you didn’t want to see if Mark was staring at you so you take the bottle to ask the next question quickly.

“How many people have you slept with in total?” you ask, spinning again.

It lands on Doyoung, his eyes are wide and he looks confused, you can’t help but laugh at his cute expression.

Yerin is smirking, expectant.

“Hmm...maybe fifteen?” Doyoung says, tilting his head.

“Fifteen! No way,” Johnny laughs but Doyoung just nods.

“You said you wanted the truth.”

Yerin looks slightly pissed as she pours another shot of soju. It’s only when Doyoung whispers in her ear that her frown softens into a slight smile. She’s got it bad, you thought.

“Let’s stop the game now, I don’t want to hear all these details,” Mina says, side-eyeing Lucas.

 “Yeah I didn’t even get picked,” Haechan huffs, “Let’s just drink a bit more!”

"Hey," Yerin murmurs in your ear over the noise a few moments later, "I'm going home with Doyoung, I'll see you on Monday."

"You naughty girl! Have fun," you laugh. She blows you a flirtatious kiss as she leaves, her arm in Doyoung's.

It's gone midnight when you and your remaining coworkers spill out onto the street. 

"To the next bar, let's go!" Haechan shouts, stumbling as Johnny props him up.

"Dude, you've had way too much to drink. I'm getting you in a taxi," Johnny says. 

Sooji and Jaehyun also opt for getting taxis, following Johnny down the street.

"Are you coming y/n? Mark?" Jaehyun calls.

"I think I'm going to get some food first, I'll see you guys on Monday," you say before you realize. You're not even hungry.

"Yeah me too, see you later!" Mark waves.

You say your goodbyes, leaving you and Mark to walk the opposite way. Mark follows your step, but he's taking his tie off, undoing his top button because he's hot from drinking even though it's the middle of December. The sight of him makes your stomach flip.

"You don't think they'll suspect anything, about you coming home with me?" you ask suddenly.

Mark raises an eyebrow and looks at you, "Who said I'm coming home with you? I thought you wanted food."

"Yeah...yeah, just they might think something else."

Mark shrugs, "Do you care what they think?"

"No, and I guess everyone's fucking each other anyway," you say emphatically.  

"Exactly. Everyone in the office knows we're friends, let them think what they want," Mark says.

"I guess you're right."

"So where are we going?"

"McDonald's?" you ask.

"I don't really feel like food, to be honest," Mark chuckles.

You turn to Mark, "You're seriously just gonna watch me eat?"

He shrugs, "Why not?"

His eyes are glazed over and shiny from the alcohol, his lips formed into a little pout. It takes everything in you not to kiss him right there and then on the street. 

"You're so weird when you're drunk," you say instead, "Seriously, where do you want to go? If you're not going to eat, we might as well go home. I mean...you go to yours and I go to mine."

Mark pulls at his ear, thinking for a moment. But it doesn't really look like he's thinking, more like pretending to think. You can see the trace of a smirk hiding on his lips. This whole conversation feels weirdly contrived. You want him and you're pretty sure he feels the same way.

"I could come with you? Just, you know, to make sure you get home safe," Mark blurts out.

You can't take it anymore. You want Mark Lee so bad it hurts. "Right, okay...well, shall we go now?"

Mark nods and you haul a taxi, just as it starts raining.

♡

Mark is stood in your bedroom doorway, looking as awkward as when you first met him. Now you're not so sure if it was a good idea to invite him in.

"I'll sleep on the sofa if you want," he insists but both of you know it means nothing.

You laugh, "Mark, you can sleep in my bed, it's alright. You can sleep on the left side, I'll sleep on the right if you want."

He smiles in response but doesn't move.

"Seriously Mark, I'm not going to bite," you say patting at the bed.

He sits down gingerly then.

"Your apartment is decorated so nicely," he says looking around your room.

You can see the moon outside of your window, already on its descent for another night.

When you turn back to look at Mark, his eyes are on you. You don't know what to say, but you know what you want to do.

"Can I kiss you ?" he asks, confirming your thoughts. He looks down at your lips and back up to your eyes again.

You nod your head, you can't talk but it doesn't matter because Mark is already leaning in and then his lips are moving against yours. His lips taste faintly of soju, but you don't care. You want to taste him and you slide your tongue against his, suddenly feeling desperate. He takes the hint because you're both taking off each other's clothes then until you're both just in your underwear.

"Wait," Mark says, his hands faltering, "Do you think we should be doing this?"

It's dark, only a street lamp and the moon partially illuminating the room. The raindrops are highlighted and cling to the windowpane. You feel melancholic and you realize now more than ever that you want to be held by Mark. You can make out Mark's expression, a mix of flustered and horny rolled into one. You know he wants this too, this dorky, shy intern who was barely able to make eye contact with you is now in your bed.

"Why not? There's nothing wrong  with what we're doing."

That's all the confirmation he needs because he starts to plant kisses on your neck. You stroke his hair as he makes his way down to your boobs.

"You're so hot" he murmurs, taking off your bra.

He nuzzles his face into your chest, breathing heavily before taking one of your boobs in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around your nipple first and then sucks again. His tongue feels warm and wet against your skin. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and needy.

"God that feels so good -  keep doing that," you breathe.

He hums in response against your boob and you shiver. You want to keep hearing him, that voice that you've dreamt about for nights on end.

Mark lifts you to sit on his lap and you can feel his hardness pressing against you.You guide Mark's head back up to meet yours and you're both kissing again. You grind down on him, both knowing you need this. You want to feel him against you and you can't control it. Your movements are instinctual. Mark understands because he's bucking his hips up to meet yours, despite still having his boxers on. You can hear him grunt into the kiss.

"Do you have a condom?" you sigh.

"Shit, no."

You break apart briefly, Mark's eyes are hooded and his lips are swollen. You're almost certain that you look the same.

"It's okay," you say, getting off his lap to sit next to him.

"Wait - what are you doing then?" he asks, a trace of disappointment in his voice.

"What does it look like I'm doing," you say, pushing him lightly so he's lying down on the bed.

You pull off his trousers and he helps by kicking them at the ankles. He's eager now, his eyes hungry.

You pull down his boxers next until he's lying there, his beautiful, fully naked body exposed. You can see the shadowed contours of his lean body, the smoothness of his skin.

You kiss on his thighs, his skin is so soft and you hear his breath hitch as you do it. He's completely turned on now, you're satisfied knowing you've done this to him. So satisfied that you begin rubbing your clit in slow motions as your face hovers over Mark's crotch.

You take his dick with your free hand and pump it in your hand a couple of times. The tip is wet already and you kiss it, the precum on your lips. He whimpers then and you circle your clit quicker, feeling yourself growing wetter. As you lick Mark's tip, his hips raise to meet your mouth.

"I can't show my face when I'm like this," he murmurs, putting your bed pillow over his face.

"No, I want to see you," you say, climbing up to take the pillow.

Mark just turns his face to the side in response, too horny to argue.

You take him fully in your mouth, bobbing up and down slowly before finding a steady rhythm. He groans in time to your sucking motion.

"Fuck y/n, I'm gonna cum soon," he moans.

You hum against his dick, "You taste so good, Markie. Please cum for me."

He holds your head, pushing it down to reach his raised hips and you can feel yourself choking as his tip touches the back of your throat.

"I'm so...close,  fuck" he moans, thrusting into your mouth.

He whimpers and wriggles beneath you, before jerking violently in large strokes as he cums in your mouth.

You swallow it up, but continue sucking, feeling yourself reach your own climax.

"Shit," Mark hisses.

"Oh my god, Mark -" you cry as you orgasm, your center pulsating.

You come to lie next to Mark, kissing him, open-mouthed and hungry. He can taste himself on you and he likes it.

"You were so damn good at that, y/n," Mark whispers.

"You were so good," you mirror, taking his now sweaty cheek in your hand.

"But I didn't get to do anything," Mark mumbles, placing soft, small kisses on your face.

"I came too. It was so hot seeing you like that."

"No seriously - I wanna make you cum, like for real though," he murmurs into your hair.

"Mm?"

"I know you're sleepy now but would you let me some other time?" he says in the darkness.

Mark's dark hair is plastered to his forehead now. He's hot and flushed, it makes your heart want to burst.

"Do you want to see me again? Like...outside of work I mean," you ask, brushing the hair from his eyes to look at him.

He nods, "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Nothing, are you asking me out?" you giggle, pinching his cheek a little then.

He smiles and you know he's blushing.  

"I guess you could say that, yeah," he laughs.

"I'm free then," you say, giving him a small peck on his lips.

Mark pulls you in for a hug. It seems like he wants to say something, whisper to you but you find yourself drifting in and out of sleep quickly. The sound of rain mixes with Mark's rhythmic breathing and lulls you to sleep.

♡

Mark had told you to wait on a nearby street by Apgujeong station. So you're surprised when he pulls up in front of you in his car. It's an old model, just about affordable for a student but it suits him well.

"I never knew you had a car," you point out, climbing into the passenger seat.

"What can I say, I'm a man full of surprises," he winks, laughing because he knew that was as cheesy as it sounded.

"Is where we're going a surprise too?" you ask.

"It might be," he says tapping at the steering wheel with his thumb to the beat of the music. It's a Lucky Daye song.

"You look so pretty by the way," he says, rubbing his nose slightly. You can tell he does that when he's shy.

"You don't look bad yourself," you reply. That would be an understatement, Mark looks like a full course meal right now. Skimming your eyes over his casual clothes, you remember that this was the first time you were meeting Mark outside of work.

You feel good. Despite how cold the late morning feels, the low winter sun is shining, the sky a soft blue.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask when you eventually realize that you're leaving Seoul.

Mark just taps his nose and tells you it won't be a long journey.

And he's right, in the next half an hour, you're driving on Incheon bridge, next to a stretch of blue sea.

♡

It turns out that Mark brought you to Incheon to eat.

You're sat on the floor at a low table of a seafood restaurant. Both of you know how good Incheon seafood is. There's what seems like a hundred different side dishes on the table, and despite both being big eaters, you're not sure if you'll be able to clear even half of it.

"Have the spicy seafood stew, it's delicious," Mark says, pouring you a bowl and putting it in front of you.  

You take a mouthful and he's right, it is delicious. It’s warm and spicy, exactly what you need on a cold day. Mark is looking at you intently, his eyes shining like an eager puppy. He seems happy to see you enjoying your food and that warms your heart. You want to kiss him again.

“The stew is really good for a hangover too, it’s probably what you need,” he says, smiling. 

“Hangover? I’m not hungover, do I look it?” You say self-consciously. 

“No, no, I just meant we both drunk quite a lot last night,” he says, laughing nervously. 

You blush remembering last night and then your thoughts flick back to truth or dare, and how jealous you were. 

Mark must be thinking about it too. "Have you dated any of the guys at Hyphen?" he asks.

You just about choke on your stew, "No, why do you ask that?"

Mark shrugs, "I just wondered. They all speak really well of you, especially Johnny. And you're pretty, why wouldn't they want to date you?"

You laugh then, "Do they?"

Mark frowns a little, "You don't like Johnny, do you?"

"God no, we barely interact these days. No, I haven't dated any of them."

"Did you interact a lot before?" Mark asks.

"Me and Johnny? No, has Johnny said something?"

"Nah, apart from saying he’d date you last night. He just looks like he likes you," Mark says, rubbing his cheek.

You laugh a little then, "No, Johnny has a girlfriend and I wouldn't date him now even if he didn't have one."

Mark relaxes a little then.

"Is there a rule about dating coworkers then or do you just decide not to do it?"

"There's no rule, people just like to keep their personal and work lives private and often separate," you point out.

Mark thinks for a moment, toying with the noodles on his plate.

"What do you like to do, keep things private?" he asks.

"Private or public, I don't care, they can choose," you say quietly.

"Okay...that's good then," Mark says, smirking slightly.

He always has a roundabout way of saying things.

♡

It's 5 pm when the wintry sun sets in Incheon. You and Mark are walking along the beach. It's not perfect weather for it, since it's cold and you shiver in your coat but you're happy to be here with him.

"You need to dress warmer, y/n!" Mark says as he turns to you to retie your scarf properly.

He rubs his hands over your arms to warm you up.

"I'm okay - feel," you say, reaching your hand up to his cheek.

Mark searches your eyes and so it doesn't come as a surprise when he leans in and kisses you. His lips are warm and soft against yours and you feel as though you're melting. The kiss is a light, sweet one and you have to break apart because you feel giddy.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," he says.

"No, I like it."

You look into the fading light and see figures at the busy part of the beach in the distance. It wouldn't matter if you were publicly affectionate, no one would care. But you know if you start kissing him again, you won't want to stop.

You hear the sea breeze and then the first rainfall before you see it. It's soft and gentle but you know if you stand here for much longer that you'll catch a cold.

"Shall I take you home?" Mark asks.

You nod, feeling dazed and slightly lightheaded.

As you get into the car, Mark puts his Spotify on. 'Wait for it' by H.E.R. is first to play.

You peer over at his phone screen, it reads 'sex playlist'.

"There's no way you have a sex playlist," you laugh, pushing his arm playfully.

"Nah, it's just random," Mark bluffs, rubbing his nose in the cute way that he did.

"Well, whoever created this playlist has good taste."

"Yeah, alright, it is mine. But it doesn't mean anything," he says.

You raise an eyebrow then.

"Why doesn't it mean anything?" you ask. You don't know why you're probing but you enjoy teasing Mark, hearing him search for words to form an acceptable answer.

Mark just shrugs though, "I just like this mood...being here with you, I like it. This playlist just represents the mood."

"You're so good at bullshitting, Mark," you laugh but Mark is looking at you seriously now.

I know you on the way, but now I want it I can't take it I'm merely tryna chill, but I'm impatient Stay on my mind Can't sleep at night

“I’m being for real though. Like yesterday, I didn’t tell you but it was the first time someone’s given me head before,” he says, playing with his hoodie drawstrings.  

“What? You’ve never had a blowjob before?” you ask, eyes wide.

“I’ve only dated one girl and she straight up didn’t want anything in her mouth so nah, it was the first time and it was amazing” Mark says. 

“Well there’s a first time for everything,” you smile, feeling happy that you got to share that moment with Mark. 

You look at each other in silence again. It’s a comfortable silence but it’s heavy with intent. You both know what’s coming. 

"Y/n, you know I'm not good with words," Mark says and then he pulls you to him so that you're kissing again.

The kiss is different this time, it's slow and intense as if you're something he craves. It's the type of kiss that expresses he needs you now. His lips on yours feel so good and you kiss him back, mirroring his eagerness. Your hands are in his hair and then he bites at your bottom lip. He's gentle but it drives you crazy. His hands are travelling into your bra now.

"Mark," you whisper against his lips, "Mark we're in public."

"It's crazy, I keep wanting to kiss you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I want to kiss you too, all the time," you admit.

"No one's here to see and it's dark now anyway."

You look around and Mark is right, it is dark. The rain is lashing hard against the window now, the H.E.R. track barely audible. Your breath and body heat is already steaming up the windows of the car.

"Can I touch you? I want to touch you," Mark whispers, kissing your neck.

There's no use in trying to stop, you feel your willpower disintegrating by the second. There's a desperation in Mark's voice. He's wanted this for so long, and so have you.

Before long you're a tangle of arms and legs in the backseat. Someone might find you but that prospect turns you on more than you initially thought. Your stockings and panties are pulled off and your skirt is hitched up now.

Mark hovers over you.

"Can I touch you?" he murmurs, his half-lidded eyes flick over your body.

You try to close your legs, embarrassed about being observed like this. But Mark just parts your legs with a hand, "You're so beautiful. Can I?"

You nod, you're so wet and you want to feel Mark inside you, you've needed it for so long.

Mark finds your clit easily, rubbing at it slowly but it's enough to make you wriggle underneath him.

Mark leans down to kiss you hungrily. He slips his tongue into your mouth as he continues circling your clit, faster now. You moan into the kiss and Mark bites your lip gently again. That habit he had which drove you crazy.

He breaks the kiss, still touching you and looking at you intently.

"You're so wet, do you want me that bad?" Mark teases.

You bite your lip, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers.

Mark massages you in quick circular motions. You can only focus on the sensation now, coming closer to your orgasm. Nothing matters anymore, not Mark observing your body, not the possibility of being caught by someone, nothing at all.

"Mark, Mark - please," you moan.

"Mmm?" he asks, smirking slightly.

"I want you to fuck me," you murmur, suddenly losing all inhibitions.

"But we're in public," Mark's eyes widen and you realize he's teasing you.

"Please, please fuck me, Mark."

You've never seen Mark like this before, so in control of the situation and you feel disorientated because of it.

Mark takes a condom out of his pocket then and tears it open with his mouth.

He pulls his jeans and boxers down, rolling the condom over his length. As he touches himself to adjust the condom, he suddenly looks more like his nervous, boyish self. He concentrates when he's horny and you realize how cute it is.

"I need you now, please," you whisper, feeling increasingly needy.

Mark is so soft for you, you can tell by the sudden redness of his cheeks, the begging turns him on.

"Please, Mark," you mewl, scratching lightly at his left arm propping him up over you.

Mark positions the tip against your center and you whimper at the sudden contact.

"What would the others say if they saw us like this?" Mark says.

"I don't care," you whisper, feeling even more turned on by the thought. You're not doing anything inherently bad but Mark is still your intern. Why did bad things always feel so good?

Mark’s pupils are dilated as he leans over to kiss you again, and then he slips into you without warning. You feel yourself tighten around his dick and he feels it too because he's groaning.

"Oh my god, y/n, you feel so fucking good," he moans into your mouth.

“Better than the last person you fucked in here?” you murmur.

Mark is taken aback but he clearly likes the jealous tone. He bites his lip and nods “Much better, you’re so hot, y/n.”

Mark fucks you gently, moving inside you with slow movements. His breathing hitches and he closes his eyes momentarily. 

"Mark faster," you plead, your voice filled with innocence.

Mark puts a hand on your thigh and the other grabs at your boob as he starts thrusting into you harder.

"Mm fuck," you moan, feeling him hit your sweet spot.

"D-Do you like that?" Mark whispers and you can't even nod in response. You just know he feels so good.

“Who do you think of when you touch yourself?” Mark pants between groans. So he’s thinking two can play at that game. 

“Ah - it’s you, I think of you Mark,” you moan.

He licks his fingers before placing them on your clit and rubbing once more. The combination makes you a moaning mess and you can't think of anything but your approaching orgasm.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks.

“My god, Mark” is all you can manage. 

Mark's strokes get sloppy and he has to grip at your waist with one of his hands to keep steady. Your bodies are both damp with sweat, the leather seats of Mark's car underneath you are wet. You want to melt into Mark, you want to feel like this forever.

It doesn't take you long to orgasm. With a few more slow strokes and a rub of your clit, you pulsate around Mark's dick.

"Mark, I'm  - fuck" you moan, shuddering violently with every pulse.

"You feel so fucking good," Mark grunts and his praise is enough for you to tighten around him once more. He thrusts again, groaning in your ear before he empties himself into the condom. You feel his dick twitch inside of you and pull his neck down for another kiss.

It's sloppy and needy, your tongues against each others in desperation. When Mark breaks the kiss, he collapses on top of you breathing heavily. You both lie there, trying to catch your breath. Mark's dick is still inside of you though and you can feel the warmth of it and the now filled condom.

"Shouldn't we throw the condom out?" you whisper, stroking the back of his neck.

"I like this feeling, though. Can't we just stay like this for a while?" he says and you feel shy knowing he's still inside of you, that he likes the feeling of you.

"I don't think I can keep away from you," Mark whispers into your hair.

"Me neither," you say as he props his head up to look in your eyes.

"You know yesterday I asked if you cared if people at work knew about us - did you really mean that? That you don't care?" he asks, his eyes are wide like a puppy’s and you know you're too far gone, you want Mark to be yours.

"I don't care at all, Mark", you say, stroking his hair and then his cheek.

"I'm gonna pull out now," Mark chuckles, pulling himself out of you and taking the condom off.

He pulls his boxers and jeans up and you do the same, adjusting yourself into a sitting position.

Mark opens the car to dispose of the condom. Luckily it isn't as busy as you thought outside thanks to the uninviting winter cold and darkness.

As you both get back into the front seats, you look in the mirror, fixing your hair but not bothering with your makeup, which has sweated off completely.

Mark turns to look at you, "You look beautiful, y/n. Seriously."

"Anyway why did you ask me if I care or not?" you ask, trying to change the subject because you're blushing too hard now.

Mark drives away from the parking lot and back towards Incheon bridge.

His eyes are focused on the road but you know he's thinking of what to say next. 

"I was just wondering, well, if I can see you again tomorrow. For a proper date?" Mark asks.

"We did go on a proper date, Mark, we ate seafood and walked on the beach. I loved it," you say.

Mark bites at his lip. He looks nervous as if everything he's done with you so far has lead up to this moment.

"I can't lie, I really like you. Like to the point where I want to be around you all the time," Mark murmurs and his face is going bright red again.

Your stomach is fluttering from the sudden confession and you're can't look at his face anymore. You press for him to go on, though.

"Mmm?"

"Being able to talk about normal shit, do normal things, it's made me realize how much I enjoy spending time with you. I don't even want to drop you off tonight."

He clears his throat, "I think I've fallen for you, y/n. I know I sound stupid but you wanted to hear it. I like you and you don't have to accept it, we can go back to work and forget this ever happened, go back to norm-"

"Mark," you cut him off, "I like you too. I've liked you for ages, I just didn't want to be the first to admit it."

"Why?" Mark chuckles, his eyes wide. He looks genuinely taken aback.  

"You're my intern! Why would I confess first? That wouldn't be professional," you laugh.

"Well we're past professional now," Mark admits, "But if anyone asks, I can just say I've been giving you a helping hand." He winks then and you can’t believe how easily you’ve fallen for this dork.

As you drive across Incheon bridge back to Seoul, you look out of the window and see the same stretch of sea that you saw on the way there. Except this time, the sea is not a glittering blue, it's black, barely noticeable against the wintry evening sky. The passage of time in Mark's company comforted you, it reaffirmed how much you wanted to see each subtle change of the world with him.

"And to be honest, I don't care if anyone at work knows. It's better if they do know we like each other," Mark says quietly, reaching out a hand to stroke yours instinctually.

"Yeah, they've probably guessed already. I don't mind though, half of them are fucking anyway."

Mark laughs at your candidness. "For real though, the number of times I've seen Jaemin and Jeno come out of the unused toilet together is crazy."

"Don't forget Lucas and Mina in the stock cupboard," you point out, giggling.

"We're going to have to find our own spot before they're all taken up," Mark says, his tongue poking at his cheek. He was such a tease.

You could see the first few stars sprinkled across the sky through the car windscreen. The rain had cleared and it was one of those beautiful, chilly winter nights. Still, the stars made you feel solitary.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," you admit to Mark quietly. 

Mark nods "I'll stay. So the cinema and aquarium tomorrow, how does it sound?" 

"It sounds lovely," you smile.

You see the city skyline in the distance, nothing more than a cluster of twinkling dots. You're excited, the night is young and filled heavy with promise.

[crashingmeteorz]

post-war ba sing se bimbo headcanons

so zuko becomes the firelord, and jin and jet think it’s hilarious. he’s so good at it. he’s so charismatic. they’re like “who the hell is this guy? when did he get mature and responsible???” and song’s like “when zuko wasn’t doing stupid shit, he was stopping you two from doing stupid shit, i saw this coming a mile away.”

jin joins the kyoshi warriors, and is overwhelmed by all the pretty girls she’s working with, but for the most part it becomes a sisterhood. she will forever and always have a severe crush on suki, however, and really, can you blame her? so when suki reciprocates, jin writes song a four-page essay about it.

anyway, when zuko asks the warriors to come to the capital, obviously jin’s there, too. jet and song show up almost immediately after jin does.

“what, you two are hanging out without us now?” song asks them accusatorily. “it’s not fair that only you get to see jin, zuko.”

“yeah,” jet says. “and i used to see zuko shirtless a few times a week. and i thought i was lucky! now jin’s a kyoshi warrior and she gets to see it every day?”

“she does not!” says zuko. “yeah,” says jin, while shaking her head the opposite.

attempts on zuko’s life are about as common as rain showers, so song starts testing basically everything he eats with some of her chemicals. every time she finds something insidious, she tracks down every link in the chain that got the food to him, and finds a way to rectify the situation. she doesn’t trouble zuko with this, because he’s got enough going on. also, he probably maybe wouldn’t approve of her methods.

(song is not inherently violent, but when it comes to her family, she’s downright vicious).

jet wants to get in on the action, but between song’s disarming sweetness and the kyoshi warrior’s intimidation, zuko’s basically protected. what he isn’t, is good with people.

zuko can make grand dramatic speeches all day long, but when it comes to the council, or local government officials, or merchants, or literally even jet, he’s the same awkward kid jet met on the boat to ba sing se.

“you are never going to make it as firelord.” jet tells him from the couch he’s lounging on while he watches zuko practice a very basic interaction in the mirror.

“okay, fuck you, too.” zuko says miserably.

“sorry, i wasn’t clear,” jet says, standing beside zuko. “you are never going to make it as firelord without me.”

jet tries in vain to get zuko to lie better, to present himself differently, to deceive just a little bit, but it just isn’t happening. zuko doesn’t even want to lie, he doesn’t want to be like his father and azula, so they take a different approach.

instead, jet teaches him how to spot liars, and how to play the game. it’s basic stuff, like let silence linger because they’ll want to fill it if they’re afraid you don’t believe them. ask them bizarre questions so they overcorrect. if they’re complimenting you too much, they’re trying to deceive you.

to jet, it’s survival. to zuko, it’s like a whole world has opened up he never knew about. he hangs on to jet’s every word, and at the end, he asks that jet join him in council meetings, naming him an ambassador from the earth kingdom.

this is how jet discovers that he’s AMAZING at politics. he can’t believe how easy it is. he considers taking it up as a hobby when he gets back to the earth kingdom.

“you can’t do politics as a hobby,” zuko says.

“why not?” jet says. “it’s just fun. it’s not what i’m meant to be doing forever though.”

“do you have a mysterious job back in the earth kingdom none of us know about?” asks jin.

“yes,” says song, irritable from today’s batch of poison discoveries, “he’s working full-time as a little bitch.”

the more meetings jet attends, the more he wonders if politics really is for what he’s meant. arguing and debating delights him and, unlike the exhausted zuko, he leaves the debates feeling energized. but it just feels so bureaucratic, so useless compared to what he did during the war.

he’s so torn about it that he finally asks song for advice.

“i don’t know anything about politics,” she says tiredly. he’s playing idly with her hair after she’s had a long day of Keeping Zuko Alive. “why are you asking me?”

“because you don’t hold back,” jet tells her. “because you let me know when i’ve gone too far.”

song’s glad it’s dark in the lounge, because she can’t believe she’s blushing.

“well,” she says finally. “what would you be in it for?”

“what do you mean?” he says. “i just like it.”

“do you like the attention?” song asks. “are you just interested in the drama of it all? or do you want to make a difference?”

“i want to make a difference,” he says confidently. “i want to help the earth kingdom.”

“well, then, there’s your answer,” song says.

“yeah,” jet agrees. “no politics for me.”

“wait, what?” song asks him, because how did he reach that conclusion?

“it’s just smooth talking and paperwork. it’s not gonna help the earth kingdom,” jet tells her. “i’m not selling out.”

“is that what you think zuko’s doing?” she asks.

“of course not,” jet says, rolling his eyes. “but he’s also the firelord. that’s different.”

“and he’s your best friend,” she reminds him. “and you also happen to be on good terms with the avatar and the leaders of the southern water tribe, so you know you have influential people who will hear you out. if you want to make a difference, this is probably the best way.”

he’s quiet for a while. he almost looks disappointed.

“not every battle is on the battlefield, jet,” song says gently. “it’s not as glamorous, or as dangerous. it’s tedious and difficult and boring. but it’s what’s left, after the war.”

“i guess that’s the thing,” jet says sadly. “i don’t know who i am without the war.”

“i do,” song says with so much sincerity jet almost blushes. almost. he’s still, like, cool.

if they fall into a routine where song fixes his hair into something presentable for council meetings and jet forces her to take a break and enjoy the sunshine once in a while, zuko and jin don’t feel it’s necessary to comment.

for like three days.

“you stole my boyfriend,” zuko accuses song after catching her and jet kissing. the fact that sokka’s napping with his head in zuko’s lap as he says so doesn’t seem to faze him.

“you stole my ostrich horse,” she says, for the last time ever, “so now we’re even.”

“what’s with you and guys with weird facial hair?” jin asks as she stuffs her face with fire flakes, her new favorite treat. “first haru and now jet?”

“haru?” jet squeaks.

“i liked haru’s moustache,” song says thoughtfully. “i thought it made him look mature.”

“at least if jet grew a moustache i’d understand what everyone sees in him,” sokka says sleepily. “no offense.”

“you’re just mad i kissed zuko first,” huffs jet.

jet stops shaving that week. everyone notices.

when song and jet finally prepare to go back to the earth kingdom, jet privately asks zuko if it’s true that he and aang are considering founding a city that unites the nations. zuko tells him it is.

“well, i want in. whenever that is,” he says, and jet and zuko hug.

song and her mother open up a hospital and sanctuary that specifically caters to displaced families. jet reunites with longshot and smellerbee, and they drift around but tend to come back to the sanctuary. they often go out on missions to try and reunite families. it’s not quite fighting, and it’s not quite peace, so it’s a good transition for jet and his freedom fighters.

eventually, things slow down and so does jet. he starts walking around the village they’re located in without his weapons. a child asks song where she got the scars on her leg, and when she explains it was a firebender, the child says “oh, did he get in trouble?” song laughs and laughs, because for the first time in years, there are children who don’t know war.

jin doesn’t stay as a kyoshi warrior forever, but she does decide to settle down on kyoshi. she never really wanted the dangerous life, she just wanted some adventure and sort of stumbled into the chaos of jet and song and zuko. the quiet island is perfect for her. she still stirs up trouble once in a while though.

“COME GET YOUR IDIOT SHE TRIED TO RIDE THE UNAGI.” suki writes in two identical letters, one to jet and song and one to zuko.

“okay, whatever suki tells you, i want you to know she’s lying. i DID ride the unagi and it was SICK. sokka was here recently and said someone invented an image-capture thing is that true? because if it is i want you to bring one and come here ASAP so i can do it AGAIN.” says the fervent letter from jin that arrived three days after suki’s.

jet and song arrive promptly, song laden with medical supplies and a sternly-worded letter from her mother to jin. jet brings a camera.

zuko shows up a few days later with the latest in camera technology and a photographer, as well as his one-year-old daughter. he goes all-out because this is his and izumi’s first trip together. jet grumbles about being one-upped.

“you’re the firelord, you’re gonna encourage this?” song asks him, eyes furious but voice sweet as she plays with izumi. “excuse me, song, but the war is over, i have no jurisdiction here. if an earth kingdom citizen wants to exercise her right to be a dumbass she’s more than welcome to,” says zuko in his most diplomatic voice.

“and,” he adds more gently, “i missed you guys.” song still thinks he’s being ridiculous, but she gives him a big hug anyway.

zuko has to firebend at the unagi to stop it from eating jin and song is left to mend jin’s broken arm. jet takes pictures throughout the entire thing, from her climbing onto the creature, to getting thrown, to being bandaged up and laughs the whole time. song produces a second letter written by her mother which she was instructed only to give to jin in the event she rode the unagi.

all it says in neat hand-writing is, “i told you so. now come home so i can feed you, you ridiculous child.”

“i’m 24,” pouts jin, but since she’s the youngest, the group agrees heartily with song’s mother.

the five of them go to the sanctuary, where iroh is drinking tea with song’s mother and trading stories about their new respective lives.

zuko has to return to the capital in three days, iroh’s got his tea shop to run, and jin isn’t planning on staying long because her “super hot girlfriend is doing something extremely sexy” and she has to get back soon.

“jin, please, just talk normal for once in your life,” zuko begs her, bouncing izumi on his lap. “fine,” she says, “she’s being voted in as the leader of the island and i want to be there for the ceremony.”

jet realizes it’s not often he’ll have all the people he loves in one place, and quietly asks song something important.

they get married the night before zuko and jin leave, in front of jet’s freedom fighters and song’s mother and iroh. jin and zuko stand as their maid of honor and best man. zuko cries.

for the first time in almost two decades, all of them start to feel at peace.

ty so much for this au @azenkii writing about it is one of the most enjoyable experiences haha. is this update softer than usual? yes, of course, it’s what they deserve.

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  masterpost

[hattywatch]

K. Hayes -  All My Own in a Big Red Bow

A/N: This is for @hockeyandtaylorswift​, for Christmas. She requested it and I love her and she deserves the world. Also I posted this on my phone so I could get it out asap. Sorry if the formatting suffered.

Prompts:

23. “Chocolate chip is the only cookie that matters.”

24. “Is this the part where we kiss?”

"Kris, are you sure? I don't want to make it awkward. I'll be the only one from your side there." Your sister scoffs into the phone. 

"Babe, it's fine. You know how they Hayeses are. The more the merrier." You do know this. Your sister's in-laws are incredibly warm. They invited you to a pool party this past summer and  text you for your birthday.

You're right. I'm still just a little annoyed that Mom and Dad felt the need to have their midlife-crisis now and jet off to a tropical island for Christmas. They couldn't wait a week?" You hear Kris hum and there's a cry in the background. 

"I'll let you get back to it. Keep my nephew happy. I'll see you tomorrow." Kristen reminds you of the time and tells you to bring pajamas and an overnight bag so you don't have to go home and when you hear the door to the nursery and the baby's cries get louder you assure her that you've got it and hurry her off the phone. 

It could be worse; you'll be with your sister for Christmas at least. You can't really blame your parents. When they made the plans months ago you were still with your ex and planning to travel out of state to see his family, but that was months ago and you'd really rather not be alone on Christmas. The flip side is you'll spend it with your sister's perfect little family, which you're happy about, but obviously a little envious you haven't been able to find your own prince charming yet. They don't make them like Jimmy anymore, obviously. 

_______

When you get to Kris and Jimmy's house the next day you immediately relieve her of the baby, delighted to bounce him around the house on your hip and make silly noises at him. 

Glad you came to see me. I feel really special," Kris yells across the kitchen to you as she mixes up a batch of cookies for later. 

"Don't make me choose, you won't like the outcome. You know where my love lies," you hold your nephew up high over your head and blow a raspberry with your lips, aiming for an engine noise but really just spitting all over yourself. The baby doesn't seem to care much and he giggles and coos before he's plucked from your hands. 

"How's my favorite little man? Huh? You excited for Santa tonight?" Kevin lights up as he talks to his nephew and you're not really sure if you want any kids of your own, but boy does a man who's good with kids punch you right in the ovary. 

"Hey! Give him back, we were playing airplane," you whine at Kevin, all the while smiling at his stupid ugly sweater. He plops a kiss down on the baby's fuzzy head and hands him back over to you. 

"Okay, but I'm next in line. Hand him right to me or I'll never get him. My mom's vicious." Nodding, you wink and promise Kevin exactly that. 

He pats you on your back and bends down to drop a kiss on your cheek, "Sorry, hi. Where's Dennis?" 

"Merry Christmas. I don't know. Hell?" 

Kristen snorts, obviously overhearing you. "Touchy subject, Kev." You roll your eyes. 

"It's not touchy, I'm just being grinchy. We broke up, that's all." Kevin lifts his eyebrows and nods. 

"I'd say sorry to hear it, but Jim said he's a douche." He sits down on the chair across the table from you. 

"Your brother is perceptive and wise beyond his years." Kris drops a bowl of dough on the table in between you and Kevin. 

"If you're in the kitchen, you're helping. Make these into balls and put them on this cookie sheet, please? I want to check on dinner." She walks away with the grace she's always had that you've never been able to emulate, floating on air.

Kevin washes his hands and stands over the table, balling up cookie dough and putting them far too close together on the cookie sheet. When you look over you notice something's missing. 

"Kris? Where are the chocolate chips?"

"They're sugar cookies. I ran out of chips," she calls from where she's bent down checking the roast in the oven. 

"Oh no. I'm running out then. Everyone knows chocolate chip is the only cookie that matters." She nods, placating you like only a big sister can.

"Be my guest. But give me the baby, I want to feed him so he'll take a nap before dinner." She scoops him up and his little face lights up at seeing his mother and your heart breaks with love. 

"Kev, you wanna come?" Glancing at him as you shrug on your coat, he's leaning over the sink washing his hands again, but looks up when you call his name. 

"For sure." He looks at you, brows drawn and mouth in a straight line, serious. "I hate sugar cookies." He gives you a big dopey grin and you are eternally happy your sister married into this family. 

_______

"Not sure how I ended up driving," Kevin backs out of the driveway, turning and looking behind him with his big hand on the back of your headrest. 

Making your eyes big and innocent you smile up at him, "Because you blocked me in and your truck is nicer than my car." You adjust the climate control on your side of the car and he lowers the radio from the buttons on the steering wheel.

"You wanna talk about Dennis?" He glances over at you at a red light and you want to sink into your seat. 

"There's not much to tell. He started seeing someone at work and hit me with it back in September. I just moved out and that was that." It's the truth. It was a pretty clean break, your name wasn't on the lease, you didn't have a pet or child together; it was as easy as packing up your clothes, a lamp and a coffee table and it's like you were never there. 

"You find a new place yet?" You didn't expect Kevin to be so interested in your break-up, but you do get along best with him out of all of your sister's in-laws. You're close in age, goofy, and all too happy to play the part of doting aunt and uncle. 

"Why, you looking for a roommate?" Kevin sighs like you just told a bad dad-joke, but you can see he's sincere so you back off. "Nah, I didn't, though. I'm just back with my parents for now until I can find something. The commute is killing me."

You unbuckle your seatbelt as he pulls into a space at the supermarket, he walks around the car to fall into stride next to you. "I have a place in Boston I never use if you want to use it. Just a one bedroom, but I could give you the key and you can pop in whenever you need it."

That's not what you were expecting, and you're stunned, but you say thank you and promise to let him know if you want to take him up on his offer. You only see Kevin a few times a year, but every time you leave, you wish he lived a little closer because you could see the two of you being good friends. 

He picks up a shopping basket and walks over to the refrigerated section. "You can't get a log of cookie dough, Kevin. That's cheating." 

He throws two in the basket. "I don't know how to make them from scratch. What do I look like, Emril?" You dig your hands into the basket and pull the logs of dough back out to put on the shelf. 

"I'll teach you. They're better from scratch." He concedes and follows you through the store as you call Kris and take inventory on what she has and what you need. Apparently she hasn't been shopping in forever because you need everything except flour.

It feels nice to do such a domestic chore with someone so silly. He tries to sneak sour patch kids into the basket while you're in the aisle looking for chocolate chips. "Are you kidding me?" He looks around like he has no idea who could have put the yellow bag of candy in your basket. 

"You're literally a professional athlete. How can you eat like this."  He cracks open the bag of sour patch kids and pops a cherry one into his mouth. His lips pucker a little at the tart flavor, but it fades quickly and he chews happily.

"Just lucky, I guess. Still have this rockin' bod." He flexes a bicep, but it's useless under his fluffy sweater. 

"You're an idiot," it is hilarious though, so you laugh and steal a sour patch from the open bag. "Let's go checkout, they're going to kick us out since you can't be trusted around a bag of candy."

You use self checkout and Kevin bags. He taps his Apple pay to the terminal before you can even get your credit card out of your wallet. 

"I got it." He shakes his head at you, "You're gunna teach me, so I'll provide the materials," he takes the bag and you walk to the car side by side. 

By the time you get back to your sister's house, you and Kevin are chatting happily about New Year's Eve plans after he mentions he'll be back in Boston for it. Maybe you want to see him again soon, so you don't hesitate to extend an invitation to the house party you're throwing while your parents are still sunning themselves on some exotic island. 

"I mean, it's just a small group of friends. I think Kris and your brother are going to stop by for a little," you think maybe you're not playing this cool enough so you back off a little. "You could bring a plus one, obviously. The more the merrier."

You walk into the house behind Kevin, who is still holding all of the bags, and he is pushed back into you abruptly, pinning you against the front door with his strong frame. 

"Uncle Kevin!" More Hayeses have arrived since you two left, apparently. He shifts the bags to his other hand and steps away from you, lifting up his niece and placing her on his hip."Hey pretty girl," he places a kiss on her fat little cheek and she giggles. 

"Can I ask you a secret?" She says it solemnly and he nods and turns his head so she can whisper into his ear. In true childhood fashion, she cannot whisper for shit. "Is that your girlfriend?" 

You laugh and steal the bags from Kevin's hands and head towards the rest of his family to kiss them hello. Jimmy chooses to answer her first, "That's Aunt Kris' sister." The little girl nods in appreciation at the new information. 

"She's pretty like Aunt Kris. Uncle Kevin, she can be your new girlfriend." He pulls one of her pigtails and lets her down to the floor, "I'll be sure to ask, thanks for the good advice." She seems happy with his response and resumes whatever game she was playing with her grandpa before Kevin interrupted; it looks like guess who. 

"Okay I'm going to make cookies, whoever would like to join is more than welcome." You finally make it to the kitchen and drop the bags on the island. Kevin is behind you a moment later. 

"Sorry, she really liked Brooke. It's kinda hard to explain to a kid," he's mumbling through a totally unnecessary apology so you just cut it short for him. 

"So you're not my new boyfriend? Is that what you're telling me? Because I don't appreciate you doing this on Christmas, Kevin. And in front of your family? Cheap shot." 

Placing your hand on your hip you cock it out and he laughs, "Okay, okay, we can stay together until Valentine's day but then we're through." 

"That's fair," you hold out your hand and shake his, biting back a laugh. 

______

A half hour later finds you and Kevin rolling up your dough into balls and dropping it onto a baking sheet.

"These are way too close together. You know they expand when you bake them, right?" You go back over all the ones he did spreading them out.

"I don't know shit, look at me," looking up you see him holding out his hands gesturing to his sweater, which is covered in flour, white dusted all over navy blue. 

You're staring at him and laughing when he reaches his hands behind his head and pulls the sweater over the back of his head and off and you maybe forget that it's rude to stare. He's wearing an undershirt, stark white against his skin, but it creeps up a bit as he's shucking clothes and you catch a peek of toned abs and have to avert your gaze before you make this sufficiently awkward. 

By the time he's gotten his big, fat head out of his sweater you've gone back to spacing out the dough and doing your best to be cool. Like, you've obviously seen some abs before, they just haven't been attached to someone you actually enjoy and are maybe a little… attracted to?

This is a bad time for this revelation. 

It continues to be a bad time for this revelation when his niece wanders into the room all changed into Christmas PJs. "Uncle Kevin," she tugs on his t-shirt, "I want to make cookies for Santa too." 

He scoops her up and sits her on the counter next to the bowl. "Okay, watch how (Y/n) does it. She's a pro, taught me everything I know." He winks over at you and you grab a fresh baking sheet as he helps her wash her hands over the sink. 

"Okay, first we take a little bit of dough like this," you grab a piece for you and a piece for her, but then Kevin holds out his hand too, so you grab another piece and place it in his outstretched hand. "Then we roll it up like this," you roll the dough in between flat palms and make it into a little ball. 

"Wow," you see her doughy little hands making a wobbly shaped sphere and look at her amazed, "are you sure you haven't done this before? You're a natural!" She grins at you before turning to Kevin, who wears a matching mask of amazement. 

"I never did this before, Uncle Kevin. Look I'm doing good!" He's got so much love in his eyes for his family that you can barely look at the two of them without your eyes watering.

After you pop the tray in the oven you all sit down for dinner, which is just everyone shouting over each other trying to be heard while passing the mashed potatoes around the table. 

Kevin sits next to you on one side and his mom is on your other. She keeps glancing over as you chat with her son and you're feeling as self conscious as ever as she smiles at you when you start helping Kris clear the table for dessert. 

She's whispering conspiratorially to Kevin over your empty chair as you place the mountain of chocolate chip cookies in front of him. He looks miserable. 

Eventually the crowd thins out. Most of Jimmy's family lives close by in the suburbs and they'll be back early tomorrow. Apparently it's just you can Kevin spending the night, since he didn't want to drive back into the city. 

When it's just you, Kris, Jimmy, and Kevin left, the baby long since put the bed, you all leave the dining room in favor of the cushy couches in the living room. You pick up the remote and scroll through the channels before putting on A Charlie Brown Christmas. 

"Classic," Kevin turns his head towards you from where he's reclined on the couch to your right. 

About halfway through, Kris yawns. She exhausted and you understand, but you never could fall asleep on Christmas Eve. "Go to bed, Krissy. We can take care of ourselves. You out-hosted yourself today, you earned it." 

Jimmy stands and pulls her up off of the couch, "Let's go momma Hayes." She complies to him with no hesitation. Before she's halfway out of the room she's turns around and grabs a fleece blanket off of the decorative ladder against the wall and walks back to throw it over you. 

"Kevin called the guest room. You get the couch," she leans down and kisses you on the cheek. "Love you," she hugs you before scampering off to get waiting husband. 

You pause Charlie Brown. "You called the guest room, you absolute child??"

"We can share." He says it low, sleepy and raspy and from the back of his throat. 

Choosing to ignore the warmth it sends through you, you pull the blankets up to your chin, "Bully."

Charlie Brown ends and Kevin pulls the the remote from your hand. "Let's make hot chocolate."

You follow behind him on stocking feet, quiet not to wake the baby or your sister. But then Kevin gets out a pot and pulls cocoa from a pantry and this is no Swiss Miss situation. So, you push yourself up onto the counter next to the stove and watch him move quietly about the kitchen. 

"But you didn't know how to make cookies," you accuse. 

"This is a secret family recipe." He adds all of the ingredients into the pot before opening the cabinet and hiding whatever he reached for in his big hand; he covers your eyes with the other and you can hear something get added to the pot before a cabinet door closes and you see Kevin stirring with a wooden spoon, looking at you. 

"Secret ingredient. You can't know it." You bite the inside of your cheek and push your hair back off of your face. 

"Is it Vanilla extract?" The smug look flattens out in his face and he squints his eyes at you. 

"You're the devil." You laugh, leaning back on the counter before hopping down and over to the fridge. 

"Do you think they have whipped cream" you're hopeful your sister would keep it on hand. 

"Bottom shelf on the door," he's right and you spot it straight away. 

He keeps stirring the cocoa and you pop back onto the counter and uncap the whipped cream before squeezing some out on the back of your hand. You slurp it off and point the can at Kevin when he looks over at you, still licking the back of your hand. 

He tips his head back and opens his mouth, "No, gross you're not putting your mouth all over the nozzle." You slap at his shoulder. 

"I have to stir the cocoa, (y/n)." 

It sounds like a line and you're just about delirious enough to accept it, so you squeeze out a dollop onto the back of your other hand and put it in front of his face. 

He tips his head down and sucks it up, and it's a lot less sexy than you imagined this whole exchange would be, but his eyes do catch yours and they're warm in a way that has nothing to do with the flame on the range. 

The pot on the stove starts to boil and he turns off the heat and starts looking for mugs, while you try to figure out what the fuck you're doing hitting on your sister's brother-in-law. 

He hands you a mug and starts to pour into it when you look up and see his stubble is coated in whipped cream. 

"Uh, Kev," he put the pot gently back on the stove, "you've got a little," you gesture to above your lip, "here." He must be purposely obtuse when he attempts to get it off, missing entirely despite the size of his hand. 

"No, here," you gesture again and this time he tries with his tongue, still missing the sugary cream by a mile. 

"Help a guy out," is what comes out of his mouth. Not one to miss a golden opportunity, you lean over and run your thumb along his upper lip, corralling it. He tips his head up before you can pull your hand away and kisses it softly. 

You tilt your head sideways, trying to figure out your next step, but all you can come up with is to outright ask, “Is this the part where we kiss?"

He nods soberly and steps in-between your knees where you sit on the counter, hot chocolate forgotten on the island behind him, and presses his lips to yours. 

His lips taste like Christmas, sugary sweet and decadent like the cocoa on the stove. You wind your hands up into his hair, thankful that you're propped up on the counter since he's so much taller than you, you're not sure if you'd reach otherwise. 

When his hands slide down from your waist to your hips you bite into his bottom lip and hear two things. 

The first is a little moan, which you're sure came from Kevin, since you could feel it against your own mouth. 

The second sounds distinctly like the clearing of a throat and came from somewhere to the left near the fridge. You gently back away from Kevin, head against the cabinet behind you and spot Jimmy, wide-eyed, but smirking, and holding a water bottle. 

"Just wanted a drink," he holds the bottle up. "You guys can, uh- share the guest room… Just keep it down, it shares a wall with the baby's room." He practically swaggers away and you drop your head to Kevin's chest. 

"Shit." 

The next sound you hear is your sister screeching your name from her bedroom, closely followed by the resulting cry of a woken baby, and lastly Kevin laughing, clear and bubbling up through his chest where you're leaning. 

"Yikes, tomorrow is going to be fun." He kisses the top of your head and helps you down from the counter. Fun indeed. 

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

Festival of Lights (Fanfic)

With the help of several of my wonderful followers (including: @lgbt-fandom-fae @i-was-over-on-the-bench and anons) I was able to write a completely fluffy, angst-free, and hopefully accurately written short story about Lydia celebrating the first night of Hanukkah with Wendy, Wendy’s family, and BJ. 

I cannot thank my followers enough for teaching me about Hanukkah, as a non-Jewish person the last thing I would want to do is incorrectly write about the holiday!

______________________________________________________________

Lydia had met Wendy’s family before. She had gotten to know her parents and her two brothers pretty well in the past two and a half months and she didn’t know why she was so nervous about this particular evening, but when Wendy invited her over for the first night of Hanukkah she instantly worried she’d do something horribly wrong. She had an approximate idea of what Hanukkah was, her family celebrated Christmas when she was growing up but they taught her about other religions. She just wanted to make a good impression because this was the first major family event Lydia had been invited too and she didn’t want to ruin it with her ignorance of their traditions. 

“What can you tell me about Hanukkah?” Lydia asked BJ who was hanging upstairs in the attic with the Maitlands, “Wendy invited me over to her house to celebrate with her family and I have no clue what I’m doing, like I know it’s compared to Christmas but do I get her a gift? If I do what am I supposed to get her? If they pray do I join them or do I just respectfully stand there and listen because I’m not Jewish?”

“Kid you are making a way bigger deal out of this than it needs to be. It’s been a while since I’ve had a real Hanukkah but the worst thing you can do is this.” Beetlejuice gestured widely to her in general, “You freaking out about it is going to make everything so fucking awkward. Think about it, do you think this Wanda is overthinking what she’s gonna do when you invite her over to our humble abode for Christmas?”

Lydia shook her head, she hadn’t even considered Wendy mulling over the details of Christmas. It was just a casual thing in her family, they weren’t even super religious about it, when she was little they went to some church service with her grandparents but that was about it. Mainly it was just a bunch of fun little traditions and being with family. 

“Just follow her lead, and bring me home some latkes. I’d kill for some good ones, my mom was a shitty cook but damn could she make some good latkes.”

Lydia spent the rest of the afternoon casually scrolling through websites on Hanukkah traditions before quickly wrapping the presents she had gotten for Wendy and her family , with the help from Delia, and her dad drove her over to the Blackwood house. Wendy only lived about a ten-minute walk from her house but since it was the middle of December in Connecticut her dad insisted on driving her over. Lydia held the presents wrapped in blue paper anxiously in her hand when he rang the doorbell. Wendy greeted her excitedly with a big smile and pulled her into a welcoming hug. She grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen where Lydia could instantly smell the pleasant scent of potatoes frying on the stove, Wendy’s father yelping when some of the hot oil splashed up from the pan and onto his hand. Her brother Silas was sitting at the table playing a board game with her other Levi who Lydia was surprised was home, Wendy had told her he was in Oregon for a job interview. 

“Mom, dad! Lydia’s here!” Wendy yelled

“Oh, hello Lydia! It’s so nice to have you here, Wendy’s been talking about it all day, she’s very excited you wanted to-”

Wendy gave her mom a look Lydia often gave her family members when they were embarrassing her. She couldn’t help but snicker a little now that she knew Wendy was just as nervous about tonight going well as Lydia was, “I’m excited to be here too!” Lydia set her present down on the table where a few other envelopes and small packages were being stashed. 

Wendy’s father gestured for them to all sit down at the table and handed Lydia and Wendy a bowl of potatoes and asked them if they’d be willing to help him peal some more because he wanted to be sure they had enough ready so that Lydia could take latkes home for her family to try.  Lydia enjoyed the process so much that she ended up helping Wendy’s father fry an entire batch of them, and while hers were more so burned than golden brown he still said they looked delicious. She helped set the table for dinner and everything looked and smelled amazing. For dinner, they had rosemary chicken, latkes, and challah bread which Lydia promptly decided was the best bread that she had ever tasted in her life. Lydia offered to help with the dishes but her parents insisted that Silas and Levi would be more than willing to clean up for them, but judging from the looks they gave their sister it was obvious she must have paid them to do the dishes that night. 

For a while, the family just sat around the table chatting about what was going on in their lives and making polite chatter with Lydia who was now a lot less anxious now that the evening had gone underway. Though Wendy’s family was completely supportive of their relationship Wendy and Lydia kept their physical contact to a minimum, but still managed to hold hands underneath the table. Silas would always groan whenever he saw them doing couples stuff like hugging or holding hands, often teasing them by claiming they were already an old married couple. For a nine-year-old Silas was incredibly sarcastic, it often made Lydia wonder what it would be like if she had siblings but it had gotten to the point where Silas was like an honorary little brother. Lydia didn’t interact with Levi enough to have any kind of relationship with him so any conversation they had that night was pretty awkward in comparison to the casualness Lydia had with the rest of the family. 

“Okay so this part is strange but my family likes to have a contest to see who can eat the most of this one doughnut called Sufganiyot in sixty seconds. They are like super dense and full of jelly, it’s really funny.” Wendy was already doubled over laughing while she was trying to explain the rules, “One time my dad tried to stuff three in his mouth at once and he just got jelly everywhere on the table. It was a sticky mess for like two weeks afterward.”

“Do you have to tell that story every year!” he defended, “You were like six years old I don’t even know how you remember it.”

“Dad how could I forget! I wish I had it on camera!”

Lydia lost the contest miserably, she was only able to eat about two and a half donuts before the timer went off. Silas was actually the winner eating a whole five and three quarters which was extremely impressive considering the next closest had only been able to eat four She probably could have done better but she loved the tasted of them and didn’t want to just swallow them down without enjoying the flavor. Besides the fun part was watching the rest of the family try. Wendy ended up with jelly all over the one side of her mouth. Wendy’s mom, much to her embarrassment, tried to wipe it off before Wendy ducked under her arm and wiped it off herself with a wet paper towel. Silas, feeling extremely confident from him recent victory, challenged everyone to a round of dreidle which later turned into six rounds where chocolate coins Lydia learned were called gelt and small trinkets were added to the pot and the rules seemed to constantly be changing. It didn’t really matter who was winning or losing, she was just enjoying spending time with Wendy’s family. Even Levi was warming up to Lydia, playfully teasing her when the dreidle would land on shin. 

Lydia hadn’t even noticed how quickly the time had been flying by but when she glanced outside the kitchen window it was pitch blackout and the stars were shining in the sky. Wendy stood next to Lydia while the family gathered around the Menorah. Silas, Levi, and Mr. Blackwood were all wearing blue and silver yarmulkes on their heads and bowing their heads respectfully while they began to say the blessing of the evening. Lydia bowed her head respectfully and watched observantly as Mrs. Blackwood took the middle candle that Wendy whispered was called the Shamash and used it to light the first candle. While the first candle was being lit the family sang a blessing in Hebrew by the third repetition Wendy was coaxing Lydia to join them, while she wasn’t perfect with the pronunciation she managed to finish the song along with the rest of the family,  “Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tsivanu l'hadlik ner shel Hanukkah”

The Shamash had been placed back in the Menorah and Mr. Blackwood began to sing a blessing that Wendy explained quietly was called “hanerot halalu” which was customary to be recited after the candle of the evening had been kindled. The family smiled at the end of the blessing and Lydia couldn’t help but to feel to the volume of love in the household while they all stood around the now illuminated Menorah. While it was not a tradition she had grown up with it was a memory that she would forever cherish. She reached out fo Wendy’s hand and grabbed it in hers as her subtle way of thanking her for inviting her to join in the experience. After a few seconds, they all sat at the table again and exchanged presents. Levi and Wendy both got cards with a bit of money in the as well as a little bag of chocolates, Silas got a new video game and a dinosaur lego set. Lydia watched beaming as the family opened their presents from her, she even earned a smile from the hard to please Silas when he unwrapped a remote control car she had gotten him. She blushed when Wendy gushed over how pretty the necklace she had gotten her was. She immediately had her father help her put it on and was holding the blue pendant between her two fingers and grinning in glee. Lydia’s face turned even redder when she received a gift from Wendy’s parents, she and Wendy had already agreed to give each other presents on each other’s respective holidays so Lydia was thrown off guard to be getting a gift from the Blackwoods. She gently unwrapped the tissue paper and held the present close to her chest when she saw the little mason jar filled with gelt coins, her own dreidel, and a blessing written in fancy scrawl.

“I know you said you didn’t want a Hanukkah present because you’re not Jewish but my parents wanted to give you a memento to remember your first time celebrating.” Wendy smiled, Lydia rambled about how much she loved it and hugged everyone in the family. For another hour everyone sat around talking, laughing, and celebrating. It came too quickly when Lydia got the text saying he was in the driveway. The Blackwoods refused to send Lydia home empty-handed and they handed her a bag with leftover latkes and sufganiyot. Just like every time they had to say goodbye the two girls were incredibly dramatic, as if they weren’t planning on facetiming later that night, or had plans to hang out at Lydia’s house for Christmas. When they were sure none of the family members were lurking around the corner Lydia tugged on Wendy’s collar and planted a quick goodbye kiss on her lips and hugged her goodnight. 

The whole car ride home Lydia talked her father’s ear off about how wonderful the evening was and how much fun she had. When she got home she searched eagerly for Beetlejuice ready to tell him all about it, she found him in the kitchen ready to light his own menorah she and the Maitlands had gotten him when he mentioned how he missed celebrating Hanukkah. She was grateful that he hadn't finished celebrating for the night, she felt bad not being there on the first night with him but he told her that he honestly didn’t mind if she spent the night with “Williomehnia”, but she still wanted to be there for him too. Lydia joined them and surprised BJ when she sort of knew the words to the one blessing. She played dreidel with him and her family while they feasted on the food the Blackwood’s had sent home with her. She quickly ran upstairs to her room and returned with a silver-wrapped present and handed it to Beetlejuice who was pretending his heart wasn’t swelling with love when he opened it to find a stuffed bear wearing a Hanukkah sweater. 

Exhausted from a busy but amazing day Lydia went up to her room, snuggled up under the blankets with her cats and smiled as she thought about how a lot had changed for her in the past year of her life, and while for a long time she left like her entire family had fallen apart she was filled with pure love and joy when she thought about not only the family she had but the family she had found, and the family she had joined since she had met Wendy.

[smallerthanzer0]

the closet is a metaphor

(read on ao3)

TAZ Gift Exchange 2018 for @artsytrickster! Thanks to @kravalicious for organizing, and apologies to both of you for the lateness. Happy Holidays - hope you enjoy, and I wish you the best in the coming year!

Summary: When Angus moved into the freshly minted Casa de Taakitz as the new ward of the most fashionable Bird and his shiny new boyfriend, Taako was expecting to learn some new shit about the kid. Of all the weird and terrifying possibilities, he wasn’t expecting Angus McDonald to own approximately four pairs of clothing. 

When Angus moved into the freshly minted Casa de Taakitz as the new ward of the most fashionable Bird and his shiny new boyfriend, Taako was expecting to learn some new shit about the kid.

Maybe he was allergic to sunflower oil (Davenport, nearly a cause of death in Cycle 41). Or he cracked his toes obnoxiously when he got frustrated (Magnus, a habit that still hadn’t faded). Maybe he even cleaned those coke-bottle glasses of his with his tongue (Merle, once, and gross). Cha’boy had been dealing with weird roommates for over a century. He could handle anything.

Of all the weird and terrifying possibilities, he wasn’t expecting Angus McDonald to own approximately four pairs of clothing.

It was fancypants clothing, sure, folded neatly to avoid being crushed by the books that filled up the rest of the kid’s solitary suitcase, but still. Two neat little jackets, four crisply ironed shirts, and three pairs of knee-length shorts. And underwear and stuff, duh. Kid wasn’t a savage.

“Uh, little dude? Where’s the rest of your duds?”

Angus blinked up at him. “That’s it, sir! They’re pretty new, too, so they should last a while!”

Taako peered into the depths of the suitcase like it held the answers he was too cagey to ask for. “Three little detective outfits, huh? Cool, cool… how, uh, how’s that style rut working out for you?”

Angus had yet to take anything out of his suitcase, perching next to it on his bed and drumming his pristine loafers against the side. “Pretty well, I think. Most of the time I’m doing detective work – or reading cool stories and research, which is kind of like preparation for detective work! – so it’s less of a rut and more of a lifestyle choice. Like your hat!”

“My – okay, hotshot, I believe in your fancy detective language that’s called a false equivalence? Because my hat is in my – okay, it’s somewhere in the house, and you’re wearing your detective outfit right now, like you always do. It’s a signature piece versus only piece kind of deal, you dig?”

Angus was looking a little uncertain. “Oh, uh – if it’s not okay I can go get some more clothes, of course-”

“Well, I’m not judging or anything,” Taako said, backpedaling a little at the look in those big brown eyes. “I just – just some thoughts cruising around in the ol’ brain pan-” He sighed. “Look, Ango, Lup and I had a bigger variety of clothing when we were kids, and our bar for a good childhood was five feet under the fuckin’ ground. Do you sleep in those?”

The kid’s eyes were saucer-wide. “I do, but – it’s not like that, sir! I can buy all the clothes I want!”

“Then why?” Taako gestured helplessly at the suitcase, billowy sleeves flopping. “Are they comfy? Is that it?”

“It’s what I’m used to, sir.” The words were careful – a little too careful – and Taako abruptly dropped his arms.

“Okay, Ango. At least you’ve got good taste in suspenders. Maybe you can teach Krav a thing or two, yeah?” He ruffled Angus’ curly hair and got a wobbly smile in return. Right, first day in a new house. Bad time to push.

Was it also a bad time to sweep the kid into his arms and promise him that everything would be okay? Signs pointed to yes.

Instead, he beckoned Angus out into the hallway. “I completely forgot, unpacking on an empty stomach sucks. Let me show you round the kitchen first, natch? I think there’s some cookies tucked in a corner somewhere.”

Three batches, in fact. He hadn’t been sure which kind Angus would like best.

Angus followed him down the stairs, loafers pattering against the wooden flooring, and Taako firmly decided to do the smart thing and let the clothes go.

~~~

“I mean – he’s only eleven, obviously his sense of style hasn’t solidified yet, but that makes it even weirder to have three of the exact same outfit – Krav, what do kids even like to wear these days?”

Kravitz chuckled, snuggling closer against Taako’s hip. Taako could feel his nose pressing into his ribcage, but it wasn’t cold thanks to judicious application of a fuzzy sweater. See, clothes were important! “I think I’m the one person who would know even less about that than you, dearest.”

He groaned and flopped backwards onto the mattress. “I don’t get it. He has money. He has a closet that currently has about twelve items of clothing in it. Even you don’t wear dress shirts to bed.”

“I would have, if you hadn’t taught me better.”

“He’s had skin for more than three months, hon.” He huddled grumpily in Kravitz’s arms, resisting the urge to purr as his boyfriend played with one of his ears. “You think his parents made him wear that shit all the time?”

“I think he lives with us now and he can wear whatever he wants. Maybe he needs some options.” Kravitz hesitated. “Dearest, would you mind if I gave him one of those pajama shirts you bought for me? I think he might like them.”

Taako rolled over to plant a firm kiss on the first part of his boyfriend’s face he could reach – in this case, one of his jutting cheekbones. “You know how I feel about sharing clothes, there’s basically a portal between Lup’s closet and mine. Go wild.”

The next night, Angus was gently coaxed into sleeping in a Kravitz-sized flannel that fit him like a nightshirt. Taako and Kravitz each rolled up one of the overlong sleeves and sent him off to bed with an awkward hug.

Angus came downstairs the next morning with mussed hair and sleeves flopping around like tentacles, a soft smile on his face. “It’s so comfy!”

Taako’s heart had never exploded before – ooh, wait, it had. Cycle 83. This was a much better feeling.

~~~

Magnus came over the next week to finish installing the floor-to-ceiling shelving in Angus’ room – enough to hold all the books he currently owned, and room for the hardcover editions that the kid seemed to attract like they were magnets. He loped into the kitchen with confusion written all over his honest features. “Hey, Taako?”

“Mags! Here, hold this.” Taako shoved a plate of Magnus’ favorite dumplings at his face. Grinning, the fighter pulled up a stool to the kitchen island (of course there was an island, Taako was rich and this was his dream kitchen) and stuffed a dumpling into either cheek. “Where’s Ango?”

Magnus’ first reply came out garbled through layers of meat filling. He swallowed and tried again. “Reorganizing his books by color. He’s going to put ‘em back in alphabetical order though, says it’s the most efficient way to find information.” After a couple more bites, the confused expression was back. “Hey, after we finished the shelves I opened up Ango’s closet to see if the rolling ladder I installed in there needed any adjustments, and there’s like three of the same outfit and a flannel shirt in there? What’s going on?” His voice lowered to a loud whisper. “Is Ango McDango a nudist?”

Taako stared at him for a moment, and then they were both laughing so hard that Magnus almost cracked his beautiful island under one pounding fist. Served him right if he did, he was the one who’d carpentered it into being in the first place. “No, oh my god, no,” Taako wheezed. He wiped his eyes, weirdly glad that someone else thought this was an issue. “That’s just… all the shit he brought with him? We gave him the flannel, even, he was sleeping in those fancy little dress shirts! We’re working on it.”

Magnus mulled that over for a bit as he took another bite of dumpling. “Huh… you don’t think he, like, threw out all his clothes so we wouldn’t make fun of him or something, right? Like he has to look fancy around us all the time?”

“I don’t think that’s it; he loves the shit out of that shirt Krav and I gave him, even though we bought him more that actually fit.” Taako extinguished the stove burners, sending all the dirty dishes to the sink with a quick spell, and hopped up on the counter. “I couldn’t get out of him exactly what’s going on, so I guess we’re just going to buy him more stuff and see what sticks. Don’t give him a hard time about it, capiche?”

Magnus saluted with his unused fork, stuffing more food into his mouth with his free hand. “Got it,” he mumbled enthusiastically. “I asked Ango if he wanted to come over and play with the dogs sometime, and he said yes. I’ll make sure I have some T-shirts and shorts or something lying around when he shows up, kay? The pups’ll chew on his suspenders.”

“And tell him to bring the clothes back with him,” Takko said imperiously. “I’ll wash them. God knows what kind of detergent you have in that zoo of yours.”

He was pretty sure Magnus caught the fond smile that clung to his face despite the harsh tone. “Don’t worry,” Magnus reassured, grinning warmly. “We’ll fill out his closet in no time.”

~~~

Word must have spread, because four days later Merle was knocking at his door with his two kids in tow. Mavis and Angus waved shyly at one another while Mookie attempted to eat the decorative macarons engraved in the vestibule wall. Merle was holding a box that he shoved in Angus’ general direction as he ambled in.

Angus caught the box, eyes wide. “Is this for me, sir?”

“Course it is, kid.” He gestured at Taako. “I’ve given this one enough gifts to last a lifetime already.”

“Quality over quantity, old man,” Taako scoffed, shaking Mavis’ hand and complimenting her obviously homemade headband. “Well, Ango? Open it and we’ll see if it’s trash or compost material.”

Angus lifted the lid off and tilted his head. “Uh… are they shoes?”

Taako peeked over his shoulder. “Merle, are these made out of plastic? Bright yellow plastic?”

Merle snickered. “They’re fantasy Crocs! Good for gardening, strolling on the beach, and adventuring! I figured you’d need more than just loafers now that you’re not. You know. Living on the moon.”

“Thank you, sir,” Angus said dubiously. Merle waved it off, scooping up Mookie and heading into the backyard – no doubt to criticize Taako’s herb garden. Mavis held out another box to Angus before moving to follow them.

“Sorry, that was-” she winced. “Well, not a joke, he really does wear them a lot, but we got these for you too!” Angus opened this box, struggling to hold both boxes in his small arms, and stared uncomprehendingly at a thick-soled boot and sneaker combination with flowers patterned neatly up the sides. “It’s a really good brand, me ‘n Mookie use them a lot and they’re waterproof and all, but they only make them with flowers ‘cause it’s a dwarf brand – is that okay?”

Angus hugged the box tightly to his chest, eyes shining behind his glasses. “They’re perfect! Thank you!”

Mavis smiled and hurried off to find her dad. Taako patted him on the shoulder. “Good for detective work, maybe?”

Angus frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe.”

The next day, Davenport messaged Taako on his Stone of Farspeech with a recommendation for cargo pants that offered “sufficient mobility” and “ingenuitive storage solutions”. After looking them up and grumpily considering the unflattering design, Taako bought Angus a pair on fantasy Amazon. Not everyone could pull off adventuring in a sandproof skirt.

~~~

 Lup and Barry came to visit too, of course, Barry toting a stack of books that he handed over to Angus’ eager grabby arms and Lup sporting a backpack stuffed with messily folded hoodies and scarves and, for some reason, a kilt. While Barry, Kravitz, and Angus settled into a debate on the accuracy of one of the books (a necromancy text? Taako was going to have a chat with his brother-in-law), Lup dragged Taako into a hug and buried her face in his shirt. “Ooh, velvet! I love velvet, Ko.”

“I know, Lulu.” Four months into having a body again, Lup was still extremely prone to touching sprees -shirts, hair, the works. Taako couldn’t even begin to mind it. Her hands dragged over his back, reveling in the soft material, and Taako jumped as her fingers dug ticklishly into the edges of his ribs. “Hey!”

“Deal with it,” Lup teased, pulling back a little to look up at him. “We bought Ango some stuff. Think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll take it. We’ll figure out the liking part later.” Taako ran his hands through Lup’s undercut, fluffing up the ends. “How’s reaper biz?”

“Your husband’s a dork, but so is mine, so overall it’s pretty sick. We’ve stopped three separate cults from doing the same wildly incorrect necromancy spell, and I think the Raven Queen’s gunning to adopt us all.” She rummaged in her pocket. “Hey, Angus, got you one last gift!”

Angus ran over, Barry and Kravitz trailing in his wake. “Thank you, Aunt Lup!”

“This one’s not from us, actually.” Taako froze at her next words. “It’s from Lucretia.”

It was a glasses case, plain and unmarked. Ango flipped it open and made a little excited sound as he tugged out a pair of silver-rimmed glasses. “Oh, they’re so cool – wait, they have my name engraved in Caleb Cleveland’s signature code!” Kravitz bent down to look at the neatly patterned lines and dots etched into the temples, smiling at Angus’ enthusiasm. Taako couldn’t move.

“They’ve got some spells on them too,” Barry added. “Better vision in low light, magnification options, stuff like that. There’s a note in the case that should explain it all.” He nudged Taako’s stiff arm, continuing in a softer tone. “I know, buddy. I checked all her spellwork over last night, and so did Lup. Even did an insight check to see if there’s anything she wasn’t telling us.” He paused. “It’s pretty good work, actually. I might ask her how to do the low light part.”

Slowly, slowly, Taako gulped in a breath. “They’re safe? You’re sure?”

Lup slid in next to him, taking his hand. “It’s okay, Ko. You said Angus needed new glasses anyway, right?”

“I could have made him some.”

She leaned in closer, resting her chin on his shoulder. “I know. But Creesh wants to spoil him too. She misses him.”

“She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t get to miss anything that’s – that’s mine.”

“Ko,” Lup said, mildly warning. She didn’t have to say anything else. Taako kept breathing, trying to relax as he watched Angus and Kravitz laugh over some detail of the Caleb Cleveland books.

He and Lup had agreed, way back when. They were going to get rich and have fancy clothes and stuff that was theirs, but you couldn’t own people, except for each other. Other people left. They died. They needed more than two gung-ho elves in their lives.

Angus looked back at him, grinning, and Taako abruptly realized that the kid owned a piece of him by now. A big, heart-size chunk. He’d do anything for him.

Maybe Lucretia felt the same way.

He could live with that. Probably. The kid needed as many adults as he could get.

Lup reached into her backpack one more time. “You know what else is good for a growing kid to have? Some nice sturdy pants, denim, maybe, in a cool neutral color that goes with a lot of shit-”

“Get out of my house.”

~~~

Sometimes kids did little, concerning things like not having enough clothing, and sometimes they did things like getting lit on fuckin’ fire because their detecting led them to a death cult.

Krav had portaled in, set a still-smoking Angus down on the couch as gently as his bony arms could, and promised to return in a couple hours after all the charging and paperwork were taken care of (“it’ll be fast, love, I promise, all three of us came for him. Don’t worry.”) Taako sat there on their living room floor, watching Angus pick charred dirt off a half-gone sleeve, and felt something in his brain tick just over this side of sanity. “Guess you’re down to two fancy shirts now, huh?”

Angus didn’t even look up. There were tear stains on his cracked glasses, probably from the pain of nearly getting torched. “I’ll write a letter to the shop in Neverwinter. They’ll send me a new one.”

“Uh huh. Got a system in place, right? You’re just going to buy the exact same thing again?” The kid fiddled with the cuff of his remaining sleeve and pulled out what looked like half of a lockpicking kit.

“Yes, sir.”

He set the tools neatly on the table – hooked strands of metal, a flat screwdriver – and Taako wanted to cry. Kids shouldn’t have that kind of stuff hidden up their sleeves. He and Lup shouldn’t have had to, back when they were his age. And Taako’s tried to do right by him, buying the kid shit with fun patterns and comfy fabrics that make him look like he’s not supposed to have a day job, but it wasn’t working. Angus didn’t feel safe, and he certainly didn’t look safe with half his shirt gone up in smoke.

Taako fought to keep his voice neutral. “How’d you say they found you again? Your shoes slipped on some rock? That bright white shirt of yours get spotted in their death cave?” Oops, no, there went the hysteria. “Have you ever considered not wearing those stupid clothes when you’re sneaking around? You have boots, Ango! You have a fuckin’ camo shirt! I know you’re smart, why can’t you – did you even think about bringing any of your new shit with you?”

Angus was staring at him: big brown eyes, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered.

Yep, Taako Taaco was the shittiest person in the entire planar system, nay, the multiverse, and he’d just made the kid cry. “Ango-”

“I’m so sorry. They don’t fit.”

Wait, what? “They don’t – am I buying you the wrong size? Ango, what-”

Angus cried even harder. “They don’t fit! I keep buying detective clothes because I’m a detective, that’s all I am, I can’t be a normal kid like you want me to be!” Taako opened his mouth, more in shock than anything else, but Angus just kept on going “I can’t be normal, and wearing the clothes you and Mr. Kravitz get me just feels like p-pretending, and they don’t fit! And – and-” He was full on bawling now, the words barely making it out of his mouth. “And they won’t all fit in my suitcase, so I can’t take them with me when – when I have to leave-”

Taako scooted over to him on his knees – he would fuckin’ crabwalk if it would get him closer to his kid – and tugged Angus off the couch and into his arms. “Oh. Oh, kid, c’mere.” He could feel his heartbeat, fast and frightened, and he rubbed his hand soothingly over the kid’s back to try and chase some of that raw terror out. “No one’s leaving. It’s okay.” He kept murmuring nonsense reassurances, telling Angus that he was the best detective and that his suspenders looked really cool and promising to buy him three more suitcases to put all his shit in and teach him how to Levitate them all until Angus gasped one last hiccupping sob into his damp shirt and went very, very, quiet.

Taako sighed wetly – oh, he was crying too now. Great. He patted Angus gently on the head and cleared his throat. “You still with us, buddy?”

Angus snuffled sadly and shook his head. Yeah, Taako got that. He hated crying in front of other people.

“Oookay. Well, when the old McDonald brain comes back online, can you pass a message on for cha’boy?”

This time, a slow nod.

“Cool.” Arms tightening a little around Angus’ crumpled frame, he rocked a little and thought. “You know Krav and I didn’t take you in cause we wanted a normal kid, right? Or because we wanted a master detective to figure out where all my left socks go off to every time I put a pair for washing. We wanted you, Ango. You and anything and everything that you want to be. This clothing shit? It’s nothing. I’m literally just trying to make sure you don’t wake up tangled in a pair of suspenders.”

Angus shook a little in his arms. He was pretty sure that was a giggle. “We’re not expecting anything from you when we give you stuff. Do whatever you want with it – hell, sell it! You know I love turning a profit.” Another giggle. “And another thing – that closet’s yours until the end of time. So is the room – keep anything you want in it. Don’t ever worry about fitting all your shit in a suitcase. You’re here for good, Ango.”

Angus looked up at him, finally, and promptly burst into tears again.

Taako didn’t do emotions, but he was also pretty sure that his kid was surgically attached to him at this point. He rolled backwards onto the carpet, Angus snuggled firmly into his chest, and told the kid about all the cool shit he was going to cook and/or buy for him until Kravitz finally portaled in again and shuttled their entirely exhausted family off to bed.

~~~

Candlenights came, cold and wet, and his family was mostly over the clothing gifts by now. Angus got a new little crossbow and enough books to last him for… a month, probably. Kid read like a speed demon.

Taako made them all sweaters – uniquely patterned, uniquely sized, but all with a little bird in IPRE colors perched upon the breast.

Kravitz took one look at the raven nestled in a knitted gray ribcage and scooped Taako into a twirling embrace. Taako tried not to look too pleased with himself, which was hard when Magnus and Lup wouldn’t stop hooting at them.

Angus stared unblinkingly down at his. It was patterned back to front in the outline of a frilly dress shirt, suspenders knit in with neat cables from shoulder to waist. Even a little breast pocket with a handkerchief embroidered in to complete the design.

And unobtrusively, stitched onto the pocket, a little rainbow bird. He was one of them.

Taako poked him in the back. “Well? You think it’ll fit?”

Angus’ voice barely made it through his small but genuine smile, hands fisted in the neat knitting. “Yeah. It fits perfectly.”

[randombtsprincessa]

Asylum || 5

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Chapter:  01  02  03  04

The ceiling fan rotated with the same dull creak as I stared at it listlessly, my eyes drooping from the now familiar warmth provided by radiators as my small group of boys lay scattered around me.

Yoongi as usual had his eyes fully closed, body stretched out in the chair as Tae laid his head on his knee, silent for once. Even Hoseok was quiet, watching as Jimin tried to solve a Rubik’s cube, his tongue poking out cutely in concentration.

It had been a hard week.

Taehyung’s court refusal to let him out had sucked a lot out of him, what with all his family money going to waste on the lawyers. Hoseok’s drug cure always left him weak and pale for a few days and while Yoongi tried his best to appear stoic, I knew watching his young friends going through this made him feel helpless.

I caught a flash of blond hair in the corner of my eye and opened my eyes wider to see Namjoon slowly entering the room, his head dropped as he shuffled to the bookshelf again.

I raised my head a bit watching him narrowly as he shifted on his feet awkwardly, eyes trailing on the books. I frowned; hadn’t he probably already read all the books in this entire establishment already? He pushed his glasses up before looking at me. He paused for a little before shooting me a nervous smile which I returned. He was wearing the glasses again; maybe he did listen to me the last time we talked.

He returned his attention to the shelves, hands shuffling again as he shot me a look again, this time trailing over my friends. Was it me or was there a hint of wistfulness in those brown eyes?

Turning back he finally reached out and pulled out a book, then sighed before casting one final look at us and starting to walk over to a corner chair.

Did he perhaps want to sit with us?

Without another thought, I sat up straight. The motion was so sudden, it startled the others.

Hobi and Taehyung jumped and Jimin accidentally dropped his cube. Yoongi opened his eyes as Tae’s weight vanished from his side then sat up at the clack of the fallen toy. He frowned at me. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Namjoon!” I called instead of answering him and they all gaped at me, even Yoongi’s jaw dropped slightly. In the other corner, Namjoon glanced up at the call of his name, his glasses hanging low on his nose bridge.

“Yeah?” he called back.

“Come sit with us.”

Everyone stared at me.

Yoongi was sitting completely upright, and Taehyung, Hoseok and Jimin were all wide eyed and loose jawed. Even Namjoon himself looked shocked.

“…sit with you?” he asked.

“Sure, we’re all friends, right?” I asked. I looked at the others and after a few more seconds they all shrugged. “Sure, Joonie, come on over.” Yoongi said in his usual gruff voice.

It took a few moments for Namjoon to stand and walk over to us, a small smile gracing on his lips as he gave me a subtle grateful look. “Thanks, I didn’t really want to be alone.” He said.

“Don’t worry about it.” I said as he sat next to Jimin, giving them all smiles. “Hi Hyung,” he said shyly to Yoongi.

“Hey Namjoon,” he said, back in his original position as Taehyung laid his head back on the older man’s leg, watching Namjoon open his book again with a careful expression on his face. Jimin picked up his toy again, staring at it for a bit before offering it to Hoseok. The older boy took it with a fond smile as Jimin turned to look at Namjoon.

“Why don’t you sit with us more often?” he asked.

Namjoon started, his eyes looking at the boy in wonder. Naturally, it was rare Jimin asked questions. It was rare that he talked period.

“Um, I guess, I didn’t feel welcome.”

“You’re a part of our batch, why won’t you be welcome in our group? We took Y/N in.” Jimin said bluntly.

Namjoon hung his head. “I’ll sit with you from now if you want.” He offered.

“That’ll be nice.” Taehyung said finally.

I smiled. Watching Namjoon finally be inculcated into the group was strangely satisfying.

Namjoon’s inclusion in the group brought about a couple positive changes.

Yoongi now had someone to talk music with. It was amazing how much passion could be induced in creativity. It practically blazed around them.

Hobi and Taehyung smiled quicker than their usual week end. One moment, Namjoon was animatedly talking about the new book he was reading and the next moment, Tae had broken out into guffaws and Hoseok had thumped him on the back, giggling himself.

The best thing?

Jimin talked more around the older boy, almost quietly blunt around his Hyung; the way he’d told Namjoon off the first time had been shocking to witness, but now it was usual to see Yoongi, Namjoon and Jimin talking about their respective music choices.

“…and it’s a really nice thing, to see them get together like this,” I smiled, picking at the loose thread on my sweat pants as I sat cross legged on Dr. Sihyuk’s couch.

He smiled back.

“It was nice of you to invite him. He’s always so shy about making friends.” He shook his head.

“He’s helped them more than I helped him. He’s like that.” I shrugged.

“I see…is there a particular reason why you did it?” he asked.

I bit my lip, looking around the room.

“We talked…out by the trees and he just…he reminded me of Jungkook.” I said softly.

I trailed off, looking outside the window.

I smiled cheekily as Jungkook walked up to the front of the classroom. He looked uncomfortable in a starched and impeccably pressed button up and slacks, hair parted to reveal a sliver of forehead as he smiled nervously at the bunch of youngsters he was supposed to give voice coaching to.

The Music professor whose assistant he was had been stuck down with flu, leaving him red and unable to talk. Hence, now my nervous and slightly awkward best friend had been rendered into the teaching profession for the first time.

Even as I gave him thumbs up from where I was standing at the back of the room, I couldn’t help but think he looked good, even if he looked like he was going to puke. The sentiment seemed to be shared by at least half of the girls in the class, as they began to exchange coy glances with their friends. I made a point to tease him about that later but I had to cut them some slack. Jungkook’s boss was a middle aged man with a receding hairline and despite being an excellent teacher, even girls wanted eye candy once in a while and teenage boys could offer only so much.

“Hi…hi, my name is Jeon Jungkook…and I…I will be taking your batch till Professor Lee feels well enough to resume work.” He said, his breath coming out in a huff at the end and I almost – almost – laughed.

“Right…so where were you…when Mr. Lee…left you?” he asked again, casting a glance at me.

I shot him another thumbs up and he smiled gratefully before returning his attention to the class.

I grinned again before backing out to go get some work done and bring us something to drink. Knowing Jungkook, he would race me back to his apartment and be back in sweats and an oversized white shirt after today’s ordeal. At least a sweetened drink would help.

But when I opened the door, I let out a gasp of surprise.

Jungkook was sitting cross legged on the floor with all the kids in a semi circle in front of him. The benches were pushed back and he was watching as each student sang a particular line of a song.

“Now see, the harmony isn’t the point of a single person. It only comes into play when you’re singing a duet or in a group. You’re singing solo right now; think of yourself as a star.” He said and the kid in front of him, a freckly kid, blushed.

Jungkook suddenly looked up to see me and grinned.

“Well, my girl’s here. All of you, good job! We’ll meet up tomorrow and I want to see all of you be stars ok?” he patted his thighs before getting to his feet, grinning as a couple students praised him before making his way to me.

“Wow, you just went from stuttering Stanley to Grade a Professor.” I said, handing him his latte.

He chuckled, bringing the cup his lips as he surveyed the room. “I was just nervous about you hovering over me, you know. The moment you left, I felt this sense of manliness of flood me. The girls and boys were practically begging for a piece of me.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah sure, if you like being hung on a rack and ogled by teens like a piece of meat.” I said.

He swung an arm over my shoulders as we exited the classroom. “Don’t worry, Y/N, you’re still my go to.”

It wasn’t until we were driving back to his place that I told him. “You did a good job there, Kookie. Better than Lee,” I said sincerely.

He turned to look at me, his bunny teeth stretched out in a wide smile. “Yeah, you think so?”

I nodded. “Definitely, you…brought them together…like a class. Like a group…I think they need that.”

He reached out to give my hand a light squeeze; his silent way of saying he appreciated it.

“We should go out by the lake,” Hoseok said one day as we all lounged out in the grass. Our group was the only one still sitting in the sun, the other batches all migrating towards the clusters of trees dotted here and there to provide shade.

“The lake?” Yoongi asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen it in such a long while. Tae misses it too. I’m sure Jimin and Namjoon do too and Y/N hasn’t even seen it.” Hoseok said.

“Yeah but…it’s nearly sundown.” Yoongi huffed.

“Fine, you stay.” Taehyung grumbled as he got to his feet, pulling me up with him.

“You’re not going without me anywhere. If one of you falls or something, my ass is going to get fried.” Yoongi snapped, hand shooting out and latching onto mine tightly.

“Oh come on, Hyung,” Namjoon stood up too. “We’ll be quick,” he said. “Please,” Jimin chimed in and we knew it was sealed.

Yoongi opened his mouth but shut it again, shrugging resignedly.

“Oh my god, it’s beautiful.” I breathed as Taehyung and Hoseok helped me climb over a small stile like hill overlooking the entire lake and the Institute’s estate.

“We found this hill our second week here. Shh, none of the other groups know about it.” Taehyung said as the rest of them clambered up too.

“This is amazing.” I said.

The lake was still, only small ripples of water from the movement of water life disturbed the water. A small dock was lined up at one side while the rest of the outlands were surrounded by woodland. It was such a serene place; no wonder this establishment was one of the finest.

“Sunsets are considered an ends to a mean, you know. A cycle of life and death…meaning the sun dies then comes back to life the next day, more beautiful and magnificent.” I heard and looked to my side to see Namjoon looking at the glowing orange globe vanishing behind the lake horizon.

“That’s…morbidly poetic.” Jimin said.

“No, it’s beautiful. We never lose anything. It always comes back to us some way or another.”

Namjoon turned to look straight at me and I swallowed, feeling pinpricks behind my eyes as tears welled up in the corners of my eyes.

As I looked as the small group of people who’d brought me to the lake, I realized he was right.

There was a part of Jungkook in each and every one of them. I may have lost him, but I still had his essence, his spirit, in different forms in these five boys. I hadn’t lost him completely.

That really was beautiful.

[mamashitty]

Quidditch Haus

The first chapter in what will hopefully be a series of erm.. we will say snapshots of these characters playing some Quidditch. ^_^ Check it out on my AO3  or read it below.

It was good to be home.

Jack stood outside of a rather dilapidated looking house at the end of a No-Maj street. It is actually past the dead end sign, but all No-Maj see is a path that leads to a small patch of woods the neighborhood kids like to play in. He could not help the smile that tugged at his lips as he gazed up at the place, amazed that even with magic it was still standing. The porch had, theoretically, seen better days but no one in recent memory can recall when those days were. It seemed to slant in a way that it shouldn’t. The windows were open, and he could just hear the sounds of his teammates and roommates, the smell of Bittle’s baking, wafting in the slight breeze. His visit back to Montreal with his parents had been a nice, and much needed after the upset of last season’s final Quidditch match, but he was glad to be back here.

His feet carried him up the porch steps, he avoided the second stop at the top because it creaked so loudly and always sounded like it was on the verge of breaking. The door was open a crack, and Jack pushed it open the rest of the way with his foot. His eyes landing on that disgusting couch in the living room, it was stained all over with Merlin knew what, and it had a distinct smell. A smell that should be bad, but somehow, was comforting once you got used to it. No one was seated on the couch or in the living room, the voices he had heard outside must have been coming from the kitchen. Jack felt himself being tugged in two directions, part of him wanted to drop off his stuff in his room, before slipping into the kitchen. Another part was telling him to stop off in the kitchen first.

His feet carried him to the kitchen, and he stood in the threshold. There were new drapes on the windows, he noticed. Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster were seated at the table, laughing at some sort of joke. Bittle was at the oven, bending over to remove a pie from him. Jack made it a point to not allow his eyes to linger on sight, instead, he focused more on his friends at the table. It was Shitty who noticed him first, and before Jack knew it, he was engulfed in a hug by his friend. He had missed Shitty’s hugs in the few weeks he had been gone.

Other hugs followed that one. Jack even pulled Bittle into a hug. He smelled familiar and nice and Jack felt reluctant to let him go.

“Y’all ready for some pie?” Bittle asked, and Jack noticed his accent was thicker than usual, and that made his lips tug up into a smile. He felt eyes on him and noticed Shitty just watching him. Jack took a seat next to Shitty, shoving him playfully with his shoulder.

He could enjoy some pie first and then put his things away.

—

It was a few hours later, and everyone had retired away from the kitchen. Jack had finally made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. His door was closed, and he was in the process of putting away his clothing when he heard a knock on the door. If a knock could be described as hesitant, this one surely was. He stepped over to the door and opened it. He was surprised to see Bittle standing there. Bittle looking… nervous?

“Hey,” Jack said, quietly. There was the faintest of grins on his face.

“Hi Jack,” Bittle said and then silence fell.

It felt thick and a little awkward, full of something that Jack could not quite name or maybe did not want to name.

“Thanks for the cookies, Eric,” Jack said because he felt like he had to say something. It was strange that Eric was suddenly tongue-tied. Usually, the boy could prattle on and on about anything and nothing all at once. “I only had a couple, though. Papa ate most of them,” Jack admitted, with a laugh.

“Oh! Well, then I should make you another batch that will just be for you, then.” Was Bittle blushing? Maybe a little, but it was difficult to really tell with the bad lighting in the hall.

“Maybe you could teach me how to bake them?” Jack asked, the words out of his mouth before he really had time to think about them. Spending time with Eric in the kitchen, would not be bad. It would be different than spending time with him for their Bludger practice.

“Sure, I would love to, Jack. Let me know when,” Bittle said, his face lit up with a huge smile.

“Maybe after Bludger practice one morning?” Jack suggested, lightly. He noticed Eric’s face falling, just slightly at the mention of Bludger practice, but then it brightened up quickly. He looked determined too.

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Then the two of them stood there, Eric in the hall, and Jack in his room. That feeling like something was there between them, something that Jack should just grasp at. It was thick in the air around them. And… and then Shitty was on Jack’s back, legs wrapped around his waist, and he was demanding a piggyback ride downstairs. Eric started laughing, and Jack surprised himself by not falling flat on his ass at the surprise weight. He rolled his eyes.

“I should just drop you on your ass, Shitty.” Jack threatened, and Shitty clung to him tighter. Jack was soon laughing, and heading down the stairs with his new burden.

It really was good to be home.

[birdscreeches]

Kids These Days || Aisha R.

The Marian Auditorium of Miriam CoIIege could seat one thousand fifty people, apparently, and on that day, it was a full house. Not necessarily by choice, of course. Every student there, aged twelve to probably fourteen at the oldest, had congregated into the air conditioned structure and settled into the smooth, wooden seats of the auditorium because this was a required thing, this talk on sexuality.

And if that isn’t a big, scary word. Sexuality. In a place like an all girls Catholic high school, saying the word “sexuality” was like opening a bag of chips in a dead quiet room. You will be met with winces or sneers or snickers. You might even get in trouble. The metaphor isn’t really foolproof, because on one hand, you’ve got a snack, and on the other, you’ve got an integral aspect of the human experience with endless variations. It’s a lot less “palatable”, for one. Not as tasty. Sexuality was funny. It was dirty. It was something to be whispered about and not spoken of, especially if you were twelve or thirteen or fourteen. Hell, even if you were older, it could still be something taboo. Growing up, or the failure of thereof, was a little peculiar like that.

But here they were for an entire two hour long talk all about sexuality. October of 2016, roughly one thousand fifty students were chucked into an auditorium where they tittered in a classic mixture of teenage curiosity, anticipation, and habitual boredom. On stage, the speaker, a family psychologist, walks out. The voices of the one thousand fifty students hush from a buzz to a hum to silence.

And the thus the talk began.

To say that the talk was a trainwreck would be a fantastic, monumental understatement. It seemed like every high school freshman I spoke to had something to say about the talk.

“Oh,” said A, a bookish girl with glasses who looked quiet and shy right up until I brought up The Talk. She pushed her glasses up in a way one knew meant she was livid. “It was awful.”

B, a student I had spoken to via email correspondence had written “It was terrible. Obscure. Immature.”

“I wanted to cry,” said R, looking like she was about to cry. “That talk made me want to cry.”

In a nutshell, the so-called sexuality talk was a verbal cavalcade of sexist stereotypes only thinly disguised as something educational. The speaker had talked about how men and women were different, how men’s brains were like waffles (boxed and organized) and women’s brains were like spaghetti (“Noodling around,” A told me. “I’m not shitting you. The speaker said, ‘women think like spaghetti, we’re always noodling around.’ What the hell does that mean?”) By the halfway point of the talk, students had resigned themselves to the fact that this was another one of those inane things the school did that they’ll have to forcibly erase from their memory. The talk went on about boys and girls and flirting and relationships and stuff everybody already knew about before always peddling back to “Studies first!” Educational stuff right here.

But the real kicker was this: one brave girl, just one out of roughly one thousand fifty, stood up, walked to the microphone set up in the aisle, and asked a question. She asked the question that was thrumming through the heads of a lot of students in the auditorium. She asked, “What do you think of LGBT?”

In front of one thousand fifty students, the speaker had smiled sweetly—sweet in the way that probably made you feel sick—and said “All the feelings you have for women, project them onto men instead.”

-

See, non-heterosexual people exist. Non-heterosexual teenagers exist. It just so happens some of them will end up in an all girls Catholic high school.

“It sucks,” R told me. R is a high school freshman. She had short hair and glasses and good grades and she was Not Straight. We spoke just a little bit after class ended at a lunch table in the school’s cafeteria. To her left was A, one of her friends who also was Not Straight, eyes downcast, as if she already knows the rest of what R was going to say. R said, “But, I don’t know. You get used to it.”

Which begs the question what exactly it is kids these days are forced to get used to.

The horror stories spanning from different schools are myriad. Sometimes it’s subtle. Miriam CoIIege High School had certain days where students could come in civilian attire, but “crossdressing” was not allowed. Students must dress like ladies.  St. PauI College Pasig has a rule against short hair. A bobcut is pushing it, and if you had a cut that was no longer in the realm of “female hair” you’d get talked to. L, a student from St. Paul, rocked something of a pixie cut during her stay at the school. She was called to the principal’s office for it every year and was even threatened with expulsion. Gender norms and non-heterosexual presentation are closely linked, and rules like these are tiny ways to make sure nothing happens even at a surface level. Rules like these are pretty nifty because it’s rather easy to shake one’s head and say this has nothing to do lesbians. It was about image.

Sometimes it’s more blatant. A had told me about a school—she couldn’t remember which one, just one from the expansive catalog of all girls Catholic schools—that had written in their handbook something along the lines of “girl on girl relations are strictly prohibited.”

Miriam College High School, the school where participants were taken from, has, in the curriculum for Christian Life, an entire section on Sexuality and Marriage. As expected, it all boiled down to teaching pissed off teenagers that if you weren’t straight, you were going to hell. Sure, it was sugar coated, but fancy plating doesn’t change the truth. If you took a shot for every time an earnest CL teacher said “God hates the sin, and not the sinner,” whilst making awkward eye contact with every visible lesbian in the classroom, we’d be getting to hell much earlier due to alcohol poisoning.

A controversial example of the curriculum at work would be the third term CL final exam given to the graduating batch of 2016. Questions upon questions of situations and matching values were put into a test that decided a student’s grade. Insert name here is a gay man in a relationship and dot dot dot. Insert name here thinks she is bisexual and dot dot dot. As a Christian, what is your response?

Many students refused to answer these questions at all. That was their response.

The act of existing in an all girls Catholic high school is one that’s implicit with resignation concerning this kind of treatment. Catholicism is obvious in its restrictions. It’s Adam and Eve, etcetera, but beyond religion, the structure of high schools and how they’re run creates an environment where not much can be done about it. The students are gay and the teachings are against you. If you’re really unlucky, a few teachers will be too. There can be teachers who are supportive, but they can’t really do much against the entirety of the administration. A joke I heard from a student was something along the lines of “There’s a reason why the CL department is so far away from the English department.” Right. Gotta keep the liberals away from the conservatives. An accepting teacher is a treat, but ultimately a bandaid in a world of gashes.

But, as R said, you get used to it. Or maybe you already were.

“And that’s messed up,” A told me. A was another freshman from a different class, and she really looked like a sweet girl. Anger didn’t suit her, but it graced her features anyway. It was mostly in her eyes; a hardened, steeled gaze. She is thirteen years old.

-

The thing about the infamous sexuality talk is that it’s the paragon of reinforcement. Smaller strains of it exist in things like religion class, disapproving teachers, guidance counselors who tilt their heads when you mention a girlfriend, and the list goes on.

It’s tempting to be confused as to why these things continue when they obviously don’t “work.” Work in the sense that these people and their attitudes don’t magically craft an army of straight girls. This much is evident by the persisting population of non heterosexuals existing in all girls Catholic schools. Talk after class after session, one after the other, and they’re still there and still as gay as ever.

These things continue because it’s a new coat of paint on the Straight Is Good sign. To students, this is something they’ll get to see on a regular basis. Those who disagree will continue to disagree, but there will be those who believe it. Of the non heterosexuals, this is just a small jab in the midst of many. They’ll get used to it, but some of them won’t. There will be those who believe it.

Of those who get used to it, the thought now is the fact that in an ideal world, they shouldn’t have to be.

“We’re used to being treated like this. There are worst things, but there are better ones too.” A said, “I wanna be used to better things.”

-

“I mean, I guess we’re lucky.” R told me a little later. We had taken a short break to buy food. R and A were now munching on gummy candies shaped like pizzas. There was something about this contrast that struck me; soft gummies and hard issues and teenagers who have both. “At least the students are really accepting. Just a week ago there was this, this romantic thing?”

“Yeah!” A piped in. “This girl had this sign like ‘I love you’ for another girl and they did this thing with flowers and stuff. It was really sweet. Right in the middle of the covered court, lunchtime. All the students were cheering.”

“And I figure, any teachers in the vicinity would just pretend not to notice,” I joked, but A just fixed her eyes on me again.

“What else can they do?” She said. And really, what else was there?

Ignorance, it seemed, was the easiest out. It certainly was the kinder evil. Averted eyes and skillful segues, and you never have to talk about gay students because well, they don’t really exist, anyway. “I’d take that over ‘gay is a sin’ any day,” A told me. “At least they stay away. They leave us alone.”

How lonely, I thought, but I didn’t tell her this. Instead, I just nodded and accepted that sometimes you have to settle. Whether it was a tragedy or not didn’t matter as much as the circumstances that pushed kids to have to set their standards low in the first place for something as simple as wanting to be accepted.

It seems if you’re a non-heterosexual student in a Catholic high school, it’s either you exist and you’re punished for it, or you’re ignored and you take what you can get. So flip a coin for it. I tell them this, and they laugh.

“I kind of don’t want to, though,” R said, squishing a gummy between her fingers. “It’s 2017. I kind of want more. Is that too much to ask?”

Not at all, I thought. Not at all.

-

In an auditorium filled with roughly one thousand fifty students, everybody hushed down, gritted their teeth, and listened. But if there’s something I’m getting from the kids I’ve seen and spoken to, it’s that they’re getting a little bit tired of that routine.

Perhaps, slowly, the silence will pick up. The murmurs will start. The words. The discussions. The voices will up in volume and confidence, a cadence of identity. Once upon a time, these kids were told to project their feelings elsewhere, and, in a sense, they are.

They’re projecting their feelings outward and beyond, loud and clear, absolutely demanding to be heard.

[eslhero]

Arriving in Taiwan

I arrived on January 3rd, with not a lot of money, and no job, or even a house. I have a great network of friends who remain in China, and they have been a big help in allowing me to make the journey across the strait.

Daniel is a good friend who has agreed to keep some of my things while I settle into life here, and I hope to be able to gather the things up as his first batch of apple cider of 2017 is ready to enjoy. He’s a man with many talents, and his cider is always delicious.

When I arrived here, I was frantically sending out resumes, clicking on ads, sending out more etc... The weird thing about the place is that 60 percent of the schools or agents didn’t even bother to respond. I am approaching 40, and most schools have a kindy component, so I can’t blame them for that. 

My first interview was with a big chain school. I arrived and they handed me a two-page application form, asking me to complete a bunch of the details that would have already been available to them via my email correspondence. Seemed a bit impersonal, but I went with it. A nice woman came a few minutes later with a couple of pages marked in a book, and said I would be giving a demo to a group of 1st graders in a few minutes. In Taiwan, you almost always have to do a demo. The material was fine enough, and I went into the class not really knowing what to expect. There were 28 of them, well-behaved, and generally interested in what was going on. There was a TA behind me, sitting on a chair, and the interviewer, sitting right in the middle of the horseshoe that was my classroom. Made for a bit of awkwardness, but again, just did my thing.

The interviewer took me into an office and proceeded to tell me that the boss wasn’t there that day. She asked me about 4 to 5 fluff questions, which could be construed as good or bad, you know what I mean? Like either I did great, or I did shit, and either way the questions she had on offer were just a formality. The school never called back.

The second interview I did was in a smaller mom & pop shop, and it was with 2-5 graders. The demo went well, and we had a nice chat afterwards. They asked me to do some sub-work for them the following week to see if I liked the place, and I thought that was pretty cool. I did a couple of sub-days for them, and they offered me a contract. However, in the meantime, I had already done a couple of more demos at a couple of other schools....

School #3 was just for 3 hours on a Saturday night, because, who needs to have fun on a Saturday night? Certainly not a bunch of teenagers, and definitely not me. It definitely a weird demo night. I was given material for the senior high kids, and I thought the 30-minute demo went alright. As I was leaving the classroom, the TA (there’s always a TA around in Taiwan) asked me if I was busy. It turned out that they had another person lined up for the junior high demo, but they were a no-show (apparently a common problem here). The director asked me if I would be free to perform the 30-minute demo, and she would pay me for an hour of my time. I took that deal, and was offered the job right after, as it should be!

School #4 was through an agent. It was for 16 hours a week, plus a bit of pay for prep. They had work Mon-Weds, and Fri-Sat. So my off days would be Thursday, and Sunday with that job and the other 3-hour gig. I did the 15-minute demo with some really bright 1-3rd graders, and she offered me the job straight away. 

So, I was stuck in a dilemma. School 2 was for about 30 hours Monday-Friday. Plus I had agreed to work Saturday night for school 3. School 4 was for 16 hours a week, including Saturday morning, so I would have 6 hours on Saturday, and then an additional 13 hours spread over the other 4 days of the week. You could probably guess what I decided on. Easy street baby!

But the story doesn’t end there! I was emailed just yesterday (I have already signed a contract with school 4, but nothing has been submitted on my behalf for a working visa) about a very interesting job indeed. It’s a start-up who has a history, and money to spare from providing security services, who now want to get into the online teaching business. They were given my resume by a woman I met when I first arrived in Taipei, and they would want me to be a teacher-trainer, as well as curriculum developer, and assistant editor for the new company. I am meeting with them tomorrow morning, and they are looking for somebody full-time.

All that said, I was a little down on my prospects when I got here, but now I have more than I can handle! If you plan to make the jump over here, make sure to have about 2 months worth of spending cash available to get you settled in. 3-4K should do. Thanks Jeremy for helping me with my second month here!