#today I’m encouraging everyone to pick at least one little positive thing they like

[humming-fly]

This 4th of July I’m stealing the patriotism euphoria that’s usually associated with assholes idolizing the worst attributes of this country because fuck ‘em I live here too and remembering the things this country actually got Right is an important exercise when trying to rally anyone to want to defend it in November SO putting my money where my mouth is I’ll start easy and say I really like National Parks!! It’s rad how many of them there are and how they’re actual set up to preserve some of the most beautiful wild areas in our country while still letting people visit to enjoy and experience nature!! (Less important but I love how they put national parks on the quarters I think that’s real fun)

Feel free to add on if something speaks to ya!

[fushic0re]

━ 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

sugar daddy!steve rogers x asian!reader

⁀➷ summary ━ steve rogers is one of the most notable fashion designers in the world. you, his new assistant, become the driving force behind his art.

⁀➷ warnings ━ 18+ only – minors dni. steve being mean. john walker being...john walker.

⁀➷ translation ━ shlyukha -> whore (i used google translate so if this is inaccurate i'm sorry sksksk

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 – 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

"𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑜 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑟,

𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑙,

𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒"

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

You were completely and utterly out of your depth.

Your morning was spent silently cursing whatever possessed you to apply for this job. That is, the moments you were not spending fussing over your appearance. The biggest steppingstone of your life was contingent on the way today’s interview running smoothly. Since the day your chubby little fingers could pick up a crayon and scribble a couple of letters, you had been passionate about writing. Your childhood was spent filling up notebooks with thoughts, ideas, fantasies, anything you could possibly conjure up. By the time you graduated high school, you had won multiple writing competitions. They were enough to push you right up the totem pole and earn you a full ride scholarship Columbia University. You graduated at the top percentile of your class, published reputable scholarly journals, and even did a few solo articles for a couple companies here and there. You were on your A game, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

That’s where Rogers came in.

Steve Rogers, the owner and creators of one of the most famous and respected designer brands had an opening writing position for the brand’s magazine and website. It would be a lie if you said you were interested in the job because of your love for fashion or the brand itself because truthfully, you knew virtually nothing about either of those things. Could you keep up with trends and put together a killer outfit? Yes, but that was not fashion per say. Steve Rogers had the Midas touch. His hands made the finest garments and everyone who had worked with or for him lead highly successful careers after one letter of recommendation from the mogul. Rogers was the push you needed. You would just have to fake it till you make it.

“Are you still getting ready?” Natasha croaked through your phone speakers; traces of sleep still evident in her voice. The red head had presumptuously just woken up from your call, her eyes still puffy and glassy.

“Yes,” You sigh with defeat. “I don’t know what to wear. I mean, this is a fashion design headquarters, I can’t walk in looking like a mess. Do I go pantsuit, dress, skirt, skort?”

“You do know how to work a pantsuit.” Natasha encouraged, opening her blinds and filling your screen with light as you began getting dressed.

“I’m so nervous I could throw up right now.” You admitted, accessorizing your outfit with a simple pair of diamond studs and a matching necklace and ring.

“You have balls, I’ll give you that.” She scoffed. “If your interview doesn’t go well, he’ll at least acknowledge that and hopefully send you off with a good word.”

“Are we talking about the same man? Is this not the Steve Rogers who toppled an entire brand because one of their designers failed to show up to a meeting on time? He’s not going to send me off with a ‘good word’ if I make an ass out of myself, which I will because I have no interest in fashion and yet here, I am!”

Natasha raised a slender brow at you.

“Look, is it kinda stupid that you’re applying for a job in an industry you don’t know shit about? Yes. But like you said, the opportunity is too great to pass up. So, with the same nerve you had when you sent in your application and resume – which is impressive by the way – walk in there and don’t let that man freak you out.”

You smiled at her appreciatively. Spritzing yourself with your favorite perfume for good luck, you gave yourself one final glance over in the mirror before gathering your belongings for the day.

“You’re right.” You affirmed. “And if all else fails, I have you to take care of me emotionally and financially until I die—”

“Goodbye.”

You cackled loudly as your best friend ended the call quicker than the speed of light, exiting your tiny Brooklyn apartment and locking the door behind you.

“Here goes nothing.”

The Rogers Headquarters was roaring with life when you entered. You were hardly noticeable in the midst of all the hustle and bustle; your presence only being acknowledged when you made yourself known to the receptionist.

“Good morning!” You greeted kindly. “I have an appointment with Maria Hill for—”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” A stern voice chirped from behind the receptionist.

Your eyes shifted upwards, landing on a tall, lean brunette. Like the rest of the staff, she was dressed to the nines. Not a single hair on her head was out of place. She stood in front of you with her chin up in the air and posture so rigid you could have mistaken her for a statue had it not been for the way her nose crinkled unamused at the sight of you.

“You must be Maria. It’s nice to mee—”

“Follow me.”

Maria spun around on her red bottom heels swiftly and made her way towards an elevator, making no indication that she was waiting for you. Quickly, you thanked the receptionist before scurrying after Maria. She spared you zero pleasantries, immediately giving you the run down.

“As you know, you’ll be one of the writers for the magazine and website. If Steve releases a new collection, you’ll be the one writing all about it and promoting it. Sometimes we like to publish articles about current trends, the historical side of fashion, anything that sparks Steve’s interest. That is—” She stopped abruptly, turning around on her heels to face you with a sly grin on her face. “If you even get the job.”

Before you could make a remark, the elevator doors opened and Maria was once again speeding away from you. The brunette opened her mouth to speak once more but was interrupted when a frantic blonde woman approached her and whispered something into her ear. Her poise exterior crumbled and soon, mirrored the latter’s. The space filled with the sound of cellphone and email alerts. Just like dominoes, each and every person in the room caved into the chaos.

“He’s early!” Maria gasped to the blonde, breaking out into a sprint.

“I know! He had a breakfast meeting scheduled with Loki Laufeyson but apparently, he was running late, and Steve just decided to leave rather than wait.” The blonde huffed, helping her counterpart gather what looked like a small cup of espresso and a croissant on a porcelain plate.

“What is wrong with people?!” Maria screeched, colliding with another worker who was slipping off a comfy pair of loafers and replacing them with stilettos. “Watch where you’re going!”

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?”

Maria and the blonde snapped their necks towards you, eyes filled with incredulous expressions.

“What’s going on is that the Steve Rogers is on his way up right as we speak and if you don’t pull yourself together, you might as well retire now.” Maria spoke lowly.

“Who is she?” The blonde asked, ignoring your presence completely.

“Interviewee.”

Suddenly, the energy in the room shifted. A single ding from the elevator was all that could be heard. Everyone froze as the doors opened.

Out came the man himself, Steve Rogers.

Clad in a slate grey suit and a matching wool double breasted coat draped over his shoulders, his olden locks pushed away from his face and perfectly tousled, and his beard neatly kept, his appearance alone was enough to leave people speechless. People around you eyed him with fearful expressions that bordered admiration and awe. It both perplexed and intrigued you. How could people fear someone so much but still want to be them or grovel for their approval? You were drawn out of your thoughts when he and Maria began to make their way towards where you were standing.

“I don’t understand what’s so difficult about showing up on time.” Steve grumbled, removing his coat and handing it to Maria without as much as a glance.

“I apologize for the delay, sir.” Maria pardoned. “He gave us no word that he would be late.”

Your brows perked up in surprise at the instantaneous switch in Maria’s demeanor. Just moments ago, she was arrogant, dismissive, and officious. Now, she was a little mouse squeaking in her all too expensive shoes.

“Remove him from the guestlist for the Cavalli tribute.” Steve demanded coldly.

His gaze finally met yours.

“Who is this?” He inquired, studying you.

You opened your mouth to introduce yourself, but just like your entire time here, your presence was once again disregarded as Maria spoke for you.

“Interviewee for the writing position. Although I’m sure she’s nothing special, I’ll handle it and forward you more applications to look throu—”

“Follow me, miss…” The man trailed off, finally giving you an opportunity to speak for yourself. Once you did, he took your paperwork from Maria’s hands and sent her off to complete another task.

Maria glared at you and gave you a small shove, pushing you towards the direction Steve was walking in. You stumbled slightly, almost falling but the man gave no signs of stopping for you if you did. Taking advantage of there not being eyes on you, you closed your eyes briefly and took a couple deep breaths. This was it. It’s make it or break it now.

Steve held opened the door to what you assumed was his office for you, nodding at you as you thanked him.

“Please, have a seat.” He offered politely, gesturing to the empty chair in front of his desk.

You made yourself comfortable, making sure to keep your posture straight and eyes sharp as he too took a seat and began to review your resume.

“Columbia University, huh? Summa Cum Laude.” Steve commented, his tone passive.

You smiled.

“Yes, sir.”

“Lots of awards. Your references spoke very highly of you, Miss Columbia.”

Very softly, you began to tap your foot anxiously. Things were going well so far, but the buildup was killing you. Attempting to read his expression was useless as it remained unmoving even as he continued to list your accomplishments.

“Numerous articles published, even ones in scholarly journals. Psychology of a Criminal, Intergenerational Trauma and Gen Z, Nature vs. Nurture, Worker’ Rights; all very impressive and important topics to shed light on. But there is a major issue I’m seeing.”

You gulped nervously, awaiting his answer.

Carelessly, he placed your resume down and pushed it to the far side of his desk completely out of his sight. Crossing his arms across his broad chest, he hunched forward and cast the most intimidating look someone had even given you. His thick brows lowered over his azure eyes, making him look impossibly more terrorizing.

“You haven’t written a single thing about the fashion industry.” Steve declared, the look on his face and his tone screaming no-nonsense.

He caught you there. Natasha’s words rang through your mind. You’ve got balls. Don’t let that man freak you out.

“Um,” You croaked quietly, causing the man in front of you to eye you expectantly. “I understand my lack of fashion content, but if you give me this position I can lea—”

“Have you come to my headquarters to disrespect me?”

Your eyes widened.

“No, sir—”

“Do I look like a fool to you? Why in my right, mentally sound mind would I hire someone who has zero knowledge on the fashion industry to write articles for me and my brand?”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You’re a bright girl, Miss Columbia. Surely you know that this isn’t a good look for you.” Steve concluded, a hard glare on his face. “Why are you here?”

“Everyone who has worked for you has had the doors of amazing opportunities opened to them. I took a leap of faith and thought maybe that could happen for me too.” You admitted sheepishly. “Look, I know I’m out of my depth here. But I’m smart. I’m quick. I can soak up anything you tell me and handle anything you throw at me. I can produce you results.”

His expression was illegible once again. A pregnant pause hung in the air as he continued to stare at you. For a second you thought you had gotten through to him. That is until he fetched his laptop from his leather satchel, pulled out a stack of files, and began rifling through them while typing simultaneously. You looked around awkwardly, not knowing what to do with yourself or what this meant for you and the position.

“Mr. Rogers?” You peeped hoping to catch his attention but failing.

He proceeds with his work without a single falter.

“That’s all.” He spoke contemptuously.

“Excuse me?”

“That,” a slam of the lid of his laptop sounded through the room. “Is all. See yourself out.”

Staring at him in disbelief of his ill-mannered behavior, you pushed back the chair you sat in harshly before standing up.

“I don’t fit in here. I know that.” You spat. “But I would have thought a man like you would have been able to spot quality when he sees it. Clearly, I was mistaken. Have a good day, Mr. Rogers.”

Stunned at the events that occurred just seconds ago, Steve Rogers let out a low whistle before chuckling to himself. Very rarely did anyone oppose him. He was beginning to miss having someone to challenge him. You, with zero fashion knowledge, practically demanding a position from him like it was your rightful claim lit a fire in him like no other. He couldn’t tell if it was pure insanity or brilliance. Either way, he enjoyed the show.

“I’m so sorry about her, Steve. I should have known better than to send someone like her up.” Maria apologized once more.

Steve smirked, shaking his head.

“Go tell Miss Columbia that she starts on Monday. Eight sharp. Don’t be late.”

You held your head high as you paced through the corridor, taking notice of Maria’s self-satisfied grin the second you stepped out of the lion’s den. Every single condemnatory expression and side whisper bounced off you. No shits were given anymore. You would find a new job, one that would recognize your worth, and do what you were passionate about. Hell, maybe you could write an article about the correlation between superficiality and low self-esteem in the fashion industry. Just as you were about to exit the Haus of Rogers for good, the sound of clacking heels and Maria’s voice calling your name stopped you.

A look of pure defeat and distain was on her face as she spoke.

“Eight. Monday. If you’re a second late don’t even bother showing up.”

Fighting back a smile, you nodded and watched her retreat back into the elevators before turning back around towards the exit and squealing with joy. Fishing out your phone, you sent out the news to Natasha, Yelena, and Monica.

To: hot girls only

well, a shopping day is desperately needed, i can’t walk into rogers’ headquarters looking like shit every day

Your girls cheered with excitement as you took your seat at your reserved table.

“I knew it! I knew you were gonna get it! No way were you going to walk out of that building with a ‘no’!” Monica cheered, pulling you in for a warm hug that you reciprocated tenfold.

“I don’t think she even knows the meaning of that word.” Yelena muttered.

“Well neither does Rogers. Wonder how that played out.” Natasha snorted.

“Anyways!” You clapped. “Drinks are on me.”

Your girls booed loudly, causing a couple of diners to eye your table with a mix of annoyed and amused expressions. You glared at them, embarrassed by the unwanted attention their antics resulted in.

“This is your dinner celebration, shlyukha!” Yelena scolded.

“She’s going to be making more than all of us combined in a couple of weeks, let her pay for drinks.” Natasha argued jokingly.

“All I know is that somehow some way, I will be getting my cabernet.” Monica giggled.

“I think I can handle that.” A familiar voice spoke from behind you.

Turning around in your seat, you were faced with none other than John Walker. He was dressed casually in a white t-shirt, dark jeans, sneakers, and a leather jacket to top it off. A small smile grazed his features, a slither of hope and bashfulness in his eyes as he stood before him.

“John!” You gasped, getting up from your seat to amicably hug your colleague. “It’s been what, months? How are you? How’s the office?”

“It’s been good, although now the rest of us have big shoes to fill now that you’re gone.” John spoke happily, leaning to the side to greet your friends. “Hi ladies, how are you?”

A chorus of pleasantries broke out as John integrated himself into your group. He had just gotten off from work and was meeting up with Lemar for drinks as well. Monica ever so welcoming invited the two men to join in on your commemoration. Once Lemar showed up, the real fun started. John as promised bought the first round of drinks. All of you mingled without a care in the world, laughing as loud as you want

“This one here just landed a spot writing for Rogers.” Natasha praised, filling in John and Lemar on the reason for this occasion.

John’s eyes went wide.

“Wait, Rogers? The Rogers that made those boots or whatever that are selling out every second?”

“That would be the one.” You affirmed.

He laughed breathlessly, blinking with surprise.

“That’s uh,”

Tilting your head sideways, it was your turn to laugh.

“What?”

Awkwardly, your friends broke off into separate conversations, leaving you and John secluded at the table while they lounged at the bar.

“I just never took you for someone who was into that stuff, that’s all.” John murmured. “I mean, you write about important stuff, not all that…”

Your muscles went tense upon hearing his condescending tone. However, you shrugged it off with a smile.

“It’s just for the opportunities. If I can get a good one from him, practically every position I apply for will be mine.” You spoke, not understanding why you were justifying yourself to someone who you owed absolutely nothing to.

“Hey,” John said softly, his hand slowly taking yours into his. “I’m just looking out for you.”

Your jaw clenched then unclenched. Before you could respond, Natasha swooped in. Taking the hand that wasn’t in John’s grasp and dragging you to the bathroom. Without a second glance, you followed her.

“He’s still into you I see.” She pointed, fishing her ruby red lipstick from her purse and applying a fresh coat.

“I don’t understand why!” You groan frustratedly. “We aren’t even friends really. We hardly know anything about each other, the closest thing we’ve had to any kind of relationship were those articles we worked on together, and I haven’t seen him for months since I quit! It’s not like I’m giving him any sign that I’m interested either.”

“You’re just that girl.” Natasha chuckled. “You have it like that.”

“I don’t want it. Take it.” You whined, causing the redhead to cackle.

“Let’s round up the girls and get out of here before he decides he wants to propose to you. We have lots of shopping to do tomorrow.”

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Date With the Side Characters is Going Terribly and Then it Starts to Rain

Brothers ver.

Diavolo

It was a tragic truth that the poor Crown Prince didn’t get to go out and have fun very often, but he had managed to get a singular day off! He of course was going to spend it with the future monarch-consort of the Devildom!

Diavolo had a whole list written out that was full of fun cliche date activities that he wanted to try, and it was also full of stuff MC said they wanted to do, so the date was going to be completely perfect.

As Diavolo and MC walked hand in hand to Madame Scream’s, they both took notice to the fact that literally every single demon in the vicinity was staring at the two of them.

The crown prince laughed it off, saying that MC looked so positively radiant that everyone couldn’t help but stop and look. MC laughed and leaned their head against Dia’s arm, but both of them knew full well that everyone was really staring at Diavolo.

To be fair, wouldn’t you stare if the most powerful person in the entire realm walked by holding hands with a pathetic little human?

They got to Madame Scream’s, got their sweets, then Diavolo got a phone call. It was Lucifer frantically explaining that the RAD gym was on fire and he needed to run everything by Diavolo before he could do anything about it.

That ate up about fifteen minutes and the desserts ended up getting cold… Diavolo tried to make light of it as the two finally got to eat their chocolate chip cookies.

“So apparently one student thought it would be a good idea to set a firework off inside, you know I encourage having fun at school but maybe they should have set this off outside.” “Maybe..?”

Next it was time for a romantic walk on the beach! That would have gone better if Diavolo remembered it was giant-crab season. As cool as it was to watch Diavolo hammer-throw an eight foot tall crab into the ocean it left MC’s ankles vulnerable to get pinched by regular sized crabs.

And maybe they both should have wore appropriate shoes… they were sinking into the sand and it was getting into their shoes…

Okay, so the beach didn’t work out, Diavolo had plenty of other ideas! They just had to- wait he was getting another call.

Half an hour later, Diavolo was finally able to hang up and gave MC an apologetic look. He said that he needed to cut the date short and go to an unavoidable meeting…

Oh well, at least this date couldn’t get any-

A loud crack of thunder caused Diavolo to nearly drop his phone in surprise. Oh… oh no… not rain…

Large droplets of water pelted the pair as they waited for Barbatos to pick them up. Diavolo slowly lifted up his arm and shielded MC from the rain as best he could. Well… this outfit was ruined, the least he could do was try and save MC’s…

“Well…” Diavolo tentatively began. “I heard getting caught in the rain is supposed to be romantic..?”

MC only sighed and moved a little closer, they folded their arms and stared blankly ahead. Their glassy expression made the crown prince’s heart sink right to the floor. Maybe he could cancel the meeting! He promised he’d spend more time with MC and he intended to keep it!

“MC, I could-”

“Dia, no.” MC looked up and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I knew what I was getting into when I said I’d be with you. Your kingdom is more important than one little date.”

“But I wanted to make you happy today…” Diavolo mumbled. His kingdom had always come first, before his friends, before MC, before even himself, was it so much to ask to have just one day for him to spend with the person he loved?

The human reaches up and lowered Diavolo’s arm and looped it around their shoulders. “And you did, any time that I get to spend with you makes me happy. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The crab moment was pretty awesome.”

MC pulled out their DDD and showed Diavolo a picture of himself chucking the giant crab into the watery horizon. “We can put at least one moment of this date into the photo album.”

The precise tapping of the falling raindrops cause the DDD to flick to the next picture, which was an awkwardly angled snapshot of MC brandishing a stick at a much smaller crab who had attached its claws to their ankle.

“Uh, maybe not this picture…”

Barbatos

The poor butler rarely ever gets a day off, and he could tell MC missed spending time with him, so he asked Diavolo for a day off.

Of course Diavolo said yes, but when the day of the date came…

Barbatos saw every mishap and disaster coming a mile away. The smart thing to do would be cancel the date, but NO. Barbatos was going to use his powers for good and make sure MC had the time of their life!

The first disaster was supposed to come in the form of a pickpocket stealing MC’s wallet, key word being supposed.

As the perp made their way through the somewhat crowded sidewalk, fully prepared to swipe some wallets, Barbatos quickly twirled and dipped MC out of the way. This action also conveniently had the result of Barb knocking the pickpocket out cold.

MC of course, was none the wiser of the attempted theft and just assumed Barbatos was being suave (tm).

The second disaster was both MC and Barbatos getting hot coffee accidentally spilled all over them. Or it WOULD have been if Barbatos hadn’t quickly notified the person that would have spilled the drink that their shoelaces were undone.

Hell yeah! Second disaster averted!

The date progressed smoothly, well, as smooth as it could have gone. All those days of work and the task of making sure MC was none the wiser of any of the nasty things that could have ruined the date was really making Barbatos tired…

“Barbatos, are you alright?” “*exhausted breathing* Y-yes dearest, of course. Don’t trouble yourself.”

MC would have bought that lie if Barbatos didn’t look like he had just finished running a ten kilometre long race through a heatwave.

After making sure MC was not in the path of the escaped hellhound that would be running down the street in three, two, one, there it went, MC was safe and sound, Barbatos sighed in relief.

Just one more thing…

In the smoothest possibly motion, Barbatos opened the umbrella he had been carrying and held it over himself and MC.

MC looked up at the umbrella perplexed. “Barbatos, why-”

Thunder rumbled as the first drops of rain pelted harmlessly against the umbrella. Barbatos smiled softly and took MC’s hand. “Did you enjoy the date, darling?”

“Have you been doing damage control all day..?” MC asked. “Oh no wonder you look exhausted…”

Barbatos’ face burned with embarrassment when MC wrapped their arms around him.

“You work way to hard, this date was supposed to be relaxing for the both of us,” MC sighed. “You know what? We’re going to go back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, and I’m making you tea and snacks.”

“MC..?”

They began to pull Barbatos in the direction of the castle and plucked the umbrella out of his hand.

“I’ll hold this.” MC smiled brightly. “You relax, mister.”

Barbatos was about to protest, then sighed, no future he could see in his brief overview involved MC giving up on their new mission to make him take a break. He felt himself smile, he really lucked out with this human, didn’t he?

Simeon

The next volume of TSL had been released and Simeon was officially completely exhausted. He had spent the past two days signing special hardback copies and his writing hand was officially deceased.

He needed to relax and unwind… who better to do it with than MC? Simeon simply invited MC over to Purgatory Hall to hang out.

Oh my~ premarital eye contact~

It was just so nice, MC rested their head on Simeon’s chest while they lounged in bed watching TV, their hands gently intwined, the smell of Luke baking cookies…

Simeon let out a content sigh, he was truly and completely at peace in that moment. The soft knock on the door to his room barely phased him.

Solomon poked his head into the room with a bright smile.

“Hi you two, so sorry to barge in on your date, but before Luke took over the kitchen I made way too much food. I’ll bring some in for you guys!” “Solomon no-” “Wait!”

The date was now in intense danger. They needed to get out of there immediately! The first thing the angel could think to do to save the love of his life was to throw them out of the window.

Fret not, MC’s fall slowed considerably and they gently landed on the grass outside thanks to Simeon’s magic, but the angel himself was not as lucky. Yes his fall was slowed, but he still faceplanted into the dirt.

The two ended up running for dear life away from Purgatory Hall, further exhausting Simeon.

Well, at least they ended up near a very pretty fountain. Simeon and MC sat on the fountain ledge and resumed their snuggling.

Until Simeon got a phone call from a very frantic Luke begging for help with his math homework.

Due to being quite rusty at the subject, Simeon had to teach himself how to calculate the square root of something and then teach Luke, which was honestly frustrating for everyone involved.

After the homework was felt with, Simeon got ready to sit back down on the fountain ledge, ended up missing, then slipped straight into the fountain. It was a good thing that the water was shallow…

Then to MC and Simeon’s horror, it began to rain.

“Well…” Simeon sighed, he accepted MC’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain. “This isn’t so bad..?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, Simeon pulled MC into his arms on reflex, only to then realize that MC had become just as soaked as he was.

“I… sorry, MC.”

Simeon slowly unwrapped his arms from around MC, but the human remained firmly in place. “Ah, it’s fine. Want to call a cab or back to Purgatory Hall?”

“Y-yes, that sounds-” Simeon felt around for his phone, then winced and looked into the fountain. His phone was lying at the bottom of the fountain… “Do you think you could call?”

MC perked up and planted a kiss on Simeon’s cheek. “Of course, we can cuddle in the car.”

“That sounds wonderful…”

Solomon

Solomon decided to text MC at two in the morning to ask them out. In his defence, he was up late making potions and didn’t notice what time it was.

“Hey MCMCMCMCMC-” “ITS TWO OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” “Wanna go on a date tmrw?” “…ok.” “🥳” “see you tomorrow, Solomon.” “Oh yea- that reminds me- look at this snail I saw yesterday.” “Effervescent.” “Marry me.”

Obviously super happy that MC said yes to the date, Solomon was newly rejuvenated and went back to making his potion. It was six in the morning when he realized that maybe he should have just quit while he was ahead and went back to sleep.

It was a little late for that! He needed to go to school, then go on the date. Solomon gracefully took MC’s hand, led them out of the school, then fell down the stairs.

It um… may have messed up his tailbone. Solomon never felt more like an old man than when he and MC sat down at the cafe for coffee and MC had to help him into his seat.

The coffee arrived, MC and Solomon drank it, and Solomon just sighed in relief. This was nice, time with his sweet MC…

The way they made him feel so completely at ease… that smile… those eyes… those eyes were looking very confused-

“Solomon…” “Yes my sweet?” “There’s uh… there’s a giant spider on your head…”

…Solomon looked up and the giant spider fell right into his drink. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A little later, he and MC were walking hand in hand through the park, the darkness of the Devildom was almost comforting as the fireflies and pixies created little balls of light that danced around the pair.

It was such a soothing sight to behold, Solomon and MC sat down beneath a giant tree. MC rested their head on his shoulder, and Solomon let out a content sigh. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment…

Solomon was harshly shaken awake by MC who yelled at him for falling asleep in the presence of pixies. Solomon had completely forgotten that pixies like to possess sleeping people. That was probably why he was awoken in the middle of stuffing his face with cookies that were in his backpack.

The two unanimously decided that it would be best to head back to Purgatory Hall. When the two had just returned to civilization… Solomon heard thunder.

Quick as a flash, Solomon looped his arm around MC’s waist and pulled them closer, using his other hand to draw a circle above them, when the rain began to fall, the two were completely dry thanks to the shield.

“Ha… HA! HAHAHA!” Solomon pointed and laughed at the sky. “GOT YOU BITCH!”

“Solomon..?” MC asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The sorcerer looked at his dear sweet perfect MC, gave them a toothy smile, and shook his head. “No darling, I’ve been awake for 56 hours.”

“Wait what? You texted me at two in the morning, you couldn’t have been awake for more than an extra few hours..?”

Solomon peppered MC’s face with sleepy kisses as the rain pattered against the shield. “I have a weird life.”

“You know what, I buy it.” MC sighed fondly. “Do you want to go home and sleep?”

“More than anything, I’ll teleport us home!”

“NO! Let’s just call someone to pick us up!”

[jaeminlore]

Landslide | Mark Lee

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

words: 7.1k+

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

warnings: talk of absent fathers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/n.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

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

“Yeah!”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You mean that?”

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

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

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

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

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

-

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

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

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

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

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

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

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

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

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

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

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

-

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

-

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

-

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[thebeautyoffanfics]

WAAAH I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE REQUEST TT^TT TO THE ANON WHO WISHED FOR THE TERU X READER, ANGST TO FLUFF, HERE IT ISS;; I'M SO SORRY;;;;;

teru minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: thank you so much for being patient and understanding, though I’m still so sorry for how long this took;;!! It really does mean a lot, so truly- thank you for that, and for the encouragement <3! But!! Of course, I’m a bit of a sucker for angst to fluff, tho I don’t write it too often, so I hope it turns out alright! Thank you so much for requesting, and for your encouragement!!! <3 <333

warnings: self deprecating thoughts..?

word count: 1,848

Your eyes drifted around the room. Person to person, conversation to conversations. Yet, you sat at your desk, lunch in front of you, completely alone. You had a boyfriend, yes, but you didn’t even know where on earth he could be… no, he usually sat with you during lunch. However, today he walked up to you, announcing that he had to attend to something during lunch. He asked if you could eat your lunch without him today, and… well, who were you to say no?

The bell rang, and your lunch remained barely touched. You were sure you wouldn’t have been so dramatic normally- however, it felt as if Teru was practically avoiding you at this point. In fact, it almost felt like he was ditching you for someone else. The thought was enough to make you feel nauseous- both because of it being unpleasant, and because you felt bad for simply thinking it. Teru was a good person. You wouldn’t have fallen for him if he wasn’t. Still, he was only human… and, in your head, there were many other humans out there much more fit for Teru. She was one of them.

Her hair flowed alongside her. Her skin was practically flawless. Her teeth weren’t crooked, and her smile was… frankly, flawless. Good grades, good body, good personality. A lovely match for the prince of the school. A princess suited just for him.

Yet, he seemed to stick with the… well- what was the opposite of a princess? A… troll? You did suppose that, compared to someone like that, a troll was a fair enough comparison. Nothing but a creature in the face of such beauty.

The worst part, you were sure, was the fact that Teru did spend time with her. In fact, you were confident that she “needed him” for something during lunch, causing him to miss out on yet another thing. As if grabbing his attention after school during club activities wasn’t enough. As if going to him constantly to ask for help on things you were positive she was perfectly good at. Her grades were nearly as good as his… was it because he helped her? In that case, why were your grades still lower…? Teru helped you study plenty of times- and, while your grades did get better, you were sure you couldn’t get all 99s and 100s. It was impossible for someone who couldn’t be any form of royalty.

You leaned over, placing your lunch back into the box, then shoving the box into your bookbag. Once you sat up, the classroom door was pushed open- as it usually was. It was right after lunch, after all. However, when you saw two familiar people step in, you began to wish that the door never opened. If only it had been locked- if only someone got distracted. If only you looked down just a bit longer. But, it was done- there was no going back, no need to go back, on such a tiny detail.

In stepped the “Princess”, the “Prince” following her- he even held the door open. It was a basic act of chivalry, yes, but the lack of it around you only made him that much more like a prince… Yes, he wasn’t kind to just you. He treated everyone with kindness, as a normal person should. That little act shouldn’t have made you feel that twinge of jealousy- of doubt- spark in your mind.

“(Y/N), were you able to enjoy lunch?” Teru asked, taking a seat next to you. At least he was still acknowledging you.

“Mmh… I’m not really hungry, haha.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, concern crossing onto his beautiful features.

“Are you feeling alright? I don’t want you to wind up hungry later…”

Of course, the concern on his face was no longer in your direction- his expression changing slightly as the unfortunately familiar girl called his name. Though she spoke to him, his eyes drifted in your direction several times.

“Teru, I was wondering if you could let me borrow your notes from second hour? The teacher was speaking so fast, ahaha~. I don’t know how you keep up, really!”

“Oh? Of course, I don’t mind. If you’d please return them when you’re done though,” Teru spoke, grabbing a notebook from his bag, then handing them to her. He’d surely let you borrow his notes too, so… she wasn’t special. Though it was a bit surprising that someone that bright couldn’t keep up with the teacher’s far-too-fast method of teaching. When you opened your mouth to make a comment you already knew you shouldn’t, the teacher entered, as if prompting you to keep your emotions in check.

The rest of the day passed nearly the same as the first half did. Teru’s attention constantly elsewhere, though he did seem to at least try to keep it on you. Hey, you were used to that much… everyone wanted his attention. You couldn’t be the one to deny them of it. Yes, it was normal. That’s what you told yourself, as you stepped into the hallway, making your way towards the student council room. Finally, you’d have a chance to be with Teru, no one out to beg for his attention. Well- Akane would be there, but- honestly, you were plainly aware of his… distaste towards your boyfriend. Really, you didn’t mind it. At least it was someone not trying to take any attention you got at school away from you.

“Yeah! With the way that girl seems to be all over him! I think they’re dating?”

“No, no, isn’t he dating (Y/N)?”

“I think he was? But, he doesn’t really seem to spend as much time with her, you know.”

You shut your locker, the sound echoing much louder than you thought you intended. The conversation ceased, as the two engaged in it glanced in your direction, one muttering some profanity under their breath. Still, you picked up your bag, not wanting to drag two strangers into your personal business. All you had to do was establish that you were the one dating Teru, right? And the first step was… making sure Teru still wanted to date. Despite how you tried to calm and reassure yourself as your legs carried you quickly to the school council room, you could feel a mix of frustration, fear, sadness, and insecurity bubbling up in your stomach. Why was he spending so much time with her? Was she better than you? Did he like her more than you? Of course, how could someone like him choose you…? If you were in his shoes, you were sure you’d pick the other girl…

Soon, you stood in front of the room. Though you reached for the doorknob confidently at first, you froze once your hand was about to rest on it. Nerves were practically eating at you, your heart racing so quickly that you felt dizzy. Heck- when was the last time you were this nervous? When was the last time your emotions ran this rampant?

Gathering your emotions as best as you could, you opened the door.

“(Y/N), good afternoon,” Teru greeted, giving you his usual, sweet smile. Did he smile at the other girl like that?

You didn’t want to lose that smile…

“Teru,” You muttered, voice cracking a bit as tears finally filled your eyes. Instantly, those smiling eyes of his were filled with concern. He was so easily concerned for you. Did he worry for her that easily?

“(Y/N)? What happened-? What’s wrong?” He questioned, standing up and rushing over towards you. Once you noticed that Akane hadn’t arrived yet, Teru reached behind you, one arm resting on your shoulder as he locked any potential intruders out. He knew you wouldn’t want anyone to bother you, if something was upsetting you enough to cry like this in front of him.

“Teru, do you still want to be with me?”

“What? (Y/N), of course-” “Be honest, Teru. If you don’t wanna, then don’t lie to me, please. I understand. I’m not as pretty as her- and I’m not as smart, I know. And she’s popular, like you. And she can talk to people easily, and she’s fit, and thin, and she’s got a pretty, normal smile… a-and I know I’m nothing like her, so I understand. She and I are complete opposites, Teru, so I’m positive she’s more your type.”

“(Y/N), calm down,” Teru spoke, both of his hands now resting on your shoulders, thumbs moving comfortingly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but I assure you-”

“You’ve been skipping on things we’ve done since we became friends to spend time with her, Teru. Just today, the two of you spent time together during lunch-”

“Her? (Y/N), darling, you’re joking.”

Your eyes filled further with tears, as you shook your head in frustration. “I’m not joking, Teru!”

“(Y/N), please, sweetheart. Calm down, let me explain, alright? Here, let’s sit down?”

Teru led you to a chair, sitting you in it carefully, then crouching next to you, his hands holding both of yours.

“She’s just trying to get some extracurricular things done, relating to her education. Yes, when she needs help, which I’ll admit has been frequently lately, I told her to go to me. I wasn’t expecting her to need this much help, but I didn’t want to go back on my word. Here, if you’d like, I’ll explain to her that I’m a bit too busy to help all the time. I’ll get Akane to step in a bit, is that alright?”

You sniffled, thinking about what he said. Still, as you processed it, you nodded. Poor Akane indeed, but… you felt slightly relieved.

“Next, you know you’re more my type than anyone, (Y/N). Really, sweetie, I only show her basic human kindness. Even when she gets irritating… with you, I never feel annoyed or irritated. Plus, I can actually express how I feel around you- listen, would I admit to anyone else that I find one of our classmates annoying at times?”

“I’m sure you’d tell anyone how you felt about Akane,” You joked lightheartedly, laughing to yourself. Teru’s slight smile grew to a grin, as he closed his eyes.

“Mmm, maybe? But he’s a different story. Still, I love you, (Y/N). You’re plenty smart- and, if you don’t think so, then who cares? Your lack of confidence in yourself means I get to help you study- and you always end up doing just fine. You’re more than plenty gorgeous- I love everything about you. Your smile, your hair, your skin, your body type, anything and everything. You’re perfect, (Y/N). Perfect for the world, and absolutely perfect for me.”

This time, when you felt your eyes get watery, they weren’t tears of sadness or worry. When you hugged Teru, sniffling lightly once again, he could feel you smile against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for assuming things, Teru-”

“Ah-ah. No need to apologize, (Y/N). Really, you have no reason to apologize… you’re fine, darling.”

[honklore]

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You mean that?”

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

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

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

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

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

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

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

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

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

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

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

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

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

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

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

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[blu-joons]

When You’re A Run BTS Cameraman ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

As the filming came to an end, you were more than relieved to finally be able to put your camera down and take a seat in one of the chairs. “Here,” a voice spoke as you caught your breath, handing a bottle of water to you.

“You could read my mind,” you chuckled, glancing up at Jin.

“You were good,” he laughed, sitting down beside you, “not many can keep up.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t make it easy for me,” you hummed, taking a huge gulp of water, “I never knew running was so hard.”

He leaned across and nudged gently against your shoulder, “I might have to put in a good word and see if you can be my cameraman for all of our shorts from now on.”

“Did I do that well?” You questioned, surprised when his head nodded back at you. “You’ve not even seen what the footage looks like yet to know how I did.”

He shrugged back at you, “I don’t need to see it to know that you did well, call it a gut feeling, but I have nothing to worry about.”

“Well, anytime you need me to record you, you know where I am,” you reminded him, “all you have to do is let me know.”

“I will do just that, don’t worry.”

Yoongi:

The slow pace that came with working with Yoongi was one that was a huge relief to you. Whilst everyone else ran around you, you were able to walk. “You’ve got the easy job,” he laughed across to you at his side.

“You’re not wrong,” you teased, watching everyone else.

“There’s no need to run,” he pointed out to you, “it doesn’t change anything.”

“It makes you the most popular among the cameramen,” you informed him with a wide smile, “we can all just relax when with you.”

His eyes rolled with a loud chuckle, “I’m glad there’s some people around who finally appreciate my slow pace in life. I mean really, what is the rush sometimes?”

“We play rock, paper, scissors to try and get you,” you shamefully added to your information, “everyone is that desperate to work with you and film.”

His smile grew once again, “you do realise you’ve given me a huge ammunition to brag about in front of the rest of the boys too.”

“I’m sure they’ve got plenty of things they can use against you too,” you sniggered, “just like how you’re usually the one who loses.”

“I’ve won a couple of times…just a couple.”

Hoseok:

His eyebrows knitted together as he looked across to address the camera, only to look back and see you catching your breath for a few moments. “Are you alright?” He chuckled, jogging a few paces back to you.

“I never had you down for a runner,” you smiled, “you’re quick.”

“You should have said,” he laughed, resting his hand against your back, “I would have slowed.”

“No, don’t be stupid, I should have done a better job of keeping up,” you assured him, standing yourself back up after a few moments.

Hobi studied you closely to make sure that you were doing alright, “you’re no bother if sometimes you tell me to wait, sometimes I can head off a bit too quick.”

“I just need to go running a little more often,” you giggled, walking alongside him, “I was very under prepared to film you today it seems.”

His head shook back at you, “a lot of the cameraman say I’m the dark horse, none of them expect me to move as fast as I actually do.”

“And I couldn’t agree with them more,” you teased, “you make working for Jungkook seem like a walk in the park somehow.”

“I’m not that quick, not just yet anyway.”

Namjoon:

You could only walk and listen as Namjoon talked to himself again and again whilst walking around the empty building. “Y/N, are you listening to me?” He questioned, taking you by surprise at the sudden sound of his voice.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, smiling across in his direction.

“You switched off?” He questioned, “don’t worry, all the cameramen usually do.”

“I just thought you talked to yourself for the camera,” you admitted to him, “I didn’t realise you spoke to the staff too.”

He shrugged gently, smiling weakly, “it makes me feel as if I’m not completely mad by talking to the cameraman, otherwise I really feel as if I’m talking to myself.”

“I’m listening from now on,” you swiftly informed him, lifting the camera back up to look at him, “although I don’t think I can answer you on camera.”

His smile continued to grow wider, “just nod your head, that’s all you have to do. At least then I feel like someone else is listening.”

“I can do that,” you cheered, “just keep talking and pretend that I’m not here, the camera won’t even notice me.”

“Alright, let’s try this again in that case.”

Jimin:

You bit down on your bottom lip as Jimin read through the clue, unable to make any sense of what it was asking of him. “Do you get it?” He asked you, but you remained impartial and didn’t react in the slightest.

“I’m not allowed to say,” you replied as he pushed once again.

“No one will know,” he frowned, “I’m in last position, I really need some help Y/N.”

“The camera will pick it up Jimin,” you reminded him, shoving it in front of his face, “and no one will believe you won all alone.”

His jaw hit the floor, shaking his head in surprise, “I can’t believe you think so lowly of me sometimes, as a member of staff you’re supposed to support me instead.”

“I support you, but I also know you,” you teased him, “I’ve seen you fail far too many times to know that you could do this and win the challenge.”

He stared back at you once again, “just give me one clue, not even the answer, a tiny little push into the right direction, please?”

“No,” you laughed, encouraging him to get moving, “eventually you’ll figure what the clue is trying to tell you.”

“But it’ll be far too late by then.”

Taehyung:

Your hands were full already as you held onto the equipment to film Taehyung, only for him to reach out and hand you several of the items he needed to keep a hold of. “Keep these safe,” he instructed as he started walking.

“I’m a cameraman, not a hoarder,” you called out to him.

“Please,” he whined, glancing back at you, “the more you hold, the more I collect.”

“How am I supposed to film you with all these stupid things filling up my hands and pockets?” You continued to question, “am I a decoy?”

His head nodded as you soon figured him out, “the others will think that I haven’t got any, and then I’ll surprise them all at the end with loads thanks to you.”

“This feels a lot like the episode when you cheated Jimin,” you added, watching as he continued to nod. “One day he is actually going to kill you.”

His eyebrows raised at your remark, “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing, I could get you fired if you really want me to.”

“If you got me fired then who would be around to carry all of your stuff?” You questioned, instantly making him fall silent.

“You’ve got me there; I’ll give you that one.”

Jungkook:

The weight of the world sent you toppling down as Jungkook sprinted off in yet another direction in his search of stickers. “Y/N, keep up!” He yelled, glancing back to see you were a few metres off of him to shoot.

“You’re an animal Jeon Jungkook!” You yelled out to him.

“Keep up,” he smirked, slowing his pace to give you time to catch up.

“Why do you have to run so fast?” You groaned once you were back up by his side, “do you have any consideration for the staff.”

His head shook proudly with a cheeky grin plastered across his face, “I have to win, even if that means that you end up with no footage of me, I don’t care.”

“I’ve never met anyone as competitive as you,” you hummed, “my body feels like it’s about to give up following you around and pass you the camera.”

His arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders, “I’ll give you two minutes to catch your breath and then we’re back into a run.”

“How does five sound?” You sheepishly asked, pouting across at him. “I could give a marathon runner a go for how long you make me run.”

“You’ve always been a dramatic member of staff Y/N.”

---

Masterlist

[fairyoftbz]

aquaphobia | k. sunwoo

(n.) : an irrational or disproportionate fear of water, especially anxiety in deep water or when submerging one's face in water.

🌊 pairing: shy! sunwoo x fem! swimming teacher! reader 🌊 word count: 4.6k 🌊 genre: slight angst, fluff, mentions of suggestive themes at the end. 🌊 tw: aquaphobia, mention of claustrophobia and agoraphobia 🌊 synopsis: a young man approaches you while you give children swimming lessons. you’re far from expecting what he asked you. 🌊 a/n: happy birthday sunwoo! ❣ seeing him so scared of going underwater broke my heart, so i had to write about it! miss swimming so it felt so nice to write something like this!! i hope it’s any good and enjoy! 

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Hands resting on your hips with the whistle in your mouth ready to blow, your eyes followed the children you were teaching to swim, walking at their pace on the side of the pool. Some parents were sitting in the cafeteria, watching you doubtingly and judgmentally from their seats, nervously sipping on their coffee as they were scared of the safety of their kids. They probably hadn't expected you to be this young, but your lifesaving and diving credentials could prove them otherwise.

You inhaled and blew your whistle, the children picking up the pace, making you squint as their feet tapped harder on the surface of the water, splashing it everywhere. You glanced at the clock on the wall and whistled again, ordering them to stop, before repeating this twice until they arrived at the other end of the pool.

"Alright kids, we'll end there for today," you paused your stopwatch, giving them a little time to catch their breath and get a grip onto the edge of the pool with their little hands.

"You're going to swim one last lap, starting in pairs. Once the first pair gets to the other end, two more will leave, etcetera, etcetera," you explained while gesturing everything under the watchful eyes of the parents. Smiling at some to reassuring them, you focused back on your students and calmed down the nervousness creeping in your veins under the parents' watch.  "On your mark... Go!" you yelled, the first pair starting to swim. You kept the whistle close to your lips and followed them with your gaze, clapping your hands to encourage them. 

You helped them out of the pool after everyone had finished the activity, the children scampering towards their parents. You waved with a smile to the few people who greeted and thanked you for your work, and you began to put away the different things used for the class.

"Hum, excuse me?" a voice coming from behind startled you, letting go of the pair of fins you had in hand. "Yes?" you replied in an uncertain voice, still surprised at the young man in front of you.

“I saw you training children just now. Do you happen to teach adults as well?" The question seemed to bother him, but he regained confidence when he saw the kindness and the smile on your face. "Classes are for everyone, no matter how young or old you are," you smiled, and he nodded before briefly looking to the side to escape your gaze. "A-Are you interested?" You dared to ask, and he blinked several times, taken aback by the question. "Let's say… how to put it," he started, and you nodded encouragingly, a smile forming on your lips.

“There is no shame in wanting to take lessons, even the biggest swimmers began with those." "No! This is… it's not it. I actually can't swim,” he confessed in a whisper, and your eyes widened briefly before picking up your towel that was lying on the stack of floats. “It's okay, you know. It's good that you want to experience this new sport," you tried to cheer him on, but it seemed like something was wrong, his gaze didn't light up when you accepted his request. "There’s no rush, I'll give you time to think. But if you want to take the plunge, you can sign up at the pool reception," you beamed, and he nodded another time, thanking you for giving him time.

A few days later, while you were having a coffee next to Sangyeon, your best friend - which was also the volunteering pool lifeguard - the young man who had come to talk to you at the end of class reappeared, a lost and anguished look painted on his face.

“Ah, looks like your first student of the day has arrived,” you laughed as you handed him your cup of coffee, opening your lifeguard jacket before walking down the first few steps to the main pool where the young man was eyeing the water, his face growing livid. "Ew, your coffee is disgusting, it's too sweet," Sangyeon put the mug back on the table with a disgusted look, his grimace making you burst out laughing. "Nobody forced you to drink it though," Sangyeon rushed over to a bottle of water and opened it, lightly waving at you as you started your day.

"Sunwoo, right?" The young man got startled as you announced yourself, causing him to turn around quickly, nodding. "Y-yes, it's me," he put his towel on his bag, and you nodded, setting your belongings next to his. "Good. I'm Y/N, and I'll be your teacher until we reach your goals, okay?" You started to walk towards the small stairs that went into the pool, but Sunwoo stayed on the first step with his feet in the water, muscles visibly clenched. You looked at him with furrowed brows, glancing briefly at Sangyeon in his cabin, who was also looking at you with furrowed brows.

Sunwoo fiddled with his hands, his index finger scratching the skin around his thumb. You could see in the side of his neck that his heart was pounding, and immediately understood what was wrong.

You then got out of the pool and put a hand on his shoulder, leading him back to his belongings. How do you get him to explain the situation without scaring or triggering him? His breathing was jerky and panting, your presence not reassuring him at all.

"Sunwoo? Sunwoo, look at me, please," You pressed your hand further onto his shoulder to force him to look at you, trying to make the young man understand that you didn't mean any harm to him. "Can you tell me what's going on? Are you afraid of water?" You asked in a whisper, and he swallowed hard, giving you a clue that you had hit a nerve.

“You know, it's not a shame to be afraid. Your fear is as acceptable as someone afraid of heights or confined spaces. Just because it's a tad bit less common doesn't mean it's less valid," Sunwoo nodded, your heart skipping a beat when his eyes swelled up with tears. "Do you want to postpone-" "No. No, I want to try," you nodded at his shaky words, relieved that he had built up the courage to overcome his fear. "It's-it's just that..." "You don't need to tell me the reason you're scared, that's none of my business. But simply tell me what scares you, so we can work on-" "I'm afraid to drown," he cut you, and you looked at him, encouraging him to continue, "I almost kicked the bucket once and ever since… I'm afraid of going back in the water. It can be the sea, a lake, a swimming pool, I hate it all." You nodded and stood up, motioning for him to follow you.

"We've already moved forward, you told me the reason for your fear, we can take the problem step by step. Now, would you feel reassured to have the lifeguard by the pool? He's my best friend, and he was a coast guard before he moved to come here, so he can save people in any condition," you suggested while pointing at Sangyeon, the latter standing up immediately. Sunwoo shook his head, and your friend sat back down, giving you a knowing smile that he would come down at any sign from you. "Great, then. Let’s try to get into the water, shall we?” You extended your hand, which he took without hesitation, squeezing your palm tightly. 

You helped him take deep breaths to calm his pulse and train of thoughts, feeling his hand gradually loosen from yours as you encouraged and reassured him. You walked down the second step of the stairs, and he followed you, swallowing hard as you congratulated and cheered him on again.

"Take the time you want, even if you have to spend the session here, it's fine, okay?" He joined you on the third step, water now above mid-thighs, his hand tightening around yours. "It's alright Sunwoo, I'm here. You're okay, we'll get there eventually. Look at me, please," his firmly shut eyes relaxed, and he blinked several times, sighing as he wanted to cheer himself up. "Remember to breathe deeply and clear your thoughts. And if you feel like stopping, tell me, and we’ll do something else," his eyes never left yours, as if he were caught in a trance. A slight smile decorated your face, your eyes filled with kindness acting like a tranquilliser on his heart.

You looked away from Sunwoo for a brief moment to look at your best friend, who gave you a thumbs up with a big smile from his cabin, encouraging you to be the good teacher you were.

"Are you doing fine?" You asked in a soft voice, and he nodded, jaw clenched. The poor boy. You didn't know what had happened to him, but you truly could see that behind his brown eyes laid years of the trauma he had never been able to heal. "Y-yes, I think so," he whispered, taking a deep breath. "Good job. Do you want to try the fourth step, or should we wait for the next lesson?" You asked as you walked down the second to last step, not letting go of your student's clammy hand. You saw his foot hesitate above the step, but he took a step back, then another, letting go of your hand to take refuge on the first step. At least there was something positive, he hadn't run out of the pool completely.

"I-I am sorry," he whispered, and you stepped out of the water too, the wet part of your swimsuit sticking to your skin. "It's okay, Sunwoo. You've made some good progress already," you comforted him with a smile he barely surrendered in return. “It all takes time. Remember, it's better to take small steps than nothing at all." He nodded, but you could tell he wasn't listening to you, a veil of anxiety appearing in his eyes. "See you next week then!" you put your jacket back on, leaving him sitting next to his bag. "Thank you, Y/N," an unconvinced smile spread across his face. You gently pat him on the shoulder before heading back to your best friend, who was standing up to watch the young man you left behind.

"His distress makes me so sad," you said with a sigh, sitting in your best friend's unoccupied chair. Your gaze fell on Sunwoo again, who was staring at the ground as if he were drained of all the energy he had in him. "But I'm sure you'll be able to get him to overcome his fear," Sangyeon was leaning against the window of his cabin, the soft crackle of the radio occupying the silence. “I'm not as confident as you are, but I'll try."

The more Sunwoo came to the pool, the more anxious he seemed, despite making some progress from the previous lesson. He now knew how to stay in the water, all alone where he was, without having to hold onto you or the side of the pool, but it took several weeks of hard work. He still had that panicked look on his face, but he seemed to have mastered that part of his phobia. Sunwoo even confessed to you that he had tried taking one or two baths, which was a big step forward on his part.

"And? How did it feel being in the bath?" “It was weird… I felt a bit uncomfortable, but the hot water felt good. I even wanted to try to put my head underwater, but I didn't have the courage." “Do not forget what I keep telling you over and over, small steps. There's no point in wanting to go too fast, plus you were all alone. One misstep and we can start all over again, so be careful,” you took on a more severe tone to make him understand that he shouldn't let himself be overwhelmed by a sudden rush of confidence, at the risk of losing all the progress you've made so far.

"Do you want to try to float on your back?" He took his gaze away at your suggestion, his eyes moving all over the place as if he were looking for an escape. 

He knew you were only suggesting an activity, but he couldn't help but create horrible scenarios in his head. Sunwoo was reassuring himself as best he could: he had researched you on the swimming pool website, as well as your university, and he had come back more confident than the last time. The sight of all your life-guarding and swimming diplomas featured in the pool staff description reassured him and made you completely trustworthy in the young man's eyes.

"I'm going to ask you to move back, and you bring out your abdomen. Think you want to show everyone how great your abs are,” you explained, and he chuckled through his nose while nodding, dimples appearing on the side of his mouth. You slightly pulled him a little further from the edge, but still close enough in case he panicked. "Remember that you can always set your foot on the ground or grab the pool edge if you don't feel like doing it anymore," he agreed, and you moved closer to him, slipping an arm through the middle of his back to accompany him. 

He had his eyes closed, and he was shakily controlling his breathing, a flinch seized him as his head touched the surface of the water, but he kept going nonetheless.

"You can do it Sunwoo, I believe in you," you whispered, and he nodded weakly, feeling your arm behind his thighs, holding him to the surface. 

He stayed a moment, but he felt a wave of anxiety crash onto him, his heartbeat echoing violently in his ears not helping him to calm down. He opened his eyes, struck dumb with fear, but you caught his gaze instantly. He managed to make out encouraging words coming out of your mouth despite the thickness of the water.

"I'm here, don't worry, I got you, Sunwoo, I got you," you repeated the words over and over to engrave them in his memory, his phobia unfortunately still present despite your ongoing efforts. You moved closer to the edge and rested your knee against the wall, still maintaining Sunwoo on the surface of the water, allowing him to hang onto the edge to feel safe.

"I'm never going to make it," he whispered, rubbing his face, putting his foot on the ground. "No, Sunwoo, it's not the time to let your fear take over and make you give up. Not after all these efforts.You have to pull yourself together and overcome your fear." You let go of him and replaced your hair behind your neck, observing your student. "Easier said than done." He spat involuntarily, his anxiety speaking for him. "I know it's hard, I know it, and I see it, but I'm sure you can do it." "How can you be confident of something so uncertain? What tells you I'm gonna get there?” Sunwoo slightly raised his voice, the frustration flooding his veins. 

"Because you are ready to face your fear! Look at yourself, you came of your own free will to the pool to take lessons, which means you want to progress. If you wanted to remain so fearful of the water and drowning, you wouldn't even have made the effort to get here, let alone be in the water with me. I know it is hard, everyone has a phobia, but you have to be patient and allow time to do what it needs to do. I also have a phobia. I am afraid of confined spaces, elevators, and large crowds. Being stuck on the subway with hundreds of other people always feels like I'm going to suffocate or getting crushed to death. It's a different phobia, but it's just as valid as yours," Sunwoo sighed and folded his arms over his chest, listening wearily.

"Okay Sunwoo, I think we're going to stop there for today," you gave him a slight smile which he didn't answer, lost in thought.

You didn't understand. Yet he was on the right track, making progress, but he was now on the verge of giving up everything. How could you make him enjoy swimming and water again?

This question ran through your mind for the rest of the day, your hand gripping the bar of the subway train as you patiently travelled home. Music at full volume in headphones, you tried to create a safe bubble around you to forget the situation you currently were in. As if talking about it this morning with Sunwoo had triggered something for it to happen.

The subway stopped at a fairly popular station, your eyes widening as you noticed the mass of people who were waiting to climb into the train. You squeezed the bar even tighter, your fingers turning white as the doors opened. Closing your eyes, you internally cursed yourself for not waiting for your best friend to finish his shift. You took a deep breath, now feeling the distress Sunwoo experienced when he was in the water. This feeling of suffocation and helplessness in the face of this fear was starting to take over your whole body. You lowered your head to look at the ground to avoid meeting all eyes and the bodies around you. Chills ran through your spine, and your throat tightened, making your breathing, and swallowing a struggle.

You opened your eyes when a hand grabbed your free one, turning your head sharply to the right as fear rose your heart to your throat. Your grip on the bar slightly relaxed as you recognised Sunwoo beside you, holding your hand as tight as he did when he stepped into the water during your first class. You were ready to cry, but you gritted your teeth, looking away as you felt your eyes fill with tears. Sunwoo shuffled around you, a few people groaning as the coach was packed. He managed to make his way to the automatic doors, where he guided you to the window so that you could focus on something other than the mass surrounding you. His hands were on both sides of your head for him to stand upright, subconsciously creating space for you to have enough room to breathe a little easier.

"Thank you," you whispered, and he smiled compassionately, understanding your distress. He moved closer to you to whisper in your ear, his action making your heart skip a beat. "You did it for me at the pool, I don't see why I shouldn't do it for you on the subway," he wiped a tear away with his thumb and weakly smiled as you fidgeted with your hands. 

The more your classes continued, the closer you got with your student, the subway event from a few weeks ago having acted as a trigger. Sunwoo understood that you were on his side, that you weren't doing this because you wanted to make money or because you had to. He felt that you genuinely wanted to help him surmount his fear, just as much as he wanted to help you with yours. 

Outside of lectures and meetings, you would start spending time together over coffee or chatting, sensing that a friendship was forming. Sunwoo was a very gentle guy, passionate about music and dancing, activities that had helped to drown out his trauma and move on. He was very talented, his ears turning red despite his beanie when you watched his dancing and rapping performances on his phone at a cafe.

___

You took a break from training for a while, you and Sunwoo having to focus on your studies. Despite your part-time job at the pool, you also had a degree to achieve, and it was by far the easiest. You were in law school with Sangyeon, and your student happened to be in biology in a building a few feet from yours. You didn't have time to spend time together. Sangyeon, his girlfriend and you almost lived in each other's house, studying together for your final exams.

Once that affliction was over, you could finally relax, and for both of you, that meant jumping into an Olympic-size pool and swimming laps until you could no longer be able to move. When swimming was your stress reliever, Sangyeon and his girlfriend had some spicy intercourses that allowed them to get rid of the built-up pressure together. Since they were not as tensed as you, Sangyeon gave up earlier than you, wrapping himself in his towel before sitting down to watch you swim.

As you were getting rid of all your frustration and exam stress by pounding your feet in the water, a familiar face appeared from the changing rooms as you lifted your head to breathe. You briefly smiled before putting your head back under the water and swinging your arms above your head, waving your pelvis before repeating the movements.

"Nice to see you here, Sunwoo," you said, stopping at the end of your lap with a smile on your face, lifting your goggles. He sat by the pool and dipped his feet in the water, looking at you with a smirk. "I was bored now that the exams are over, so I thought I could drop by and see you," you placed a hand to your heart, acting fake touched by his words. You started swimming again as not to lose your energy nor the rhythm you had managed to keep after a few laps.

Sunwoo watched you go to the other end of the pool, your movements and form hypnotising him. He desired to become as graceful and comfortable in the water as you were, but he still had a long way to go. You got introduced to swimming as soon as you could walk, your parents wanting to pass on their passion to you.

The lifeguard gently smacked Sunwoo's shoulder and winked to greet him while he was leaving. Your student nodded while shifting his attention back to you, who was coming back to finish your training. Putting a tried hand against the edge of the pool, you grabbed the bottle of water before taking a few gulps as you caught your breath. A sudden, swift movement surprised you, your eyes widening as you saw Sunwoo's figure dive above your head, coming back to the surface with a smile on his face. He laughed when you choked and spat out the water you had in your mouth, shocked at his sudden, magical progress.

"Sunwoo, what the fuck! You were still hesitant to put your head underwater the last time we saw each other! What happened?" You yelled in confusion as you approached the young man, who smiled and ran a hand through his wet hair to get a better look at you. "I… lied. I took classes with Sangyeon while you were studying. I wanted to give you a nice surprise at the end of the exams…" you shook your head, scoffing, slightly offended at the amazing progress he had made with Sangyeon, as you followed him for months. "You made more progress with my best friend in a few weeks than with me in several months," you said, and he chuckled, a big smile on his face. 

Were you doing something wrong?

Sunwoo saw your slightly crestfallen face and moved closer to grab hold of your forearm. You looked at him sideways for long seconds, finally smiling when you saw the teasing look that decorated his eyes.

"You did most of the work, Sangyeon just took the opportunity to show me other things." “Obviously. That fucker always does what’s the easiest. He certainly isn't going to bother to get his hands dirty," Sunwoo laughed at your statement, noting that this wasn't probably the first time your best friend's done this to you. You sighed and instantly lifted your head as your friend took off your swim cap and brushed the baby hair out of your face. "I wouldn't think twice if all of this had to happen again. I would take lessons behind your back with Sangyeon if I had to, again, because nothing can replace the surprise that shone in your eyes when you saw me dive. It was priceless,” you rolled your eyes and looked away, Sunwoo's fingers grabbed your chin to make you look at him in the eyes. 

Not only did Sangyeon teach him how to swim, but now he's a huge flirt! Where did the shy guy that was terrified of water go?

"Whatever," you retorted, and he arched an eyebrow. "Oh. You don't believe me?" "Not so much, no. It sounds like a crappy plan any-" a soft source of warmth rushed to your face, feeling pressure against your lips, allowing you only milliseconds of what was currently happening. 

Sunwoo's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you to his slender body. One hand running around your curves to come to rest on your cheek, cradling it tenderly, contrasting with the fervour of the kiss you were exchanging. Pressing your hands against his chest after making out for a few minutes, his lips left yours, leaving you both breathless, the workout you had just done not helping you in this situation.

"I wanted to confess to you another way, but you talk too much, I had to do something to make you quiet," you pat him gently on the forearm, laughing, a wave of embarrassment seizing your body. "You're done? Can I start swimming again?" You changed the subject, and Sunwoo smirked, leaning against the wall of the pool. 

The rays of sun hitting the water gave his skin a luminous complexion, his beautiful eyes turning a lighter shade of chocolate brown as he looked at you with a thin, satisfied smirk. He watched you silently, his eyes unrestrainedly longing for your lips. You moved closer to him and planted your eyes in his, finding their dark colour again. He grabbed your cap and threw it behind him, landing near your bag so you couldn’t go back to swimming.

"If I was mean I'd press your head underwater, but I don't want to ruin our efforts, so you better run fast," you threatened him, but he didn't move an inch, always watching you with a teasing look as his elbows rested on the edge of the pool. He cleared his throat and stared at you, a new sparkle lightning his eyes.

“Sangyeon told me about a technique that helps reduce stress well, tested and approved by him and his partner. Do you want to give it a try?" You quirked an eyebrow and your tongue poked the inner part of your cheek, rolling your eyes before staring at him, moving closer to his ear. "I'll meet you in the showers, you better be good if you don’t want me to kick your ass," you said, and he hoisted himself out of the water in no time.

“Noted,” he started and went on one knee to near his face with yours, “teacher,” he winked and threw your towel around his neck before confidently walking towards the showers, sending you an explicit wink as you scoffed at his behaviour, shaking your head as you rushed out of the pool. 

What has Sangyeon done to your student…

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys getting accidentally flashed by their girlfriend

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi and Daishou

TW- second hand embarrassment, flashing someone, mentions of cleavage and underwear.

Akaashi Keiji:

You knew he was coming over today, you just forgot..that he....was coming over today....

In all fairness, you tried to look at least a little presentable, but after you threw on some sweatpants and a sports bra, you kind of got distracted?

And seeing as at the moment it was just you, chilling around in a sports bra didn’t seem like that big of a deal.

Which is why when you heard a soft knock at your door and your name being called by your boyfriend, you didn’t hesitate to say ‘come in’, not realizing your mistake until he walked in. 

As soon as you saw his eyes widen and the tips of his ears turn red, you remembered not finishing getting dressed.

Being the gentleman he is he promptly turned around and let you put a shirt on.

I’m sure you’ll laugh about it someday but until then...suffer lol.

Washio Tatsuki: 

You had been invited to the beach with your boyfriend’s high school volleyball team, Fukurodani.

Seeing as they are a volleyball team, they decided to play a game of beach volleyball, you and the two managers were of course included.

Everything was going great. Your team was winning, Bokuto hadn’t gone into an emo mode, and everyone was having fun.

Everything was perfect until a wonky spike made by Konoha went a little further than you had anticipated, causing you to drive for it.

Surprising even yourself, you successfully got the ball up. But as soon as you stood up, Washio pulled you into a tight hug, looking up to him from your place at his chest you were met with the reddest face you’ve ever seen from your boyfriend.

We’re talking redder than when he asked you to be his girlfriend red.

You asked him ‘What?’ and he said in a small voice, ‘your top came off’.

Looking down, you indeed realized that your top had come completely off, but thanks to your boyfriend’s quick reflex’s, no one other than you and poor, poor Washio saw anything.

Continuing to shield you from your friends, he quickly picked up your top, dusted it off and handed it to you, turning around so you could put it on, and tying it so you both could be sure it wouldn’t come undone again.

Konoha Akinori: 

You and your boyfriend had been hanging out at your house during the summer.

It had become increasingly hotter throughout the day, so you ran up to your room to change into something a bit cooler. You didn’t think anything of it when you chose a comfortable tank top to wear, figuring you were at home anyways so it didn’t matter.

You of course missed the slight widening of your boyfriends eyes when you came downstairs. 

You two were just chilling at the table drinking some iced tea, scrolling on your phones and what not, when you leaned down onto your elbows.

The tank top you were wearing was less than helpful, because along with you leaning forward, your top was cut quite low.

Fortunately you caught it pretty quickly and of course apologized to your boyfriend. He muttered a ‘it’s fine’ before awkwardly laughing and moving on, leaning down so his hair could hide just how pink his cheeks had gotten.

Little do the two of you know how long that will haunt both of you.

Kita Shinsuke: 

The two of you were on a date, you guys had just gotten out of the movies and were talking and walking around the nearby park.

The two of you were walking hand in hand, just enjoying being in each other’s presence really.

You were just about to tell him something when the wind picked up, picking your skirt up along with it.

You of course were quick to grab the hem of your skirt to tug it back down, but the damage had already been done.

He had been looking at you waiting for you to speak when your skirt had lifted. Giving him a...view. You were quick to apologize, and so was he. He assured you he didn’t see anything....but the thing was level with your waist so you know he did, he’s just too much of gentleman to embarrass you further.

Suna Rintaro: 

Every morning, one of the first things you do is send your boyfriend a ‘good morning’ snap.

It was a normal, everyday thing, so you didn’t think much of it when you sent the first picture you took. 

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t look back at the picture you had taken.

About five minutes later you received a snap back from your boyfriend.

It was a picture with his hand over his eyes and a caption that said ‘look down’, and after doing so and realizing the shirt you had slept in had slipped down, you were quick to send back another picture (this time with a fixed top) apologizing.

Him being the chill guy he is let it go, but it did end up being quite the wake up for both of you.

Ushjima Wakatoshi: 

You had expressed to your boyfriend that you had wanted to start exercising more, and with him being the fitness buff he is, he was more than happy to help.

The two of you were working out at your house, just a simple warm up and some lighter exercises so you could get used to it.

You got into a plank position and got started, or did your best, him being the great boyfriend he is encouraged you and kept his mouth shut.

Well, about the pushups anyways. Not long after you had started he had leaned over and pulled your top further down your back, telling you it was showing your chest as he leaned back like nothing had happened.

Realization kicked in not long after for you, realizing that not only had you flashed your boyfriend, but he had nonchalantly fixed your top for you like nothing had happened at all.

Then again, that’s only because you were too focused on your own embarrassment to notice the light pink dusting his face.

Yahaba Shigeru: 

Every morning Yahaba picked you up for school and the two of you drove together.

And seeing as it was now in the warmer months of the school year, you no longer had to wear tights and could now just wear the skirt.

When you guys got to the school Yahaba exited the car and made his way to your door to open it like he did every morning.

And after months of not having to worry about showing anything you had swung your legs out of the car like you had in the winter.

Except that now there were no tights to stop from showing your underwear off when your skirt had lifted, giving an unintentional ‘show’ to your chivalrous, albeit now red, boyfriend.

You now wear shorts under your skirt.

Iwaizumi Hajime: 

You had a habit of taking your boyfriend’s clothes, his sweatshirts being your favorite item of his to leech.

Currently you were wearing a gray hoodie he had bought recently, but let you borrow since he knows how much you like wearing them.

Usually he has no problem with you wearing his stuff, but for this particular look, he just so happened to need the one you were currently wearing.

He asked for it, and you being the benevolent girlfriend you are, gladly gave it to him.

Er, you tried to, you had a little trouble getting it over your head. In other words, you were stuck.

Calling for help from your beefy boyfriend you tried once again to get it off.

Iwaizumi, being the benevolent boyfriend he is, tried to help you untangle yourself from the sweatshirt. Only to be flashed when you finally got it off your head.

The particular sweatshirt you were wearing was a bit of a tighter fit, and it caught the sleeves of your shirt juuust right to where when you two finally got it off, it took your shirt along with it.

Iwaizumi froze before picking up another sweatshirt of his and shoving it over your head, mumbling things before he stopped when he heard your laugh mixed with apologies.

He now makes sure to ask for his sweatshirts in advance.

Futakuchi Kenji: 

The two of you had decided to get something to eat after school since Futakuchi didn’t have practice and your afternoon was free as well.

For the entirety of the school day, your uniform top has been giving you issues.

When you initially got your uniform it had come in a size too small, so you of course got another one, but yesterday you had spilled something on your shirt and needed a replacement.

It still fit well enough, it was just a tad bit too snug in some areas.

Specifically your chest.

The two of you had sat down, waiting for your order to be called when you noticed your boyfriend had gone uncharacteristically quiet.

You looked at him and he just nodded down to your shirt before whispering that ‘you’re button came undone’.

You were of course quick to button it back up and were about to apologize when he hushed you, choosing to instead place his blazer over your shoulders, assuring you that it was fine and ‘you just need to pay more attention dummy’ and some other witty remarks.

Although it was very obvious they were made to distract you from the burning red adorning his neck and ears.

Daishou Suguru: 

I know what you’re thinking ‘oH sUrE iT wAs An AcCiDeNt’ BUT IT WAS.

You two have been dating for a while now, so it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to barge into each other’s rooms.

On this specific day, you had just finished taking a shower when he had come over. He was not aware you had just gotten out of the shower and you didn’t know he was there.

You made your way to your room dressed in a bath towel, drying off as you got your clothes and such ready.

You were just about to drop your towel when your bedroom door opened, revealing your boyfriend.

You were quick to tighten your grip on the towel and he was quick to turn around and leave your room, loudly shouting apologies as you yelled his name.

You were able to laugh it off later when he assured you he only saw a bit of your chest, but that doesn’t make up for the utter hUMILIATION you were feeling. And probably will feel for the rest of your life :)

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

PLEASANT SURPRISE

Prompt: Requested by the lovely @romanreignsgirl20 , as a surprise to her friend @jazzy-bella02 I hope you girls like it 😉

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, rough sex, degradation kink (name calling), dirty talk, asphyxiation kink (breath play), cursing, dom x sub dynamic

Editor: @rheacanbreakme

Tag: @marlananicole , @bellalutionn , @yungbludjazz360 , @sassymox

Notes: *insert passing out gif here* I wish, girl, I fucking wish! You can check out my previous stories on my Masterlist if you’d like (it would make me your girl here very happy 🤗). And now, let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy...

My first AEW live event, how exciting is that? I’m excited for everything, but to be honest, the thing I was most excited about was to see my favorite wrestler (and my eternal crush) Jon Moxley. The only reason I had bought tickets for this live event was because of him. And I couldn’t wait to see him face to face.

Suddenly his music started, and there he was. Beautiful, with that bad boy attitude and swagger. He passed through the middle of the audience, cutting his way through the people to get to the ring, and that’s when he stopped by my side to stare at Darby, who was waiting for him in the ring.

He smelled amazing! Masculine, earthy, fresh, spicy and kinda musky. That was when he looked down at me.

“Hey there, doll” Jon said, winking

My voice got caught in my throat and I could only nod as a greeting

“Are you gonna root for me?” He asked, seriously

“Y-Yes...I- I came here just to see you” I said, my cheeks beginning to flush pink in embarrassment

“Oh really? So why don’t we make a deal? If I win you come backstage with me” He proposed

“And what if you lose?” I asked

His only response to me was a loud laugh as he ran to the ring.

The match ended as fast as it started. Jon took over Darby like he was nothing, and when the match was over, he asked for a microphone, squatted down next to Darby’s body and said

“What you have witnessed, is a message for anyone backstage who wants to fuck with me. Try your luck, buddies, but don’t you never forget that” His eyes searched through the audience until he found me, and while smirking, he continued “Jon Moxley NEVER loses! And at the end of the day, I always get what I want” He dropped the microphone on top of Darby’s chest, and made his way to the audience. When he was in front of me, Jon picked me up in his arms bridal style, and walked towards his locker room.

He placed my feet softly on the floor of his locker room, locked the door, and asked

“So, what’s your name, kitty cat?”

“Y/N”

“Is it true that you came here today just to see me?” Jon slowly started to get closer, and closer to me

“Yes..I-I drove five hours just to see you, Mox” I shyly responded

“Five hours?” He whistled “Wow, that’s a whole lot of effort just to see my sorry ass” He cackled, lighting up a cigarette

“I have a sore spot for you, so..” I joked and Jon chuckled

“Oh yeah?” He sat on the black leather couch, and patted his thigh, almost as a hint for me to sit down on it

“Tell me, kitty cat, besides that sore spot is there any other spot that you might have for me? I don’t know, maybe like... a wet and warm one?” He asked, as one of his hands caressed my ass through my jeans

My face escalated through one thousand shades of red reacting to his words..

“Oh,” Jon laughed, amused, “Kitten is one of the shy ones, huh?”

“I’m not used to hearing those things..”

“It’s ok, doll. I like the shy ones! They always surprise you anyways” He smirked “Will you surprise me, Y/N? Will you make me believe that you’re all sweet, innocent and collected and then, when I’m fucking you, you’ll say the most filthiest things that can even make ME blush?”

I don’t know where the courage that took over me came from, but I grabbed him and said

“I guess you’ll have to find out”

Jon’s eyes became a darker shade of blue, as an mischievous grin took over his lips

“Oh, you’re definitely one of the fun ones! We’re gonna have a good time, kitten. I can already tell”

I straddled his hip and asked “Are you gonna talk the whole night through, or are you gonna do something, Jon Moxley?”

He quickly grabbed my thighs and laid me down on the couch, pinning my body down with his weight.

“You’re gonna wish you never said that” He threatened, coldly. And I believed him.

One hand quickly came up to my throat, and squeezed, hard. Jon leaned down to kiss me, but when he got close enough and I closed my eyes to savour it, the fucker leaned back, laughing

“How bad do you want it?” He asked, with mischief dancing upon those blue orbs

“Very badly” I panted

“Yeah? Are you gonna scream for me? Let everyone know how much of a whore you are for me?”

“Yes, sir” I moaned

“Oh, she’s a trained slut! That’s good. At least I won’t have to waste my time teaching you shit” He bit my lip forcefully

“Safeword?” Jon asked

“Color system, sir”

“Good” He released my neck and stood up “Strip for me” He commanded, sitting down on the armchair across the couch

I clumsily stood up, and began to mechanically take my clothes off.

“Stop” He said, making me look at him in confusion

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“Taking my clothes off, as you requested, sir”

Jon shook his head in disappointment “Unbelievable” He muttered under his breath

“Are you deaf, Y/N?”

“No, sir” I replied, still confused

“I told you to strip for me! Not for you to take your clothes off without any passion” He said with disdain in his voice

“I’m sorry, sir”

“Start again” Jon commanded, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the fly down.

I swallowed my embarrassment and did as I was told, and began to strip for him

I removed my t-shirt slowly, followed by my bra, which I let teasingly slide down my arms. Jon groaned at the sight of my bare breasts and started to touch himself through his boxers.

When I began to pull my jeans down, Jon said

“Come closer, Y/N”

I obliged and he told me to turn around, so my back was facing him now.

“Pull your jeans down, slowly” He said and I did as he wanted, pulling my jeans down, torturously slow.

“Hmmm, fuck. That’s it, kitten. Just like that” He cooed and I could hear him spitting on his palm “Take a few steps back, doll” He requested

I walked backwards until he told me to stop, that was when he told me to continue

“Fuck, you have a beautiful ass” Jon said, licking my (now exposed) ass cheeks.

He asked me to turn around, and so I did

“See through?” He asked, caressing the thin layer of light blue lace that covered my mound.

His soft and lazy caresses soon found my clit, and he began to circle the nub through the lace panties, making me moan at the friction.

I could now see that Jon’s cock was completely out of his boxers, as he was stroking himself. And I could already feel the pressure of my release, building up. As I was about to cum, he stopped the action on my clit and told me to lose the panties.

“Go to the couch, kneel on it, and rest your chest on the backrest” Jon quickly said, as he opened the condom.

Seconds after, I felt his presence behind me. He pushed my hips back slightly, and positioned himself on my entrance

“Are you gonna be a good kitten for me?” He whispered in my ear

“Yes, sir” I gasped, when I felt him sliding in

“Are you gonna scream for me?”

“Yes, sir”

“Are you gonna let everybody in this backstage hear how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, sir...please” I moaned

Jon forcefully thrusted into me, making the air escape from my lungs.

“Sir” I cried out, grabbing his wrist

“So fucking tight, kitten” He moaned “But don’t worry, we’re about to change that” As he moaned again and laughed.

Jon began to move slowly in and out, stretching my walls to fit him perfectly and once he could move easily in and out, his thrusts became so hard that my chest smacked the back of the couch each time he entered me. It all felt so good that I instinctively started to meet his thrusts

“Oh fuck yes, kitten! That’s right, baby, take it! Fuck yourself on my cock”

His encouragement made me move faster and faster and without noticing I began screaming

“I’m Mox’s good little whore”

Jon growled, pounding harder and deeper.

“Yes you are, kitten! Fuck, you’re such a good little slut! My perfect slut” He bit my neck and circled one arm around my waist, until he reached my clit and started to rub it

“I want you to cum for me, Y/N. I want you to milk my cock, baby. I wanna feel you clenching around me”

His words worked like magic on me, making me explode around him. My walls became so tight, it even got hard for him to move.

A few seconds later, Jon grunted as he came.

“I knew you would surprise me, but fuck!” He chuckled, as he slid out and took the condom off.

Jon threw the condom in the trash can and returned to the couch. I reached down for my panties, but he was quicker, taking the piece of fabric off the floor and tucking it in the front pocket of his jeans. Leaning down, he finally, for the first time, kissed me. An addictive kiss, that tasted like whiskey, mint and cigarettes.

“Wanna go get some burgers?" He asked, smiling

“Sure” I cackled

“Would you like to come to my place afterwards?” Jon questioned

I looked at him in surprise “You want to see me again?” I asked, shocked

“Of course I do! You’re my own little Pandora’s box, I need to know what else you’re hiding in there” He narrowed his eyes, making me laugh

“So, c’mon” He stood up and offered me his hand “Let’s go get our burgers, kitty cat”...

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[ikeromantic]

Friends and Frenemies

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - approx. 2800 words. This scene takes place after the events of the romantic epilogue. Mostly fluff, slightly spicy.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Kitsune's Day Out

Mitsuhide sat on the floor with his little mouse in his lap. His fingers stroked the nape of her neck as he listened intently to Sarutobi.

Sasuke and Miyake sat across from them on the edge of the bed. Miyake’s expression was somewhere between awe and exhaustion. He wasn’t saying much, just staring into empty space with a confused grin.

The ninja looked mildly pleased as he talked. “My professor took a little convincing. We had to call in the history department chair to talk to Miyake.”

“What did he want to know?” The chatelaine’s eyes were heavy with sleep. They’d spent the day walking around Kyoto, looking at historical sites - things Mitsuhide should recognize.

Of course, everything was so changed from his time that the places they visited may as well have been new. Even if they were the same structures, what lay around them had changed so much as to render the buildings and monuments unrecognizable.

Sasuke shrugged. “Details. It was like watching a verbal exam in a master class. And then he made Miyake pick out his own sword from a room of Sengoku period weapons. It was impressive watching him look each one over.”

At this, the warrior chuckled. “I almost didn’t. It was strange to see Kichihiroe looking so old and worn.”

Mitsuhide smiled. “But you did. So all is well.” He turned his attention back to Sasuke. “What is the benefit of bringing these men in on our secret?”

“Well, first off, this.” He handed Miyake and Mitsuhide campus ID cards. “You are both now officially visiting professors, with a stipend and everything. There was a small . . . additional favor they requested from you.”

“Which is?” Mitsuhide raised one eyebrow.

Miyake answered. “They want you to come in and answer questions. A lot of questions.” He wiped his brow. “They started in on me today and there is just no end!”

Sarutobi nodded a confirmation.

“So . . . they want to pay you to answer questions about the Sengoku era? And that’s it? That doesn’t sound so bad.” The chatelaine grinned.

Mitsuhide shook his head. “I am not sure it’s so simple. This interaction - couldn’t it cause -” he thought for a moment, trying to find the words. “A complication? If I let slip something they don’t know, or they tell me something that will happen?”

“A paradox.” Sasuke’s mouth curled up in the slightest smile. “I considered that. But we are already living in a parallel timeline. One in which you and Nobunaga live, as well as some other changes.”

“So the things they tell us, those aren’t things that will happen?” Miyake sounded a little tense as he asked the question.

“Right,” Sarutobi replied. “Or, mostly right. We can’t be sure how far apart our timeline is from the original, so I encourage you to forget anything you may hear.”

Mitsuhide snorted. “Once a truth is heard, it cannot be so easily forgotten.”

“True enough. Can’t unring the bell, as they say. But are you willing to take that chance and talk with the history professor anyway?”

“I will.” Mitsuhide stroked his little one’s neck with gentle fingertips. “It will be interesting, regardless. And you have gone to a lot of trouble to arrange things. It’s the least I can do to play along.”

“I appreciate that.” Sasuke gave a little bow. “So what did you two do today?”

Miyake elbowed him and gave the two lovers a knowing wink.

Mitsuhide’s little one blushed and covered her face. “No! Nothing like that! Miyake! We just went shopping. Oh - and there were these men -”

“Who kindly helped me pick up our bags when I dropped them. We were very appreciative.” Mitsuhide interrupted her before she could give away any more information about their run in with the modern day bandits. Not that he didn’t trust Sasuke and Miyake. He did - as much as he trusted anyone. But it was always wise to keep information to yourself until there was a reason to share.

Sasuke blinked. “Ok. Well. Tomorrow, I’d like to take you up to the university, Mitsuhide. If that’s alright. You can both come if you want to.”

“Oh! But I needed to run by the office for my job tomorrow! I wanted to give them my apologies for disappearing so suddenly, just when they offered me a position.” She bit her lip. “I guess it can wait though.”

“I can go with her to do that, if you want me to,” Miyake put in.

Mitsuhide nodded. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. You two can run errands tomorrow while I satisfy the curiosity of some modern scholars.”

“Are you sure?” The chatelaine looked uneasy.

“I am.” Mitsuhide kissed her cheek. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, does it not?”

After they made arrangements for the coming day, Mitsuhide and his little mouse trekked back to her flat, leaving Miyake and Sasuke to themselves. It wasn’t that he minded the company, but he wanted to have her to himself tonight.

They stopped at a ‘small’ grocery on the way home to pick up something for breakfast. While Mitsuhide had noticed the number of foodstalls, he had not considered an entire store with shelves full of food. He wanted to ask if this was normal, but one look at his little one’s face gave him the answer.

She was not surprised at all. With barely a glance at the stacks of fresh vegetables and fruits, she led him further into the store.

There were at least five types of vinegar, he noted. An assemblage of noodles that defied sense. Several types of rice. Beans. And a variety of things with names he couldn’t identify as food, all wrapped in bright packages. “Masamune would love this place,” Mitsuhide murmured.

“You think? Maybe we should bring him something back.” She smiled. “I’m surprised you thought of him just now.”

“He’s a -” Mitsuhide paused at the realization he was about to say friend. Not ally. Not colleague. Friend. He bit back the word and finished with, “man who loves his food.”

His little mouse didn’t appear to pick up on the omission. “He really is. And he wants everyone around him to enjoy it too.” She picked up a package of rice, then added, “I wish I was such a good cook.”

“I think you’re amazing.” Mitsuhide settled his palm lightly on her low back, reassuring.

She smiled wryly. “Says the man who doesn’t taste his food.”

“Kyubei thinks so too. And his taste buds work fine.”

“Mhmm. Kyubei would eat a pile of rocks and tell me it was delicious if he thought he was supposed to. But I appreciate the compliment.” She leaned against Mitsuhide and sighed. “I wonder how he’s doing right now.”

Mitsuhide considered. There were a number of things he wished he’d had time to tell Kyubei. And of course, he hadn’t counted on Azuchi being attacked but, “I’m sure he is well. Kyubei is resourceful, talented, and I’ve left him the tools he will need. You should worry less about him, and more about yourself.”

“What should I be worried about?”

He grinned and leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. With his lips almost touching her ear, he murmured, “You should worry about what I will do if I don’t get you alone soon.”

His little one inhaled sharply, cheeks heating. Her eyes were bright and full of desire as she replied. “Then we’d better hurry.”

They got back to her flat soon after, and unpacked the groceries. With the last items put away, she sat in a kitchen chair and looked up at Mitsuhide shyly.

It never failed to amuse him how innocent she could be in moments like these. As if she couldn’t admit what she wanted no matter how badly she wanted it. Of course, he’d take full advantage.

“How should I use your bath, little mouse? Can you show me how it works?” Mitsuhide already had an idea, but what fun was that?

“Oh! Yes. Sure. It would be good to clean up.” She led him to her small bathing room. “This handle is hot. This one cold. And if you press this, it will activate the shower. Just be careful where you point the nozzle.”

Mitsuhide leaned over her, pressing close. “So this one is hot?” He turned the handle.

“Umm . . . yes but, I should probably . . . get out of the way . . . the bathroom isn’t big enough-”

“And this one is cold?” He turned the other handle.

She nodded. “Yes. So. Ah, first rinse off with . . . with the shower. And . . . and th-then fill . . .”

Her distraction was deeply amusing. Possibly caused by his breath on the back of her neck and the way her hips met his. Not that he was unaffected. The press of her hips against him was maddening. The slight friction of cloth, the denial of skin to skin touch he ached for. But this was his game, and he knew what came next. Delay only made victory all the sweeter. Mitsuhide pressed the shower, and water fell like warm rain over them.

“Mitsuhide!” She gave a little shriek as he pulled her to standing under the flow. Her clothes clung to her skin, revealing as much as they hid. He could not wait to peel them off her.

“Oh dear. What have I done? Now you’re all wet!” He smiled widely and slid his hand under her shirt, popping the buttons open one after another.

She playfully swatted his other hand as he reached for her skirt. “You totally did that on purpose! I know you did!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” Mitsuhide slid her shirt off and enjoyed the sight of water pearling over the rise of her breast. Her soaked bra looked a deeper blue than it had when dry. A good color for her. His hands slipped around behind her, reaching for the clasp.

“You know, if you wanted to bathe together, you could have just said so.”

“Mmm, but this was more fun.” His fingers fumbled with the odd hook-and-eye catches, finally releasing them. Her bra fell away. Mitsuhide relished the sight. “You should probably help me get the rest of these clothes off. I’m fairly certain you don’t bathe wearing them in this age.”

She laughed softly and reached up to cup his cheek. “My wicked kitsune. No. We don’t.” And then she kissed him.

***

Kyubei frowned at the short, dark-haired man in front of him. “You can cut the act, Ranmaru. I’d recognize you anywhere. Besides, your work on that scar is atrocious. Who taught you disguises? Were they blind?”

The page - spy and ninja as well - sighed and set down the basket he was carrying. “I thought the scar was pretty good. It really changes my face. What gave it away?”

“Your fingers are still stained with beetjuice, for one. And you didn’t blend the edges well enough. I can see bits of raw paste at your hairline.”

“Well damn. Alright. You caught me. Are you here to kill me?” Ranmaru’s tone was light, joking, but there was nothing funny about the way his fingers curled around the hilt of the short blade he wore at his hip.

Kyubei rolled his eyes. “If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead. I came to find out what you know - and how you know it. Are you willing to have a conversation with me?” He left out the alternative, which was knocking the page senseless, dragging him back to Azuchi, and putting him in the dungeon. He wanted to avoid that outcome. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Alright. Fine. But you’re buying us something to eat. I’m starving!”

“I can do that.” He led the page out of the alley they were in - a spot chosen in case things got ugly - and back into a market street. Kyoto was full of people selling things. He had his pick of at least a dozen stalls and shops for food, but made a beeline for one in particular. The proprietor was one of Mitsuhide’s informants, someone Kyubei could trust if this chat went sideways.

The two men sat down at a back table and ordered sake and food. Ranamru’s preference for sweet things had not changed in his absence. They were getting stewed peaches, peaches with rice, and peach-jelly stuffed mochi. Not to Kyubei’s taste at all, but then, he hadn’t come here for the food.

“What do you know about the attack on Azuchi?” Kyubei wasted no time getting to the point.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Would you believe I didn’t know it was going to happen?”

“No.”

The page giggled. It was a high, false sound with no real mirth. “Well, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t believe me either. But I really didn’t know that was coming. I knew something was . . . my - my Master was working with some people. And they were coming to Azuchi so I knew they had something in mind. I thought . . .”

Ranmaru’s throat bobbed, stuck on the words. He looked away and wiped at his face.

Kyubei sighed. “So you weren’t sure what was planned. What did you think might happen? Is that what made you run?”

“Yes.” His voice was strained and he hadn’t looked up. “I thought . . . maybe they would try to kill him. Nobunaga. A direct attack. Or, poison? I - I didn’t want . . . but I was . . .”

“You were afraid they might ask for your help. Or participation.” Kyubei’s voice was pitched low, for Ranmaru’s ears only. This was not a subject to be discussed lightly.

The page nodded.

“So you ran.”

He nodded again.

Kyubei rubbed the short growth of hair on the top of his head. It was coming in, full and dark, but it itched some days. Especially after spending time on the road, with no rest. Touching it had become a habit for him when he was anxious or unhappy. This conversation was not making him happy.

“I didn’t want to be the one to - you know. Nobunaga has - he’s always been good to- to me. I thought, let them do their own dirty work. I would g-go back to Kennyo. Offer to be, to do a-anything else.” Ranmaru finally looked up. His expression was one of abject misery.

“I don’t blame you. It can be hard to serve two masters. Even when their goals usually align . . . often the methods do not.”

Ranmaru smiled bleakly. “I guess you understand a little.”

The tea and sweets came, and for a brief few minutes, the two men ate and drank in silence.

Finally, Kyubei asked, “So why aren’t you with Kennyo now?”

“I can’t find him. I know he’s working with . . .” Ranmaru’s jaw clenched. “I can’t say. But, I don’t know where they went. Or what they are planning next.”

“I need you to tell me the names, Ranmaru. Assume that I already know them, and from you, I only need confirmation.”

“Fine. Then you say them. I’ll nod if you’re right.”

Kyubei smiled. “Kicho.”

Nod.

“Motonari.”

Nod.

“The ‘shogun’ in exile.”

Nod.

“I was hoping the last one was a no. We worked so hard to set that boy up, but I suppose Yoshiaki’s allies got to him.” Kyubei took a deep breath. “And you really have no idea what they will do next?” He watched Ranmaru for tell-tale signs of a lie.

“I wish I did. I’d find Kennyo and get him away from those stray dogs.” The page almost spat.

“So what will you do now?”

Ranmaru tugged at his darkened locks, twisting them around his finger. “I don’t know. I am afraid to return to Nobunaga’s side. Afraid they will ask me to betray him. But that makes me a traitor to my Master. I am damned either way.” His voice was flat, empty of self-pity or any other emotion.

“You could work for me.”

The page raised an eyebrow. “You know I turned on both my masters. That I am a coward. What would you trust me with?”

“Well, not disguises, clearly.” Kyubei caught the curl of a slight smile on Ranmaru’s lips. “I’d want you to gather information from the daimyo loyal to the shogun. Nothing to do with either of your masters directly. No need to dig yourself a deeper grave.”

“I’d report everything to the Ikko Ikki too.”

Kyubei shrugged. “I’m fine with that? If Kenny’s monks act on the information, I doubt it will be to prop Ashikaga up further.”

Ranmaru chewed at his lip, thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. “I guess I can do that. Just until I find where Kennyo has gone and what he needs of me.”

“Then we have a deal. But I do have one more question before I leave you.”

“What?” The page eyed him, suspicious again.

Kyubei tapped his finger on the table, almost afraid of his own question. Asking it would be giving information away, but he needed to know. “Have you seen or heard from Akechi since the night of the attack on Azuchi?”

Next: Uncomfortable Questions

[intheticklecloset]

Lift Your Spirits (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

So much cuuuuute! Oikawa is really growing on me, I have to say. I didn’t care much for him at first but I’m beginning to really like him as time goes on! Also ticklish Oikawa is just as adorable as ler Oikawa is flustering, so that’s a bonus. Enjoy this cute fluff fest! ^^

27. “You haven’t said stop this whole time. Do you like this?”

31. “This is so embarrassing!”

33. “Don’t wiggle your fingers at me like that.”

You’ll notice for some of the numbered prompts I didn’t use the exact quote, but a variation thereof. This was to help prevent repetitiveness as well as maintain believable story flow. They’re still in the fic, just perhaps not word for word.

~

Iwaizumi: Where are you? (read)

Iwaizumi: Home sick? (read)

Iwaizumi: Dude I know you’re reading these (read)

Iwaizumi: Answer me (read)

Iwaizumi: I’m assuming you’re dead (read)

Iwaizumi: K, I’m coming to get your body for burial after school (read)

*

Iwaizumi growled in frustration as he knocked on Oikawa’s front door for the second time after having received no answer the first time. It was one thing for his friend to leave him on read, but to be physically at his residence and be ignored? When Iwa knew the jerk knew he was coming? That was a step too far. He pulled out his phone to call the setter, then thought better of it. If he wasn’t answering his texts, why would he answer a phone call?

“Toru!” he yelled finally. “I know you’re in there, you piece of crap! Don’t make me bust down the door. I’ll do it!”

There was a long silence. Resigned, Iwa stepped back, reared up his leg, and was just beginning to kick when the front door finally opened, and rather than bust in like a movie detective to save the day, he unceremoniously sprawled into Oikawa’s living room, barely catching a glimpse of his friend before he disappeared into his bedroom.

Oh, that was rude.

“Oikawa!” he snapped, getting to his feet, closing the door, and bounding after him just in time to see the setter flop down on his bed, facing away from him. “You’d better have a good reason for being an extra special jerk today. I hope for your sake you’re delusional with a fever.”

“I’m not,” Oikawa mumbled. “Just didn’t want to buy a new door.”

“The heck is going on with you?” Iwa demanded, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “If you’re not feeling well I’m sorry, but you could have at least sent a puking emoji or something instead of leaving me on read all day. What is your deal?”

“Sorry.” The setter’s normally snarky, arrogant voice was gone, replaced instead by a quiet, submissive one. “I just want to be alone.”

“That’s it? Seriously?”

“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge. You can have it. Since you went to so much trouble.”

Iwa frowned. This was not like Oikawa. At all. He hesitated, then sat on the end of the bed, trying to catch a glimpse of his friend’s face. He saw the blotchy red splotches and tear-streaked cheeks for only a moment before Oikawa buried his face in his pillow, but that moment was enough, and Iwa immediately felt horrible for yelling at him.

“Hey,” he said, gentler this time. “I’m sorry. I should find out what’s wrong before snapping at you like that. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, but Iwa could take a hint. “Okay. Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

Another long silence. For a few minutes Iwa sat quietly, content to just be there while his friend went through whatever it was that was bothering him. He was about to offer to split the pizza with him when Oikawa spoke again.

“We lost.”

Iwa glanced down at him, and all of a sudden everything made sense. They’d played and lost against Karasuno in the prefecture championships, then sat and watched as the wingless crows then went on to defeat the reigning champions to go on to nationals. It had been unexpected and aggravating, and though the team was upset, Oikawa had done his job by remaining as positive as he could, picking everyone up and encouraging them to practice even harder for next year.

But since he was a third-year…

“Oh.” Iwa gently placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. The team captain had probably not had a moment to himself since the defeat to mourn, and that’s what was happening now. Iwa berated himself. He should have known. “I understand now. I’m sorry, Toru.”

“I expected to lose to Shiratorizawa,” Oikawa muttered into his pillow. “But not them.” Meaning Karasuno.

“I know. Me, too. But…it is what it is.” Iwa squeezed him gently. “Not that it makes it any easier.”

Oikawa groaned, lifting his pillow over his head to hide his face, curling up even further. Iwa knew he was likely crying again, but he didn’t say anything. He knew his friend hated being emotional in front of anyone, even him. So he continued to silently rub his shoulder, letting him have his moment.

Another few minutes went by before Oikawa shifted again, this time blindly reaching for Iwa’s hand and removing it from him. Iwa thought the setter was tired of physical contact and started to pull away, but to his surprise, Oikawa gripped his wrist harder and moved it downward, placing Iwa’s hand on his side and then resuming his earlier position.

Iwa had no idea what that meant, or what to do, so he just sat there. Awkwardly. Waiting for Oikawa to say something.

He didn’t.

Finally, after an excruciating minute, Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow in confusion and gave Oikawa’s side a gentle squeeze. But when the captain tensed up and gripped his pillow even harder, he removed his hand and frowned. “Toru, I want to help you. But I need you to communicate.”

His first instinct when his hand was moved to a new location was obvious, but memories of their younger years together prevented him from following through. He had vivid recollections of a screaming, thrashing, cursing, angry Oikawa and didn’t want to push his friend to that state of mind from the one he was in right now. For that matter, he didn’t want to push him to that state of mind. Period. He’d stopped tickling Oikawa years ago for that very reason.

So he was surprised when his friend let out another groan and said in a muffled voice, “I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.”

“What is?” Iwa asked, confused.

Oikawa gripped the cushion over his head. “Just do it. I don’t mind.” When the silence stretched on again and nothing happened, he lowered his voice so Iwa could only just hear him. “Please, Hajime.”

Entirely lost but not wanting to ignore the obvious plea, Iwa squeezed his side again gently, then switched to poking up and down its length. Oikawa tensed, but didn’t move. “Tell me when to stop,” Iwa said, then turned his fingers into a claw and started digging softly.

This time Oikawa jerked and let out a choked sound, but giggles started to slip through now and then, too. Iwa was astonished that the setter wasn’t fighting him. This was definitely different from the reactions he used to get.

Curious and encouraged, Iwaizumi shifted so he was kneeling on the bed rather than just sitting on it, gently rolling Oikawa onto his back and grabbing both sides, squeezing softly. Oikawa kept the pillow over his face, but louder, clearer snickers could now be heard, and he still wasn’t fighting.

Iwa grinned, unable to help himself. He’d never gotten to tickle his friend before; not really, since Oikawa had always hated it, and Iwa had never wanted to make him angry. Now, though, he’d asked for it. Iwa straddled one of his legs and reached for the pillow.

“Let’s see that smile,” he teased, pulling at the cushion. Oikawa fought for only a moment, then let it slip from his hands, only to then cover his face with his palms. “There we go. Much better.”

The setter was still hiding, but it was harder to cover up his wide smile completely, let alone the blush that had spread to his ears. “Nooo,” he whined in a playful kind of way that reassured Iwa he was feeling more like himself now. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Why?” Iwa wanted to mess with him a little more, but decided that could wait for now. He skittered up and down his friend’s ribs, smiling at the soft chuckles he got in response. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to laugh when you’re feeling sad.”

Oikawa’s groan sounded more like a whine this time.

“I’m surprised you’re not telling me to stop.” Iwa didn’t want to accidentally jinx it and ruin this whole adorable situation, but he couldn’t help but be honest. “Five years ago you punched me in the face for doing this to you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

Iwa couldn’t help but grin. “Have a change of heart about it, Toru? Do you like it now?”

The dark red blush coloring his friend’s cheeks was answer enough, even before Oikawa whined even louder and pleaded, “Shut up.”

“Aww.” Iwaizumi couldn’t help but giggle, too, as he moved to straddle his team captain completely. “That’s so cute.”

“I said shut up, Iwa.”

“Why should I?” The ace teased. “Since you like it now I think I’ll tickle you a little more. I have a lot of time to make up for, don’t you think?”

“Shut up—” Oikawa was so flustered that for a moment he removed his hands from his face to glare at his friend, but the effect was lost for how huge his smile was, and he immediately covered up again. “Don’t tease me.”

“Hey, now, I want to see that smile.” Iwa pouted, reaching forward to pry Oikawa’s hands from his face, pinning them to either side of his head. He smirked at how red the setter’s face got in response. “When did this happen?”

“What?”

“When did you start liking it?”

Oikawa bit his lip and glanced away. “I’ve always liked it. I was just…afraid you’d find out by tickling me when we were younger, so I…got violent. I didn’t mean it. I was just panicked.”

“Did you think I’d tease you about it?”

“You are teasing me about it.”

“No,” Iwa insisted, gentle but firm. “I think it’s cute that you like it. There’s nothing wrong with it. You’re always so good at lifting other people’s spirits. Let me lift yours now, okay?”

Oikawa nodded, and Iwa smirked, sitting back and raising his hands in front of the captain’s face, making them claws again, opening and closing them while lowering them slowly.

“Don’t wiggle your fingers at me like that,” Oikawa muttered, blushing so hard he was practically purple. “If you’re going to tickle me, then do it, you jerk.”

“You’re the jerk,” Iwa shot back before digging his clawed hands into Oikawa’s ribcage, vibrating violently, making the setter sputter and finally start laughing. The sound was music to the ace’s ears. He grinned. “But I’ll let it go for today.”

[blu-joons]

Cuddles ~ Lee Jeno

Your smile widened as soon as you walked into the dressing room and saw Taeyong pointing across to Jeno, who laid fast asleep on the sofa at the back of the room. Everyone was having to work around him as they prepared for the broadcast, fixing strands of hair, or a mark of make up every time he turned over or adjusted his position.

“You couldn’t try and keep him still and comfortable, could you?” Taeyong asked, making a bit of room for you on the couch.

You happily nodded, taking a seat beside Jeno’s head, pulling his body up so his rested into his lap, “how long has he been asleep for?”

“Most of the day, said he was up late last night, so it’s his own fault really,” he chuckled.

You frowned, looking down at his peaceful face. His lips were slightly parted as they always were when he slept, his hair was a little bit of a mess. Despite being fast asleep, as soon as he felt his head move, he recognised instantly where he was, resting his hands over your legs as he picked up on the familiar smell of your perfume right beside him.

“What are you doing here?” You heard him mumble, surprised that he’d even figured out that it was you. Slowly, his eyes opened so he could see you, making sure he didn’t rub them with his hands to ruin his makeup.

“Did you forget today was the day I was coming to watch you perform?” You asked, but already you knew the answer. His heart dropped as you stared down at him.

Time had well and truly run away with him recently; he was sure there was still a few more stages to do before the one that you’d be attending.

“I’m sorry, I knew you were coming, I just didn’t realise it was today, otherwise I would never have fallen asleep. Are you mad at me?”

Your head shook, adjusting a few of the strands of his hair that had fallen loose, “I’m not mad at you, because I know you’re working hard. I’m madder that you’re not resting enough and falling asleep at work, you shouldn’t be doing that, you’ll get in trouble.”

“I can’t help it, I’m just so tired.”

“How long have you got until you need to be ready? A couple of hours or so?”

He glanced up at the clock on the wall, “we start filming at five, so probably about two hours before they’ll start calling us to make the final adjustments.”

“In that case, why don’t we just lay here for a bit and you can catch up on your sleep?” You offered, laying your body down beside his on the sofa. “You need to rest to perform well.”

“But you came to see me, I can’t just fall asleep, that’s hardly fair on you.”

Your head shook, wrapping your arm around him to encourage him to sleep. It didn’t take very long before he was curled up closely into your side, tucking his head into your shoulder. You smiled softly as a few of the boys walked past you, allowing your hands to play with the ends of his hair, knowing he’d have to get it fixed anyway before he went on stage.

“Who’s going to explain to noona why he’s a mess?” Lucas asked as he walked past the two of you, sitting down on the floor to enjoy his lunch.

“That’s all on him for not sleeping at all last night, I’m taking no part in the scolding that he’s inevitably going to get because of this.”

You laid for quite some time with Jeno laid firmly across you, as soon as his head hit you he was out like a light as he tried to catch up on some sleep, coupled with your lips pecking against the side of his face constantly, it was impossible for him to wake up.

“He talks about you all the time,” Lucas hummed as he watched the two of you interact. “He might be a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he really does care for you. I know he’ll feel bad for forgetting you were coming today, it’s all he’s been able to tell us about for the past couple of weeks how excited he was to show you around.”

“You guys all work so hard; I was pretty sure he was going to forget anyway,” you chuckled, careful not to disturb him too much. “I’ll make sure that he repays me for forgetting though!”

After laying for nearly another hour, the room began to get busy again as people started to prepare for the stage. Jeno was still fast asleep on top of you, but you knew if he wasn’t going to get into anymore trouble today, he needed to awake up.

“Jeno,” you whispered, lightly shaking his arm, but his body failed to move. You looked around the room as Taeil walked past you, smiling innocently to get him to help you.

“Just push him off the sofa,” he teased, pointing to the empty space in front of you. Your eyes rolled, trying once again to shake him, but he still didn’t move. “Jeno!” Taeil yelled, getting close to his ear, watching as his body jumped at the sudden noise.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as he groaned, opening up his eyes to see what all the commotion was. You pointed straight over to Taeil, as he slowly sat himself up.

“Have I really been asleep that long?”

Your head nodded, trying as best as you could to adjust his hair, so it looked at least a little bit more presentable. “They’re going to have to sort out this mess, so I thought it would be better for you to wake up now whilst you’ve still got plenty of time.”

Even though he was still exhausted, he knew that you’d done the right thing in waking him up, feeling the glare of many of the other members firing in his direction. He looked back at you once he felt a little more human, smiling softly.

“I bet your numb having laid that for that long,” he giggled, “you really didn’t have to be here and lay with me, I know I messed up.”

Your head shook, resting your hand against his back, “I told you that it didn’t matter, you can just make it up to me. And surprisingly, I don’t actually feel too bad.”

“Let me help you up at least.”

His arms stretched up as he stood up from the sofa before helping you to your feet, wrapping his arms securely around your waist. “Don’t start getting cuddly again, you’ve got some angry noonas who need to fix your face.”

“I’m sure they won’t be that mad,” he chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose, “no one can stay made at me for too long anyway.”

“I don’t think you’ll be saying that soon,” you smiled.

He looked over to where the stylists were stood, waiting to redo all the work they had done a couple of hours ago. Jeno looked back to you, as you shrugged helplessly.

“Looks like you’ve got some explaining to do,” you teased, pushing him forwards, “and they do not look pleased with you.”

“This is your fault, you told me to lay down.”

“Who do you really think they’ll blame, me or you? I think we both know I’m the more believable of the two.”

“I’ll get you back for this, trust me.”

---

Masterlist

[tinyjeanmarco]

Helloooo 🥺🥺 idk if ur into writing hurt+comfort but I’m in such a big fat mood to cry rn and there’s not a lot Porco angst out here... I was thinking along the lines of modern au and ur already in a relationship but ur incredibly insecure about urself and the relationship, but Porco reassures u in the end that he really does love u and goes out of his way to prove it <3

(I realize u likely won’t get this done tonight and I’ll probs be in a better mood tomorrow BUT it’s still true there isn’t a lot of Porco angst out there!!)

Also if u don’t write angst pls ignore this!! Thank you 💖💖

teddy (a hurt/comfort fic)

hello my darling!! i hope that you’re in a better mood now and don’t want to cry anymore! （＞д＜） remember that it’s okay to cry and to take care of yourself. your body loves you and you should show it just as much love. i do really love hurt/comfort fics! they always make me feel so soft in the comfort part. 🥺 i’ll do my best to write this! i think porco can be a real comforting boyfie that just cares so much about you. ♡ also sorry this was so late after your request, love. (｡ ́︿ ̀｡) i listened to idontwannabeyouanymore by billie eilish, and emotional anorexic by svavar knutur while i wrote this so you kinda get the vibe i was feeling while writing!

wc: 1,818

modern!porco x gn!reader

warnings: some angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, i swear.

he’s just busy, you thought as you exited the coffee shop. you clutched the cup in your hand tighter as you checked your phone for what must have been the twentieth time that hour.

you texted your boyfriend, asking if he wanted to do something that day, but alas, it’s been a few hours and no response. you knew he had classes, but they should be done by now, meaning he was just ignoring you at this point.

no, he’s busy. you reminded yourself. yet, you weren’t sure how much longer you could buy that thought. you couldn’t tell if that was true anymore, or if it was just a way to keep your bad thoughts at bay.

you debated texting him again, but were worried that you would annoy him. maybe that was the issue in the first place; he saw your text and wanted a break from you, thus making him ignore you. it had already been nine months since you started dating, maybe he was annoyed with you.

you picked up your pace as you walked back to your apartment, no longer wanting to be around people, in case you broke down in some way. you knew it wasn’t the best to be alone when you felt like this, your friends telling you that getting out and doing things would take your mind off your anxious thoughts.

you couldn’t seem to text anyone to tell them you felt trapped.

stepping inside your apartment, you locked the door behind you and toed off your shoes before making your way to the bedroom. you tossed your keys on a table as you walked by.

your mind just kept racing faster the more you were alone with the silence that was suffocating you. the best course of action was to take a nap, you decided. so, you changed, and put on one of porco’s hoodies that he gave you.

yet, when you settled under the covers, sleep wouldn’t find you. your insecurities picked you apart down to the bone. at this point, you had felt like you were being drowned. it was so hard to swim in the fog that was your head.

your brain had managed to convince you that porco was tired of you, and it was on its way to make you think he would break up with you. in the back of your head, you knew this was false, yet it kept persisting. it wouldn’t leave you alone.

instead of ruminating about things you didn’t want to, you thought maybe putting on one of your sad music playlists would help quiet the thoughts, which, in hindsight was an okay idea at most. it really only served to upset you even more.

you didn’t even notice tears were leaking from your eyes until you found your nose was beginning to clog. you wiped at your eyes, and just cried harder.

you were trying so hard to be okay, but your insecurities would not leave you alone. you hated it so much. you just wished they would leave you alone. tired,  you were so tired of always feeling like not enough.

normally, you would communicate to porco about how you were feeling because communication and telling the other how you feel in a relationship is rule number one. yet, you were so convinced he didn’t want anything to do with you at the moment, so you refrained.

the only option left was to just keep crying until sleep somehow made its way to you.

a few hours later is when you woke up, thanks to the constant buzzing of your phone. why couldn’t everyone just leave you alone?

sighing, you did your best to wipe the sleep from your eyes before you squinted at your phone screen to see who was calling.

your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. it was porco. what would he want? was he finally going to break it off? would he tell you that your texts got on his nerves so he needed space?

you decided you didn’t feel like answering it, not wanting to deal with whatever it is he had to tell you. you weren’t mad at him, you just didn’t want to be even more hurt than you were already. that means ignoring everything completely.

after the phone finally stopped ringing, you kept getting texts from him but you just put your phone on do not disturb and shut your eyes again.

you had fallen alseep again, but it didn’t last as long as earlier, because you happened to hear a soft knocking on your bedroom door. shooting up into a sitting position, you scanned your room for a nearby weapon. who the fuck was in your apartment?

the answer came when a gentle voice, which you didn’t want to hear, followed the knocks.

“baby? are you in there?” and ever so slowly, the door pushed open. your body felt like it was made of lead as he stepped into the room. you forgot you had given him the spare key.

“oh, were you asleep? i’m sorry if i woke you, sweetheart.” he made his way over to your bed and sat himself on the side of it.

“yeah, i was asleep. it’s fine though, i needed to wake up anyways.” you mumbled out. he nodded before speaking again.

“what’s got you down? and don’t tell me nothing because i know you only take naps when you’re upset or it’s exam week.” he reached a hand out to take yours, gently stroking the top of it with his thumb.

“are you tired of me?” you blurred out, not quite answering his question, but to porco, that was enough of an answer that he got what was going on.

“no, no, no, baby. why do you think that? talk to me, honey.” his other hand that was not in yours, reached up to gently cup your face, encouraging you to speak.

“i dunno, you had to be not answering my texts for a reason.” you sniffled, tears coming to your eyes again today. when would they just stop and let you be happy?

“i’m so sorry, baby. my phone died today after i got called in for an emergency shift at work, and i didn’t have a charger at work. i promise you, i’m not tired of you. i was thinking of you the whole time i was working. i’d rather be with you then at that dump.” he gave a small squeeze to your hand. you squeezed back.

you had felt a little of the weight lift off your heart at his words, but you had spent so long today just overthinking and assuming you were right. the sadness wasn’t going to go away immediately.

“i’m sorry i overthink so much and always make you deal with it.” he just tutted and crawled on the bed to plant himself right beside you, pulling you into his chest.

“don’t you dare apologize. you know i care about you and have no problem making you feel more comfortable.” you felt yourself melt at his words and sink into his embrace. with every word he spoke, the thoughts in your head got quieter and quieter.

you closed your eyes and just listened to his heartbeat for a second before saying anything else. one of his hands reached up to your face and wiped the last of the tears away.

“thank you, porco.” you sighed and snuggled in even closer.

“you don’t need to thank me, this is what i’m here for.” a kiss is pressed to the top of your head, and you feel him shift. “now, how about i run to get stuff to cook for you and we can spend the rest of the night in?”

“you don’t have to, pock. i’m okay with just ordering a pizza or something.” you turned to him and pressed a kiss onto his nose before connecting your lips together.

“but i wanna.” he mumbled into your lips, not wanting to break the kiss.

you eventually reluctantly agreed, and decided to hop in the shower to melt away the rest of the day’s stress as you waited for him to return. he promised it would only be fifteen minutes max that he’d be gone.

the hot water running down your back felt like heaven. you could feel the knots in your neck and shoulders just dissolve under the heat. you were okay, not like earlier when you were wrapped up in despair.

you still felt tired and a little numb from the thoughts that polluted your head that day, but at least you no longer felt the need to cry. now you just craved the touch and comfort of your boyfriend, whenever he returned.

as you were getting dressed after your shower, you heard porco call out that he had returned from his shopping adventure. pulling his hoodie back over your head, you shuffled out to where he was unloading the groceries he had purchased.

when he saw you, he hurried to grab something he set aside and made his way over to you.

he got you a giant, cuddly teddy bear and some of your favorite chocolate bars.

“what’s all this for?” you inquired.

“i got it for you, to help cheer you up and kind of apologize for being irresponsible.” he scratched the back of his neck, a light red dusting his cheeks.

“pock.. i don’t know what to say. you really didn’t have to do this.” you took the bear from his hands and hugged it close to you.

“but i really wanted to, and it’s to make up for you being sad. whenever i’m not around, you can just hug the bear and pretend it’s me.” he set the chocolate aside on the counter and went to pull you into a hug, effectively squishing the stuffed bear between your bodies.

“this bear will never live up to the expectations of cuddling with you, pock.” you let out a small chuckle.

“well, then i guess i’ll just have to be sure to cuddle you as much as i can.” he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“you won’t hear me complaining.” you leaned into him and pressed your lips together, craving his affection. “now, please cook for me, baby. i’m really hungry.”

you tried to give him the best puppy eyes you could muster. he laughed and gave you another quick kiss before pulling away and turning to the rest of the things he bought.

“of course, just make sure you sit there looking pretty and i’ll get right to it.” you finally felt a big grin form on your face, finally relaxed.

you hated that you could get so sad and insecure sometimes, but porco understood you, he didn’t judge you. you could always trust him to pick up the broken pieces when you didn’t feel okay.

[mymegumi]

canis lupus familiaris

pairing: bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 3.0k

warnings: meet-cute, dog walker!bokuto, maybe ooc!bokuto + swearing/maybe

note: if this piece seems familiar, it’s because it was the last thing i posted on my old account (@/zumisace) before i deactivated it! i loved it and really wanted it out there hehe. i’m gonna be posting some old works that i really enjoyed mwah. help reading this again the dialogue is so blegh

Labrador Retriever

The first day you notice him, he’s dressed in a pair of athletic shorts, black leggings extending past his knee to the middle of his shin as he stretches. There’s a bright orange leash that’s looped around his hand as he crosses an arm over his broad chest, a happily panting yellow labrador on the other end.

He is single handedly the most beautiful man you think you’ve ever seen, and you have to be careful you’re not drooling when you steal glances at him.

You’re lucky you even saw him, because you never go through the park near Main Street. It’s too crowded, and there are too many men that try and assert their dominance over you—overall you avoid walking this direction towards your favorite bookstore every weekend.

You’d only done it this weekend because there was some sort of construction going on West Street, but you have to sit down at a park bench momentarily just to gape at the handsome man jogging around the park with a dog at his side.

His hair spikes up in discolored disarray, but what might seem messy and uncoordinated on a lesser man, seems attractive on this one. He’s got a wide chest, shoulders broad that fills out his dry-fit shirt as he does some more stretching, and watching him while he does so makes you feel almost like a pervert, really.

You’d taken a quick detour in the park just to sit and watch him, book in hands forgotten as he crouched down, hands rubbing underneath the dog’s jaw with a loving touch. The smile on the man’s lips are wide, and you’re almost positive you’ve seen the smile before but you’re not really sure where.

When he looks up, your eyes catch with his and the smile he sends your way is blinding. You have to hold the book in front of your face just to hide the embarrassment clearly written across your face, but when you peek out a moment later, he seems none the wiser to your blunder.

You’re not usually one to base your attraction to other people solely on looks alone, but there’s something about this guy that tugs at your heartstrings. He’s good with dogs, too, and men that are good with animals are always a plus because they’re good judges of character.

“Hey, how are you?”

You look up to see the dog walker smiling brightly at you, a yellow labrador sitting at his side with a smile that almost matches his. Setting the book aside, you match his greeting. “Hi, I’m doing good, how are you?”

“Ah, I’m okay.” His hand rests on the dog’s head, who whines when he removes it to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m Bokuto, I just saw you looking at Rusty here and thought maybe you were too shy to say something.”

Well, at least your cover wasn’t blown just yet. You introduce yourself quickly while you reach a hand out to run along Rusty’s jaw, heart swelling when the dog seems to lean into your touch. “You caught me. I love dogs, is he yours?”

“Naw,” Bokuto crouches down now, just below your eye level as he rubs Rusty’s chest with a heavy hand, “I walk dogs when I’m not busy with practice, because it’s good exercise and I can get some pet time in without having to make the commitment of a dog, yet.”

“Yet? Do you plan on getting one at all?” Looking up at him, you tilt your head to the side as he shrugs.

“I’m not really sure yet.” Bokuto looks off into the distance as Rusty gets closer to you, nudging your legs apart with a wet nose to rest his head on your lap. “I travel a lot for work, so I’m not sure getting a dog would be smart.”

You hum thoughtfully. Bokuto seemed like a different type of person, from farther away. You hate to make assumptions about people without really getting to know them first, but he really seems like he dives into things head first without thinking things through. It’s nice to know that he cares for the potential dog he might get in the future enough, though.

“I’d get a pet, but I’m not really sure what I would want,” you start as you look back up at him, “I’m not even sure I’m a pet person, to be honest.”

“Everyone’s a pet person as long as you love them enough,” Bokuto encourages you with his hands outstretching, orange leash dangling from his hand making Rusty pick up his head briefly, “I hate to cut this short, cause it was really nice meeting you, but Rusty’s owner here is gonna pick him up in a little bit, and I gotta run him back to his house.”

“Oh, totally fine, I’d hate to keep you here.” You wave as he begins to jog off, taking a semi-willing Rusty with him. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah! I’m here every week walking dogs, so maybe I’ll see ya?”

As his figure retreats into the distance, you can practically feel your heartbeat in your chest. Pressing a hand to your chest, you think it might calm the racing beat as you bite your lip, smile shy as you think about the exchange you’d just had.

Bokuto was a weird guy, is the first thing you think of. Normally, people don’t come up to others in a park just because he’d managed to catch you staring. If he caught you staring at him, you appreciate the fact that he saved you the embarrassment and gave you the dog as an excuse. He seems nice enough, and you’re sure that in another world, maybe you’d regret letting the conversation flow as well as it had, but in this one, you liked talking to him like that.

Maybe you would be back next week, construction on West Street be damned.

French Bulldog

You were absolutely pathetic.

Never in your some odd years of living did you ever think that you’d be the type of person to exercise just because you wanted to see a guy again.

A very tall, adorable, muscular guy that handled dogs well and came up to you with a smile brighter than the sun, but a guy, nonetheless.

Dressed in a set of workout clothes that had practically been collecting dust in your drawers, you were stretching very awkwardly at the park, feeling out of place and uncomfortable. You weren’t someone that worked out often, and you prayed to whatever upper being was out there that no one looked at you weird.

You’d been pacing around the front of your apartment for a good twenty minutes before you decided to jog to the park, trying to keep a slower pace than normal because you didn’t want to be huffing and wheezing when you got to the park.

When you got there, you spotted Bokuto almost immediately. He was surrounded by a small crowd of people, looking embarrassed as they seemed to be asking for his autograph. A thinner, royal blue leash was wrapped around his hand as he waved and posed with some people for pictures.

Was he famous or something? You weren’t exactly sure, but he did have a familiar sort of face. You’d thought you’d seen him before the first day you had seen him, so maybe you’d seen him on your explore feed on Instagram or something.

You weren’t going to intrude on the festivities, content to just continue stretching and maybe actually exercise, but when Bokuto caught your eye, he waved at you with a hand over his head, movements large and noticeable.

“Sorry, I have to go, but thanks for supporting me!” was the part of the conversation that you had caught as you watched him jog towards you, a small white and brown French Bulldog happily trailing after him.

“Hey,” you’re tying your shoe now, crouched on the ground and you hold out a hand for the small dog to smell, “Funny running into you again, stranger.”

“Nice to see you again, you really saved me.” There’s relief in his voice as he holds his hands on his hips, chest heaving gently as he smiles at you. “Y’know, I love my fans, and they’re usually really respectful, but I guess someone caught wind that I started walking dogs and a whole crew of people were here when I got here with Porco today.”

You really hope Porco is the name of the dog.

“Your fans?” You straighten yourself off of the ground and give him a raised eyebrow. “Are you a model or something? I wouldn’t be surprised, you have the looks for one.”

The words leave your mouth before you can really think, and maybe it’s worth not having a filter for that brief moment to see the rosy red blush spread across the bridge of his nose and across the planes of his cheeks. If you look close, you’re pretty sure you can see it start to creep up his neck and on the tips of his ears.

“I’m not–! I’m not a model.” His words are quick as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’m a volleyball player, I play for the MSBY Black Jackals!”

“Oh, I’m not really into sports all that much.” You shrug lightly as you feel a weight on your foot, looking down to see Porco resting his butt on your sneaker. “I’m surprised I’m just now finding out you’re, like, famous, though.”

“I thought you knew I was a volleyball player, honestly.” Bokuto looks a little sheepish as he says it. “Usually, people recognize me right away so I just talked about it like you knew.”

“It’s fine! Don’t worry too much, I didn’t even notice.”

Porco makes a strange noise, something between breathing in too hard and sneezing, and it honestly stops your heart for a good minute. Looking at Bokuto, you’re concerned but it soothes off of you when he leans down and just pats the dog’s back lightly. “Sorry, French Bulldogs actually have really bad nasal issues, so Porco tends to do this when his nose gets too dry.”

“Y’know, you sure know a lot about different types of dogs for a guy that doesn’t want one,” you remark as you crouch down with Bokuto to scratch under Porco’s chin lightly.

Bokuto’s laugh is something akin to an angel’s and you want to make him laugh for the rest of his life. “I really wanted a dog when I was a kid, but my mom thought I was too irresponsible, so I did a month long project where I just researched about different dogs.”

“Guess it stuck with you, huh?” He nods, and you’re not sure if he does it on purpose but his shoulder bumps yours gently. “Did your mom end up getting you a dog?”

“No! My sister got a hamster and my mom was worried a big dog, like I wanted, would terrorize it.” his tone isn’t accusatory or spiteful, just reminiscing on the past as he continues to stare at the small dog before him. “It was probably for the better, cause I think I would’ve been heartbroken if the dog died before I was able to make it to the professional leagues.”

Talking to Bokuto is one of the easiest things you think you’ve ever done.

The two of you end up walking around the park when Porco calms down after a while, and the conversation flows as smooth as a river. Whenever there might be a moment of awkward silence, he manages to fill it effortlessly by mentioning something, or even just talking about his experiences as a volleyball player.

Honestly, even the moments of silence aren’t even all that awkward. There’s something soothing about the sounds of both of your feet hitting the pavement and the birds chirping that makes the entire experience one of the better ones you’ve had.

So, when he asks for your number, you give it to him without a second thought.

German Shepherd

Bokuto really likes texting people at odd hours of the day, you’ve learned.

Sometimes you’ll wake up to a text on your phone from the man that he sent at about one in the morning, often asking you something that he had just thought of and can’t bother anyone else with. When you wake up, you typically try and answer his question to the best of your ability, and if you can’t figure it out, the two of you brainstorm the next weekend at the park to see what the answer could possibly be.

The pair of you have slipped into such a routine that seems so domestic it makes your heart clench whenever you have to remind yourself you’re just friends.

Today, at the park, Bokuto has a dog that you’ve seen before. A friendly German Shepherd named Ace that loved to slobber on your hands if you scratched underneath his chin for long enough.

A bright green leash is looped around his hand as he does his triangle stretches, Ace sitting between his feet acting well mannered. Bokuto waves at you as you walk over, tucking your phone away as you greet them both.

“Any clue where in the park we want to go today?”

“You think you’d get bored of the park after a while,” you say off handedly, watching as Ace’s ears perk up at the sight of two squirrels chasing after each other.

When Bokuto doesn’t say anything for a good minute or two, you turn to look at him. “Well, honestly? I was gonna stop coming to this park a few weeks ago.”

“Really?” This is the first you’ve heard of it, and you’re sure your surprise is drawn on your face if the way Bokuto reacts is any indication. “Why’d you end up staying?”

He coughs into his hand, and you’re sure he’s tugging his jacket’s collar up to hide the red dancing across his cheeks right now. “...You.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. You stop walking for a minute, coming to a full stop in the middle of the walking path as you process what he says to you. “You were gonna stop coming to this park… until you met me?”

His hair shakes a little bit when he nods, and he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Yeah. I had that Labrador for some guy, and I was gonna go to a different park cause he seemed like, bummed at this one, but I saw you sitting at one of the benches.”

“I started talking to you, and then I just had to see you again, so I came back the next week, too.” He looks up at you with a sense of alarm in his eyes. “That’s not weird, is it?”

“It’s not weird, Bokuto,” you reassure, stepping closer to him and hitting your shoulder against his easily, “I might have done the same thing. I usually go near the park on West Street.”

His smile is radiant, and you think that you’d love to see that smile every day of your life if he’d let you. There’s something about it that makes a small part of your heart swell, the feeling that you’re the one making him smile like that rears its head over the part of you that knows you aren’t with him.

That could always change, though, you think as Bokuto tugs on your arm as Ace rushes ahead of the two of you, eyes set on a squirrel running up a tree somewhere. His laughter is contagious as you’re pulled along by the dog, and you know that Bokuto could stop him from running, but maybe he enjoys the way the wind runs over him like you are.

Bokuto insists that you wait for him to drop off Ace at his owner’s house, telling you that you have to come with him or wait for him at your apartment. You love Ace, but you’re not too keen on meeting his owner at the moment, so you’re sitting on the steps of your apartment, changed out of your athletic wear in something more fitting for your day to day.

He comes back to you, jogging lightly as he waves at you from down the street. His outfit is the same as earlier, just a pair of black shorts with a navy blue hoodie, and yet you’re sure he’s even handsomer than you’d just seen him before.

“Ready?”

You make a noise of agreement as the two of you set off, yet you’re still not sure where you’re going, instead just following after him without questioning anything. If you were more paranoid, you’d think this would be the perfect time for him to just kill you.

“So, no questions on where we’re going?” God, he always knows when to get you out of your thoughts.

“I just thought you were taking me to a dark alleyway to kill me,” you give him a smile as he makes an incredulous face, surely offended that you even thought that of him.

“No, I was just, uh,” he coughs into his hand, and you’re sure his cheeks are red again without even having to look, “hoping to take you on our first date.”

Smiling at the floor with a grin that doesn’t seem to fade, you clear your throat, “Walking the dogs doesn’t count as a date?”

“Ah, you’re right,” he concedes, dipping his head in a fleet apology, “our first date without any dogs.”

“Unfortunately,” you start, hand outstretching and seeking his, “I was only talking to you for the dogs.”

He laughs, hand intertwining with yours and tugging you closer. “Of course, the dogs were the only selling point I had, right?”

“Absolutely,” you nod in agreement, “I definitely didn’t want to go out with you, just wanted to see the dogs.”

The two of you are laughing and joking like you always do when you go into the small little diner, where you end up having your first date, without any dogs.

[rreyie]

𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙞- 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: an idea pops into colts head after fucking your brains out the night before, craving you again.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: smut! vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, fem! reader, semi public sex, cursing, overstimulation

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: smut/nsfw

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: colt grice, reader insert

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: you asked, i provide. after getting so much great feedback from you all about part one (view here), i decided, hey, let’s make a part two! also, thank you so much for 95 followers, it means so so so much to me 😩 also, hey, look! i’m using proper capitalization when i write now!!

DISCLAIMER: cant believe that i even have to clarify this, but IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM DO I HAVE AN OPINION ON GABI. people will probably come for my throat if i even say that i like or dislike her, so i’m neutral to her.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the morning was... awkward, to say the least. Eventually, you all began to laugh it off. Porco would crack the occasional joke about it (when Falco and Gabi weren’t near).

After breakfast, you ran back up to your room to change, grabbing that white bikini that you washed and folded last night. You smirked at your memories from yesterday, how Colt admired you looking so very attractive. His hazel eyes would constantly be on you, unwavering.

After slipping it on and tying the straps, you made a quick stop in the bathroom, Colt at the sink furiously brushing his teeth. You can see his eyes widen in the mirror, looking at your figure.

He quickly spits out the toothpaste and wipes his mouth. “Wow, you’re lookin... awfully lovely today”, he says, kissing your lips. You take in the minty breath breathing down your chin.

“Colt, not now...” you say, pulling your lips from his. “The door is open, We can’t do this now, plus we have plans for the day.”

Colt pouts, frowning at your words. “Fine. But I’m expecting affection tonight”, he says, walking out of the bathroom. You smile, and continue to get ready to get back on the beach.

It looked like Pieck, Porco, Reiner, Colt, Gabi and Falco had gotten out early, since they were all sprawled out on different parts of the beach. Pieck was dipping her dainty feet in the water, while Gabi and Falco aggressively splashed each other with the water from the lake.

Pieck turned around to see you walk down to the beach, greeting you with a warm smile. “Hello, y/n!” She says, stepping out of the water that washed upon her feet. “Just getting used to this water. I don’t know the last time I’ve gone swimming, but I figured that I should try.”

You stand next to her, and dip your foot into the water. A shiver ran down your back, feeling that the water was slightly colder than yesterday. “I cant blame you. I’m more of a sunbathing person myself.” You look around, and see the men in their same old spot, floating in the water in their tubes. Pieck lays down on a nearby towel, and puts a pair of sunglasses on her face, blocking the burning sunlight that washed upon you all.

“Come, sit”, she says. “The sunlight feels wonderful.”

You sit down beside her, also putting on your own pair of shades to save your eyes from the sunlight. You wonder how Pieck never manages to tan and always keeps her pale, nearly lifeless complexion.

Back over by the guys, Reiner and Porco were still teasing Colt about the noise from last night. Colt pretended not to care, but deep down he was semi embarrassed about the situation.

“Well, if you want to really switch things up, you should try a new position or something, maybe add a vibrator”, Porco says. “I think girls like that.”

Reiner let’s out a laugh. “Porco, how would you know? You’ve never gotten an ounce of pussy in your life.”

Porco snaps, splashing Reiner with a wave of water. “At least I get into meaningful relationships and don’t just settle for one night stands, Reiner.” Colt sighs, as the two continue their bickering. He looks down by the shore, seeing you and Pieck laying on the beach. How could he possibly be this lucky to have a girl like you as his girlfriend?

Wait. Hang on. Colt had an idea pop into his head. If he wanted to get laid again, he probably shouldn’t do it inside the house, hence the thin walls. He had seen some porn of people fucking on a beach, and always wanted to try it, and added it to his bucket list. What better time to do it then now?

Colt began to think of you slipping off that bikini like you had done last night, untying the straps, revealing your dazzling body. He could feel himself getting hard, and covered his crotch. If he was going to follow through with this plan, he was going to have to do it at night, after everyone had gone to bed to take away the risk of getting caught or being heard (again).

As soon as night came, you cleaned up the dishes after dinner and went upstairs to the bathroom. On the sink was a note, in colts messy handwriting.

𝒴/𝒩,

𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃.

𝒳𝑜𝓍𝑜, 𝒞𝑜𝓁𝓉

Shit, you think to yourself. Sundown was forever ago. I should get down to the beach before Colt thinks I ditched him or something.

You don’t even bother to change into normal clothes, and go back down there in the white bikini Colt adored seeing you in, you couldn’t go wrong in wearing that.

You make your way down to the beach, the starlit sky twinkling in the distance, the moon hovering over the lake reflecting white waves. Colt is down on the beach, a large towel laid out, on his phone.

You walk towards him feeling the sand crunch beneath your feet, and his eyes immediately look up to you, wide with excitement.

“Y/N!” He says. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming or you didn’t see the note.”

“I wouldn’t forget about you Colt”, you say, sitting beside him. “Never ever.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you kiss his lips, tasting like just a bit of alcohol.

You pull away, Colts smile slowly fading away at the fact that you stopped kissing him. “Colt, baby, have you been drinking?”

“Fine, maybe a little”, he said. “But I paced myself this time to the point where I won’t get hammered, I did it for you.”

You smiled. “I’m proud of you!” That smile didn’t last long, feeling the right corner of your mouth rise forming a smirk. “And good boys get rewarded.”

You see Colts cheeks get red, flushing as you move your head down to his crotch, still covered in fabric. He lets out a breathy moan when you gently tug at his elastic waistband with your mouth. You stop for a minute, trying to remember why you were down here in the first place.

“Hey, wait, why did you ask me to come down here in the first place?”

Colt grins, and pulls out a bottle of lube from his pocket. “Well, I wanted to switch things up. I thought the beach would be a nice place to... you know. But keep doing what you’re doing please, baby.”

You continue your quest to tug down Colts swim trunks, but getting impatient and moving your hand up to the waistband and tugging it down with a singular motion. His cock sprang out, slapping against his stomach, already half hard. Your hand gripped his length gently, thumb rubbing the tip as he slowly began to grow increasingly hard under your touch. He let out a gasp at your movements. Your hand traveled down father, slowly jacking him off as he looked down upon you, hazel eyes filled with desire as you pumped him.

“Just like that, babe...” Colt said, voice cracking. He whimpered, voice high because of the stimulation you were providing him. “Oh... oh god... please, you’re doing so good baby.”

Your heat throbbed at his praises. This only encouraged you to go quicker, his eyes starting to roll into the back of his head. You cupped his balls, eliciting another whimper or moan, possibly a combination of the two.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum-“ Colt is cut off by his sudden orgasm, covering your hand in his hot seed.

“Normally, i would stop and make you beg, but you’ve been a good boy tonight. I wanna make you feel good.” Colt is panting underneath you, still sensitive from his last orgasm. His cock grows hard again. He gives you a weak smile as he lays down on the towel.

“What’s the matter?” You ask. “You’re not tired already are you? You’re still hard.”

“B-baby...” Colt whispers. “C-can you ride me? Pretty please?” Your heat grows hotter than before at the idea. You fiddle with the straps of your bikini, and undo the knot in the back, making the top portion fall off easily. You slip off the bottom half, and sit on Colts lap.

Just to tease him, you kiss him on his lips, grinding your hips against his. Seeing him so vulnerable, so sensitive made you incredibly turned on. His eyes were squinted, his cheeks (and cock) red. His dick was throbbing even though he just came, and beads of sweat rolled off of his body. You thoroughly enjoyed the sight.

You grabbed hold of his cock once again, and guided it to your entrance, teasing the tip around your hole. Once you had enough of all this teasing, you skipped it in, not needing that bottle of lube since your walls were coated in your arousal already.

“Fuck- so... tight...” Colt mumbles.

You grind your hips against his cock, feeling it move in and out inside you. Colt contributes to the movement, thrusting his hips up to penetrate you deeper than you thought possible. Colt wasn’t incredibly endowed, maybe six inches, but you were shocked at how good he could use it.

His dick began to rub onto that one spongy spot inside of you, the one that drove you crazy. “Colt! Aah! R-Right there!”

Colt appreciated the praise, and was thankful that you two were away from the house for tonight. His pace picked up, continuously hitting your sweet spot with all his might.

Before you knew it, you had creamed around his cock, feeling the wave of your orgasm crash down upon you. Colt, not done yet, was still thrusting into you.

With a loud groan, Colt thrusted into you sloppily one final time, and released himself into you. Now was a time that you were grateful to be on the pill, feeling his warm seed coat your walls was one of the best sensations you could possibly experience.

Out of breath, you lay on colts bare chest, completely fucked out. Cum was still dripping down from your cunt to your inner thigh, which you most definitely did not hate. Colt kissed your neck, his kisses messily leaving a bit of saliva on your neck.

“You’re- you’re amazing, y/n.” He kisses you again, this time right on your lips. You were too tired to even respond. You just shut your eyes, feeling Colts heartbeat against your ear.

Eventually, Colt carried you into the house as if you were a sleeping baby, while being careful not to wake anyone else up. He placed your body on the bed, and laid beside you, careful to tuck you into the covers while doing the same to himself. Wrapping himself around you, he snuggled into you, even more grateful tonight than ever that he was your boyfriend.