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theoddcatlady · 5 months

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A Bachelor to Die For, Week One

I swear, I thought I was just starring on a dating show.

My name is Paige. I decided to put my name in the hat for Mr. Right as a joke, I just broke up with a long term boyfriend and hey, dating shows are all fake anyway right? Even if I got in, which was a slim chance anyway, I’d be told what to say and what to do. All for a good show.

I was shook when I got the call saying I’d been picked, pack my bags, I was going to be famous. Despite not really caring at first, I got really, really excited. I tend to binge watch reality shows when I’m having a bad day, just to have something to laugh at, so appearing on one sounded like a great time.

At the airport I met up with one of the hosts, Bruce Hayes, and two of the other contestants, Diana Vega and Taylor Challis. Bruce had a smile like the shark he shared a name with, clearly hit the tanning booth too often, and had uncomfortably white teeth, but he seemed nice. He pulled me into a way too tight hug when I tried going for a handshake. I swear I felt my shoulders pop when he let me go.

“Paige! So great to meet you, the other girls are on the plane already. Ever been to Canada?” He asked as he escorted me to the private flight.

I shook my head. “Never left the country before. Why Canada though, it’s gonna get real cold in a few weeks,” I said.

Bruce laughed so loudly I nearly flinched. “Well, that’s the perfect time to cuddle up with Mr. Right then, isn’t it?” He said.

“Good point.”

A tall black woman was slamming her suitcase into the overhead when I got on. She glanced over at me and I immediately got the oh so familiar feeling of inadequacy- she was drop dead gorgeous.

“Hey, Paige, right?” She gave the suitcase a final punch before skipping up to me and shaking my hand. “I’m Taylor.”

She was also British. How fair is that?

I nodded as I took a seat. “You going to be one of the other contestants?” She asked.

“Yep. I sorta entered as a joke,” I admitted.

“Oh my god, same!” Taylor laughed, her smile downright infectious. “My mates and I all entered, if anyone got in they all had to buy the winner drinks when she got back. I’m going to get positively slammed when I piss off Mr. Right with too many puns and get kicked off.” Taylor kicked the seat in front of her, startling the woman who had her headphones in. “Hey, turn off your damn podcast and say hi to Paige!”

“Shit!” The woman yanked out her earbuds, blushing bright red. She was just as gorgeous as Taylor, with olive skin and wavy dark brown hair. “I’m so sorry, when I got a podcast on I can tune out the whole world. I’m Diana.”

I waved. “I get it. You excited to be here?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Diana grinned, dimples showing up in her round cheeks. “My sister entered me, but now that we’re going I’m really getting into it. I’ve never really seen any dating shows so this is going to be a new experience.”

Bruce took his seat in front of me and chuckled. “Well, we hope to make this a unique experience, something new in a world growing stale with the same old thing. You excited?”

I gave two thumbs up, Diana cheered, and Taylor pumped both fists in the air. “Hell yes! Get this plane in the sky!” She said.

Bruce laughed as he gestured for the pilot to get going.

After take off I fished my Kindle out of my bag for some reading during the few hour flight, only to find I forgot to charge the goddamn thing. I started digging through my bag for the charger when I felt someone lightly poke my arm.

I looked up at Diana, who sat next to me and opened up her bag, which was packed to the brim with books. “This is why I’m going to develop back problems- I refuse to get an e-reader and just carry a library with me. You like fantasy?” She asked.

“Yes, thank you!” I picked a book I didn’t recognize. “I hope to write my own fantasy book someday.”

“Really?!” Diana’s eyes went huge. “That sounds amazing. What will it be about?”

Diana and I became fast friends. She had a great feeling that I was gonna come out on top as some sort of dark horse, since as she put it, ‘you don’t see yourself in a good light’. She worked as a receptionist at a doctor’s office and went hiking every weekend.

Honestly I didn’t get to finish the second chapter of my borrowed book, but I had a good time bonding with Diana. Taylor would pipe in with bad jokes and witty comments, we laughed so hard we nearly cried and my sides hurt. By the time we disembarked, we were acting like old friends.

We actually got to ride a limo to the shooting location and where we’d be staying during the duration of the show- an actual freakin’ mansion.

“This is the Vath Home. Another reason we’re shooting in Canada, Paige- the Vaths have been kind enough to let us use the estate for the show,” Bruce said.

“This is where the bachelor lives?!” Diana said, eyes nearly popping out of her skull.

Taylor snickered, a clear sign she was amused by whatever awful joke popped into her head. “He’s absolutely compensating for something…” She muttered, causing all of us to erupt into peels of laughter as we exited the car.

“Ladies! You’re finally here!”

A woman walked out the front door, clearly the other host we’d been told about, Monica Hoar. Something about her stretched smile unsettled me even more than Bruce’s, maybe it was the bright red lipstick. “You’re the final arrivals, and just on time, we’re about to shoot all the introductions! The servants will get your bags, just hurry up into make up and get ready!”

It was not fun sitting in front of the cameras when I’d spent the last several hours traveling and all I wanted to do was nap, but it did give me a chance to check out the competition. Found out that Taylor was an accountant, that she loved beach combing for seashells, scuba diving and apparently one hell of a dancer.

The next girl was Justice Sloane, and oh, bless her heart but she was not very bright. She was the culmination of every dumb blonde joke in the book, but she was a real sweetheart. Obviously quite pretty too, with blonde curls and big brown eyes. She was so damn excited to be here, she always wanted to be on a reality show, and she loved traveling around the world and collecting shot glasses from every locale.

Tara Saito was a fitness trainer and a fitness junkie. Her shiny black hair was cut into a pixie and she had this scar going through her left eyebrow, apparently from when she accidentally got whacked with a tennis racket in highschool. She apparently ran eight miles every day, wanted to push it up to ten next year. She was the competitive type, she wasn’t going to be a bitch but she wasn’t going to come out of here a loser. The only way she was walking out was ‘with a rock on her left ring finger’, her exact words. She had a pet snake back home named Bubbles. She didn’t name him that, he came with that name.

Jade Hutchison was clearly meant to be the drama causing bitch of the season. She actually took a moment of her interview to mock Justice and imply the girl had fake boobs. Classy. Thank god it flew over poor Justice’s head. She was the other blonde on set and I don’t think she’s really smiled all week, unless she was on camera. She worked at a salon as a hair stylist and I have the feeling was just there to be famous.

And then there was Shannon Radde. I thought I was socially awkward, but the girl had to be constantly told to look up at the camera instead of her feet. She was a cute, skinny nerd with thick rimmed glasses and long red hair, almost reached her hips. She was a factory worker and had her own Etsy shop creating fandom bath bombs. She almost made it through her interview when Jade made a comment about how inclusive the show was to include a retard, causing Shannon to burst into tears and run off the set. Bruce just encouraged the cameramen to keep the cameras on poor Shannon as she fled. Taylor and Tara teamed up to tell Jade where she could stick it while Diana ran after Shannon to comfort the poor girl.

When Shannon was encouraged to come back on set, we were all sat back down on the couch and given a bombshell-

This first week, we wouldn’t be meeting this season’s Mr. Right, Donovan Vath. Instead, he would be watching from hidden cameras placed all around the house. After the week was over, someone would be gone and then the real competition would begin.

Weird, maybe, but this first week was just fine.

The Vath Mansion had everything, its own movie theater and bowling alley in the basement, an indoor pool, a sauna, a hot tub out back in the middle of a hedge maze, you name a luxury the Vaths had it. I found myself in the library with Diana a lot, we both had a freak out over finding a first edition of ‘The Hobbit’, kept in a locked glass case so all we could do was gawk.

Each of the girls were sharing a room other than Justice, who was the lucky one of the week who got to bunk in the Queen’s Room. Apparently that was another thing- after this, whoever earned Donovan’s favor for the week would get their own bedroom, reportedly closest to his own. I roomed with Tara, who was out of bed by five AM every morning to take a run around the property.

“There is a home gym, aren’t you cold running outside?” I remember groggily asking as she got dressed in her work out gear.

“I find I work out better if I get some fresh air,” She said as she slipped her hoodie on. “You want to join me?”

I might have thrown my pillow at her. She absolutely caught it and pitched it right back at my head.

Again, everything was normal this week. Diana and I definitely clicked the most, but I can’t say I really disliked anyone other than Jade. Justice was ditzy, but she was also sincerely sweet and made sure everyone always felt included in our hangouts. Tara definitely had to always be the best, but she never put down anyone else. Shannon was socially awkward, but she had this cutest snort when Taylor got her laughing.

I wish that was the show. Just us all being friends.

Day seven and we were all lined up in the same room. We were laughing and joking around. Taylor bet me sixty bucks that Jade was going out first, I bet seventy that it would be me. Tara shoved me and said if I kept talking myself down then I would end up being the first to go. She’s all about how your outlook on things will affect the outcome.

The main cameras switched on and Bruce and Monica flicked on their shark like grins.

“I’m Bruce Hayes-”

“And I’m Monica Hoar-”

“And you’re watching Mr. Right!”

The music got really tense, something that made me giggle. Diana had to elbow me to get me to stop. Bruce clapped his hands together.

“Ladies, I have to say, you’ve all made this first week really special. I’m so glad you all came. But of course, every week we have to say good bye to one person who just didn’t impress our gentleman. Monica?”

Monica cleared her throat and ripped open a white envelope. “The lady leaving us this week is…”

I held my breath. Even if I didn’t care about winning, I was still tense.

“Justice Sloane.”

Justice gasped, looking around as if she expected another Justice to show up and take her place. Then she straightened her shoulders and put on a smile, even if I could see tears sparkling in her eyes.

“Any last words, Justice?” Monica asked.

Justice nodded. “Um… just that even though I didn’t even get to meet Mr. Right, I got to meet a lot of really, really great people. I hope we can all be friends, even when it’s over,” She said.

Monica gestured for Justice to exit out the archway, and head still head high, Justice walked out. She turned around to wave goodbye, still smiling, still so happy…

When the spike speared through her chest, spraying blood everywhere. Her smile faded, I heard screaming, maybe it was me, maybe it was all of us. She looked down, shaking fingers touching the spike before her eyes rolled back and she slumped down in the rapidly growing pool of red. The spike slowly pulled back, I heard a wet sounding tear and I saw a lump of flesh get ripped out of her back and into the darkness of the hallway.

I heard chewing and a swallow before a figure walked into the light.

A man walked into the light, sucking off the tip of one of his bloodied fingers. Sharp cheekbones and a jawline that went on for days didn’t do anything for me with a mouth covered in blood. That spike was connected to a long, many jointed tail, almost like a scorpion’s. It flicked into the air before just vanishing. He smiled, his teeth stained red.

“Good to finally meet you, everyone. I am Donovan Vath.”

Tara reacted first, she bolted for the other doorway, but Monica pulled out a little canister of mace from her purse and sprayed her in the face. She went down with a banshee screech, clawing at her eyes. Shannon had completely frozen up, dropping to her knees as her face went ghostly pale. Jade violently puked up her breakfast, bile and remnants of pancakes splattering across the hardwood floor. Diana was still screaming bloody murder. Taylor was backing up for the window, looking for anything to help her bust on through. I followed her movements and was about to grab a lamp when Bruce cleared his throat.

“Before you attempt to leave, ladies, might I remind you that a breach of contract will result in you immediately being kicked from the show, and if you didn’t already guess…”

He gestured to Justice’s limp body on the ground. I stared at what used to be such a lively girl, someone I probably could’ve called a friend for a long time. I dropped to the ground and blacked out.

I woke up in bed. Diana was with me. She was a mess, her make up smeared over her cheeks and she was softly rocking back and forth while softly sobbing.

“Diana?” I managed to sit up.

Diana wrapped me in a tight hug. “I… I just want to go home,” She said in between hiccups.

I hugged her back just as tight. Nothing I could say could make this situation better.

I don’t know what to do. We’ve been told if we’re caught contacting family or friends, that’s a breach of contract and they’ll be in ‘a heap of trouble’ as well as us getting kicked off the show. And if you get kicked off the show, Donovan will eat your heart. I don’t want to die. I don’t want my family to die if I get them tangled in this mess.

God help me though, because this week, I’m staying in the Queen’s Room.

Week Two

#my stories

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beardedmrbean · 19 days

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Hey it me, zoomer Huey, I saw the post saying about the young gamers retro revival

But how retro because this book..

https://www.tumblr.com/gsirvitor/742534236498804736

Also yes people halo is going to be 23 this fall so it’s a retro game

Yes, don’t have to deal with horrific live service and micro transactions but the thing is….economic reasons

Like I been getting into kingdoms hearts and final fantasy….but I was a Xbox player so they are new ports in the ecosystem

And like I said, AC red will probably be a huge entry point for a lot of new fans. So it very likely they will be curious what the game Easter eggs are about so I will gladly help them get say get the Ezio Collection if the European Templars have dialogue mentioning they don’t want another Borgia fiasco since the game take places in the 1580’s-90’s and during this time many Templars went to the new world or other places to escape the “Dark Age” of the Templars order where it’s was about gaining power for selfish reasons rather further their causes

And about retro games, um…the same way a adult might want to watch old classic movies

Now I watched Fox’s miracle of 34th street a couple of years ago on Disney plus (actually I often use these streaming services to watch old shit like the muppet show) despite being at my depress state, I couldn’t help but smile at the Santa in it

It like for me, I found the Santa that inspired the ones your generation, my generation, and all those in between the Santa we had when we were kids. I’m glad the actor got the Oscar. And I’m more glad Hollywood graveyard help find his lost vase and people came to celebrate the actor new home. With him Unknowingly inspired the Christmas magic we love

Sorry using that as example

Also a lot of young gamers….were often too poor, too young, didn’t have enough resources when these old games came out. So we are interested in what these games that older gamers talk about even if we don’t have the nostalgia for it

Like Xbox Backwards Compatibility library….can someone please make a deal to bring the one transformers or marvel games back on it? Anyways, I’m 24 now, so there a lot of old 360 and og Xbox games I didn’t okay that I use bc for

And modern gaming, ugh feel like it intentionally designed for Twitch streamers and YouTuber gamers. Ugh halo infinite mp made just drop it all together

Oh gaming companies, a lot of modern gamers have JOBS so we might invest in a 1 or 2 live service games. Hell ac red might have a 3-4 live services era (ac Valhalla had 2 years of support) but I’m mostly invested in single player games

Well I’m autistic and I work 10 hour and 4 days a week work schedule. I am not interested dealing with try hards

Like I don’t understand this shock? Ac red is dead ass the only triple a gaming I’m probably going to be paying at launch at full price while the upcoming Star Wars game I’m probably going to get on sale

I feel like people are so focus on young people who refuse to consume pre 2012 media. There are those with a mentality that can stand old shit.

Hey it me, zoomer Huey, I saw the post saying about the young gamers retro revival But how retro because this book. gsirvitor/742534236498804736 Also yes people halo is going to be 23 this fall so it’s a retro game

I think the first post your talking about was one I put up, I go with most anything PS2 on down for consoles, some PS2 aren't really "retro" but the divide for me is mostly based on hotfixes and micro-transactions so like Sims2 is the right age but i shift round on the retro bit since you could buy skins and such still gonna be retro I think.

Online games you could play for free online are retro too, but everyone will define it in their own way too so no hard and fast rules for me.

Like I been getting into kingdoms hearts and final fantasy….but I was a Xbox player so they are new ports in the ecosystem And like I said, AC red will probably be a huge entry point for a lot of new fans. So it very likely they will be curious what the game Easter eggs are about......... And about retro games, um…the same way a adult might want to watch old classic movies

Classic and retro work together in tandem a lot, there is a difference but I don't want to tangent too far into that.

Watch some Mr Rogers, it's a soothing balm on depression, won't make it go away but at the end of a episode or two you'll feel loved, man you've never met in your life but you know he loved you, just the way you are.

Nostalgia isn't required for retro, good games are good games.

If I'd had the money to get one of the first gen PS3's I'd have gotten one since they were built to still run PS1&2 games as well, once they took that away I had no desire to get the thing. Wii was great because you had the Wii shop for the older games and it also played GC games, Wii shop games weren't too pricey either.

And modern gaming, ugh feel like it intentionally designed for Twitch streamers and YouTuber gamers. Ugh halo infinite mp made just drop it all together

I've noticed that with some, they dial back the graphics and all that good stuff so they stream well, or at least leave the option of that. I figure as long as everyone is happy.

That's really all I do, even when battle net was going strong I still didn't sign up for D2 on there except rarely.

Blizard had it right with World of Warcraft, at least at one point. The were selling the game disc for like $5 with a 2 week subscription make their money in the long game, not sure if anyone is doing that kind of thing anymore but they should be.

I feel like people are so focus on young people who refuse to consume pre 2012 media. There are those with a mentality that can stand old shit.

I love seeing people get into the games and stuff I enjoyed when I was younger, watching through the X-Files with a friend who's never seen it before and it's great seeing it through the eyes of someone who hasn't watched it.

Same with nerding out about games, as you've seen me do with FFVI here previously.

Most people that matter feel the same, so don't worry about any haters, they aren't worth your time or thought.

#zoomer huey anon

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indigoinka · 7 months

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Hi! I’m finally getting around to that intro post I promised months ago, and honestly, you could be here for some time.

I’m squatting on a whole bunch of social media accounts, but this is the only place I feel safe anymore, though I do have a little reader group on the Meta-hole (🤢). I wish I could get my AuDHD head around Discord, but it feels like the old Yahoo boards mated with a speeding train, and I'm just too tired for that.

Wherever you look, I’ll be indigoinka or Inka York there.

This is me:

About me, then:

I love tea. Would I even be British if I didn’t?

I love cake. British.

And cider. British.

Yeah, and pie.

Food. I like food.

Please rec queer TV shows to me because I don’t watch as much as I should, and sometimes I just need to refill my crusty old well.

I love supporting indie authors, and rarely read trad stuff these days unless the blurb and sample are god tier.

Feel free to ask questions and tag me in writing games, or whatever shenanigans you get up to around here.

What do I write?

I write queer books, mostly urban fantasy, and usually set in the same storyworld. I also write contemporary gay romance, sometimes with an alien twist. And I’m wide with my books, so you can find them at all the major online retailers and in library catalogues.

I write what I like to read, which sometimes includes problematic tropes, but mostly includes wholesome shit like twin stories, sibling banter, ride or die friendships, a hearty mix of fluff and angst, found families, annoying ghosts, salty supernaturals, cinnamon rolls with knives, and sentient vehicles. Oh, and goats. I love me a judgemental goat.

My favourite tropes

Well, it started as a love triangle/square/dodecahedron, but now everybody's fucking (I don't know what this trope is actually called)

Forced proximity/only one bed (or coffin, in my case)

Friends to lovers (AKA idiots who took too long to notice how perfect they are)

Grumpy/Sunshine

Secret twins

Rivals to lovers

Hurt/comfort

My storyworlds

Cascade Apocrypha (queer paranormal/urban fantasy in many subgenres from pirate adventures to cosy mysteries to paranormal romance)

Feverish (contemporary gay romance)

Dracate System (AKA Gay Space Bridgerton)

My books

My first series, Not the Same River, is urban fantasy, upper YA/crossover, set in the Cascade Apocrypha storyworld. It features angels, demons, vamps, vaewolves, goats, succubus nuns, and villains to cry over. Book five is out this month, and the final book is out in February. This is the story of my heart, and the one that spurred a thousand spin-offs that I'll never have time to write.

The first book in that series, A Storm of Paper Starlings, is complete on Wattpad and Inkitt. I was gonna put it on AO3, but it feels weird because I tore all my Potter fics down when JKR started flashing her arse at the entire world, and everything I had on there felt dirty. Anyway, I digress. I might go back. Talk me into it.

I also have two other books updating on Wattpad:

🩷 Victorian Vampire Daddy (MM historical romantic suspense/Cascade Apocrypha)

🩷 My Ex & His Boyfriend (MMM/Feverish storyworld)

My other current series, Tales from the Noctuary (Cascade Apocrypha), has two books out at the retailers:

🩷 Secrets at the Door (historical mystery/suspense with lesbian romance): fat, beekeeping lesbian vampire, queer well-demon with a bad haircut, nonbinary treasure who sometimes makes bad decisions, everybody be gay.

🩷 Puddles in the Pavement (historical mystery and outright shenanigans): queer archangel brother detectives, a perky butler, an escort of indeterminate gender with the worst singing voice in the known world, a vampire duke with terrible table manners, and a Home Secretary with an unasked for appendage (let's hope that doesn't get around).

I have two more books written for this series so far, which will likely debut in my subscription.

Getting to that...

My subscription

13 Club: After Dark is hosted at Ream Stories, the only subscription platform designed specifically for authors and readers, and it is amazing.

You just click on the book cover you want, and the app will drop you into the social e-reader right where you left off, so you can comment right there inside the story. It’s like Patreon + Wattpad + a community board + extra sauce.

Honestly, I could gush about it all week.

This is also me:

So, what’s there?

Well, first, you can follow me there (which is free, obvs) and get access to:

The Weakest Link (Not the Same River #0): features the series MC’s twin sister and the coven she grew up in.

The Cursed Bones of Sergeant Boom!: a contemporary paranormal mystery involving a ghost who gatecrashed a funeral and got followed home by a necromantified corgi (as one does).

Pride’s Treasure: a series of mini adventures with characters from all the stories above, where all the chaos is your fault, because the MC of this story is YOU!

In the paid tiers, there’s 8 weeks early access to the two stories updating on Wattpad, the whole Not the Same River series so far (book 5 is updating now, before it hits the retailers at the end of October 2023). There’s also a 13 Club exclusive story called Earth Render, which is MMMMF (but not reverse harem), again set in the Cascade Apocrypha storyworld. That one features a witch with no beginning, a raven shifter with the best taste in pets, a vampire with memory issues, a vaewolf who can’t control his wolfism, and a nephilim with a huge secret. I promise not to give the Archangel Gabriel a horse penis in this story 👀

There are also physical welcome packs for some of the tiers, and all members are rewarded with After Darkling points, which they can save up each month for sweet treats, like a personalised drabble, or a one-shot featuring their favourite character, or some mystery merch. I love my After Darklings and my little club so much.

My main WIPs at the moment are:

Earth Render serial (mentioned above)

The Dryad's Curse: Pirates of Siorai trilogy (paranormal pirate adventure with romance/Cascade Apocrypha)

Gay Space Bridgerton (space fantasy romance with interplanetary political intrigue and hapless humans/Dracate System)

Almost done... maybe

That was a whole lot of intro (mate, do I love the word shenanigans), but I’m a busy goblin, and though my days are only marginally more comfortable than my painful nights, I still feel grateful that I get to do this every day.

I’d love to chat with you here, on Wattpad, in my FB group (same name as my sub) or over at 13 Club: After Dark. My subscription is what keeps me and my writing going, so if you’re here because you already love my stories, and you have the means, I’d love to see you over there. Your support would mean the world to me, whether it’s a follow or more. I love in-story comments more than life.

I’d love more friends on here, though. So if you’re into queer media and love reading, feel free to follow and I'll follow back.

That’s it from me. I’m finally shutting the fuck up.

Come chat with me whenever you want.

Stay safe!

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

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4townie · 2 years

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Road to 4☆TOWN

“I’m actually pretty pumped about writing the band’s songs.” Robaire said excitedly. “I kinda expected the label would have their own music they wanted us to sing, but it works out cuz I used to love writing music.”

“I don’t know how I am with music but I’ve been told on occasion that I’m ridiculously sappy.” Jesse shrugged. “My poetry teacher had to stop giving love poem assignments because of me…”

“Great!” Robaire grinned. “Beckett told us to stick to cheesy love songs anyway so this’ll be a cinch.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“So…” Jesse stared at his guitar, “did you bring that idea notebook you mentioned yesterday?”

“Oh, right.” Robaire pulled the notebook out of his bag. “I used to write songs all the time in the beginning of highschool. They might be a little corny now but we can probably still get something out of it.”

Jesse flipped through the book. “Ooh, what’s this one? The one called Romeo?”

Robaire blushed and chuckled awkwardly. “I wrote that in ninth grade when we read Romeo and Juliet. It’s pretty lame.”

“Hah, I’ve said lamer things. And in recent years, too.” Jesse said as he continued reading. “Actually, I think this could be a good base for the new song. All we need is…some new lyrics.”

“Yeah, I had a crush on this girl who used to get her braids done at the same place as my sister.” Robaire offered a crooked smile. “I got a little pissed at my mom for not letting me ask her out and for some reason I thought having a fantasy relationship with her anyway would really show my mom.”

Jesse burst out laughing. “Dude, that’s classic!”

“Glad to know you find my 14 year old stupidity so amusing.” Robaire rolled his eyes. “What about you? Got any good love stories?”

Jesse stopped laughing and nearly choked. “W-Why do you ask?”

“Well if we’re gonna be writing a love song, we should probably exchange embarrassing stories about our love lives.” Robaire grinned, scooting closer to Jesse.

Jesse stared at him. “You just want to hear how pathetic I am, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Robaire nodded.

“Fine, I guess it’s only fair.” Jesse sighed. “There was this one cheerleader that had me going to every pep rally like I actually cared about the school. I had a huge crush on her, but she was always surrounded by her guy friends so it was hard to get near her. First time I ever got a chance to talk to her, I handed her my library card and said “I made sure to bring this cuz I’m checking you out”. She laughed in my face.”

“Oh, man, that’s bad.” Robaire snickered. “It’s too bad it didn’t work out, but at least you gave it a shot.”

Jesse stared silently. “Right. Didn’t work out. Sure…”

“Well, she may not have liked your pickup lines, but I sure will. Why don’t you hit me with some of your best shots so we can get creative and pump out our first hit?” Robaire suggested with an eager grin.

Jesse was quiet as he strummed a few notes absentmindedly. He paused. “I think I just gave myself an idea for the melody.” He looked back at Robaire with a smirk. “Alright, let’s do this.”

#4town fanfic #4town headcanons #4town jesse #4town robaire #4town z #4town aaron t #4town taeyoung #4town #turning red 4town #turning red #4townie

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voicefromunderthecovers · 2 years

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Total Drama: The Creeps Cut Episode 1 | Not So Happy Campers

Chapter 0: Audition Tapes

Ezekiel

In a dusty, cluttered, cramped space with a mess meeting you at every corner, sat on top of an old, barely functional TV is the field of vision of a low budget, partially grainy camera. A greasy, pimpled hick with an awkward air about him scratches the back of his pencil neck insecurely before flashing a small closed smile.

“Yo, name’s Ezekiel, or like, Zeke, y’know? As you can probably tell, I’m kinda new to this whole celebrity thing, eh.” His smile fades and he looks around nervously. A few coughs can be heard in the background as he rubs his arm. “Anyway, Pa used to be the breadwinner but now he can’t work as hard no more. I’m gonna get on this show and bring home the bacon instead, I mean, without me, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to support ma. I’m ramblin, I know, y’know? Er, you know what to do.” His dopey grin ends off the video.

Two men, one tall and built and the other small but well put together are sitting and watching the following tapes. They glance at each other and shrug. “So.. what do you think?” Chef Hatchet, the larger man asks.

“I’d say the kid’ll be at least partially fun to make fun of. But people also love a good rags to riches story. I’m game! Next?” The smaller one, Chris Mclean, beckons an intern to supply him with the next tape.

Eva

The first shot of the video is of a black haired, butch type woman doing pulls up at a close-up angle in a public gym. A few prettier, pinker girls walk behind her and mutter something as she finishes up her routine, grunting out the number of reps she’s done.

“57.. 58.. 59.. 60!”

She then hops down on her feet, solidly standing tall. She nearly lets her eyes linger towards the sound of the teenage girls in the background she can so obviously hear, but refocuses on the camera, tightens her fists and talks to the hosts.

“You see that? I’m the only girl in my school who can do more than ten pull ups. So whatever you can throw at me, I can handle it.” She points at herself confidently, head held high and eyes closed. The girls in the background find a red dodgeball and aim it. “Bring it-” BOINK!

It collides with her temple, knocking her off balance. “HEY! You’re dead, you hear me?!” She barks as their fits of giggling turn to panicked gasps and screams. The footage cuts just as the girl rushes at the posse harassing her. It returns to an image of the angry teenage girl with blood on her fists, now outside of the gym on the sidewalk.

“My name is Eva Chantrey. If you want a fierce, no holds barred competitor who is also a huge team player.. You’ll pick me.” She points a thumb in her chest. “Hey, you can edit this, right? Good.”

Chris and Chef recover from chuckling as the footage cuts. “Man, talk about psycho!” Chris belts out.

“I like her.” Chef muses.

“Of course you do. She’s in! Who’s next?”

Noah Sitting at a desk in the middle of a quiet library is a young man with a medium-dark skin tone. Despite the camera being focused on his face he isn’t at all interested in it until he turns to the next page of the book he is currently trapped in. “Yo,” finally looking up from his book to reveal his bored frown gives the first glimpse of realization to the camera. “Look, you’re probably going to get a dozen audition tapes from ‘musically’ talented teens or dependent dorks who claim to be ‘intellectual prodigies’ so I’ll save you the time… Like you should save yourself from reading this cliche ridden novel.” Taking the book from its face down position, Noah flaunts it to the camera with an annoyed expression plastered to his face. “The cover lures you in with a depiction of an epic story. Heroes, dragons, castles… What do I see? A thousand and one cliches on how NOT to write a fantasy novel. I haven’t watched any of the audition tapes on your website, which is so 2010 might I add, yet I can already guess that ninety-nine percent of your auditions are from rich kids or dumb jocks far too in over their own heads. With Noah? Nuh-uh. I’m the real deal, an actual schemer not some wannabe used car salesman. Put me on your show and it’ll be a domino effect of backstabs with me always staying a step or two ahead. In the school chess team? Grand master. Yeah, you can see what I’m getting at.” Noah pushes the book he was reading off to the side before looking at the camera one more time with a confident smile. “See you on the show, big name Hollywood executives.” “Heheh, he’s right about the numerous trust fund kids we’ve gotten so far ain’t he Chris?” Noah seemed like just the type of kid that could use some of Chef’s… Bootcamp. A snobby little poindexter like that? Chef would accept him on grounds of breaking him alone! “I think the irony of his tape is what gets me the most. Going into intense detail about all the scheming little yuppie kids he hates without the self awareness is HILARIOUS! Reminds me of how much you hate that hotshot chef on that one cooking show. What was it called? Cooking Up Drama? That guy is a total Hollywood sleaze!” Chef raised an eyebrow to Chris. That sleazy chef reminded him more of Chris than himself. “But hey, I feel an odd connection to the kid. Consider him in the show! Who do we have next, Chef?” “Some girl who claims to be able to talk to ghosts or something! Oh, and another set of those damn BlixBloxxers!” “Kids, aren’t they the greatest?” Chris’ rhetorical question was only answered by a devilish grin towards the camera.

Justin

The camera pans to show one of the most handsome men in the world with a frown on his face. He’s crouched up on a rock, hair wet (it looks sexy even when wet) and all hope lost. What tragedy could’ve befell this gorgeous man?! “I’m Justin… And once I got lost at sea. Then… I remembered pretty men don’t need to read maps, they just need Dude Time for Men .” Justin sprays himself with the cologne, this parts away the clouds and sends the bad weather long off into the distance. In its place comes a herd of women, all of them eager to rip Justin’s shirt off to reveal his perfectly chiseled torso. “ Dude Time for Men is not responsible for any side effects that may occur such as constant attraction of females, an enhanced sense of confidence, a flock of women tearing your clothes off, or erectile dysfunction. If you experience testicle shrinkage please consult your doctor immediately and stop usage.” One of those commercial voices ended off the advert, Chef raised an eyebrow while Chris clapped his hands together. “Classic Dude Time for Men , I did a commercial for them a year or two back. My agent told me I should probably demand they never show my clip again though after that huge lawsuit they got in for those nasty side effects.” “Plus that smells nasty! Ain’t no real woman gonna want to smell some Dude Bro whatever the hell it is.” To Chef’s cynicism, Chris shook his head. “Just because you’re jealous of a product doesn’t mean you have to shame those of us who found success because of it, Chef.” “Man, didn’t you just get divorced a year ago?! Face it, Dude Time don’t work… But that kid's a looker, though, reminds me of my first– gig. I worked at a modelin’ place, pretty boys like that all over the damn place.” “So you’re saying you want him in? Meh, okay. He’ll get us ratings, he’s already a totally hot model. Just look at his gram! That’s a lot of followers bro.”

Katie and Sadie

A nauseatingly pink polka dotted room filled with childish plush toys and a big speaker is the backdrop of this next one. Two teenage girls, one chubby and white and the other brown and slim (both wearing the exact same outfit) are holding each other's hands while Glamorous by Fergie plays in the background.

“Oh my gosh, I cannot believe we’re doing this!” The larger one exclaims. “So cannot believe we’re doing this!” Her friend replies.

“Okay, um.. Hi!” A fit of giggles erupt from them both. “Oh, I can’t lead, Katie you have to!”

“Okay, okay.. I’m Katie, and this is Sadie. We both want to apply for Total Drama because I mean,”

“Just look at us! We’re cute and we both have our own Blickblock account, KatiexSadie=, AND-”

“And we’re sooo close! We’re inseparable, which is like, so rare for small town girls like us.” They hug each other, nuzzling one another’s cheeks.

“So, so rare! Ooh, Katie, let’s show them our dancing!”

“Oh, uh-” Katie’s grip on her friend loosens and she backs away.

Sadie turns up the volume incredibly loud, swinging her body to and fro wildly, flabby skin smacking against her body while she seductively glances at the camera. Katie blushes and gives a nervous smile.

“Ahaha.. Woohoo.. Go Sadie.” Her words are too quiet though.

“What?!” The camera falls from the vibrations of the music right onto the carpeted floor.

Katie picks it up and is joined by Sadie as they both shout, “Put us on!~” the clip cuts out.

Chris and Chef simply blink, then look at each other. “Blickblockers on my show? Chef, look up KatiexSadie+ultra whatever now!”

Chef glares. “I ain’t your personal assistant, fool.”

“Just do it, ya big baby.” He slaps him on his toned shoulder.

“Ugh,” Chef gets on the computer and looks up their username. “One hundred thous- well I’ll be..”

“One hundred WHAT NOW? What do their fans say?”

“Oh, they posted the audition. Let’s see..” Chef applies his reading glasses, scanning the comments. “‘Katie is so cute. Go Katie!’, by Pepefan24. ‘Katie needs an Onlyfans, sweat drop emoji.’ by Crimson Candy. ‘I want a Katie solo account (i love you Sadie too ooh woo.)’, by tearjerker.tdi.”

“Katie is the star, but they’re both annoying. Why not include ‘em both, for.. Brand recognition?”

“Mm, good idea.” Chef nods. “Next up: Tyler.”

Tyler

The video starts without a star in front of the camera, this quickly changes as we hear a boy curse as he sprints over to the front of it, just barely avoiding tripping over his own feet. “W-Woah! Sorry about that, I’m Tyler! A totally serious athlete who everyone says should be in the Olympics… Or was it the Paralympics? To tell you the truth I don’t really know the difference. Either way, check out this highlight reel from my time here at Bullworth Academy!” The camera fades from Tyler to a clip of him giving a thumbs up to the camera as he jumps up to catch a football thrown to him. In a horrible miscalculation the ball actually comes down and smacks Tyler square in the face! Another clip flashes by, this time Tyler gives another enthusiastic thumbs up as he goes to block a hockey puck via glove save. Yet another terrible stroke of luck causes the puck to go right past his hand and smack him dead in the face again! The final clip shows Tyler in a stairwell at what looks to be a hospital. His head is all bandaged up and he’s missing a tooth, even still he gives a thumbs up and hops on his skateboard. He jumps on it and tries to ride down the rail, this results in him being launched off the board and flying into a hamper of towels! Despite the stunt being a failure, he smiles at the camera just happy to not have taken another shot to the head. However this proves to be his undoing as the board comes back down right on top of his head, knocking him out one final time. “Yeouch! That had to hurt!” Chris chuckled as he rewinded the tape to play some of the brutal injuries over again. “Is that one of them Jack’s Ass boys?” Chef couldn’t lie, watching Tyler get hit over and over with various sporting goods was pretty entertaining. “Oh MAN look at that hit right there! Duuuuude!” It had been six rewinds before the two hosts finally stopped laughing, it was pretty obvious Tyler was in. “He’s absolutely terrible at sports but imagine the ratings we’ll get on him!” Chris explained.

Izzy

A black and white filter overlays the camera feed. A dark room, or as dark as you can piece together through the filter, is lit up by candles, emitting enough visual aid to showcase framed pictures of a blonde haired, fit surfer dude with a chiseled jawline and casual looks on his face. Several of these pictures show him smiling on the sidewalk, laughing inside of a restaurant, eating a messy sandwich, clocking in at the production studio for Fresh TV.. wearing a nametag that says the name Graham.

Suddenly, the camera spins backwards to reveal a filterless girl grinning ear to ear at the camera, orange, unkempt neck length hair and orange lipstick on her. “Boo! HAHAHAHA! Gotcha, Graham-Graham! Surprised to see me?” She appears to be wearing a lab coat with goggles on her forehead. “Yeaaah, I had no idea you were working at Fresh TV now, I’m so jealous! That means you’re kinda sorta barely famous, Graham! Isn’t that wild?? Remember when you used to talk about owning a mansion and three dogs named Skip with me? Or settling down at a nice graveyard with both of our gravestones next to each other?? Oh man, great times! You were an awesome boyfriend. In case you don’t see this, or remember, hey! I’m Izzy, and I’d be really good for the show Total Drama whutz it becauseeee I am multifaceted and very attentive! I swear I’ll leave your viewers laughing and my fellow castmates entertained! As for you, Graham?”

She finally takes a breath of air to jab a finger into the camera, zooming in on her green eyeball. “I missed you, baby~! Wait for me!”

Static fills up the last four seconds.

“..Batshit crazy, man.”

“Right on, brother. As if this show needs more insanity.” Chris grins, writing down her name anyways.

“Do.. Do we even know a Graham?”

“I think he’s a production assistant? I dunno, all of the lackey’s look the same.”

“True that. Soo..?”

“She’s in. I like her breed of insanity: dangerous, but quirky. Lesbians around the world will relate to her immensely.”

“I get the feeling she’s the type to enjoy my camp food.”

“No offense, bro, but I wouldn’t feed your cooking to a starving raccoon. I’d pay to see it.” His grin only becomes more cocky.

Chef growls, then stands up and yells. “Shut up! Next!” He sits back down cross armed for the next tape.

Cody

“Oh hey there, didn’t see ya. I’m Cody Emmet Jameson Anderson, the Codemeister is what all my friends online know me as.” This audition tape took place in the RGB colored room of who could only be identified as a tech-fetishist. Computers, consoles retro and new, even what seemed to be a fridge with a screen on it. “You may be caught up in all my cool gadgets, don’t let that fool ya! I’m like Batman, cool gadgets and machines at night… Playboy also at night. I’m missing the rich part, which is one reason why I want to be on Total Drama!” Was I interesting enough? Oh crap Cody think, think! “L-Look! I’ve got music too!” Cody fiddled around with his keyboard, finally finding the space bar as his beats started playing from his speakers. “I-I can actually play that! I was just editing it, oh! This is the good part!” Cody threw up the rock and roll symbol with his left hand as he jammed out to his solo, smiling up at the camera. “A man of many skills as you can see. Games, music, ladies… Did I mention my YouTube channel? Ohhhh it’s not too big or anything, just SEVEN HUNDRED subs. Heh, see this is my latest video, I talked about some chicks from Blickblock.” Cody’s channel was pulled up on his phone, the latest video sure enough was about Katie and Sadie. “Small world.” Chris remarked. Y’know, there was a total audience for guys like Cody! “Girls won’t be able to get enough of him and he’s just dorky enough for guys to find a liking to as well. I mean making fun of Blickblockers on the internet? He’ll have his own unique fanbase.” “Either that or he’ll stir up enough drama tryna be a cool guy. Hehe, what’s your decision Chris?” “Seen worse… Why not? If worse comes to worst, he does have seven hundred subscribers. That’s at LEAST fifty viewers.”

Beth

“Hey there! I’m Beff!” Spitting all over the camera was a gal with braces, glasses, and a lisp. “I’m here with my best friend in the whole wide world, Bertha! Say hi Bertha!” In her arms is a squealing pig, it doesn’t at all look happy to be held by the four-eyed teen. “W-Woah, don’t wiggle so much! I’ll-!” As the pig desperately wiggled out of Beth’s grasp, the momentum of a pig almost half her size caused her to land forward onto her face right into some mud! Beth defeatedly pulled herself up to her knees again, face covered in mud and tearfully clenched her fist.”I-I get it, I look like another pathetic nerd girl who can’t do anything right… Mark my words, if I get into your show? That’s all going to change! You’ll see, everyone from school will see, and doormat Beth will be NO more!” “Nerd rage, eh? What do you think, Chef?” Chris was a bit on the fence about Beth. She was another nerdy looking competitor, they already had a lot of those… “That girl got a look in her eye that none of those other kids had. A scary one.” A bullied student out for revenge? That’s one reason he became the way he did! Chef was a sensitive soul underneath all the war paint, military training, and awful culinary skills. “Revenge in a lawsuit kind of way or a ratings kind of way?” Chris questioned his co-host. “I doubt that girl could actually cause harm to anyone, prolly just a ratings thing. Probably .” “Alrighty then, Beth? You’re in!”

Courtney

In the center of a courtyard, a Latina-Asian girl with short chestnut hair and freckles is sitting in front of a camera, a table separating her from the camera man across from her. On the table are pamphlets that read, “Courtney for Student Council President”. Several students walk past her, scoffing or outright rolling their eyes at her from behind, all while she emphatically chants:

“Vote for Courtney! A vote for me is a vote for a well organized, better serviced and happier classroom. Vote for Courtney!” She glances at the camera before focusing her attention on it entirely.

“Oh, hello there! As you can see, I’m running for Student Council President. If I’m elected, I swear to make this school a better place. So, why do I, Courtney Barlow, wish to enter a drama reality TV show when it’s so obviously below me? Well, discounting the prize money, I think it’s best for any great leader to surround herself with commoners before she becomes a responsible ruler for the people. Essentially - I want to know what people are like outside of the bubble that is high school.”

“Hey, can we hurry this up? I gotta head to gym class.”

“In a minute, Tom! Ugh, you better edit that out.”

“Yeah, yeah, Court, I will.” Tom mumbles, sighing. She seems offended, mouth gaping.

“Don’t address me that way! Do you know how degrading nicknames are? How do you think most political campaigns end, Tom? Nicknames!” She claps her hands together thrice, scathing with gritted teeth and furrowed brows.

“Okay, okay, whatever, you crazy bitch, just finish up!” He yells back, probably for the first time ever. A few students freeze and look at the duo, then move on with their day.

Courtney glares daggers at the controller of the camera for a few seconds, then puts on a fake smile and flashes a peace sign. “Ahem.. Vote for Courtney!”

The recording ends with a subtitle:

Don’t vote for Courtney

Chris chuckles iconically. “Hehehe, damn.. Can we get Tom on the show? I mean, the back stabbiness, the character development unraveling as we watched in real time, the emotion necessary to freeze a room! Incredible!” He throws his arms into the air to exaggerate his point.

“Even A students watch TV, man. Need someone relatable for the preppy dorks of the world to latch onto.” Chef folds his arms, looking down at his partner with a stern, almost bored look.

“Is that Beth chick not enough? Fine. Courtney is in, if only so we can see more of her looney side. Next!”

Harold

This audition tape began with yet another dork smiling at the camera, he was in what looked like a boy scout outfit. “13.2 seconds, that’s the time it would take for me to kill an elephant with my bare hands. Not that I would, they’re endangered. But I could, that’s my hunting hand to hand combat badge. HYAH!” From out of nowhere two yo-yo’s entered the field of view for the camera! “I call this the double-decker-loop-to-loop-wild-style-space-typhoon technique, something taught only to grand masters at Rolling Steve’s yo-yo and- AUGH! OUCH!” One of the yo-yo’s hit Harold in the nose while the other wrapped around him in a way that took him to the floor! Luckily, or unluckily for him he was still visible! “I can get out of this, don’t worry. I have a badge in escape arts, I could probably get out of this if it was chains and I was submerged in water with sharks or something…” Harold was really hoping he could escape some sharks while drowning. That would be so awesome. After struggling for a moment Harold was actually able to get himself out pretty seamlessly. “As you can see I possess some mad skills no one else has. I can nibble rope like a rat, I can hold my breath under water for seventy three seconds, I can even pick locks with my teeth if I need to… Probably.” “Well that was a whole lotta nothing from that string bean. NEEEE-” “No, no, wait a minute! Chef…” Was that tears in Chris’ eyes?!

“Oh… What’s up man? Cecilia taking more money aga–” “NO CHEF, SHE IS NOT! Ahem , I used to use a yo-yo. Maybe you don’t know this, before settling on being a host I was in Toronto’s Next Yo-Yo Stars until… I tragically took one to the gonads. I-I had to make a career decision and focus on television!” Chris looked like he was about to tear up again, Chef knew all about giving up on a dream and settling. “It’s alright Chris, hey maybe we can take this kid then?” “I had to settle and here I am… Divorced and hanging out with a disgruntled drill sergeant turned Chef!” Chef’s empathetic expression quickly turned into one of annoyance as he let go of Chris. “And here I am hanging out with a divorced PAST HIS PRIME Cali-Dude Bro!” “Past his prime? Nonsense Chef! For Harold we’re in agreement he’s in, right?” That story about the yo-yo thing couldn’t be fact checked. Chris just figured another punching bag wouldn’t hurt the show too much. “Fine! String bean can be in the show! Can we just move on? And don’t tell any more LIES!” “My bad Chef! It was the actor inside of me.”

Trent

Next up was a young man sitting at his computer desk, he had a guitar in his hands and a microphone up to his mouth. “Hey there whoever is watching this, I’m Trent. Just your typical dude who loves playing guitar and writing music. Check this one out.” Trent began strumming his guitar humming in melody with the instrument until his eyes opened getting ready to sing. “I–”

“TRENT!” His door swung open as a man who looked as if he could be his father stepped in the room and gave him a disapproving glance. “I thought you were studying for your SATs? Why are you playing a pretend band again?” Trent rolled his eyes before turning to face the man. His previously composed posture had turned into a slouched mess.

“Dad, I’m just taking a quick break. Trying to get onto that show I mentioned earlier, remember?”

“Is that show you’re trying to get onto comparable to Yale? How about Harvard? Even Princeton?” His father argued rather matter of factly. “Maybe? There’s a cash prize for whoever wins. What if life isn’t so cut and paste as you make it seem?” Trent tried to argue his case but his pleas just got met with a door shut in his face. His dad was always like this, never once could he support his son without making it about what he wanted. He finally turned back to the camera with a sigh as he started strumming a new tune, this one a lot more somber than the last. “So you see… I really want to try and win that money so I can go to any school other than a posh law school. Maybe meet some like minded people, join a band… Meet a girl?” “Hey Chef, we have daddy issues yet?” “Is there ever enough?” “Nope, probably not! Plus he gives off that ‘not like the other guys’ vibe teenage girls just love.” Trent wouldn’t be that hard at all to market. His audition tape sells himself!

Bridgette

Ah, the beach. Typically, a calm and serene despot for young teenagers to run about, get high or catch a wave. Today however, we see a large crowd of people surrounding a blonde haired, hourglass shaped swimsuit toting girl as she places a beached baby whale on her surfboard, gently as if it were made of porcelain lying it down on its back. The camera shakes and thrashes as if its holder is running. It stops to zoom into the savior’s face as she carefully pushes her board out, getting on her knees to usher the whale back to the open water.

The crowd around her cheers while she swims back some thirty seconds later before dispersing back to their cliques to celebrate the saving of ocean life. The surfer chick looks surprised when she notices the camera is on her.

“What, we’re doing that now?”

“Bridge, chillax, girl. It’s been on! Just roll with it, okay?” A feminine voice with a heavy hippy accent says from behind the camera. The star rubs her bare arm, looking nervous.

“..Okay. Hi! I’m Bridgette. I’m sure you understand what I’m all about from.. All of that just now, so.. Let me explain my reasons for wanting to join.” Bridgette takes a deep breath, hands on her hips. “I know there will be plenty of people joining your show looking only for the pleasures of wealth, to satisfy their own selfish desires. But I think the cash you have, producers, could be put to real good use.”

She pauses, picking up her board to lean against it, making her appear smaller. “Foundations, charities, safer beaches, animal and people hospitals, commercials raising awareness for these very big issues, I think with one hundred thousand dollars I could very well save lives and make Canada one step safer than it was before. If I do lose, I promise to exit with my head held high and my spirit ready to make an improvement either way!”

“That was it! Wasn’t so bad, was it, babe?” The girl asks, a smile obvious in her voice.

Bridgette nods. “Thank you for your consideration.” She finishes with a cute smile as the screen fades to black.

Chef, bored again, waves his hand with mediocrity. “Eh, too goodie-goodie. Pass.”

“Woah, Chef, hold on: did she say commercials? Imagine how many lawsuits/morality wars we could avoid with the producers and viewers if we have a few scenes of Bridgette telling us off, or rescuing wounded pigeons. Boucot bucks saved and made, man!” Chef rolls his eyes at his partner's ludicrous saving habits.

“I’d still rather have the guy with all the sexy weapons.”

“No way, dude’s a creep and not in a funny way. Pretty sure our contestants would sue us, and they can’t even do that without probable cause we didn’t list in the contract.”

“You mean creepy in your way?” Chef grins. Chris is not amused.

“I am not creepy. I am sexy. Anyways, she’s in for the commercials we could make alone and that’s final.”

“Whatever, man. Next.”

Lindsay

A long haired blonde girl wearing tight, purposely ripped jeans that hugged her figure like a bear on a cub and a red tank top without a bra spoke through gloss covered lips, smacking every word that came out of her mouth as her cliché bulgy eyed chihuahua stared at the camera from under her breasts.

“Hi, my name’s Lindsay! The audition sheet says to list my best qualities, but I have so many.” She flutters her butterfly lashes, smiling adorably. She let’s go of her dog, who immediately sprints away upon being freed. She leans forward in criss cross position, showing off her cleavage. “I’m pretty, and smart and I get along with everyone, even ugly girls and dorky boys.” She nods with her eyes closed as if she’s somehow all knowing.

“Somehow, I was able to get offered twelve summer jobs just by walking down the street a mile from my house, but who has time to work all summer? If I’m gonna get money, I wanna do it by being me! Not Tina from behind the counter who has to watch other girls buy pretty clothes, although I’d totally love to help ugly girls get makeovers, or help pretty girls be prettier! If you couldn’t tell, I’m what my ex boyfriend calls a bimbo; really nice.” She rambles almost as long as her hips are wide.

“Oh, did I mention? For the American version, I’m bilangual: I speak fluent Canadian and American.” Her beautiful teeth shimmer as she smiles earnestly. Chris and Chef are floored.

“You know, I’m real happy there are no cameras in the room, otherwise uncle Chris might find himself on Twitter’s hitlist for saying this.”

“Saying what?” Chef cautiously asked.

“Man oh man I cannot wait to stare at that girl in 4k HD surround sound 1080p glory.” Sweat and drool coated Chris’s face as he spoke. Chef looked disturbed.

The audition opens with a stationary camera aiming at a tall Jamaican man with brick built arms and a picture of a middle aged black woman who looked a lot like him on display beside his bed. The setting was clearly his room, but the giant wasn’t just talking to his camera; he began to jump and flutter in the air, holding a pink ribbon as he paraded himself about his room wearing a white uniform for ribbon dancing. He finished his act with a split, never breaking eye contact or a smile away from the camera. Afterwards, the footage cut to him sitting on his bed.

“Yo! My name’s Devon Joseph, or DJ! I think I’d be a perfect fit for Total Drama, cause I’m kind, and strong, and sensitive, and most of all, I was raised right.” DJ lifts up the picture of his stern but proud mother folding her arms and points at it. “Thanks, mom! Without you, none of this would be possible.” He lets his smile fade.

“My Momma ain’t gonna be able to provide for herself forever. That’s why, if I win Total Drama, I’m gonna get her the best housing I can get her, make sure she never has to work again. I’d also love to join to diversify my skills and make more buddies! Thanks for your consideration.” He finishes it all off with a wholesome smile and wave.

Chef seems emotional. Chris is laughing almost gut bustling at the kid’s impassioned speech, but Chef is weeping. “W-woah, C-Chef, buddy it is not that funny.”

The brolic cook grabs Chris by the shirt violently. “It’s not funny at all! Kids got heart, man. Don’t you have a momma? HUH?”

The host looks away, no longer smiling. “Well.. I mean, yeah-”

“Well, do you?!” He shakes Chris.

“Yes! Yes, I do, okay? Why?”

“Ain’t it exactly like us starting out?” Chef whispers, sniffling.

“I dunno what you mean.” “I started in showbiz to provide for my momma, to make it big, to prove to her that I was more than a cook! I am a professional, and she raised me right! Do you understand?!” Chef wheezes, barely holding back tears. Now Chris is crying too.

“Yes, Chef! I understand!” The odd pair begin weeping into each other's shirts, bawling their eyes out as the next audition plays.

Geoff

“What more do you need brah? Party central here. Beaches, babes, and some gnarly burgers being cooked up by my buddy Brody. Lifes a party and I’m always hostin’ dudes.” Geoff put his cowboy hat over his eyes and soon got hidden behind another surfer. “Geoff bro, Johnny got us hooked up with the other B!” “Brody! The other B…?” “Some beer bro! His cousin Tony was up working at the shop and he swung in!” “Oh heck yeah dude! Let’s go and do a buttchug or wait…” The two surfer dudes pointed at each other and nodded. “SHOTGUNNNNNN!” The two dude bros clapped a high five as they ran off to go find their fellow surfers. At this point Chris and Chef had to do some fast forwarding, Geoff had left the camera rolling for what felt like an eternity. Eventually the surfer wandered back to the beach chair and plopped down as if he didn’t leave the camera on for nearly an hour. “Yup, average life of a party horse. Stressful? Not at all my dudes. Times like these are what we live for.” As his cowboy hat covered his eyes a final time, Geoff was finally asleep… But once again forgot to turn off the camera. “He knew he was still talking to the camera and yet he still didn’t turn it off?” Geoff screamed frat boy city to Chef. That wasn’t a one hundred percent negative thing though, Chef used to hangout with a party monster named Party Pete. He’d always wondered what happened to ol’ Pete, everyone figured he’d just partied too hard.

“Correct. Chef, I know you’re not invited to too many parties and the ones you are invited to you usually aren’t the life of. Please note there are some unspoken rules of partying. Rule one? Nothing but the party matters. Geoff lives to party! You can’t hate the guy.” Chef wanted to hit Chris with a sassy remark back but.. Yeah, he couldn’t hate Geoff. The guy seemed actually cool, unlike an actual fraternity “party animal”. He was in.

LeShawna

“Yo, yo, queen LeShawna coming to y’all ready for anything. Loud n’ proud, large and in charge, anything your TDI crew can throw at me, I can handle.” LeShawna then began to bust a move or two shaking her arms, head, and her… You can guess what else. “Let me promise y'all this too, there ain’t no party like a LeShawna victory party. Figuring I’ll be the one throwing it at the end and all if you pick me consider yourselves invited.” Continuing her spa-dancing she bumped towards the camera doing a call me sign and cutting the tape short. “Short, sweet, and to the point. What do you think, Chef?” “I think it’s prolly the opposite of her. A sister like that? Haha big, mean, and crazy, don’t let that party nonsense fool you. Woo-weeee.” “He said it, not me. Easy to misinterpret quotes aside, is she fit for the show?” “Her? Heh, she might be one tough nut to crack but that’ll just make it all the more fun when she does.”

Duncan

The visual quality of this one is grainy and barely comprehensible. The audio is very clear, thankfully. It almost looks like security camera footage. And, made out by the grainy footage, is a green mowhawked teenager scaling a large building while the full moon provides mood lighting. Obviously, a criminal.

He’s scaling the building downward with a rope, cocky grin glued to his face as he glances between the ground below and the camera.

“Hey, Duncan here! Though I’m sure you know me considering I’m somewhat of a local celebrity around these parts.” He remarks with gusto.

“Yeah, photographers are taking my picture all the time. It’s because of my charm and good looks, which is also why I banged half of Davis High. That and because I live in a big house with tons of security cameras, guards and guard dogs to watch over me. Not to mention: no parents!”

“My best quality? Let’s just say, I’m stealthy, a real thinker. Tough, too. Yup, the whole cake package.”

He hops down, finally free from the wall. The rope drops and an alarm blares. A spotlight highlights him and the sound of ravenous guard dogs catches his attention. He breaks character for a second, eyes widening as he realizes what he has to do. He starts running, still looking into the camera. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat but I really gotta run. My parole officer will be in touch!”

The recording ends with static and muffled yelling. Chris and Chef nod at each other, raising their brows with interest.

“A convict? Very cool!” Chris exclaims, writing his name down.

“Finally, someone I can relate to.” Chef says, arms behind his head.

His co-host places a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t push it, man. You’re way better than some bratty delinquent.”

He smiles. “Thanks, man.”

Chris smiles back. “You’re welcome. Next!”

Heather

We hear the sound of a shower turning off and see a hand reaching for a towel sitting on the shower curtain. Walking into frame for the first time was Heather, she was easily identifiable by her sly ‘better than you’ grin. “Will I be nervous if I get picked to be on the show? As if. I’m incredibly comfortable being on television, it wouldn’t be my first rodeo you know.” Heather reached for another towel to put over her hair, rolling her eyes at just the thought of even being embarrassed on tv. “What would I have to be ashamed of? I’m PRETTY. While I’m sure the standards won’t be anything to brag about being higher than, I’m going to be a 12 entering an average of 4. If you get me on the show I’ll sell it myself if I have to.” She waved bye to the camera and walked off screen, the last thing seen in this tape is two towels being thrown in front of the camera signifying that Heather was a bare naked lady for just a mere moment. “Well Chef, I think I’ve seen all I need to see here. Ratings? Check.” “Yeah, RATINGS huh? Face it Chris, you got a thing for trust fund white girls!” “Actually, Chef it says here that she’s ASIAN. So maybe take your racial assumptions back to 1970?” Chef raised his brow in annoyance towards Chris’ antics. Damn fool was going to make him sound like some good old boy from down south!

Gwen

Sitting cross armed in a computer chair is a goth girl in midnight blue who looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. “Soooo… Am I supposed to sit here and do a talent or something? Why? So my tape can be shown off to the world and I can get laughed at? Not a chance I’d humiliate myself before I even get onto the show.” She rolled her eyes thinking about all the times she saw other people’s audition tapes make it onto the internet and they became laughing stocks for the world. She’d never leave herself vulnerable like that! “I’m Gwen. That’s all you trolls really need to know. I live with my mom and brother after my dear dad decided to leave us in the dirt for some floozy in Vermont. Yeah, Vermont , how desperate and deprived do you have to be?!” Just talking about her situation infuriated her. Was it too hard to just keep it in your pants?! “So look… I want to be on the show so I can try and win the prize money. If I ever want to go to college and help support my family I’m going to make more money than eight dollars an hour working my butt off in a kitchen.” Gwen wasn’t really sure how to sell herself without just trying to get pity from whoever was watching this. She wasn’t super talented or popular, she was just a down on her luck girl trying to provide for her family and future. “If you want someone there looking to win and not make friends, I’m your girl. If not… Whatever I guess.” That’s the last we see of the goth girl as the camera fades to black, leaving Chris and Chef to decide her fate. “Sounds like girl’s got it rough. First person I’ve seen other than DJ a while back who wants to spend the money on family.” “And you know what Chef? What’s more important than family? Sitting here with you, going through all these auditions… I think WE’RE family Chef. You get me, I get you. Same wavelength.” Tears started welling up in Chef’s eyes, did Chris really mean that? “Maybe I judged you too harshly, McLean. You ain’t a corporate puppet… You’re my BROTHER!” Chef leaned in and gave Chris a hug, embracing his co-host as if he truly was his own brother.

“And you know what Chef? Family really sells!” The hug immediately ended and Chef pulled away disgusted. “Forget everything I just said, you ain’t my brother!” “What?! Don’t be jealous dude, I’ve got to think about the family business first ‘bro’!” “Don’t call me bro McLean! Just get on with the next tape!” Chef was beyond offended! Just when he thought maybe he’d touched Chris’ icy heart.

Owen

A choir of church boys and girls are seen singing on a particular busy night. The camera recording all of this is clearly a smart phone propped up awkwardly where it won’t be seen, particularly zoomed in on a large blonde kid. The choir, including him, sing Hallelujah, with the blonde looking more and more red, anxious and suspicious by the second. At the finale of the song, when the kid slowly draws out the “Halleluuuujah..”, applaus erupts and the choir bows. The fat boy tries to, but ends up hitting himself on his stomach instead. He then runs towards his phone, picks it up and speed walks into what looks like a lounge.

The camera is positioned under his swollen chin until he places it against the counter wall, showing himself off as he opens the fridge and eats as much as he can, from donuts to fruits to an entire pie. Between bites he speaks.

“Hi.. I’m Owen! And I’m so psyched to be joining TD! Woohoo.” He whisper-yells the woohoo, continuing to eat as someone knocks on the door to the lounge.

“Owen, sweetie, you were amazing! Can we see you?” A sweet voice beckons.

“In a second, mom, hehe!” He smiles forcefully, though his chuckle is very cute, almost mascot worthy. “What? I eat when I’m stressed.. I wanna be on TD to party, but most importantly to find new, less judgemental people to be friends with. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my folks here at home, but they’re really not always so open to new concepts, if you get my meaning. Anyways, my best qualities are my iron stomach and endless sense of humor! I promise we’ll have a blast, bro’s! Catch you later!” He downs an entire peach cobbler, covering himself in crumbs, jam, chocolate and sugar.

“Owen? Who are you talking to?” A mature voice demands.

Owen bites his lip, leaving his phone to answer the door. “Sorry, dad, here I come!” The door opens and the choir, as well as their families collectively gasp. “...What?”

“You know, the final piece of this puzzle is a mascot. This kid’s got likability, the cute factor and he seems two dimensional at least.”

“He better appreciate my damn food…” Chef snarls.

“A starving raccoon couldn’t appreciate your damn food, Chef. It’s alright, man.” Chris offers a hand to Chef’s shoulder. He slaps it, paining him greatly before digging a kitchen knife out of his pocket and brandishing it.

“I’ll kill you, Mclean!”

Chris stands up as Chef bolts forward to chase him around their office. “H-hey, wait! Producers! Chef is fighting me again!” Chris knocks on the door desperately. “O-oh, and we got our cast! So get those signed copies of signatures and contracts ready!”

“You ain’t gonna have a head to host with, you bastard!”

“You wouldn’t dare touch a hair on my head- Chef, no!”

Oh, Mclean will have a head to host with. Stay tuned: Total Drama Island premieres soon.

#total drama #fanfiction #rewrite

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edenaeris · 2 months

Text

[food fantasy] dessert crisis / chapter 2

🦋 Season: Spring

🦋 Writer: Mitsuki

🦋 Featuring: Ritsu, Tsumugi, Mao

Location: Library

Tsumugi: Thanks to Ritsu-kun’s help, I could settle things at home just in time yesterday.

But still, although he said he’d help me sort out the remaining books, I couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy for some reason, so I ended up coming back to the library.

Ritsu: Zzz… Zzz…

Tsumugi: Huh? Isn’t that Ritsu-kun?

The flashlight’s still on, as well. Does this mean that Ritsu-kun stayed up reading the whole night?

Ritsu-kun, Ritsu-kun, wake up. You’ll catch a cold if you sleep here.

Ritsu: Yawn~

Ah, it’s you, Aoba-oniichan~ Good morning.

Tsumugi: Did you… Did you stay here all night?

Ritsu: Hmmm… I just woke up, so things are still kinda blurry. Gimme a sec.

Ah yes, I remember now. Aside from the ones I borrowed, I also found a lot of other interesting books while I was sorting them out. I got inspired by them, so I came up with new design ideas~

Then I sat down to draw some of them on paper, and I think at some point, I ended up falling asleep on the table.

Wah~ But sleeping on your stomach is truly uncomfy. My back is all stiff now~

Tsumugi: Haha, come here, I’ll massage it a little for you.

By the way, I brought you the juice you like. Here, drink some first to wake up.

There aren’t many people in the library this early in the morning, so I’ll let it slip this time around, alright?

Ritsu: Hehe, Aoba-oniichan, you’re so good at taking care of people~

Tsumugi: I mean, you did help me sort out the books yesterday, so this is the least I can do to thank you.

Because you rounded up things for me here, I was able to solve things at home just in time, so you helped me more than you can imagine.

In any case, classes will start soon, so make sure you attend them properly.

Ritsu: Sure, sure, I know.

Fufu, how funny. Usually, it’s Maa~kun who wakes me up so we can go to class together, but today I was woken up by Aoba-oniichan. Feels like a refreshing change of pace.

Mao: Ritsu!

Ah, you’re here too, Aoba-senpai. Morning.

Tsumugi: Haha, speak of the devil and he’s sure to appear. [1] Good morning, Isara-kun. Were you looking for Ritsu-kun?

Mao: Yup. I dropped by his house as usual today, but he wasn’t there.

Then, his family told me that he contacted them yesterday and said he’d stay in school, looking for books.

‘Though I gotta admit, I thought he’d be in class already, so I went straight to our classroom, only to find out he wasn’t there yet, so I came to the library.

Ritsu, since you’re still here, does that mean you spent the night in the library? Didn’t you feel cold or anything?

Ritsu: It’s fine, Maa~kun, I wouldn’t get sick so easily.

And after being pampered by Aoba-oniichan, I feel a lot better now ♪

Tsumugi: Alright, I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but the bell’s about to ring. If you don’t go now, you’re gonna be late for class.

Mao: Oh yeah, I almost forgot about the time as we talked. C’mon Ritsu, let’s hurry back.

Ritsu: Sure, lemme just put these books back first. It’ll only take a minute.

Tsumugi: You can leave that to me. If it’s just these few books here, I should be able to finish it in a jiff.

Ritsu: Thank you, then, Aoba-oniichan. Make sure to not be late for classes, as well.

Mao: Alright, we’ll be going now. See ya, Aoba-senpai.

Tsumugi: Ah, I’m jealous of the friendship between youngsters. To be able to go to school hand in hand like that.

Anyway, no time to keep sighing to myself. I better finish organizing these books so I can go to class as well.

These two volumes are about sweets-making…

Hm? This one seems to be about the Cthulhu Mythos [2], though. Is this one of the interesting books Ritsu-kun mentioned he found?

Of course, there’s no harm at all in reading different genres.

Hm? There’s a piece of paper under the book. It says… “The Cthulhu Dessert Plan – Part 1”?

Woah! What… What on earth is this design?

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── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Notes:

Tsumugi uses an idiom here, [说曹操, 曹操到](shuō cáo cāo, cáo cāo dào), which is literally “speak of the devil and the devil shows up”, pretty similar to the English version.

The Cthulhu Mythos is mythopoeia that originated from the works of H. P. Lovecraft, deriving from the central creature in Lovecraft’s seminal short story “The Call of Cthulhu”. Lovecraft would make frequent references in his works to the “Great Old Ones”, a loose pantheon of ancient, powerful deities from space who once ruled the Earth and have since fallen into a deathlike sleep, letting the world fall into a state of chaos and hopelessness. “The Call of Cthulhu” was his first story that really expanded the pantheon of the “Great Old Ones”. This Enstars event is a collaboration with the Chinese RPG game “Food Fantasy”, in which the story revolves around how the God of Beginnings forced himself into a deep slumber after an all-out war between humans and souls broke out, leaving him in complete despair. This fictional myth from the game is very likely inspired by the Cthulhu Mythos, hence why it makes an appearance in this collab story.

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🦋 Translation: Eden

🦋 Proofreading: Mia (ENG)

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jaeminlore · 3 years

Text

Landslide | Mark Lee

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

words: 7.1k+

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

warnings: talk of absent fathers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You mean that?”

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

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

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

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

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

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

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

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

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

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

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

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

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flash is on.

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

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

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

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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honklore · 3 years

Text

landslide | karl jacobs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You mean that?”

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

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

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

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

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

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

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

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

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

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

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flash is on.

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

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

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

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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eclipixels · 3 years

Text

Saving Kaneki from going on that date with Rize

______________________________

The first time I had met him was at the school library. He had stumbled into my life, quite literally stumbled. He had tripped and fallen on top of me, knocking over most of the books from the fantasy section.

There he was, all shy with shining silver eyes and dark hair. He groaned and rubbed his head before immediately standing up and apologising, running back to an orange haired boy whom I assumed was his friend.

The next day, a Monday, it was going back to classes again. Most people were taking a break from everything and just going out since it was the weekend but I stayed in and read some fanfiction to release some stress. Dazai is good and all but sometimes you just need a brain break from all the high vocabulary and just read some cheesy love story written by a delusional 16 year old.

I had arrived to class early since it's nice when it's all silent and nobody is here. I sighed before taking out my textbooks and reading Sen Takatsuki's newest novel. I rested my chin on my palm as I engrossed myself into the pages of the book.

Suddenly, I noticed something from the corner of my eye, there was someone else here. It didn't take long for me to realize that it was the boy from the library yesterday.

He had 2 cups of coffee in his hand with one nervously held out towards me. I was a bit shocked since nobody had ever done a gesture like that to me before so I froze for a second before accepting the warm beverage.

"I'm really sorry I ran into you yesterday, I really didn't mean to, it was an accident and I didn't know where I was going, and um, I'm Kaneki Ken."

"It's alright. I didn't mind and you didn't have to get me this but thank you." I smiled politely.

"You're welcome and it really was no trouble. It's the least I could do to excuse my clumsiness." He shyly spoke.

"Would you like to sit down?" I asked as I noticed he was still standing in front of me.

"O-oh sure!" His eyes widened. He sat down next to me and pulled out his textbooks, mimicking the actions I had done prior to him arriving.

"Hey, is that Takatsuki's newest novel? How'd you get that? I didn't think it'd be out 'till next week!" The smile that lit up his face was something I'd never get used to and unbeknownst to me, would be the one I would slowly fall in love with.

"Oh, most shops have already had them shipped to them and are keeping them in storage until next week. A bookstore owner I know really well managed to sneak one out for me." I explained.

"Aw, no way! You're so lucky! Do you mind if I borrow it? I promise I'll give it back to you by tomorrow!" He exclaimed and I can swear I think I saw sparkles in his eyes.

"Um, Here, you can take it now since I finished it earlier in the morning." I handed the book to him.

Thus was the start of our friendship. Even though he was often busy with school more than me, (since he took more complex classes) he still had time to spend with me. It'd be small things from sitting silently next to me and doing his school work while I read any book that he had recommended to just going out for ice cream together in a nearby park.

Everyday he would seem to bring me a beverage whether it'd be my favorite coffee or something else. If he couldn't meet with me, he'd always have it delivered to my doorstep. It became a tradition for us.

Soon enough, I had met the orange haired boy that I had seen with Kaneki the day that I first met him and not long after had we also become friends.

Somehow, Hide and Kaneki managed to get me out of my apartment and took me out to get lunch with them. The three of us had become quite close.

Although I enjoyed my friendship with both of them, it had seemed that I had fallen in love with the dark haired boy and might I say fallen really hard. Like, cupid got drunk and shot me in the back, sending me flying into Kaneki's heart, face first into his adorableness.

His eyes told stories that I found familiarity in. It held the same gleam of a painful past, the same feeling I found in mine. It didn't take long for me to accept the fact that I had drowned myself in his aura, becoming truly, madly deep in love with Kaneki Ken.

Unfortunately Hide had figured this out and of course he tried to get me to confess and after what felt like centuries of persuading, he finally got me to go and confess.

Well, that was before now. Now, he had come to me with pitiful eyes, telling me that Kaneki had fallen for a shy, purple haired woman that he had met in a coffee shop, and that he had asked her out on a bit of a date, and that she had said yes. I couldn't process what was even coming out of his mouth.

Kaneki asking out a stranger? Impossible–

–But.. after awhile I looked up at Hide and saw that he still had the same downcast look on his face. I knew then that he wasn't lying, and that he was serious. I guess that Kaneki does not feel the same way I do. we'll, obviously he didn't. I felt myself go numb as I was being pulled into a hug by Hide but I didn't respond. He kept apologizing over and over again, telling me that Kaneki is an idiot to have chosen a stranger over the the girl who was there for him through the difficult times and shared almost everything with each other but, in my eyes, I was just the girl who was foolishly in love with a boy who would never look at her the way she looked at him.

Hide went on about how Kaneki must have been crazy not to like me back, and that kaneki and I were perfect for one another, and that Kaneki was just making a mistake but everything that came out of his mouth just felt like lies that only reminded me more and more of the reality, stomping harder on my already shattered heart.

Hide decided to take me to get some food to cheer me up. It wouldn't work but I accepted his kind request since I can at least try to get my mind off of it.

"Don't worry about it, Y/n! We're gonna have the bestest day you've ever experienced!" Hide exclaimed determined.

"Give it your best shot." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Just wait and see Y/n, it'll be fun. Now let's go!" Hide shouted.

Once we had arrived, Hide's face looked distraught and he immediately said we should go somewhere else. I found that very weird and out of the ordinary for him. That's when I noticed him staring at something and I followed his gaze only to be met with the shattering view.

"Oh." I muttered.

"That's why" he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry." He apologized.

There was Kaneki, across the street with a tall long purple haired girl who I assumed was the girl who he asked out.

"What do you mean? That doesn't matter to me. Let's just go inside anyway." I lied straight through my teeth, doing my best to seem unbothered by it.

"Are you sure? You don't seem like you're okay." Hide asked with worried eyes, concern evident on his face.

"No no, I'm fine" but my tone contradicted my words.

"Look y/n, you're hurt and upset but you don't have to force yourself to do this-" Hide gripped my shoulder only to be interrupted by my voice.

"I said it's okay, Hide. C'mon, I can handle this." I smiled.

I don't know why I'm doing this but it can't get any worse, can it?

Shit.. yes, yes it can and it's happening right now.

Kaneki sees us and makes his way over. His expression was shocked to say the least.

"Y/n? What're you doing here?" Kaneki asked.

"Oh um, Hide and I just decided to get some food." I stumbled the words out.

"..with Hide?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yea." I pressed my lips together and rocked on my heels.

"Huh, interesting." He hummed. "Are you two out on a date?" His expression changed to bitter.

"Wait what? No way." I laughed, actually finding it funny he would think that. Even Hide snickered.

"oh.." He muttered.

"So, who's that?" I chocked out, referring to the violet haired girl.

"This is Rize." He introduced.

"Well it was nice to meet you! Excuse me I have to go now." I ran to the bathroom. Fuuuuuck that was so embarrassing. I wanna cry and scream at the same time.

I could overhear Hide and Kaneki still talking. I focused to hear a bit clearer and I immediately clasped my hands over my mouth as I heard Hide passive aggressively say, "Have fun on your date while y/n and I hang out and have fun all day. Bye Ken!"

Hide huffed before sitting down next to me. "Someone looks pissed." I mumbled.

"Who wouldn't I be pissed? God, he's so fucking dense. This is like when your two favorite characters who you ship don't end up together and one of them ends up with some other bitch." He ran his hand through his hair sighing.

"What did you say to him?" I asked.

"You'd scold me if I told you so I'm not telling you. Ugh, I can't believe I'm best friends with such a-" I stopped him mid sentence.

"Let it go, Hide." I put a hand on his shoulder.

"I won't talk about it anymore but I'm not letting it go." He huffed.

"Whatever but, did you notice something weird about her?" I asked.

"Uh, not really. What do you mean by weird?" He asked.

"Bro, I swear there's something fucking weird about that girl!" I exclaimed.

"She doesn't seem weird.. I just think he's ways out of her league." He explained.

"No no, there's just something.. I don't know. She gives off weird vibes." I stirred the straw in my drink.

"Hm, are you sure you aren't acting like this because.." Hide trailed off, smirking.

"I just care about him, it's not about how I feel and- stuff for him, y'know? It's not about that. I'm just worried about him." I expressed my concerns trying to not include my feelings into the equation.

"Call it whatever you want but you're jealous." He snickered.

"I've got an idea!" I exclaimed.

"Oh no-" He widened his eyes.

"I'll go with them!" I said.

"I don't think they'd let you." He furrowed his brows.

"I'll just sit at another table so they won't see me."

"Don't-"

"I PROMISE I won't ever do it again. Just this one time and if everything goes ok I'll never do it again." I put my hands together before Hide sighed in response.

I sat at a table far away from them but enough for me to see. They were talking but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

Kaneki was mostly likely rambling on about his favorite books. He's so cute when he makes those little gestures. Honestly, he could talk about where hot dogs come from and I'd still drool over how adorable he is.

Seggsy lesbian bitch- I mean Rize on the other hand was just doing the debby ryan and not even eating anything. That's kinda suspicious. Is she a vampire or something? Holy shit what if she's a ghoul?!

I almost didn't notice them leaving but I somehow catched up to where they were going. It was already a but dark out. They came to a stop and Kaneki was blushing furiously.

Wait..

Oh no

They leaned in..

Are they going to kiss? I don't think I can bear to watch that.

What happened next almost gave me a heart attack. She opened her mouth and was about to bite his shoulder. My fight or flight response immediately activated and before I knew it, I grabbed Kaneki's hand and ran.. His eyes widened in pure shock.

From the corner of my eye, I could see in the reflection of weird tentacles coming out of her as she wailed and chased after us. I didn't notice at first but soon enough I felt the blood trickle down my leg.

She managed to cut my leg. I wasn't that good at running and the gash made it even worse. I felt my legs giving out and I collapsed onto the concrete sidewalk. Everything felt kind of foggy and I barely remember what's even happening right now but I could feel that Kaneki somehow managed to carry me on his back and he ran to the nearest public area.

"Y/n! You're bleeding! We need to get you to the hospital right now!" Kaneki said as he frantically looked for his phone.

"Are you okay? Did she bite you?" I asked.

"No, I'm fine! You're the one hurt right now! Why are you worrying about me?" I could see the fear and concern in his eyes. For some reason I felt guilty for it but I felt warm inside knowing he cared.

"I'll be fine, it's just a cut. She was going to eat you! What was going to happen if she did?" I squeezed his hand.

"I'm okay now, aren't I? Thanks to you." He smiled, wiping away splattered blood from my cheek.

"You're welcome, Kaneki-san"

"I called Hide to come so he can help take you to the hospital to get your wound treated." He assured me.

"Its not a big deal." I tried to pretend I wasn't in extreme pain.

"It is" He sternly voiced.

"It's not" I spoke with the same tone.

"Don't argue back. I owe it to you after you saved my life."

"Fine but only because you said so."

After we arrived at the hospital, the doctor said it was just a small gnash, nothing severe. They patched me up and Kaneki insisted on coming along with me.

"You didn't have to come with me, Ken. I can manage on my own." I said as we entered my apartment.

"Oh and also, what're you doing?" I asked as he tugged on my jacket trying to get it off which he somehow managed to do.

"Y/n, you're my friend and you saved my life, I already told you I owe you." He sighed hanging up our coats.

"A friend, huh?" I smiled sadly. Back to pain it was again. Heartbreak isn't a hobby for me, it's a lifestyle. :')

"Y-yeah, well you're my friend aren't you?" He peered at me with doe eyes.

"Kaneki I really need to tell you something." I blurted.

"What is it?" He gulped.

"I.." I started but choked up.

"Uh?" He stepped closer. Dammit why is this so difficult.

"I love you." I whispered averting my eyes away. I couldn't dare to look at his face. After a moment of silence I looked up to see.. nobody? Where'd he go?

"Kaneki?? Where are you?" I shouted. Did he leave? Wow, couldn't he at least say it that he doesn't like me. I suddenly tripped over something and fell onto the floor, thankfully on top of a rug.

I groaned feeling a sharp pain in my abdomen from landing on something underneath. I slowly get up and look to see Kaneki. Kaneki. On the floor. wut.

"Eh? What the-???" I yelled in confusion. "Why are you on the God damn floor??" I frantically shouted.

"And are you crying? And texting Hide?" I ask seeing his lit up phone screen.

"N-no" He sniffled, turning his head so I couldn't see.

"Why are you crying, though?" I raised an eyebrow, wiping his tears with my thumb.

"It's just that I never thought you'd ever like me. Do you know h-how long I've had feelings for you?" He teared up even more.

"Why are you getting emotional?" I held his hand tighter.

"Oh my bananas y/n, I'm crying tears of joy! I'm so happy you like me back! I just thought you'd never like me back, that's why I went out with Rize to try and forget these feelings." He looked away from me with pink tinted cheeks feeling shameful.

"Kaneki! Why didn't you say anything?" I scolded light heartedly.

"You know I'm shy. How come you didn't?" He scrunched his nose. Adorable.

"Well I was! In fact I was planning on confessing on the day you asked that girl out" I glanced down while frowning, having a sour taste in my mouth.

"Y/n.. do you want to go out on a date with me?" He looked up at me.

"Of course I do and I wanted to be the one to ask!" I crossed my arms.

"Beat you to it." He smiled.

"Can I at least pick the date?" I asked.

"Errr sure but I want to go on a book date 'cause Hide said they're lame and I wanna prove him wrong." He narrowed his eyes.

"Sure." I sigh.

"Thank you, Y/n!" He launched himself at me, hugging me tightly.

"What for?" I laughed hugging him back.

"For saving me and for agreeing to going on a date with me" He whispered.

"I didn't have a choice when it came to liking you though, how could I not?" I replied back.

"May we.. stay like this." He requested while staring up at me with sparking glossy doe eyes. I gazed at his soft pink face and planted a cheste kiss on his cheek causing his breath to hitch.

The moment was innocent, delicate and serene... until Kaneki's phone dinged with a notification of a text from Hide. Y/n made a mental note to ask what he texted Hide behind her couch while Kaneki made a mental note to ask how the hell did she show up at the right moment when Rize tried to eat him.

—But only Hide knows the answer to those questions 💅

#kaneki ken #kaneki x reader #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul x reader #kaneki ken x reader

177 notes · View notes

thiserichann · 3 years

Text

cookies and cream - lee jeno

reader x jeno

genre: smut, strangers to fuck buddies, humor if you squint hard enough

word count: 4k-ish

warnings: recklessness (she met with a stranger online, don’t do it kids) excessive lying, 18+ scenes that includes: oral (f receiving) face riding, soft dom!jeno?

This is merely a work of fiction and is not meant to hurt the image of Jeno and NCT. Again, don’t be as reckless as OP. This was just a fantasy of mine that I’ve been dying to get out of my system.

Holy fuck.

That's the only word that you've managed to utter when you decided to check your messages that morning.

You got bored in the middle of the class and decided to sneak a peek on your phone to pass the time. The class is recorded anyways so you can always just go back to the parts of the lessons that you've missed.

But holy fuck.

You never expected to see THAT so early in the morning.

"Miss Y/N?"

You snapped back to reality and stopped malfunctioning for a second when somebody called your name. Everyone including your professor remained quiet and all eyes are on you.

"Oh. Sir what’s the question again?"

You answered nervously as you tried to review your notes and backtrack on what he is discussing a few moments ago.

"I see that you're distracted in the middle of my class again. Mind sharing what you're occupied with?"

"Uhm. I was watching KPOP fancams, sir."

"Fancams won't get you into law school, Miss Y/N. Phones off please."

You tucked your phone back to your pocket and never picked it up again since. The professor started blabbering again but no information is being retained on your head. It stayed that way at your other classes.

You wished you were looking at some KPOP fancams earlier. You’ve watched fancams at class before and got away with it unscathed.

Oh no. It was a goddamn dick pic.

A good one, too.

It was from a guy that you met in a kink site a few days ago. You created the account out of boredom and expected nothing to come out from it. It’s all the flirting and sexting without all the unnecessary commitment

It only took you a few minutes to set up an account. For some privacy, you made a random birthdate and a random nickname, because like hell would you share your real information to these people. You also picked a racy picture of a lady that looked a bit like you and passed it off as your own.

Within minutes, your inbox is flooded with messages. Most of them, however, are from men who are old enough to be your father.

Well, you were bored, so you entertained everyone and then went on back to your boring, vanilla life. A few political history and theory books later, you went back to see which ones messaged you on the site.

And that's where you've met him.

The most gorgeous piece of meat alive.

He seems like a nice guy. He introduced himself as LJ and your age aren’t that far off from each other. LJ is the only one who actually engaged in conversation besides "want to fuck?" or "are you horny?"

As soon as you started messaging back and forth, you scrolled on his profile to see what he looks like. The only thing is, his profile looked a whole lot like those high fashion male underwear photoshoots.

It was an array topless pictures (presumably his, you just can’t be bothered to check if it is actually his). It featured his sculpted abs and biceps, cropped up all the way to his full lips. Despite not seeing his whole face, you knew very well that he’s a hunk. To say you were intrigued is an understatement.

Since then, you've been talking back and forth through Snapchat (your secret one because you're not stupid) and sent him actual pictures of yourself, completely omitting the face. You took one from your bed, your bathtub, and probably every part of your house that you felt is sexy enough to be included on the pics.

You can't tell him if it's him or the repressed sexual urges finally manifesting itself after more than a year of not getting laid, but every text to and from him made your heart race. It was something that you looked forward to every hour everyday.

Hours went by that you totally forgot leaving him on read. You climbed up to your bed to rest your back to the headboard and opened your unread messages.

You: Hey svlr. School stuff.

He opened the chat and started typing right away.

LJ: Oh good. I thought I did something wrong to upset you.

You: Not at all. I loved the pic by the way. It literally knocked my socks off.

LJ: Just the socks?

You: You can take the rest of it off yourself ;)

You scoffed. The flirty banter has always been there ever since you started talking but nothing really came out of it.

LJ: If only I could :(

You: I know. Covid’s a bitch.

You set your phone aside for a second to go to the bathroom. On your way, you picked up some snacks at the fridge and sat back down to your bed, only to find your phone blowing up.

LJ: If you're down maybe we could meet

LJ: It's totally fine if you don't want to

LJ: I just made it weird, didn't I?

LJ: I'm so sorry I brought it up in the first place

LJ: I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable

LJ: Hello?

LJ: I'm really sorry

You: Chill. I'm right here

You: I just went to the bathroom

LJ: Oh

You: I'd be lying if I said I don't want to meet you as well

You: Well... I wouldn't write off the idea

You: But with the Covid

LJ: Thoughts?

You: I don't think it's a great idea

The screen says Seen right at the bottom but it took him a couple more minutes before finally replying.

LJ: I understand

LJ: But in case you change your mind, I'll leave the time and place up to you

LJ: I’ll take care of the rest

LJ: Deal?

You: I'll sleep on it.

You: Speaking of sleep, I gotta go. Morning class.

LJ: Okay. I guess this is good night then

You didn't, in fact, talk to him the day after.

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't want to see him and his abs in real life. But as someone who overthinks a lot, you just can't shake off the risk.

You: Good night. Talk to you tomorrow.

What if he's not really the guy in the pics? Or he’s psycho in real life? What if he's infected the virus?

You sighed.

Why must some global pandemic ruin your sex life?

You waited until the end of the day before you finally replied to LJ. The last thing that he texted was a brief good morning from earlier in the day and nothing else. He’s actually a pretty sweet guy, totally not worth ghosting, and you actually liked talking to him as a friend that you can share your sentiments with.

With your guilt finally eating you up, you took a break from your assigned readings and sat back at your bed to rest for the day. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a minute, thinking of something to say to him. It took you a few tries before finally hitting the send button.

You: So, I thought about it

LJ: And?

You: I need to know I can trust you

LJ: Okay. How?

You: I don’t know. Send me a proof that you’re real. Get tested?

You: Is that fine with you?

Within a split second, he sent his reply.

He actually did it.

You couldn’t believe it but he actually did it.

LJ: Consider it done.

He got tested for physical, including the virus test, and passed with flying colors. He even sent you a vid of him inside a medical clinic.

He just sent the uncensored results this morning where you can clearly see his real name.

Lee Jeno.

LJ.

Seems legit.

Well, the uncreative nickname shouldn’t matter now because the results meant only one thing.

You’re gonna have to push through with your promise.

You got ready around noon that day. You can’t remember the last time that you actually got ready to meet someone that’s not a delivery guy or a relative passing on something to your family.

As someone who overthinks a lot, you actually got everything covered. You picked a place near a restaurant to eat. The police station is just a few blocks away just in case something happens, and right in front of a library…

“Where’re are you off to?”

You raised your backpack to show to your mother.

“I’m off to the library. I needed to get these renewed. Maybe pick up a novel or two.”

She looks at you from head to toe, eyeing that incredibly loose hoodie, faded denim jeans, some worn out sneakers that looked like it’s supposed to be thrown away years ago and a medical mask that covers about ¾ of your bare face. It’s just your usual attire whenever you go out for errands.

She just nodded and went back to watching her favorite soap opera.

“It’s nice that you’re out of your room for once. Take some cookies from the kitchen so you’ll have something to eat in case you get hungry.”

… as an alibi to get away from your strict parents.

As soon as you left the door and made sure that you’re out of sight, you found the nearest public toilet and grabbed a whole other outfit from your backpack. The hoodie is replaced by a white, ruffled see-through blouse and you ditched the jeans for a tight skirt that’s at least four inches above your knees. You tousled your hair a little bit and put on some powder and tiny hint of lipstick before putting your facemask back on again.

It’s been a while since you’ve done an elaborate scheme like this. Your skills got a little bit rusty, but they always work.

Sometimes you wonder if you’re really meant to be lawyer or a criminal instead.

You stepped out of the toilet and blended right back into society.

Now all you have to do is find wherever the hell LJ is.

Jeno sat anxiously as he waited for you right inside the café. He’s on his fourth cup of coffee but it didn’t do anything to calm his nerves down (geez I wonder why).

You: I’m almost at the café.

He’s been staring at his phone the whole time. Once he received your message, which is a pic of you in the bathroom after the outfit change, he almost choked on his drink.

This message sent him on a panic as he turned his camera on to see how he looked. He did some minor adjustments to his hair and he wiped off his eyeglasses clean with the sleeves of his hoodie (which did nothing for him by the way) and then casually sat down and played it off cool like he hasn’t been waiting for you for over an hour.

On your perspective, you walked inside the café and looked around for LJ. Fortunately, there was only guy inside the café, twiddling with his phone on his hands and as he kept on peeking through the glass windows as if he’s looking for someone.

From afar, he actually looked really cute. His appearance, a shy, nerdy dude with glasses, looked way off from the fuckboy image that you expected him to have in reference to the messages that you’ve been getting from him.

It’s always the quiet ones that are kinky. You should know, you are one.

You walked over to his table and tapped his shoulders to get his attention.

He froze for a moment before he finally managed to turn around and face you.

“You’re actually here.”

“I know. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

tap tap tap tap

The room is so quiet that the only thing you can hear is the sound of your heels tapping against the tiled floor. You can say that that is one of your observable annoying habits tapping your foot on the floor when you're a nervous wreck.

Sighing in retaliation, you removed your hoodie, fanning yourself as you tried to relax and get comfy on the hotel couch (which should be comfortable enough since you paid a shit ton of money on that room), switching the TV on to get your mind off of things. The lackluster array of shitty sitcoms didn’t distract you at all, but it instead reminded you of the reasons why you’re in that room in the first place.

Having nothing to do to pass the time, you paced back and forth in the room, finally sitting down once you realized that it looks way worse than you just tapping your foot. You folded your arms right across your chest, looking at the watch from time to time but the hands of the clock seem to be moving slower the more you stare at it.

Quarantine started almost a year ago and it's been very hard for you. Sexually. It's been almost a year since you've been touched by a man and you’re more than ready to jump on anyone’s dick at any this point,

Too bad that that dick is taking his sweet time in the bathroom.

tap tap tap tap

Your foot found its rhythm once again, only this time, you’re not nervous anymore. Your patience is wearing thin.

As if summoned by the constant tapping, the guy comes out of the bathroom, just casually drying himself while wearing nothing but the towel dangerously hanging on his waist and a boyish smile on his lips.

No biggie.

"Hey."

Suddenly, you’re not tapping anymore.

Head empty, just thoughts of a hot guy patting down a towel all over his toned body.

“I hope I didn’t make you wait for too long.”

He spoke, tossing aside the towel on his hands on the sofa, finally giving you a full view of him and all his glory.

You must admit, you’re skeptical at first. The guy that’s been sending you faceless thirst traps just days ago, telling you how he’d fuck you senseless looked a lot different from the guy who entered the hotel room just a moment ago.

He came in wearing those black oversized hoodies that did a great job in hiding his best features. His hair was a bit long for your taste, covering half of his face while the face mask hid the other.

But this man right here in front you, he’s Adonis.

You unconsciously bit your lower lip, earning a chuckle from the guy.

“I’m guessing that you’d like to start now?”

You nodded, the tension and awkwardness rendering you unable to speak.

He smiles as he takes the remote from you, turning off the television because the main show is about to start.

You started to tense up again, eyes wide as you realized that he’s now right beside you, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he sat down. He leans over, soft lips coming into contact with your exposed neck and shoulders, landing small pecks all over.

You sat there breathless as he slowly ran his fingers to the side of your thighs, tracing circles at it while giving small, reassuring kisses on your neck and shoulders. It’s as if he’s asking you for your consent, waiting for you to open up to him before he makes a move.

He got his answer when you turned around to face him, running your fingers into his cheeks before cupping his face, your lips finally touching his. He moved in the same pace as earlier, slow and calculating. You got a bit impatient once again, biting his lower lips gently to let him know that he can do more.

He grabbed you by the waist and successfully placed you on top of him. The kiss got even more sloppy as you ran your hands through nape, then into his soft locks. His hands travelled once again, finger running through legs again, stopping as soon as he reached the hem of your skirt, flipping it up to reveal the thin lace material that barely covered your core. You took that as initiative to remove the towel on his waist and grinded against his growing member, the friction and heat enough to earn a groan out of him.

He held your waist once again, firmly this time, halting your movement completely.

You broke away from the kiss, staring him in the eyes to read his face.

“Something wrong?”

“Hold tight.”

You were about to ask about what hold tight mean, but your arms cling unto him involuntarily as he lifts the both of you out of the sofa.

Jeno laid you gently in the bed, making sure not to break eye contact as he does so. He looked like he's about to eat you alive, which is enough to send flush to your cheeks.

“I would’ve loved to bend you over that sofa, but I think it’s just proper that our first time will be on the bed.”

"God. You're beautiful."

He then ran his fingers towards the thin fabric of your blouse, feeling every part of your torso like he's memorizing every detail of it. His hands then travelled in your chest, squeezing the swell of your breasts on each hand, fingers shaking as he does so. It felt like an artist admiring his delicate work of art.

He situated himself between your legs, taking a moment to admire you first before doing anything else.

He started to run his hand on your cleavage and stopped on the uppermost button of your blouse, taking his time to remove all of them and placing a kisses at the exposed skin. After all of the buttons are taken care of, you lifted your body up and slid off the fabric. Your black lacy bra finally made its appearance. You took the liberty of taking that off too, as slow and as you possibly can.

Jeno just stared at your body in awe, breathing heavily as his eyes scanned your naked glory.

"Gorgeous."

He said under this breath before leaning down to claim your lips once again. You're turned on by how much attention he's giving your body now. You're usually loud in bed but his gestures are making you bashful. You've never felt this beautiful before.

You can feel his hands trembling as it travels all over your body, his kisses getting even more needy. There was moans of satisfaction every time he would lick your lips. Jeno was kissing you like you were oxygen and he needed to breath.

His hands travelled south, running across your thigh and your now aching core. You're about to remove your skirt and underwear but he stopped your hands midway.

"Keep it."

He took your hands away from your skirt and placed them just above your head.

"Just sit there and relax baby. Let me treat you."

You did just like he told you and gave him full control of your body.

"Good girl."

His lips brushed your ears, whispering sweet nothings about how beautiful you are under him. His kisses then went down to your neck, using his tongue and teeth, marking everything he can get his mouth on with his saliva. Meanwhile, his hands finally touched you down there, massaging your still clothed wetness.

His middle and index finger felt your slit, moving it in swift motion in search for your clit.

"Oh my god. That's it."

You gasped as his fingers finally hit the right spot, tossing your head back as his fingers made circles at your bundle or nerves.

You opened your legs more, leaning on your arms on your back, head tossed back and eyes closed as you feel your impending orgasm.

He dipped his hand inside your underwear and collected some of your essence with his fingers. The mental picture of him licking his fingers deliciously is enough to get you off for weeks.

It didn't take long before he took your panties off and his ducked his head down. He opened your legs once again and licked one long stripe on your core, making sure to taste all of you. You sat there and watch as he hungrily takes all of you in his mouth, acting like your pussy is a full course meal and he's been starving for years.

Within moments, you've become a moaning, toe curled mess. You ran your fingers to his blonde hair, guiding him on how to move his tongue and fingers on you. At one point, he bit some of your sensitive skin, making you scream a string of curses under your breath.

"Stop stop stop."

You grab a fistful of his hair and he paused from what he was doing. You pushed him gently away from you, leaving him staring at you confusedly. The confusion didn't last long when you flipped your current position, you're now on top.

"Can I ride your face?"

At this point, you're bold and horny enough to use your words and ask him. He just nodded, sliding himself from underneath you and went back to eating you like a champ. You grabbed his hands and placed them across your chest, squeezing your breasts to send him a message. He was quick to pick up and followed suit, pinching your nipples right in between fingers while your ride his face to orgasm.

"Shit. I'm coming..."

You writhed from above him as you come undone. Your body felt cold all over. Your eyes are ringing, feeling dizzy as you almost passed out while you bucked your hips a few more times to milk your release.

You didn’t have time to recover when you heard your phone ringing from outside. Your legs felt a little shaky and you almost tumbled and hit your head in the wall if Jeno didn’t help you get up. You sat down on the floor, butt-ass naked as you frantically searched for your phone from under all of your stuff before you finally pressed the answer button.

“Yes mom?”

“Where have you been? Your father’s been looking for you at the library. He’s picking you up on your way home.”

You buried your head on the couch to shake off the buzzing feeling on your head. You placed a pillow on your body while you searched for your discarded clothes all over the hotel room.

“Oh yeah. I went to the café and got something to eat. Tell Dad I’ll meet him outside the library.”

“Okay sweetie. Can you pick up some groceries on your way back? I’ll text you the list.”

“Yeah mom. Bye.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as you started putting on the outfit that you wore when you left home.

“Where are you going?”

Jeno reluctantly got dressed as well, his shy demeanor came back as soon as he wore his glasses and fixed his hair.

“I got to go, Jeno. I’m sorry that I’m leaving in such a bad time…”

You went over to him and placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

“I promise to make it up to you next time, okay? I’d love to meet you again.”

You grabbed a paper bag from your backpack and handed it to him, waving as you bolted out the door.

After fixing his things, he sat down for a moment and took a quick peek inside the package that you left him.

It was a ziplock bag of full of cookies and a whole other treat.

You left him your two-piece lace lingerie.

To be continued.

#nct #nct dream #nct u #nct x reader #nct smut #nct jeno #nct hard hours #jeno #jeno scenarios #jeno au #jeno smut #lee jeno #jeno imagines #jeno x reader

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elareine · 3 years

Note

If you could, can you please write JayTim or RoyTim (whichever one you want) trying to be romantic and woo Tim (maybe with some puns, I love puns), but Tim is a bit oblivious towards it, because the other is so cool, therefore they must be trying to make friends and be nice with him and nothing more. So when he does finally realize its an italicized "Oh" moment.

Hi lovely!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this fill. I... ended up making it JayRoyTim, I hope that's okay? It just fit so well, but I can totally write something else with JayTim or RoyTim for you if you want :)

Also, it turned out to be about pick-up lines more than wooing, sorry. I might’ve gone overboard with googling the puns. It's long enough that I put it on ao3, too. What's your username on there? Then I'll gift it to you.

if you were a transformer (you’d be optimus fine)

“Well, here I am.”

Tim looks up, utterly confused. “I didn’t call for you, but… that’s… great?”

Roy waggles his eyebrows. It looks faintly disturbing. Redheads should maybe not do that. Or, actually, Tim revises mentally, thinking of literally every other redhead Dick ever dated—that’s just Roy. “What are your other two wishes?”

“Coffee and some silence to finish working this case?”

Roy looks weirdly deflated at that, but he does get him some coffee. Tim soon forgets about it.

—

(“How’d it go?”

“Does obliviousness run in the family?”

“Yes. Yes it does. Have you met Bruce?”

“…okay, fair. Your turn next.”)

—

“Jason? What’re you doing here?”

Sure, Jason and Roy have been spending a lot more time in Gotham lately. Something to do with a case, Tim assumes. Maybe even with the one that they worked on together in Star City five months ago?

Anyway. They’ve been around, is what Tim is saying. Not at the manor, but at Tim’s apartment and his workspace, cause apparently it’s not worth rebuilding their safe house after it went up in flames, and Bruce and Damian are too often at Dick’s place. He’s not exactly surprised to see either of them anymore. (Pleased, yes. But not surprised.) However, Tim has no fucking clue why Jason is currently grinning at him from the other side of the library desk.

At least Tim has the good sense to check his name tag before he gasps: “Jason?”

“Oh, hey, Tim.” Jason’s grinning. “Guess you figured out my new job, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tim shakes his head. “Color me surprised.” So this is what Jason’s spending his days doing. He’s gotta be shadowing someone, right? Tim’ll ask him tonight.

“I’ve always liked this place.” Jason’s gaze is far away for a moment. Tim badly wants to know what he’s remembering. Then the older man seems to come back to himself and gives Tim a weird—maybe angry?—look. “It’s a good thing I’m a librarian, too, cause I’m totally checking you out.”

“Alright, I can take a hint.” Tim grabs his book and demonstratively walks over to the self-service scanners. Really. How rude.

—

(“Are you telling me he managed to resist you in your cardigan?”

“Apparently.”

“Aww. C’mere, babe.”)

—

So Roy blows things up all the time. No, really, Tim now totally understands why Dick was so happy when he heard the duo is camping out at Tim’s place for a change. His older brother even gave Tim a thumbs-up, for God’s sake. He must’ve known.

Cause yeah, there’s at least one explosion every two days. Or Roy dropping something cause he’s too focused on what he’s thinking to remember what his hands are doing. Or something dropping on him. Jason seems used to it; he just catches whatever it is or laughs at Roy. Tim… is starting to learn to do the same, actually. Whatever Roy comes up with at that moment is usually worth it, and besides, he’s kinda adorable.

Aaaaaaanyway. (He’s using that word a lot in his own thoughts right now. Almost as if he’s avoiding thinking about something. Hmm.) Tim’s not surprised when Roy walks into a room, stumbles, and slaps a hand over his eyes with a dramatic exclamation.

Tim, in shorts and not much else cause he got drenched in pollen earlier, just raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Roy?”

“Nope.” Roy’s hand is still covering his face, but Tim can still see his grin underneath. “I’m gonna need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Roy. You have both of these things,” Tim explains slowly, wondering if Roy sustained a brain injury or accidentally dosed himself on something. “And why insurance?”

“I was blinded by your beauty.”

God. Sometimes Tim wonders about the original Titans and their socialization for the two dudes if this is how they think making friends works. Then again, Kori, Donna, and Dick probably appreciated constant compliments about their beauty. It all makes sense. Roy must be so used to it that he even uses those same methods when someone unexceptional like Tim is around.

He smiles gamely. “I’m looking forward to hearing that phone call. Must be almost as great as the time Bruce tried to convince his insurance company that Clark dropping on his car wasn’t an act of God because God is demonstrably not a Kryptonian. Neither was the giant ape punching Clark out.”

Roy drops his hand at that. “…Batman did what?”

—

(“You were doing so well, too.”

“I knoooow. How much more obvious can we get?”

“I dunno, but I intend to try.”)

—

“Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!”

“Haha. No. Star Trek or die.” Tim’s answer is automatic. He’s had these discussions soooo many times with Kon before. Of course Jason also goes for the space cowboy soap opera.

Besides, Jason’s boyfriend is standing right next to him. He doesn’t mean to sound flirtatious with Tim. Or maybe he does, and it’s just good fun? Or maybe teasing him? Tim can’t figure it out, but he knows he doesn’t like the weird hollow feeling he gets in his stomach when he thinks about it, so he changes the topic.

And makes both of them sit down to watch some classic Captain Kirk, of course.

—

(“Should I be insulted by that pick up line?”

“Nah. There aren’t that many lines that imply a polycule, though.”

A kiss. “Alright.”)

—

One of the things Jason and Tim have in common is their predilection for motorbikes and fiddling around with them. Not that makes them unique in the batclan; Tim has never spent days quietly working side-by-side with Dick, though, the way he does with Jason. They started out with separate projects. Then Jason saw this vintage Ducati at an abandoned warehouse he was about to blow up and, well… Would be a shame, right? Tim just happens to have had one of these before—regrettably lost to one of Harley’s exploding baseball bats—so he offers his expertise.

It’s not because it means bending over the engine with Jason, closer than they ever are, their hands brushing when they hand each other instruments. It’s not.

Roy doesn’t join them. He’s too polite to say so, but he finds normal cars and bikes boring af. Doesn’t stop him from popping his head into the garage and whistling when he sees that they are shirtless and covered in grease. It’s a damn good look on Jason, so Tim can’t fault him for that.

Roy follows it up with a: “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you got fine written all over you.”

Tim can’t help it; he blushes at the suggestive tone. Those two never stop flirting with each other, do they? So far, he has managed to avoid stumbling over them while they’re making out (not that they’re making that easy—the kitchen? Really?), and he’d like to keep avoiding that, thank you very much. He’s already feeling guilty enough for his fantasies as it is.

“Uh. I should clean up,” he mumbles and flees.

—

(“Dammit.”

“…do you think that was a rejection?”

“Nah. He was definitely checking me out before you came and fucked it up.”

“That’s saying something if you noticed it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

—

So Tim has magically acquired cat ears and a very fluffy tail. Don’t ask. They’re gonna go away in eight hours, and until then, he’s gonna stay in the cave and work himself to distraction. Jason seems intent on keeping him company, though.

(It’s nice. Tim loves hanging out with Jason—that’s not the problem. The issue is that Tim is looking ridiculous, and Jason is being nice about it, and none of this is helping his stupid crush go away.)

They’re absently chatting about nothing until Jason says: “Kinda a pity you’re a cat, though.”

Tim looks up. Huh? Admittedly, he never pegged Jason as the type to go for catboys (though maybe… he did hang out with Kyle… perhaps it’s just that he definitely doesn’t go for Tims), but that’s still a weird pronouncement.

Jason is grinning. “If you were a chicken, you’d be impeccable.” He pauses. “Wait. Like even more than you already are. Uh.”

Tim sighs. Great. And now Jason is making fun of him again. “Whatever.”

—

(“A chicken?”

“Shut up. I panicked.” A sigh. “He was so cute with these ears.”

“…yeah, he was.”)

—

“You must be tired. You’ve been running through my mind all night.”

“I’m not tired,” Tim says automatically. Why does everyone keep asking him that tonight? Surely the shadows under his eyes can’t be that bad? He used concealer!

Something in Roy’s expression softens. “Aww. C’mere.” He pats the space on the couch next to him, and when Tim sits down, Roy pulls him half of on top of him and into a hug. “Relax for a bit, little bird.”

Tim sinks into the embrace, boneless all of a sudden. Roy just has that effect on him. Tim vaguely remembers thinking of him as his oldest brother’s cool friend and then Jason’s cool boyfriend, kind of a fuckboy but clearly good for Jay.

Now? Now, Roy just makes him feel safe.

—

(“So you spent the night on the couch just so he could sleep in your arms?”

“Yeah. Totally worth it.”

“Duh.”

“I just wish we could do that with him every night. Bet he fits perfectly between us.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“We might have to up the ante or switch tactics.”)

—

They’re talking about their favorite books—Tim doesn’t read as much as Jason does, but they discovered a shared love of sci-fi weeks ago—when Tim says: “Actually, that book kinda reminds me of you.”

“Oh?”

“Overly dramatic but good.”

Jason makes an offended noise, and Tim grins.

“I’m not sure which part I should argue about first.” Jason pretends to think.

Tim is always down to tell Jason that fuck his self-perception—Jason is a good man, one of the best Tim knows; that also feels too revealing right now. Instead, he gets up from their comfortable position on the couch and grabs the first stack on the table, carrying them over to the shelves to replace the gaps. “What kind of book would I be?”

“Babe, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

“Annoying and no one reads it?” Tim asks without turning around, trying to ignore the babe. That’s. That’s gotta be a slip of the tongue, right? Force of habit from spending so much time with Roy?

“No, fine,” and the emphasis is clear this time. Jason continues before Tim can reply: “Though if we’re talking books…”

Tim whirls around. “Save it. You don’t have to make fun of me just because I—“He swallows down the words.

Jason looks alarmed. “Tim—“

As if he can smell trouble, Roy chooses that moment to enter the room. Tim has barely heard him approach, Jesus. He doesn’t want to have this argument in front of Roy, though, so he just stands there in the middle of the room. Jason, too, has stopped speaking.

Roy, of course, takes one look at the awkwardness and decides to make it worse. Or more confusing.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he asks.

“As this isn’t Hansel and Gretel, no, I didn’t.” Tim checks his shirt, just in case this is an actual conversation opener and not just a weird attempt at a distraction. “Do I have soot on me?”

“Nope.” Roy shakes his head, and he’s smiling that smile again, the one Tim is startled to recognize, the one he thought is reserved only for Jason— “Because you’re hot.”

And finally, Tim gets it. “Me?”

“Yes, Tim.” Roy’s moving in closer. “You.”

There’s a soft touch to Tim’s shoulder, and Tim whirls around, expecting Jason to be mad, cause his boyfriend is—is hitting on Tim, right, that’s what’s happening, Jason can’t be happy—

Jason is smiling down at him. His hand is still resting on Tim’s shoulder, but it slides down to his collar bone, a gentle presence as he murmurs: “You’re so beautiful that you made forget my pick up line.”

Oh. Oh.

Tim says the first thing he can think of: “Are you a raisin?”

Jason starts grinning. “I’m not even gonna qualify that with an answer.”

Tim smiles back. “Cause you’re raising my hopes for a kiss right about now.”

And he gets one. And then another, and then Roy joins in, kissing Tim’s neck and then his mouth and—Yeah.

They’re too busy for any more pick up lines right now.

#elareine writes #jayroytim

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 4 years

Text

Ya know, I truly hope Miss Renesmee Carlie Cullen fully dedicates herself to just....being as out there and iconic as possible

first things first- ANYTHING with the loch ness monster on it, she owns. Posters, shirts, jackets, shoes, folders, buttons, iron-ons, there is always at least 5 pieces of Nessie merch on her at all times

once she gets old enough to start high school, the cover story is her and Edward are siblings that Carlisle and Esme took in, and sometimes her classmates will ask her what her biological parents were like and she will flat out be like 'oh, they're vampires' and Edward and Bella are like. 5 feet away trying not to scream

every Halloween she'll show up to school in an elaborate Nosferatu costume

goes out of her way to photobomb people in increasingly ridiculous ways so there will Always be a photographic record of her and in like 100 years she can get a huge kick out of teens on the internet trying to make a conspiracy about her

joins as many school clubs as she can, even if she has no interest in them- she just Really wants a concrete record of herself to exist lmao

ICONIC at school theater though. One of those demon theater kids that come to rehearsal purely to cause chaos and nothing else, but her voice is incredible so she secures every lead. One time she somehow managed to star in a show while also playing in the school band for it- her classmates still have no idea how she pulled it off

Always brings blood out in public in a CLEAR THERMOS and it stresses her family out so much but everyone else thinks she's just like, weirdly into tomato juice so the Cullens can't stop her

to everyone's surprise...her biggest chaos enabler is Jasper lmao. everyone thought he'd be a logical, responsible uncle but they're just. A Problem together. He'll 100% assist her in any prank she wants to pull, he gets her fake id's when she wants to sneak into a club with friends, he bails her out of jail without telling her parents, they figured out if she gets high and he reads her feelings he'll get high too and it's. So fucking funny.

she's always carrying some random instrument around school- like for a while it's a guitar or a harmonica, fine, but then she'll start lugging a cello around, a tuba (she doesn't even play, she stole it off a guy who was annoying her) and it escalates until one day she's wheeling a piano around the building. no one's even sure how she got in in the doors of the school. She keeps running kids over in the hallway with it

You know the Catherine Tate Lauren Cooper skit with David Tennant? Where she's being a terrible student and then perfectly recites Shakespeare? 100% Nessie

when she starts getting dates Jacob keeps trying to wing man and be over supportive and give her a ton of girl advice and it's embarrassing as hell so one day when he was on a spiel about How To Woo A Lady she looks him in the eyes and goes 'oh really? did that work on my mom?' and the Cullens fucking LOSE IT. Jacob had to go live in the woods for a few days because he couldn't cope

Emmet and Jasper: arrive to school in their jeep. Rose and Alice: arrive in a convertible. Edward: arrives in his dumb volvo. Bella and Jake: arrive to school on motorcycles. Nessie: arrives to school on a unicycle while juggling

one year she ended up getting nominated for prom queen and Edward read the minds of the teachers tallying the votes so he knew she won and he and Bella were so excited!! they're like we're gonna take so many pictures of our baby looking like a princess! And then she emerges from her room, actually drenched in pigs blood. Like she just did it to herself and went to the dance and accepted her crown like that

she regularly commits crimes against fashion. If she comes out of her room and sees Alice contemplating turning herself over to the Volturi, she KNOWS she's picked a great look

somehow gets ahold of Aro's cell number and sends him selfies of her blatantly breaking vampire laws captioned 'whatcha gonna do'. he keeps blocking her but she keeps managing to get through to him somehow

she illegally sells soda out of her locker and does people's homework for cash, while also paying other people to do her homework for her. she organizes every single senior prank. she's never gotten a detention in her whole immortal life because every teacher just Adores her for some reason

had 100% used her powers for deserved evil before. Like, if someone's being a dick at school, she'll sneak into their room at night and give them nightmarea threatening them to be a better person lol

sometimes she'll show up at the hospital unannounced and ask Carlisle, in front of his coworkers, 'yo can I raid the blood bank?'

her bedroom looks like a library. every wall, floor to ceiling books.

she's been publishing trashy romance novels under a fake name for almost 40 years now and no one in her family knows

one birthday Jacob takes her on a trip to vegas and they get wasted, at some point they were laughing about how ridiculous their lives are and they're like 'wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if we had a baby'. they then black out, hangover style, and wake up like a week later with a payment on her card to a fertility clinic. Jacob's like 😱 and Ness is just like 'you get to be the one to explain this to my parents'

Their kid is absolutely hilarious, they were correct, and at some point they realized 'wait...drinks blood..doesn't sparkle...can shape shift...we've somehow created a classic pop culture vampire' lmao

Edward had to threaten them to get them to not name the kid Vladimir

Also to be clear: Nessie and Jacob have the EXACT same dynamic as Will and Grace. that's canon.

says its her goal to star in a live action all female production of mamma mia and Carlisle is like 'honey you know you can't do anything on broadway or in hollywood' and she's like, 'no, in real life. I'm gonna go to greece and attract a bunch of women with abba songs' and he's like,,,,,ah

she loves all music but she goes out of her way to Only play stuff she knows Edward hates lmao

one day she remembers she doesn't need to breathe and can see under water and just. books herself a ticket to scotland and Finds The Loch Ness Monster

she actually personally finds a lot of monsters and cryptids like her hybrid aura just attracts all kind of weird shit and she LOVES it. She stops writing trashy romance novels and starts writing autobiographies of her traveling and hanging out with paranormal beings and everyone just assumes its fiction so she becomes a best selling fantasy author lmao

100% she's very into witchy stuff and only like...half in a trendy way. She's like what if on top of everything I've got going on I can cast spells? Think I deserve that power

when she's a couple decades old she catches Edward looking grossed out one day and she asks him what's up and he's like 'I really dont need to hear what creepy teachers think about my daughter' and she's like. oh. Dad we are gonna get SO MANY pedophiles arrested shdndjdn she gets him to expose teachers and she baits them then calls the police. queen.

She finds out she can get tattoos but they fade completely out of her skin within 5 years so she's always getting crazy tats

posts selfies on social media of her just like. hanging out with mountain lions or chilling on top of the space needle. her classmates think they're all photoshopped obvi but it drives her family insane

imagine you're 15 and you're on a nice hike in the woods and you come across your one classmate half naked, sacrificing a bear in some ritual, blood dripping down her face, bigfoot chilling on the rocks behind her filming the ritual on her phone...like on one hand, what would you do, but on the other hand. you've known this girl for a bit and you aren't surprised at all

anyway. stan Nessie Cullen.

#twilight saga #renesmee cullen #nessie cullen #breaking dawn #twilight #molly mumbles

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doublekrecs · 4 years

Text

More Than Physics

Spencer Reid x reader

Synopsis: you notice your ta in the library and ask him for a lesson in physics to which you pay him back with pizza and a lesson in sex

Warnings: smut (no p in v action), oral (male receiving), mutual masturbation

a/n: sorry this took so long, it’s been quite a week. but i'm thinking of making this a series depending on if you like it. anyways, i hope enjoy my angels! -🧞‍♀️

also thank you guys for 400 followers!! the love means everything to us:)

part 2

They always say life just blows right past you. Which you used to think was a load of bullshit, but now on your last year of college you’re sitting in the library on the verge of tears over your physics class, reminiscing on a time long ago when freshman year you was most likely at some frat party grinding up on some beefy blond named Steve.

You let out a loud sigh, looking around to make sure you weren’t disrupting anyone. You weren’t. The library was almost completely empty, besides just you there was a small group of people actively note taking with highlighters scattered around the table and the biggest cups of what you assumed to be coffee. Looking over to your left you saw an oddly familiar mop of curly brown hair nose deep in a thick book. Wait it was Spencer.

He was the TA for your physics class, always enthusiastic and ready to help anyone. You honestly thought he was just happy anyone was willing to listen to his rambles. From what you’ve seen he was humble for being such a genius and seemed like a really sweet guy. Always flashing you a kind smile and opening doors for anyone around him.

Which is why you felt a sense of relief wash over you when you saw him. You had been struggling with this unit in class and no method of studying had been helping you retain knowledge. So what better way to get help than from the resident genius himself.

You packed your stuff and made your way over to the table he set camp at. Loads of novels you couldn’t imagine yourself reading sat in stacks next to him. You tapped him on the shoulder to which he flinched after being taken out of the fantasy world he was immersed in. Looking up he offered you the same kind smile as always before whispering, “Oh hi y/n.”

“Hey Spencer” you smiled back.

He moved a stack of books off of the chair next to his offering you a place to sit. You set your stuff down and his eyes went to the physics book in front of you.

“How's the studying going?” he asked, putting his full attention on you. One thing about him you always admired was the way he really listened to people. No matter who it was he always made people feel heard.

“Not so good” he frowned at the sad tone in your voice, “But I was hoping that a certain TA would be able to spare a fellow peer some help” you looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Of course, what do you need?”

You guys had spent the better part of two hours with him helping you set up notes and explaining certain topics to the best of his ability. You noticed him yawn and check his watch. “What time is it,” you asked, trying to suppress a yawn of your own.

“Just hit 11, the library closes in 30 minutes if you wanna stay and finish up,” he said, stretching his back out from sitting for so long.

“No, I think we’ve done enough work for today.” You both started to pack your stuff up, making small talk as you walked out of the building.

“Hey Spence,” he stopped walking and turned to look at you, “I really wanna thank you for all your help today. Is there any way I can repay you for this? OH! I can take you to dinner, we can go to the little pizza place around the corner. It's on me,” you offered nodding with a wide smile.

He smiled back at your enthusiasm, “You really don’t have to thank me, I'm glad I was able to help. But I won’t say no to a slice of pizza.”

You led him to the little spot off campus, which he of course opened the door for you. The waiter took you to a little booth where you both ordered a soda before skimming the menu. The place was cute, very homey with warm lights and oldies playing softly in the back. There was a comfortable silence before the waiter came back and took your orders.

Spencer was very easy to talk to as he had knowledge on all topics. However you wanted to know more about him personally. So you suggested a game. Never have I ever. Yes it was childish but hey, all good friendships have to start somewhere.

“Ok I’ll start with an example and you put a finger down if you’ve done it.” he nodded taking a bite of his pizza. You took a second to think of where to begin, “Alright never have I ever gone skinny dipping,” you stated and his eyes widened a little bit.

He shook his head no as you encouraged him to ask a question. “Um never have I ever failed a class.”

“Spence no,” he frowned. “This is supposed to be fun, ask risky questions c’mon don’t be shy,” you looked at him encouragingly, “what happens at the booth stays in the booth,” you said tapping on the table for emphasis.

He took your words to heart as he waited a while trying to come up with a question. “Alright, never have I ever had more than 4 partners.” you put a finger down and looked at him confused. “How many people have you dated?” he took a sip of his coke before replying, “just one.”

“Huh,” “What?”

“C’mon Spence you’re telling me a genius like you doesn’t have girls lined up around the corner” you said raising a suggestive eyebrow. He giggled and shook his head no looking down.

The game continued but keeping track of fingers was forgotten. Pizza was long gone and the bill was paid, now it was just you guys enjoying each others company. It was obvious Spencer was breaking out of his comfort zone as the questions kept on getting riskier. Which is how you got into the topic of sex. You had found out that apparently he had almost no experience in any of it.

“Y/n I just don’t see what the big deal is. I mean I do ya know.. get off, so what's the point,” he said playing with his napkin. You could tell he was a little embarrassed at the admission by the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“The point is that sex is normal and fun and something you should be experiencing.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t wanna have one night with a stranger then be laughed at for being inexperienced.”

Suddenly a lightbulb appeared above your head.

“Spencer I have an idea. And please just hear me out,” he looked at you wearily before you continued, “let me tutor you in sex stuff.”

You swear he was gonna explode at how red he was, mouth gaping like a fish out of water trying to find words to respond.

“Listen, you spent the night helping me with something I struggle in. Let me help you with something you’re struggling in. And it could be fun, ya know just some stress relief and you get to learn some new skills.”

Spencer was taken back by your offer. He really wanted to accept, I mean come on it's not everyday a pretty girl just offers you to have sex with her. Let alone buy you pizza beforehand.

You might have looked collected on the outside, sipping on your dr.pepper, giving Spencer time to answer but on the inside you were a mess. What if you had pushed him too far. Why did you think it was a good idea to just offer up something like that. Your thoughts were cut off by a voice in front of you speaking up.

“Yeah.. Let's do it.” Now you were the one gaping like s fish. But you quickly recomposed yourself.

You looked at him with a devilish smile, reaching over the table to grab his hand. “Well then Spence, let’s go shall we?” He laced your fingers together as you got up, matching your smile.

In no time you were in your dorm after the brisk walk. Little conversation was made and you were starting to think maybe he was starting to regret agreeing. Unlocking the door you looked over at him nervously biting his pink lip, something you’d like to do. “You can just come in and we can watch a movie if you want. I don’t wanna pressure you into anything.”

He looked over at you, big brown eyes gazing softly into yours, “I really wanna do this. Please.”

“Alright pretty boy make yourself comfortable we’ll start off easy.”

You guided him to sit on your couch as you sat next to him. There was a moment of silence where you both just looked from each other's eyes to lips longingly. Neither were sure who leaned in first but your lips met in the middle, calm at first before the storm. His hands went to grasp the sides of your face, pulling you further into him. You took the time to adjust and settle on his lap, one hand on his shoulder while the other nested in his hair, causing him to let a groan in your mouth when you tugged it slightly. You’d save that for another time.

The time came for you both to pull away for air. His forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath.

“As great as that was,” you said punctuating with a kiss. He tried to chase your lips as you pulled away to continue talking. “You can move your hands, I won’t break. Nowhere is out of bounds,” you said nodding encouragingly.

His hands were warm, moving down slowly to your hips. You leaned back in, this time the kisses were slower but held the same desire. Again his hands stayed in the same place so you put yours over his and guided them up and down. He gained some confidence after you let go, his hands now straying to your ass giving it a squeeze. You could feel the smile on his lips at the gasp you let out.

Making out soon led to desperate whimpers and a steady grind of trying to gain more friction. The feel of him hardening beneath you made you moan as the thin fabric of the leggings you were wearing did little to nothing to conceal it. You pulled away to start pressing wet kisses to his neck. You knew you had found his sweet spot under his ear when he shuddered. Your hand went down to palm him over his pants. Spencer jolted at the touch.

“Fuck y/n,” he let out as a soft sigh. You took the opportunity to unzip his pants. Looking into his auburn eyes for confirmation to keep going he gave a silent nod, prompting you to take him out of his pants. It was pretty and pink, already weeping with precum you couldn’t wait to get your mouth on. Wasting no time you used your thumb to swipe some off to use as lubricant to start pumping his shaft.

You went down to a spot between his knees, taking his hand in yours to set in your hair. He seemed to catch on quick as he pushed some out of your face to see your pretty eyes looking up at him while you sucked him off. Under his soft exterior, shockingly Spencer swore like a sailor. Letting out constant “shit you’re so good” or a long “fuck” under his breath.

You could tell he was getting close by the way you felt his cock throbbing. You stopped sucking, instead using your hand to keep stimulating him as you said, “It’s alright Spence you’re doing so good for me. Where do you wanna cum?” His eyes shifting down to your low cut v-neck said it all. You motioned for him to replace your hand with his own, quickly discarding the shirt leaving you in a pretty lacy bra. He was confused as to what you were doing when you started to pull off your leggings, but as your hand slipped down into your matching panties things started clicking.

You were already worked up from the heavy touching and listening to his groans that it was easy for you to slip a finger into your wet heat, letting out a moan at the feeling. His eyes kept on roaming all over your body. The sight of your chest heaving and the glistening between your thighs was enough to set him off.

You added another finger and matched the pace he was pumping himself at. Not taking your eyes off his hands, so big and veiny.

“Ah Spencer, I'm so close baby. Please cum with me,” you let out along with little whimpers. Hearing his name on your lips was his end as his orgasm washed over him. Ropes of his cum spilling over his palm. Your release came soon after, rubbing your clit, gasping at the tightness in your tummy bursting.

You both calmed down and met each other's gaze with a soft smile. Picking up your t-shirt you told him to stay put as you went to grab a towel for him to clean up. “So, not bad for our first ‘lesson’, you said walking back and sitting next to him.

His cheeks were tinted pink from seeing how exposed you were in front of him but he had the courage to respond, “Not bad at all. I can’t wait for what else you can show me.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #mgg x reader #mgg smut #mgg fanfiction #🧞‍♀️writes

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

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i was about to ask you to continue your marvels unsolved ‘verse but then i saw your specific ships so i’m going to ask for a fantasy au with winteriron!! but tbh you should do whatever makes you happy it’s your birthday month!!! (happy birthday! your writing makes me so happy thank you so much for it)

Thank you so much!! I’m so happy you like my writing!!!

I ended up being inspired by the magical flower shop AU I wrote last August, but that’s not necessary to read to understand this fic. Since tumblr is still having issues with links, I won’t include the link here but if you’re interested in that one, it’s Chapter 27 of AU-gust

As always, this fic can be found on my ao3!

Roses and Rowan

It’s storming when Bucky drives past Ravenspoint’s limits. The rain is coming down hard enough that he almost misses the sign for the little town in all the gloom, but then there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the foreboding faces of the town patriarchs glaring down at those who would dare enter their town. Bucky shivers, resolutely turning away as he continues on his way.

He’s not here for them anyway. The patriarchs are long dead, their only descendants long since fled. There’s another flash of lightning, this time illuminating the hill off to the left and the old manor on the hilltop. From what little bit he can see through the storm, it looks like it was once a stately mansion but it’s falling into disrepair now. Bucky blinks and suddenly he can see the golden glimmer of the wards around the whole hill, sealing the house and grounds off from the would-be adventurers brave enough to test their mettle against the ghosts of Rosewood Manor.

Another shiver runs down his spine. The magic is strangely familiar, though he can’t place where he might have seen it before. He blinks again and the golden glimmer of the wards disappears from his view. “Spooky,” Bucky mutters. In the passenger seat, Alpine mraows her agreement. He reaches over and scratches under her chin, grinning when she purrs loud enough to drown out the music coming from the car speakers.

They pull into town a few minutes later, only knowing it by the stoplight Bucky just barely manages to make out through the sheets of rain pounding down. He would have missed it otherwise, the storm too heavy and the buildings too dark to see in the night. Ravenspoint is a small town with a population of only three thousand people, exactly one stoplight, and two streets that run the length of town, connected by a series of smaller cross streets. It’s exactly the last place Bucky ever thought he would find himself and yet here he is, searching for someone who had made it clear he didn’t want to be found.

“What am I doing, Alpine?” he asks the cat. “He told me he didn’t want me to come after him.”

Alpine can’t respond but she rolls over, exposing her belly to him, and he gets the sense of reassurance through their bond.

“I know,” he responds. “Tellin’ people he wants to be left alone when that’s usually the last thing he wants. But let’s be real here, this place is pretty far off the beaten track.”

Another pulse of reassurance.

“Well if you ask me—” the helper figment starts to say.

“I didn’t,” Bucky interrupts before it can say anything else. Damn figment’s been more trouble than it’s worth this whole trip. “Where’s the turn?”

The figment gives him a sullen look. “In five hundred yards, off to the right.”

Even as the figment says it, Bucky spots the glowing lights of the shop in the distance. He slows down and pulls over into one of the parking spots off the street, peering up through the rain at the shop sign above the door.

“Bluebells and Belladonnas,” he reads. “He always did like alliteration.”

“Great,” the figment says waspishly. “Can I go now? I got a hot—”

Bucky flicks his fingers and the figment disappears back to whatever dimension figments come from. Alpine flicks her tail lazily, giving off a sense of amusement and a little bit of hunger. Bucky laughs and scratches her chin again.

“Yeah, I would’ve let you eat it if it wouldn’t have given you indigestion,” he says. “’nother couple of minutes. I’m sure he has fresh tuna for you.”

He sighs and looks at the shop again. The sign on the front says it’s closed but there are lights on inside both in the shop itself and in the apartment above the shop, telling him that the owner is probably still working.

“So what’re you doing sitting out here?” he asks himself. He gives another baleful look at the stormy clouds and the rain still pouring down, groans, and then shrugs his hood up over his head. Nothing for it. The rain isn’t supposed to let up for another couple of hours and Bucky doesn’t feel like sitting in the car that long.

“You gonna be good out here?” he asks Alpine. She blinks slowly at him. That’s a yes, then.

Quick as he can, he gets out and dashes for the cover the awning provides. Once there, he throws his hood back and then knocks on the door. He waits about a minute before knocking again, this time a lot louder. It takes a moment before he sees a person-shaped blob behind the water-streaked glass. He knocks for a third time. The person gets larger as they move closer and then the door unlocks and swings open with a wave of the person’s hand.

“What—”

“You know,” Bucky says, stepping over the threshold. He bites back a shiver as a wave of magic washes over him, verifying that he has no ill intent. “You are a hard person to find.”

“Yeah, some people would take that as a hint,” Tony Stark states flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at Bucky.

Bucky is born with the ability to see magic. Or, at least, that’s the sfigmentlest way to explain it, if not the most accurate. Just about everyone can “see” magic but what they see are actually just the effects of magic—what was produced or what was done. Bucky has the ability to actually see the threads of magic. It’s a Barnes family gift, although none of the Barnes mages have had this ability in nearly two centuries. Bucky is the first in a very long time and because of that, he ends up having to go to school rather than being trained at home by the family mage (also known as Ma to Bucky and his sister).

It's at school that he meets his best friend, Stevie, and Stevie’s other best friend, Tony. Tony is a bit of an oddball, not that Bucky and Steve are incredibly popular either. Steve should be popular because of his dragon heritage and the power that brings him but he comes into his inheritance late and has a strong sense of morality and that gets him into trouble, more often than not. And Bucky just ends up following behind him.

But Tony—Tony is hard to pin down. He has incredible amounts of power, which is unusual in a mage from the Jarvis line. He’s a lot younger than most of the other kids, which isn’t so unusual for people with a lot of power—Bucky can think of a couple examples off the top of his head of people who went to school early because of their powers—but all those people went to school early because they didn’t have control, and Tony is nothing if not controlled. He doesn’t much look like either of his parents and the way he acts sometimes… it’s clear that he’s been through a lot, is all.

It’s not until their fourth year that Bucky starts putting the pieces together, and it starts when he finds out that Tony doesn’t actually get his powers from the Jarvis line but from the Carbonell line instead. He wasn’t supposed to overhear that but he and Steve had gotten in trouble again and were sitting outside the Headmistress’s office while she finished up a meeting with the Jarvises.

That’s when he’d heard it: “The Carbonell magic is strong in Tony,” the Headmistress had said, and that had been all Bucky had heard as the pieces had started falling into place. It had always puzzled Bucky how Tony’s magic, so suited to big things, had come from the Jarvises, both of whom were more skilled in household charms and enchantments, but if Tony was adopted… Adoption was rare in magical families, as magic was so often tied to filial lines, but it wasn’t unheard of, and that explained so much about Tony.

He spends some time in the library after that, researching the Carbonells. They’re an old line, originating in Italy, before coming to the Americas in the late sixteenth century. They’re known for producing powerful mages with the exact same proficiency in metallurgy that Tony’s always demonstrated. The last of them, Maria, had married one of the Starks, a newer family with a proficiency in elemental magics—another of Tony’s skills, Bucky realizes—and that’s where the trail goes cold. He never finds another mention of the Carbonells, or the Starks for that matter, in any of the old history books.

But there has to be more to the story, Bucky knows. Because there’s Tony, who looks just like Maria Carbonell, and that means there has to be more. However, he never brings it up. That’s Tony’s story, and if he doesn’t want to tell them, he doesn’t have to.

He never stops hoping that Tony will, though.

Tony is looking at him now, eyes dark and arms crossed. Bucky has changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he’d brought with him as his clothes had ended up drenched, even from just the short run from the car and back out to grab Alpine and his travel bag. His clothes are drying by the fire now as Alpine explores the apartment, sniffing around curiously. Bucky is curious as well, but he’s been so busy drinking in the sight of Tony after almost two years of nothing that he hasn’t taken the time yet to look around.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” Tony asks eventually.

He shrugs. “I came to find you.”

“Thought I made it obvious I didn’t want to be found.”

“I thought we had unfinished business,” Bucky says quietly. He gazes at Tony steadily until Tony squirms and turns away, busying himself with the coffeepot on the counter. He prepares two cups of coffee, one with more sugar than most people can stand and one with more milk than coffee, and hands the one with milk to Bucky.

Bucky takes one sip and blinks in surprise. “This is decaf,” he says.

“Yeah, and?”

“Tony, you don’t drink decaf. You called it the devil’s brew.”

There’s a hint of a smile lurking around the corners of Tony’s mouth as he raises his own cup to his mouth. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Seems like you’ve forgotten a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like how I promised you I’d follow you anywhere.”

Tony stills for a moment before he puts his cup back down on the counter. “Bucky—”

“Tony, why?” Bucky asks, not even bothering to hide the anguish in his voice. It’s how he’s felt every day since Tony disappeared two years ago. “You told me we’d talk the next day, only I woke up to find you’d run. Did I push too hard? Was it not what you wanted?” He stops, frustrated and upset, and scrubs his hand over his face.

“Bucky, no,” Tony says, dismayed. He moves forward, taking Bucky’s hands between his. “It wasn’t you. You have to believe me. It was never you.”

“Then what was it?”

Tony bites his lip, hesitating. Even without using his Sight, Bucky can see golden magic swirling under Tony’s skin, pooling at his hands where they’re touching Bucky’s. He blinks and now he can see his own magic, cool silver, gathering at his fingertips, aching to reach out and touch Tony’s. Their magic has always been compatible, always stronger when they’re together, even before Bucky figured out his complicated feelings for Tony.

“Doll?” he asks, immediately regretting the pet name when it makes Tony flinch. He doesn’t take it back though. This is who he is, a little old-fashioned and a little flirty and a lot in love with Tony Stark.

“It’s me,” Tony eventually admits, looking down at their hands as though he can see the magic too. “I got scared. It’s—I’m not who you think I am.”

“Not what? Not a Jarvis? Tony, I’ve known that for ten years.”

Tony’s head jerks up so fast Bucky’s own neck aches in sympathy. “What did you say?”

“Tony, I know you’re not a Jarvis,” Bucky says again, patiently. He’s never admitted this to anyone before, let alone Tony. He can afford to be careful right now.

“How did you know that?” Tony breathes. “We’ve never told anyone.”

“Except for the Headmistress,” Bucky points out. “You prob’ly had to tell her so she could help you with your abilities.”

“We did,” Tony whispers.

He shrugs. “Stevie and I overheard her one time. She said your magic came from the Carbonell line. I got curious, thought it might explain why you and the Jarvises are so different, so I looked it up.”

“You didn’t think that was invading my privacy?”

The words are harsh but Tony doesn’t look upset. He looks—hopeful, almost, like he wants to believe Bucky knows everything about him and doesn’t judge him for it. It makes Bucky bold and he steps forward, right into Tony’s space, as he tugs one of his hands free and uses it to tuck one of Tony’s curls behind his ear, fingers brushing against his cheek.

“You are a puzzle I’ve only ever wanted to solve,” Bucky murmurs, bowing his head to rest his forehead against Tony’s. His hand cups Tony’s cheek for the briefest moment and then falls to his shoulder. Tony closes his eyes and inhales shakily. “But the moment the trail went cold, I stopped looking. It didn’t seem right to keep digging.”

“What did you find?” Tony asks.

“Two names: Howard Stark and Maria Carbonell, that’s it.”

Tony nods. “Those were my parents.”

“Were?”

“Could be are. I don’t know where they went after they left me, but I stopped calling them mine the moment they were gone.”

“What happened?” He feels Tony tense under his hand and quickly adds, “If you want to tell me. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“No, it’s—I want to,” Tony says, sounding frustrated. The space between his brows furrows in irritation. “I’ve just never told anyone and—I’m not sure I’m ready to tell the full story yet. It’s a lot.”

“Whatever you’re ready for, then. And when you’re ready for the rest, I’ll be right here to listen.”

Tony takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “I was born at Rosewood Manor,” he says quietly.

“That place outside of town?”

“Mmhmm. That’s my magic you probably saw guarding it.”

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony, that place looks like it hasn’t had anyone living there for fifteen years.”

“Over twenty actually. I was three when—when that happened.”

“You were three? And you had that kind of control?”

Tony laughs humorlessly. “Believe me, that night I had no control at all.” He falls silent. Bucky waits for more, but Tony seems to be done talking for tonight, so he turns his head and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth instead.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says.

Tony grimaces. “Not like I told you much of anything.”

“You told me what you were comfortable with. Believe me, doll, after two years of nothing—”

“You keep doing that,” Tony interrupts. “Calling me doll.”

Bucky hesitates. “I thought you liked it when I did that.”

Tony looks away, a bitter twist to his mouth. “I left.”

“Yeah…”

“I left right after you kissed me because I was scared and couldn’t face up to what was going on between us even though I promised we’d talk.”

Bucky waits, sure that if he stays silent, Tony will explain further. It’s a trick that he’s used in the past and it’s always worked. Sure enough, after another couple moments:

“You know, I was so sure you were dating Steve? Let me finish please,” Tony says calmly, holding up a hand when Bucky opens his mouth. “You don’t know what it was like. I might have met Steve first but it was so clear that you two were a lot closer than I would ever be with him. So yes, I was convinced you two were dating and that I was alone in my feelings and when I found out I wasn’t, I panicked. I thought it was Tony Jarvis you liked, not—”

“I like you,” Bucky interrupts, unable to keep hearing Tony talk about how he’d thought Bucky wasn’t serious about him, when he thinks maybe it’s the only thing he’s ever been serious about. “I like you as Tony Jarvis, Tony Carbonell, Tony Stark, or just plain Tony.”

“Like?” Tony asks shyly.

Bucky grins and kisses the other corner of Tony’s mouth. “Do you think I would have kept searching for you for two years if I didn’t still like you?”

Tony leans back for a moment, searching his eyes for something before he eventually says, “And what about Tony Barnes?”

Bucky’s heart about stops. He wheezes out, “You—”

“It’s not—I needed a name when I came back to Ravenspoint. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was and it’s a small town. People know every other name I go by, but—I didn’t think you’d mind or I wouldn’t—”

Bucky can’t stop himself anymore. He frames Tony’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly. It’s closed-mouthed and chaste and it’s still the best damn kiss he’s ever had, next to the only other time he kissed Tony. Tony’s hands flutter in the air for a second before wrapping around Bucky’s waist, clutching him to him.

“I love you calling yourself by my name,” he says hoarsely, pulling away long enough to get the words out before he kisses Tony again. “And one day, I swear I’ll give you that name for real, forever and always.” This time, it’s Tony who whfigmenters and kisses him again, sucking Bucky’s tongue into his mouth as Bucky’s hands slide back into his hair to hold him right where he wants him.

“Wait,” Tony pants, struggling against Bucky’s grip to move away. Bucky lets him go reluctantly, gratified when Tony only moves a couple inches. “How did you find me?”

“Your magic,” Bucky tells him, trailing kisses across every inch of his face. “It’s been callin’ out to me since the day you left, leavin’ me a trail to follow.”

“Lucky me,” Tony whispers.

And as Bucky kisses him again, unable to resist for a single second, he thinks to himself, No. Lucky me.

#alle writes #winteriron #birthday prompts #if you like please consider reblogging #alle answers #jkirk09

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