#anyway. been really into markers lately huh.

[ghostpajamas]

my pretty princess with a bomb in his backpack

#ghostart #sorry i draw everyone with big beautiful eyes and pouty lips and looking downward. NOT SORRY ACTUALLY ! #anyway. been really into markers lately huh. #golden kamuy #kiroranke

[picklypickle]

- The only one -

a/n: hiii everyone!! this is my first little story, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, if you want to see more of my writing feel free to send me a request!! Enjoy! ;) words: 1.9k

warnings: tiny bit of swearing, I wrote this with a fem reader, kinda jealous Melissa

When you walk into the staff room in the morning, the first person you notice is your beautiful girlfriend, sitting at her usual table, sipping her coffee with her work wife, Barb, right next to her. At first, she doesn’t notice you, being way too preoccupied by whatever story Barbara is telling. But when she does turn to you, with a frown still on her face from the conversation that was happening prior, her gaze softens and she gives you a soft smile only you can recognize as an “I love you”.

“There she is!” you hear Jacob saying from across the room “Where were you? How come you didn’t get here at the same time as Melissa? Oh no, did you guys fight?” He nervously says as he quickly makes his way over to you.

“Nooo!! No no, I was just running a little bit late so I told Mel to leave without me, thank you for your concern tho!” you laugh.

Everyone at Abbott knew you and Melissa were together, infact, they were the ones who had gotten you two together in the first place, six months ago and they were the biggest fans too. If anything ever happened between you two, your colleagues would probably be more crushed than you and your own girlfriend.

You hear the teacher’s lounge door open and turn around to see who it might be. Suddenly, one of your very close friends and fellow teacher at Abbott, Lauryn, bursts into the room with her usual smile plastered on her face. When she sees you waving, she makes her way over to you.

“Hey girl!! Such a nice day today huh?” she says.

“It is! Oh my god I love your dress!!” you exclaim as you look up and down at her outfit. She is wearing the most beautiful flower patterned dress. You make a mental note to look online for a similar one when you get home tonight.

“Thank you so much!! You know, I bet it would make that perfect ass of yours stand out, you should get one.” She says and proceeds to lick her lips.

You blush out of embarrassment. Did she forget you are with someone? Even worse, that Melissa is literally sitting not even 2 meters from where this very awkward interaction just took place and heard it? You quickly try and look at Jacob, trying to see if he heard the same thing, but unfortunately, he has already left and is talking to Gregory. You quickly glance over at your girlfriend who you can tell very well, has her fists clenched so hard and is fuming right now.

“Uh, thanks!” you try to say as normally as possible, trying to hide the confusion in your face.  “Um anyways, I really have to go, the kids are going to get here soon.” You quickly say and wave goodbye, smiling at her. You rush out of the room, wanting to get away from this whole situation as fast as possible. However, Melissa notices this weird behavior, as she is getting up to come check on you Barb sits her back down. 

“Melissa, you heard what she said, the kids will be getting here soon, she probably just wants to prepare everything.” she says “And besides i'm not done with my story yet, so sit back down.” she adds, while tugging at her sleeve to bring her back down.

When you get to your classroom, you start writing everything you need down on the board, such as the date and the kids schedule that they can rely on during the day. While you’re writing with your favouite purple dry erase marker, your mind starts to wander off. You start to think about how everyone has been telling you for weeks now that Lauryn might be in love with you, but you’ve just been denying it and shrugging it off. But now, you’re starting to wonder if it’s actually true. It’s not like you’re into Lauryn or anything, you have the best girlfriend in the world! Infact, Lauryn’s flirty comments are starting to make you feel uncomfortable, you thought she knew that you were dating Melissa…maybe she forgot?

Before you know it, the bell rings and your little kiddos are running in and hugging you like they normally do every morning. You snap out of your thoughts and start your lesson, you’ll deal with the issue eventually, but for now, all that matters is your students.

★

After lunch was your free period while your students were in gym class. Today, you preferred to avoid everyone and stay in your classroom to do some grading on the most recent test.

Just as you put a sticker on the last copy, you hear a soft knock at the door, you turn arround expecting to see Melissa but you’re met with Lauryn’s grin, holding her cellphone.

“Hey! Am I bothering you?” She asks, peeking into your classroom to see if anyone else is there.

“Nope, I just finished grading these papers.” You reply, gesturing to the stack of documents on the corner of your desk.

“Ahhh alright well, I need to show you this video, it’s so us!” She says excitedly and comes to stand next to where you’re sitting down.

You start to watch the video but quickly realise it’s dedicated to couples… you stop paying attention and focus more on the reflection of the glass of the phone, when you see Lauryn, she’s not.. looking at the video? You try to see what she’s looking at and realize that she is staring directly at your cleavage, practically drooling too. You get red. You get uncomfortable. You start to pray for her to leave or someone to wal-

Someone knocks at the door, again.

“Am I interrupting something?” You look up, recognizing the voice. 

Melissa is standing at the door, hands on her hips.

“Oh hey Melissa!” says Lauryn “You aren’t interrupting anything, I was just showing Y/N this video.” She goes to show Mel the clip.

Your girlfriend clearly also realizes the video is meant for couples and clears her throat, crossing her arms. This makes you look up at her. You can see that she’s jealous, she is part of the group of people that think Lauryn is in love with you and she is also not having it right now.

“Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it!” Says Lauryn, she waves goodbye at the two of you and walks out of your classroom. Clearly she knows that you and Mel are together, so what is this all about?

You and your girlfriend stare at eachother for what feels like forever, until you decide to speak up first.

“Look I d-” You start.

“What the hell was that?” Your girlfriend cuts you off.

“Listen Melissa, I have no idea she just, ugh!” You say, being exhausted from this whole situation “Please don’t be mad, I don’t feel like fighting, I’ll talk to her later.” You finish.

“Hon,I'm not mad, heck if anything I'm jealous!” she says, uncrossing her arms and slowly walking towards you “She’s always making these comments and remarks about your body and undressing you with her eyes! I’m the only one who gets to do that here. And the worst part is, I can tell you hate it, it makes you extremely uncomfortable.” She continues, bending down infront of you and resting her hands on the armrests of your chair. You blush, she knows you perfectly.

“It does.” You say, getting more and more red. You quickly look down at her lips, unknowingly licking your own. The redhead in front of you notices.

“I know it does” she answers, bending her face down to yours, your mouths are inches away from each other “And no, i’ll be the one to do something about it.” 

You smile before kissing her softly, she kisses you back with just as much softness. After a moment, the kiss starts to turn more and more hungry. She places her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You smile into the kiss. The school bell suddenly rings, signaling that you have to go get your kids from the gym. 

You groan as you pull away from her mouth

“Fuck, I have to go get my kids at the gym! I’m so sorry Mel, I'll talk to you later!” You quickly peck her lips before exiting your class.

Melissa stays there for a moment, smiling to herself, thinking about how much she loves you. 

★

It’s the end of the day, you students have alrea dy gone home and all that’s left to do is go down to the teacher’s lounge to collect your things that you had left there. 

When you get there, you’re greeted by all your friends who are also gathering their things.

“Hey girl, did you have a good day? I didn’t see you around much?” Asks Janine, with a small frown, her face slightly coated in worry.

“Yes I had a good day, I just had a lot of grading to do and preferred to do it in my own space.” You reply reassuringly.

“Oh okay!” She smiles at you.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” You recognize the voice, it’s Lauryn “Do you think maybe.. you’d wanna um, get drinks or something tonight?” She asks nervously.

“Uh, um” you have no idea what to say “I uh..”

Melissa, who was talking to Barb as per usual, notices you and Lauryn right away and decides that this is her time to shine, this is where this little Lauryn thing stops. 

“Hey, Lauryn?” Melissa says while approaching you from behind “Have you ever noticed in the last six months that, I don’t know, me and Y/N are dating? Or did you just think we were joking?”

“Oh! Well..” The girl in front of you says 

“Save it glasses, and save up that money for a new pair because this one isn’t working” Mel says “Now back the fuck off before I throw you down the stairs and the only drinks you’ll be getting are jello cups from the hospital” She finishes, before quickly turning around to grab her things and you by the arm and dragging you out the door.

“Oh, bye guys!!” She loudly says to everyone else in the room to make sure everyone heard.

“Bye Melissa!” Janine awkwardly says and makes her way towards Lauryn to check on her, not to comfort her, just to make sure no one ends up hating her in the future.

★

When you get to Melissa’s car, you can’t help but smile at her, and then well, laugh. You had no idea she was going to do this right then and there but she did. She joins the laughing fit after a few seconds.

“Oh how I love you!” You kiss her passionately before turning to your own car “I’ll see you at home sweetheart!” You yell at her before shutting your car door and starting your engine.

“I love you more hon, i’ll cook you your favorite pasta for dinner!” She yells back before shutting her car door as well.

With that, you both drive away to where was originally only Melissa’s house, but is now yours too, and you plan on it being for a very long time. Plus, you get to look for that new dress you want! 

#melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic #oneshot #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x reader #i love her

[luveline]

can i pls request a hurt/comfort eddie drabble with hugs and reassurance? maybe someone did something that’s been on their mind and upsetting them. thank you!

i love comforting eddie so much and after make up i cant help remebering how good josephs hugs look so we know eddie gives the best ones ever <3

Eddie climbs through your open bedroom window and your heart rockets, startled at his sudden intrusion.

"You really need to start closing it if you're gonna react this bad every time," he says, dropping his beat up jansport by the sill and kicking off his shoes. "Move over." 

His appearance makes you feel much less miserable than you had, though it still lingers as you push your back to the wall. You and Eddie don't fit comfortably on your twin bed but that's never stopped him from trying, crushing in by your side, his arm pressed to yours. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he says finally, lolling his head toward you. 

"Hey, Eddie." 

"What were you doing? Sleeping?" he asks. 

You nod though it's not true, turning on your side to steal back a fraction of space. Eddie has this way of drawing the truth from you and you're not sure you wanna talk about it tonight. 

"You look sad. You wanna hug?" he asks. 

And that's your plan for space gone. It would be more suspicious to say you don't, because you always want a hug from Eddie. He gives the most amazing hugs, all strong armed and caring, his hands rubbing over the plane of your back slowly like he has nowhere else he'd rather be. His hugs are so good that you could believe it; that he loves them just as much as you do. 

You nod and he sits up, arms open and reaching for you. You sit up the same, enough to wrap your arms around his ribs and back. 

"You weren't really sleeping," he says. 

"No." 

"Mm," he hums, working his face into the side of yours, his lips skipping over the shell of your ear. "What's wrong, huh? Tell me." 

"Nothing serious," you confess slowly. 

"But it is something?" And there, his hand rubbing over your back, working away the tense ache. His rings are missing. Usually you can feel their weight, their ridges as they push over your spine. 

"Not really, Eddie." 

He groans quietly, almost good-humoured. Very much, I don't believe you. He's so nice and he smells beautiful, soft and warm, his arms strong as a cage but never that cruel, and his asking, all of it makes you want to cry. 

"Not really. I'm feeling a small chance that it's something. I mean, you don't have to tell me. But I wanna know, so…" 

You're limp to his solid, mild to his fierce. He pats your back a few good times and then holds you at arm's length. 

"Do you have, like, a stomach ache?" 

"No, I'm alright. Just…" 

"Artist block?" he asks. 

Not quite. You shake your head and then change your mind, deciding that artist's block sounds less pathetic than, 'someone saw my sketchbook and rolled their eyes and I've been sad for two days'. And not normal sad. Can't eat, don't want to move, sad. 

"Yeah," you agree, smiling weakly. "Yeah." 

"I noticed…" Eddie says, standing from the bed to retrieve his backpack before returning so fast he half sits on you. "That you haven't been doing your portraits lately." He unzips his bag and pulls out a smaller bag, made from a white paper with blue writing over the sides. "And I remembered how your nice inks all ran out. So, I went out to Indianapolis," his tone shifts, like he's listing something totally boring, "all the way down to that place behind Freeman's Ice Cream with the glass storefront, and the lady was totally pissed with me for getting all this Hawkins dirt," he grins deviously, "on their nice rug." 

He passes you the bag. "Anyway. That's for you, sweetheart." 

"Eddie…" 

"Don't sound too mushy yet. I don't know if they're the right ones." 

His shift from cocky to nervous is endearing. 

You shake the bag's contents into your lap. An assortment of things fall out. A big inky pen for portraits, a refill. Two pencils with blue wood. An eraser. Four markers, four colours. 

You slide your finger over the barrel of a marker. It's a dark red.

"I know you don't use much colour," he starts. "I thought it might help. Well, I asked one of the assistants. About, like, art block. And they said to try something new.

I liked the colours. I don't know if they're useful. But. I don't know. They suit you." 

A dark red, blue, green. A buttery yellow orange. 

"Eddie, you didn't have to." 

"I kind of did. If you think about it." 

You get what he means. The same way you get him a pack of cherry twizzlers everytime you see them, or always have a hair tie on your wrist. 

You cover your face with your hands, wanting to hide how embarrassed you feel. How overcome with affection for him. 

He yanks your wrists. "What?" 

"Nothing." 

"Don't cry. Hey." He scowls at your watery eyes. "Hey, don't. What's wrong? It's only a couple of pens." 

"You don't think I'm awful?" you ask quietly. "At drawing?" 

"No. Of course I don't. I love your art." His scowl softens. "Did someone say something? I can get violent." 

"It's stupid," you say. 

He's quiet. You take the red marker in your hand, turning it over and over and over. He's kept a hold of one of your wrist, his thumb pushing into your pulse then upward, into the meat of your palm. 

"The piece you did for my last campaign? You know how fucking amazing that shit was? All in black and white but everyone could tell how emotional it was. You made it something so dimensional and gory and crazy without any colour at all." He sews your fingers together. You meet his eyes. Brown, edged in a burst of dark, long lashes. "If you can do that shit in graphite I'm genuinely scared of the stuff you could make with colour. And when I say scared I mean I'm salivating. Like a dog." 

You scrunch up your nose and squeeze his fingers. He squeezes back. 

"Not that I'm expecting a thank you, but I am." 

"Yeah?" you ask, sniffing, grinning wide enough to hurt your cheeks. 

"Yep. It involves your hands." Your eyes jump to his and his laugh is golden. "A hug, sweetheart. Why, what were you thinking?" 

"Shut up, jerk." You crawl over the art supplies, paper crinkling under your knees as you hug him tenaciously. 

He rubs your back and says, "That's better." 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine

[stxrmylxve]

First: I'm sorry, I know you just stated an event and I've been sending a bunch of requests, so PLEASE take your time and put off anything you need to! Never feel obligated to fulfill a request if you've got other stuff going on, I promise I'm understanding of the fact that we all have lives and other things going on in them.

Second: Apologizing a second time, because I decided to send this one in (I had it saved in my drafts and was going to scrap it) because I got really sad and needed some comedy.

Kazutora, Mikey, Chifuyu, Baji, Kokonoi, and Draken with an S/O who playfully runs away from them when they're about the be questioned regarding pranks being pulled on them (I.E. hiding Draken's tools in unusual places, putting sticky notes on their clothes with funny messages that make others giggle, drawing cat whiskers on Chifuyu with washable markers but while he sleeps) S/O be like: "Wha? WHO DID THAT? Uh-uh, not me, NO sir! Innocent till proven guilty," and if they chase S/O: "AAAAAH IT WASN'T MEEEE!"

A/N: sorry for the late answer, life hit and holy fuck it is unnecessarily stressful sometimes huh?

Kazutora:

What you did: Left a funny note on the back of his shirt

okay kazutora wants a good start back in life, and when people start laughing at him it makes him a little suspicious again

he has no clue what he is wearing half the time, muchless cares to looks for a message

…why do i feel like he might get a little mad?

in private, ofc

he would rant about it to you for a good while and it is hard to keep your composure

“…you wrote it on my back?”

… he chases you for hours, beware.

Mikey:

What you did: Didn’t give him a flag on his food

you’re his flag person, how could you forget a flag for him?!

throws a damn tantrum and calls up draken so that he will come to bring the flag for him

”you don’t have my flag? …why.?”

he gets so sad oml

“I just forgot it, that’s all. It’s in my bag at home…”

he glares at you for a good day or so (or more)

Chifuyu:

What you did: Drew a cat in sharpie on his chest

chifuyu shows his chest at meetings. okay that sounds weird. he goes on rants and for some reason breaks out his chest and wabam, there is a huge cat face he didn’t know about on full display

mikey has to stiffle a laugh since this is an official meeting, but chifuyu flat out leaves

”did you seriously draw on my chest last night?”

”me? noooo, I would never. Hey i gotta go walk peke j outside to go swimming, i gotta go-“

poor baby

Baji:

What you did: Hid his favorite hairbrush

this man is a DIVA and will FIGHT for his hairbrush

anyways, hr gets so pissed and reminds me of inosuke randomly yelling

”WHO THE FUCK TOOK MY HAIRBRUSH”

… you’re the only one in the house. obviously it was you. duh.

he questions you day in and out trying to solve the ‘mystery’, but when it shows up mysteriously the next day, he tackles you again for questioning

no literally, tackles you onto the bed and asks you sm 💀

Koko:

What you did: stored a wad of cash for tonight’s dinner/shopping elsewhere

he doesn’t really care until you throw a fake fit saying how much you had been looking forward to paying in cash for your stuff

then he perked up, but got nervous instead

he often misplaces things, but never his money. thought it wad a robbery and checked the cameras, only to find you snooping around

he is fine w it though, he even plays along and acts dumb

”you know i saw you on the cameras, right?”

”me? no. that was my.. sister, koko. we looks identical heh.”

Draken:

What you did: ‘Accidentally’ misplaced a few of his tools

you can not be playing games the man is on a TIME CRUNCH

he flips the whole shop upside down before you rush in to stop with panic

”baby it was just a prank! they’re over there.” you usher him to a corner where everything was neatly places, and a huge sigh escapes his lips

not only was everything there instead of robbed, it was all still organized neatly enough to his liking

he has a different approach and pecks your lips with a small ‘thanks’ before going back to work

a total mystery 💁‍♀️

#kokonoi x y/n #tr kokonoi #hajime kokonoi #kokonoi x reader #kokonoi hajime #koko x reader #koko has me feeling things lately #draken ryuguji #draken x reader #draken imagine #draken #draken fluff #draken x y/n #draken x you #sano manjiro #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey x y/n #mikey x you #mikey x reader #mikey #manjiro sano #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo revengers manjiro sano #sano manjiro x reader #tokrev manjiro #manjiro x y/n #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #chifuyu tokyo revengers #chifuyu x reader #tokyo revengers chifuyu

[naoko-world]

I draw yesterday, today for day 5 of the Encantober, I'm writing again! And this is fluff this time!

@encantober-official

Encantober day 5: pranks!

One day when Mirabel was stitching some new clothes for Antonio, Camilo approached her with a mischievous smile. Since it didn't announce anything good, she tried ignoring him but he decided against her ignoring him and came very close to her to suggest in a low voice "Let's prank Tío Bruno!"

"No."

"Huh? Why? Could be fun!"

"Because I won't prank Tío Bruno."

"But it's been years we haven't pulled any prank together, and I don't think it'll bother him, I'm even pretty sure he'd like it."

"What kind of prank do you even want to pull on him anyway?"

At that question, Camilo smiled a bit more, explaining "I want to take advantage of him taking a siesta to draw on his face!"

She watched at him with an unreadable face, clearly trying to evaluate whether or not it would be fun. She looked a bit toward her work for Antonio, before showing a malicious smile and he confirmed Camilo’s thoughts “OK, I’m in! It could be really fun!”, making him answer her smile.

Later, Camilo was waiting for Mirabel near Bruno’s napping spot. She was late though, and he started to worry she would arrive too late, when he saw her running to him, holding both marker pens she had been charged to fetch. She apologized, “Lo siento Camilo! I didn’t remember where I put them.”

“No worries, the main point is that you’re here now! We’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

He took the pen she held to him, then sneakily got closer to Bruno, containing his laughing, followed by Mirabel. With a malicious grin, he uncapped the marker to write “el dormilón” on his forehead and was about to do so when he heard a squeak inside the marker, making him stop on his track to check the inside of it, noticing it had been opened. A rat jumped from it, startling Camilo, hurrying to lying onto Bruno’s chest, shaking, while his tío was revealed to actually be awake.

He was smiling to him while lovingly petting his rat, apologizing “Sorry Maria, we had to do it! Good job though, you’re the best!” Then, while Mirabel was laughing, he explained to Camilo with a playful grin “Sorry to you too Camilo, MIrabel told me you wanted to prank me and suggest me to prank you in turn to teach you bothering her when she’s stitching.”

Under two laughs, Mirabel managed to say “If you could see your face! You look like you learned El Silbón was wandering in the area!”

Camilo joked, with a mischievous grin “Maybe he’s here to bring his bag of bones to you.”

Faking fear, Mirabel answered him with “Oh no!”

“Sí! He’ll catch you alive and kill you like he killed his father!”

She started running around the house, laughing, followed by Camilo who took El Silbón’s appearance to try to scare her.

#encanto #encantober #my writing #encanto ficlet #encanto drabble #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal #bruno madrigal #pranks

[isaacapatow]

* * #GRAVEYARD CONVO WITH @hazelparsons

Hazel Parsons: -hazel goes to the graveyard once a week, even when there are no good flowers, to pay her respects; she has just put down a daffodil under the wooden cross with oliver's name, when she hears footsteps on the gravel behind her- Really now? It had to be you, of all people to interrupt me?

ike apatow: Interrupt you? I didn't know you had sole rights to the boneyard.

Hazel Parsons: -she would have played nice if he did, but it has rarely been nice between them- Definitely more rights than you, since I didn't put any of those bones in the ground.

ike apatow: -he leans back, letting out a low groan- Ahhh, we're back to that, huh? -comes over to stand next to her, looking down at Oliver's grave marker- The grieving not-quite-widow. Ever think it might be time to take off the mourning weeds? 

Hazel Parsons: -she turns to the grave again, not even bothering to glance up at him, just feeling him towering over her- Nah, I think I'll take my time. It's what happens when people you love get brutally murdered. What are you even doing here, since mourning is so funny to you?

ike apatow: Laughing over my friends' graves. What else?

Hazel Parsons: Sounds about right. -she dramatically rolls her eyes and turns to look up at him- Go on then, what's keeping you here? Unless you want to claim that Oliver was your friend as well.

ike apatow: You know I didn't really know him. -looks down at her for a while, scanning her face, then over her shoulder at the cross- But he must've had some kinda shine on 'im for you to be out here looking as torn-up as the day we put him here.

Hazel Parsons: He was the reason we're all alive, but I won't waste my time trying to explain that to you. -she touches the flower with the tip of her boot, moving it closer to the cross- The day you put him in here, I was on some clinic bed having my stomach sewn back together. But that counts as torn-up in a literal sense, I suppose.

ike apatow: ...yeah. I guess that counts. -rocks back on his heels, sticking his hands in his pockets- I got nothing but time, lately. If you do wanna tell me about him.

Hazel Parsons: -she scoffs- Will you make us tea? Should I bring cookies? We're not friends, Ike. -she crosses her arms on her chest, slightly intrigued by his willingness- Aren't you busy kicking ass, taking names, going on raids and coming back with even more poor lost survivor souls?

ike apatow: We don't have to be friends for that. Sometimes people talking in group hated each others' fuckin' guts but, I dunno. Can be easier to talk to someone you think is shitty about things that you can't say to anybody decent. -he twists his mouth to the side for a minute, then says- I'm not all the way out on raids again. I'm townbound for now. -then in a rush, more breezily- I never bother taking names, anyhow. When you kick as much ass as me, it would fill volumes. Whole libraries.

Hazel Parsons: Okay, I'll put it another way. I don't think I can talk to you about Oliver without remembering you got him killed, and I can't be reminded of that without wanting to break your nose, at the very least. You don't see many convicts' families catching up with the executioners, do you? -she stops herself, lets her eyes wonder to the far end of the graveyard, the silhouette of her dog visible running in the field; he keeps talking as she calms herself down and his words make her burst out in a sarcastic laugh- So that's what Lucien keeps in the library. I should have figured. Who has you townbound anyway? The docs? The council? Never seemed like the kind of person who would sit still on their ass just because someone said so.

ike apatow: Gives Lucien something to do other than discuss books where roguish Lord Bingbong the Third ravishes Doily the feisty chambermaid. -he follows her gaze to where her dog's running around having a grand old time, likewise finding the sight calming- I'm sitting on my ass because it's probably good for me. I don't want to... -trails off for a while before circling back- You've got the wrong metaphor, there. It would be more like the victim's family catching up with an accomplice to the killing.

Hazel Parsons: -she catches herself almost laughing at his fantasy description and manages to drown it, scrunching her nose and licking her lips; the silence is nice for a second, before ike speaks again, refusing to drop the subject- Is that supposed to make someone feel better? Me? You? Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?

ike apatow: I'm just talking, Hazel. I got no clue on what would make you feel better.

Hazel Parsons: Yeah, me neither. -she says, suddenly tired; she takes a step to the side and leaves and puts down another flower on genevieve's grave, right next to oliver's- If you're actually visiting someone, I've got spare flowers. The gardeners said there's some frost coming and they would wither soon, so they gave me more than I asked for.

ike apatow: All Ginny needs is a stone, but... -looks over at Tristan's grave- Sure. I'll take a posy. Thank you. -dithers, then- Would it make you feel better to know I don't really sleep at night?

Hazel Parsons: It depends. What keeps you up?

ike apatow: Ghosts. Memories that won't stay buried. Aches in places I can't pinpoint. Are you a good sleeper? In all my life I've never met anyone said they were a good sleeper.

Hazel Parsons: Sounds about right. -she says, but it doesn't actually make her feel any better- I sleep enough to function, so that's something. Still up at the crack of dawn though. Even Hooch knows this and is ready to be let out of the house at the first ray of sun.

ike apatow: Hmmmm. -rocks back on his heels some more, looking over at the house near the graveyard, still uninhabited- I thought maybe of taking over Ginny's house out here. Living outside the fence instead of inside.

Hazel Parsons: -she glances over at the house and back to the tombstones, her expression puzzled- I'm sure you have some fucked up answer about this, but you'd rather live closer to the dead and the walking dead?

ike apatow: Tell you a secret? -he rolls his head to look over at her with a slight smile- I always thought it was a boneheaded move of hers. She wasn't any kind of fighter, she had no business living out here. She wouldn't have been able to protect herself. It was Ginny being a fuckin' stubborn blowhard and making a statement, was all. -gazes back at the house, up to the roof- Me, though. I'd do fine. And sometimes I think it might be better if I didn't live among with everyone.

Hazel Parsons: I guess some people just have a death wish. -she shrugs, looking over at Ginny's grave- I don't mean to sound heartless and may she rest in peace, but I don't blame those who would rather not live this life of constant fear. You one of those, or just can't take the constant gossip back there? -she nods towards the fence-

ike apatow: I'm not scared of much. But sometimes living in there feels like it's getting on top of me, yeah. -blows out a low breath- Kinda refreshing to talk to somebody who doesn't think we should tiptoe around the shrine of Ginny's memory. She did have a death wish. You're the only one who's actually said it.

Hazel Parsons: Careful there, Ike. I might start to think you actually like me. But what's the point sugarcoating things anyway? The world is fucking ending, so if I have to be the bitch who says these things, so be it. If anything, I think Ginny would appreciate it.

ike apatow: What reason have I got to not like you? Nobody ever dislikes the town veterinarian except the guy in the movie you want everyone to know is the asshole. -chews a little bit before saying- She would appreciate it, coming from you. I meant to put a weathervane on the roof but I didn't get around to it while she was alive. Maybe I will now.

Hazel Parsons: I think I would be part of the asshole crew in the movie. And being nice to animals would be that redeeming quality they have to give me to make it more believable. -she listens to him with her hands crossed on her chest- I would say this is you 'tiptoeing around the shrine of Ginny's memory', but fuck it, do whatever you feel like. The dead are a very strong motive, I stayed in town just because my dad died and look where it got me.

ike apatow: Look where it got you. -he regards her for a moment, gaze straying down to her midsection where he knows her scar is- You stayed because your dad died, but - how 'bout for him? -lifts his chin in the direction of Oliver's cross- What about all that?

Hazel Parsons: I like to think I'd already be dead if I had left. Well, not like to think about it, you know how the figure of speech goes. -one arm drops to cover her stomach, as if to protect it from ike's gaze- I don't think I'd lose Oliver if I left. Just like I didn't lose him and Jason when I was away for a decade. They weren't the reason I stayed, but they were the reason I still had a home here. -she crouches down next to the cross, putting a second flower, one just not feeling enough- They were very good people, you know.

ike apatow: Well, they left one helluva fuckin' legacy. -he waits till she stands up again, then tucks his tongue into his cheek, regarding her with one eye narrowed- How good are you at climbing ladders?

Hazel Parsons: -she narrows her eyes as well, curious to see where he's going with this- Pretty good in general, did a lot of work like that with my dad. But if you're the one holding it, I'll have to constantly keep an eye on you to make sure you don't let me fall. So you know, might take a little longer.

ike apatow: No, I'd be up there with you. -he points off with his nose at the roof of Ginny's house- Normally I'd be fine doing it myself, putting up a lil ol' weathervane, but I'm not the steadiest these days. I'm not anticipating falling off the damn roof, but it would be good to have somebody else with me. Hold it straight while I get it sorted.

Hazel Parsons: And you're asking me for help? -she asks, raising her chin at him, feeling like something doesn't quite add up- What about your raiders? Your precious Council? Aren't you scared I'll push you off the roof?

ike apatow: Didn't I just say I ain't scared of nothin'? -he grins at her, wide and careless, taking off his cap to rub a hand over the healing wound on his head a couple times - careful not to actually scratch it - before putting it back on- I have them, yeah. I wanna do it without them. Nobody who tiptoes around Ginny.

Hazel Parsons: So there's no one who tells things how they are and also happens to like you? Maybe that means something, just saying. -her voice is sarcastic but it falters a little bit as her gaze meets what his cap had been hiding- The fuck happened to your head?

ike apatow: Accident while I was on a raid. It's on its way to getting better. I just get a little out of breath now and again. -he tips his chin, pointing at her- Wait. So you're saying people who like me are blowing smoke up my ass? For what reason?

Hazel Parsons: Are you sure you're not blaming it on the injury when in fact you're just getting old? -she smirks, holding up her hands in mock surrender- You know me, Ike, I'm full of shit. I can't really know what people think, can I? Maybe I'm just biased because I don't like you, but I have my reasons.

ike apatow: Yeah, you've got your reasons, very good ones. -he meets her smirk with one of his own, though it gets strained after a moment- I am. Getting old.

Hazel Parsons: Well, ain't that a fucking badge of honor these days? With so many not getting the chance.

ike apatow: -the smirk fades entirely and he presses his lips into a thin line- Well, maybe you might get lucky. I'm not so fast on my feet out there anymore.

Hazel Parsons: -his seriousness unsettles her, as well as the realization that she is almost worried- And you're gonna take away my godgiven right to kill you in your sleep one night? Don't be so heartless, Ike.

ike apatow: -that makes him laugh outright, and for a split second he looks at her like he might kiss her, but it passes- So you'll help me with the weathervane? If you decide you do wanna roll me off the roof, at least we'll both know it was a possibility.

Hazel Parsons: -she laughs along with him, but it dies out as her eyes fall on oliver's grave again, making her press her lips together- Fine. I'll help you. But you better not go around telling people I was nice to you or some shit. I've got a reputation to uphold.

ike apatow: -swipes a messy sign of the cross over his chest- I never blab on anybody if they're nice to me, don't you worry about that. -holds out one hand- Now gimme my flower so I can go put it on Tris' grave.

Hazel Parsons: -she looks down at his hand and shakes her head, reaches up for his head instead and tucks a flower behind his ear- See, now you look less like a bastard.

ike apatow: Impossible. That's half my charm. -he lifts his head, grinning, and then saunters off across the graveyard-

Hazel Parsons: -she gives a sharp whistle and hooch's ear shoot up, running from across the field to meet her, but not before stopping halfway to joyfully jump around ike's legs until he pets him- Stupid dog. -she murmurs and shakes her head, almost smiling-

#with: hazel #c: haz001

[strywoven-moved]

@crystalcracked asked : ❝ oh , you must tell me the songs you know . i’d love to hear them . ❞ // kylan to kaen !

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

“Hear ‘em ?”  Can’t quite help the free-falling notes of a giggle which topples ‘round own echoed query ( indeed , a strange thing for him to say ! ) .  Kaen lifts a hand , gingerly ruffling the other’s neatly-kept hair.  What they say next is the least bit teasing , lilted by lighthearted pleasantness so rarely found of late ( a marker of kylan’s ability to draw their nature forth ; to dig to the quick & summon their good spiritedness ) , “Kylan , dun’ Ah sing ta’ ye a’most e’ry night ?”  A promise they’ve aspired to keep since they decided he was THEIR BROTHER ; his demons quelled by song , by the lullabies Kaen remembers in faint and fainter memories ( a once-mother holding her faun , abolishing their fears & singing them to sleep in a voice kaen only vaguely recognizes now ) .  “Ah s’ppose y’re not really askin’ ‘bout those old lullabies , though , huh ?”  Antlered head cocks curiously at him , red brows lifting.  They assume not , anyways.  He surely seeks the other songs they know from The Wyrd ( & there are many which rise to mind ) .

Carefully reaching ‘round him perched there in the loose fold of their legs , Kaen plucks up their PAN FLUTE ( ironically a gift from their father , a subtle endorsement of their interest in performing arts ) .  Bringing it to their lips , they play a lulling , trailing m e l a n c h o l y melody.  “Bein’ in th’ resistance reminds me o’ th’ sad songs most.”  The ones the forces would sing to each other in the dark of the night , Allyra mentioned , to restore resolve and enforce morale.  “... An’ th’ song Ah performed fer Allyra’s funerary rites , o’course.”  Distant expression overcomes them , eyes glazing momentarily as they stare OFF & AWAY to some unseen horizon back home.  Blinking out of the trance , they look back down to Kylan , “Not all o’ ‘em are sad , we’ve got some folk songs , too.”  Heard in their time sneaking into taverns , away from the confines of the Citadel , in the evenings commingling with the Folk and feigning they were SOMEONE ELSE for awhile ( someone normal ) . 

Smile is easily replaced , lighting up their stony features.  “Ah’d l o v e ta’ teach ‘em ta’ ye,” Spoken with an excitable nod.  “But ye’ll ‘ave ta’ do somethin’ fer me , aye ?  Teach me th’ songs ye know , too !  E’en in gelfling , Ah wanna …”  They were going to say ‘ take them home with me ’ but stop themself , frowning momentarily ( i’m not going to make it home , am i ? ) .  “... Ah wanna ‘ave somethin’ else ta’ share wit’ ye.  Like our own lil’ secret !”  Though it’s never been a secret the two of them were each musically inclined ; stirring the spirits of their company through the way of s o n g .  “Perhaps we can also … Make a song fer each other.”  Something about them , the godling means to say ; about an impossible bond , an impossible FAMILY .  Perhaps then … No-one would forget either of them.

#❧ ━ ❝ ooc || maybe queue really are just some forgotten story in the end || queue ❞ ━ ☙ #❧ ━ ❝ ch. kaen || answered ❞ ━ ☙ #❧ ━ ❝ ch. KAEN || verse vi: TDC ❞ ━ ☙ #crystalcracked #crystalcracked || kylan

[the-storming-sea]

For prompts: Todoroki using every single Toshi-Izuku interaction to add to his "Izuku is All Might's secret love child' conspiracy board

Tfw its been like two to three days but Many Things have happened in that time. Oops

Uh, anyways–

"Dude. What. The. Fuck."

Sero, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu stared, wide-eyed and nearly slack-jawed from the futon they currently sat at. Across from them, hanging off the wall was a large pinboard, polaroid pictures and newspapers articles with certain words and pictures circled in with bright red marker tacked onto different places, red string connecting each and every single one of those pictures together.

And in front of that pinboard stood Todoroki Shouto, one of the most powerful students at UA, son of the current Number One Hero, wide-eyed and wild-haired and probably, by definition, out of his fucking mind.

"Listen. I'm not crazy–"

"Literally everything that's happening now is providing evidence to the contrary."

"–but All Might is Midoriya's father."

"That's." Kirishima blinked, once, his brain attempting to process what his classmate was saying. "What?"

"All Might. Is. Midoriya's. Father," Todoroki said, slower, like he was trying to explain quantum physics to a toddler. Or to anyone.

"Todoroki, All Might's never been in a public relationship before," Yaoyorozu replied, slower. Of all of Todoroki's eccentricities, this had to be the weirdest one yet. "Not to mention, all of All Might's speculated relationships have been with men."

"Then at least one of his partners is trans, or he's trans!"

"They don't even look the same!"

"Then Midoriya gets his looks from his mother! They have the same quirk! They practically act the same!" Todoroki threw his hands up in exasperation, frost creeping on the side of his fingers. "I'm still right!"

"Bro, you've met Midoriya's mother."

"Artificial insemination! Adoption! Again, secret love child!"

Todoroki slapped his hand on the board, slightly burning the edges of one of the newspaper clippings. "Look, see here," he said, pointing to the clipping. Kirishima tentatively walked up, squinting at the headline. "Read this."

"'Mystery Samaritans Found Cleaning Up Takoba Beach.'" Kirishima frowned. "So?"

Sero's eyes brightened. "Oh, I remember that! I used to go to the beach all the time with my family," he said. "What's that gotta do with anything?"

"Look at this photo!"

Kirishima turned his eyes towards the photo, frowning. His eyes widened in shock.

"Holy shit, is that Midoriya?"

"Huh, so it is," Yaoyorozu said. "And...is that...?"

"YES!" Todoroki exclaimed, once again slapping his hand on the pinboard and startling his friends. "All Might, as he currently looks now, and Midoriya found at Takoba beach a full year before the school year starts. That means they knew each other before the school year started!"

"You repeated yourself."

"I know I know I know but why," Todoroki pressed, taking a deep breath, "why would All Might, in his weakened state before Kamino, be seen with Midoriya unless...unless that was his secret son."

He clapped his hands together just as he was finishing his point, clearly pleased by his argument. The three stared back at him, slightly alarmed.

"Or...maybe he just met him recently and they decided to clean the beach together," Yaoyorozu said tentatively. "It could happen."

"Or, or they decided to train for Midoriya's UA Exam together by lifting appliances at the beach! Or working out around the beach a year before!" he protested. "My father used to make me train by lifting up heavy objects ten times my size and pushing my quirk before the UA exam too!"

Sero frowned. "Todo, I know good parenting is a foreign concept to you, but comparing your relationship with your dad to Midoriya and All Might maybe isn't the best of ideas."

"I'm pretty sure Iida used to train with his hero brother in a very normal way," Todoroki nearly fucking pouted. The guy was really fired up– metaphorically and a little bit literally, judging by his floor. "But, but anyway, what I'm trying to say was that All Might, trying to make sure Midoriya would be strong enough for the entrance exam, made him clean up the beach because he was helping to train his son!"

Kirishima stared at him. "Bro."

"I'm right! Not to mention, why would he be in his thinner state around Midoriya if he wasn't his son?!"

"Maybe he told him about the weakened form back then by accident?" Sero said. "Todoroki, seriously. You're looking too deep into this."

"I agree," Yaoyorozu said. She loved her friend, truly, but as good as it was for Todoroki to exhibit any other emotion besides confusion and rage, this couldn't be healthy for him.

Todoroki groaned. "Okay, okay, fine. Exhibit B!" He pointed to a picture of All Might and Midoriya walking into All Might's office. "They eat lunch together! Who does that with a teacher?!"

Kirishima hummed. "Okay, I'll give you that one," he said, looking back at the others. "You gotta admit, that is a little suspicious."

"You forget, Midoriya broke his bones a lot at the beginning of the year just by activating his quirk," Yaoyorozu said, calmly. "As the Heroics teacher, All Might would want to make sure they can find a way for Midoriya to improve his quirk use without breaking his bones, so it would make sense for All Might to meet up with Midoriya out of class."

"But why continuously?!" Todoroki pressed. "Even after Midoriya got a handle of his quirk?!"

Yaoyorozu frowned. "Well, Bakugo meets with them now. Is Bakugo All Might's son too?"

"Details, details," Todoroki said with a wave of his hand. "Bakugo's practically Midoirya's boyfriend anyways. All Might probably wants to vet him or something."

"Somehow I believe that less than your 'All Might is Midoriya's dad' theory."

"They're going to get together, just you wait," Todoroki said. "Anyways, back to business. It's not just at school too! Even now that we're in the dorms, lately All Might will eat with Midoriya, alone, just the two of them!"

He pointed to another picture of Midoriya and All Might eating meat buns on a bench, no one else in sight, lightly chatting. "See! It would make sense if All Might ate with any one of us, or if there was a bigger crowd, but it's just those two! That's a normal parenting thing, right?"

"Dude how did you even get that picture."

"Irrelevant."

Yaoyorozu ran her eyes over the full board again, wincing internally. As...off-putting as her friend's efforts were, he did have a point. All Might's actions towards Midoriya were unprecedented of a teacher, Aizawa would certainly never be caught dead with any of them. And sure, they simply could be good friends who met a little before the Takoba news article picture, friends could be of all ages after all, but with the way All Might treated Midoriya daily, it was getting more and more likely that Todoroki's theory was correct. Which had some very interesting implications and also a media shitstorm on its way if it was true.

"And," Todoroki continued, now rambling as fast as Midoriya was, "did you know that All Might visited the Midoriya's to talk about the dorm system alone?"

Kirishima's mouth dropped. "Seriously?"

Todoroki nodded, eyes wide and a small smile on his face. "Aizawa-sensei told us himself back when he asked my father if I could stay in the dorms! My father asked where All Might was and Aizawa-sensei told him that they split up right before the Midoriya's!"

Sero's eyes widened. "Okay, I will admit that that's weird."

"I know right?!" Todoroki exclaimed, out of breath and restlessly pacing the floor. "Not only that, but All Might was one of the first people Midoriya texted right after he got his hero license. And Midoriya ended up interning with a hero who All Might knows directly and worked with Nighteye during his work-study who's All Might's only sidekick! And then Midoriya was invited personally to I-Island by All Might! And–"

Knock knock.

The group froze.

"Young Todoroki? Can I speak with you?"

Fuck.

Todoroki tentatively walked over to his door, opening it just enough to find All Might standing behind it, a worried expression on his face. "Are you all alright? The kids downstairs reported a lot of yelling, and I think you may have frozen and burnt through your floor?"

Todoroki looked back at his floor, which now looked slightly more like the training room back home than it did his dorm room. "Right. I can pay for that."

"No need my boy, just make sure it doesn't happen again or I think Aizawa'll have all of our heads," All Might chuckled. He then frowned, slightly opening the door more. "What on Earth is that?"

His eyes were pointed directly behind Todoroki, to the pinboard the high schooler had been deliriously gesturing towards for the past few minutes. Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu stared at each other awkwardly, shuffling their feet.

"Um...well, y'see–"

"All Might, is Midoriya your illegitimate child?"

The air paused. Everyone turned their eyes to the teen.

All Might blinked. "I'm sorry...what?"

WHAT THE FUCK, TODOROKI?!

"Todoroki, bro, you can't just ask shit like that!" Kirishima exclaimed, who now, like the many people around him, was going through all the stages of grief. "That's not one of those things you can just ask people!"

Todoroki tilted his head. "I asked Midoriya."

"YOU ASKED MIDORIYA?!"

"I–"

The kids now directed their attention back to All Might, who had managed to shake himself out of his stupor and somehow made his way to the pinboard. "I'm not...young Todoroki, believe me when I say I'm 100% sure I'm not Midoriya's biological father," he said, rapidly glancing back and forth from the board to Todoroki. "As...creepily impressive as this is," he continued, gesturing to the entirety of the board, "I've never had a child, and besides, young Midoriya's biological father works overseas, in America."

He pointed to the slightly burnt newspaper clipping of Takoba beach, looking back at Todoroki. "Is this about the Takoba beach cleaning?"

Todoroki nodded.

"Huh." All Might turned to the clipping, a strange, soft, thoughtful look on his face. "I didn't know they did a report about it." He turned back to Todoroki. "May I keep this?"

Todoroki nodded again, even slower, and a delighted smile appeared on All Might's face. The four students watched with wide eyes as he took the newspaper clipping in one hand and the pin in between his other fingers, gently lifting the pin from where it had been embedded in the pin board, lifting the newspaper clipping from its place, and placing the pin back where he had found it. Seconds passed. All Might rubbing his thumb over the picture in the newspaper with a soft chuckle. He then gently folded it, each crease careful not to tear the newspaper apart, before placing it in the pocket of his tracksuit.

Then, as if he remembered that there were other people in the room, he turned to Todoroki. "Ah, Aizawa-kun said that you had redecorated your room yourself, yes?"

Todoroki nodded, still stunned. "Perfect! The bots will be up here in a few minutes or so to repair your floor, and then refurbish your room any way you see fit." All Might clapped his hands together, a bright smile on his face. "Just try not to do it as much, alright? And please stop stalking young Midoriya and I. I don't know how many times I can catch you in the act before telling him that one of his best friend's have been stalking us to obtain proof of our non-existant biological relationship."

"You saw me?"

"Young Todoroki, I've been the number one hero for three and a half decades."

"Oh." Todoroki frowned. "Sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again, please." All Might took a heavy sigh before finally addressing the others in the room. "Young Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Sero, I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow. Plus Ultra!"

"See you!"

"See you tomorrow All Might!"

All Might left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Todoroki, Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu in the room, waiting for the repair bots to arrive, silent and bewildered with what had just transpired in the past ten minutes. The four of them couldn't move, only the sound of breathing being proof that any of them were even alive. After what felt like several, long, painstaking seconds, Todoroki turned to his friends.

"Y'know, All Might worked in America for a while."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, TODOROKI."

#thestormingsea posts #yagi toshinori #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #dad might #mentioned midoriya izuku #mentioned izuku midoriya #mentioned deku #he doesn't take a part in this story but just in case ig #and then kirishima sero and yaoyorozu are here but they don't do much

[jaeminlore]

Landslide | Mark Lee

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

words: 7.1k+

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

warnings: talk of absent fathers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/n.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

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

“Yeah!”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You mean that?”

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

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

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

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

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

-

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

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

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

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

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

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

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

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

The flash is on.

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

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

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

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#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

[honklore]

landslide | karl jacobs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You mean that?”

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

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

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

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

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

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

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

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

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

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

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

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

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flash is on.

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

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

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

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[moonbaby26]

Title: Epiphany

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Finally back in the U.S., you and Peter get a mini shopping trip with the others, where you get a special gift for him. Followed by your ride back alone together to his house near D.C. and an abrupt introduction to his family.

Warnings: Mostly just more fluff. Bit of a dysfunctional family implied. Not proofread too well as I didn’t have much free time left and wanted to get this posted.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen , @ikkleroniekins , @cowboyenorgy , @the-chaotic-cow

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

You were groggy, legs stiff as you’d finally made it out of that plane. Honestly, when this was all said and done you’d be happy to not travel again for a very long time.

But the important thing was that you were home. Well, sort of. You were getting a lot closer anyway. McGuire air force base in New Jersey was bustling with activity as you’d all been shuffled around after landing.

Moira had said goodbye, staying here to work some more as it seemed this had become a temporary east coast operations point for more than just the air force. But she’d arranged it so you all could take a van off base together to find the nearest rental car lot.

Which that was when you really started feeling this was your last chance to inwardly practice whatever your speech was going to be to Xavier. You were going to volunteer to drive Peter home, splitting off from the others when they’d no doubt be heading north for New York.

The van hadn’t been the most comfortable thing in the world either as you’d all piled into it with Hank driving. Moira had told the Professor to just leave it after you all got something else rented, and that someone from the base would come and get it later.

Besides a little shared complaining from the group about being continually shoved into one thing after another lately, helicopters, to jets, to aircraft carriers, and now this, there wasn’t really too much said though. That silence likely somewhat due to jet lag as well. But when Xavier had signaled to Hank to stop after seeing a bank you were about to pass, that’s when Peter seemed to perk back up.

And by the time this older van had clunked its way into the parking lot and come to a stop, Peter was on the verge of fully laughing.

“What?” Ororo finally asked, Peter sitting between her and you both here in the back of the van.

“Nothing.” Peter respond just as quickly, though still seeming far too entertained as Raven had helped Xavier out of the van and back into his wheelchair before the two of them had gone inside the bank together.

You and Ororo just exchanged an odd glance, before Jean revealed the answer all too easily. “Peter thinks we’d make a terrible cast for a heist movie. He’s thinking about robbing the bank and imagining a poorly executed role for all of us.”

“Hey!” Peter complained. “You really don’t play fair. I think about a lot of things without actually do-”

“Seriously?” Scott asked, looking back at you all.

“Oh, come on. One eye beam and the vault would crack like an egg.” Peter retorted, “Do you guys not ever daydream?”

“About crime?” You questioned.

“I did give the kid his markers back didn’t I?” Peter asked.

“What kid?” Hank looked back as well.

“Oh, except this one.” Peter pulled out the dark blue marker that’d still been stashed in his pocket. “The kid still had a light blue one anyway. He’ll live. You guys need to sign my cast!”

—————————

The Professor had apparently recognized that bank as one he had some accounts with, and you’d assumed he had gone in to withdraw some spending money for the remainder of the trip.

But when Hank drove you all to a nearby department store next instead of continuing on straight to the rental car lot that had been the supposed goal the entire time, you were surprised. Even more so when the Professor had called for you, Jean, Kurt, and Ororo specifically.

“I know this isn’t much,” Charles explained, before passing each of the four of you a small amount of cash. “But the staff staying with the displaced students at the motel did already take them shopping for at least some bare necessities. You deserve the same until we can provide better.”

It was still entirely generous and unexpected though as you’d all exited the van, then fully understanding the point of this additional pit stop. With the destruction of the mansion, and with Ororo not even being from here, the four of you now had not a single possession to your names except the Air Force issued clothing you’d left the aircraft carrier with.

Scott and Peter were a little bit different story, Scott was expected to go back home with his parents for a while and no doubt everything he still had there, and Peter having lost nothing really except the one outfit that had burnt up in the jet’s crash in Egypt.

But you knew a little better of how he felt about that, not missing the way Peter was already eyeing things as the two of you had split off from the rest of the group once entering the department store.

Your only real goal was at least getting a comfortable pair of tennis shoes to replace the awful boots they’d given you and a couple pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, socks, and underwear. Just the very minimum, that was fine for you.

You tried to be quick, knowing it was still a little unfair to make Peter just watch you shop when he could take nothing for himself. Albeit, you doubted much here was really his style anyway.

You did half expect him to give you a harder time as well on your own choices, but found him quite distracted as you’d walked back and forth looking at one rack then another of clothes.

Finally you realized why, catching him still lingering at a glass display case you’d already passed more than once as you then circled back to him with a bit of clothing in your arms.

As you came up to stand beside him, you looked down to see the multiple men’s watches all glinting up in the light from beneath the glass.

You smiled, putting two and two together easily enough as you glanced back to him and that clearly longing expression on his face. “Which one do you like?”

He blinked, just seeming to realize your attention was back on him then as he tried to look nonchalant. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m not going to steal it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

“It’s what Mr. Smiley over there, the store detective was thinking.” Peter commented a little more quietly, just motioning his eyes to a man standing off to the side.

The man didn’t look “smiley” at all of course, appearing to consider the same display of pants over and over as he’d pick one size up and then put it back down as if he wasn’t watching you both.

You chose to ignore the stranger, just reiterating back to Peter instead. “Come on, which one do you want?”

You could see by the tags that they weren’t exactly cheap, but certainly weren’t Rolex’s either. This was doable.

But Peter only met eyes with you again. “Seriously, I can get one later. I’ll live.”

His old watch had been destroyed. And you hadn’t forgotten what importance it had to him. “That wasn’t the point.” Already deciding you were sure about this, you dug back into your pocket, pulling out money and putting it on the glass in front him.

“I’m going to go put some of these clothes back, get somebody’s attention to come open the case for you.”

He stared, trying to turn around to stop you, but you were already out of his reach as you smiled, just disappearing back behind some nearby clothing racks.

You intentionally took longer than necessary as well as you did put back enough of the clothes to make up for the money you’d given him. You wanted to make sure he really did follow through with having them get one of the watches out before you’d come anywhere near again.

It took a while, but he must have finally relented, unable to resist the temptation, and reinforcing your thought that he really had seen one he especially wanted as you’d finally wandered over once more just as the saleswoman had been handing it over to him.

She rang it up then and there at the counter as he’d immediately put it on that empty spot on his left wrist.

Curious, you’d tried to get a better look at which one he’d picked, moving closer before he suddenly swung his right arm out, catching you around the shoulders and pulling you even closer even with the awkwardness of his crutch still under that arm.

You felt a warm kiss planted just as fast on your cheek before you could respond. The saleswoman giving you both an odd look as Peter only grinned to you. “Thanks, babe. I’ll make it up to you at some point. Promise.”

You moved slightly, not really caring about the money or the stares of any of the store staff as you still tried to get a look at the watch, grabbing his hand. “Well which one did you get?”

He let you take his hand easily, grasping his fingers around your own in return as he tilted his wrist to let you get a good view. “Check it out, digital face, but it counts seconds and hundredths of a second. And you can change it to stopwatch mode too. Also water resistant to 100 meters...though not quite sure when I’d need that.”

“Jean said the motel the others were staying at has a pool,” You commented lightly, though still looking at the bright, silver colored metal watch band and face. “Quicksilver.” You added absently, reading the model name also etched there.

He paused, “What did you say?”

“Oh, the pool? Jean said the Professor mentioned that, though he still is looking for some place less rundown-”

“No, what you said after.”

“Huh?” You glanced back up.

“Quick what?”

“Oh.” You realized, turning your hand which was still holding his so the etching would better face him as well. “That must be the model.”

He must have not even noticed until that point, also reading it then. But he pulled you in even a little closer then as he leaned his head against yours, seeming to contemplate something.

“What?” You asked.

“I think I just had a...hell, what do you call them? Epitaph?”

Your eyebrows raised, looking at him in real confusion then. “Um...like on a gravestone?”

“No, no.” He was still trying to find the word. “Dammit, when the light bulb goes off you know...like something hits you and it’s awesome!”

“Epiphany?” You questioned after another moment, though still highly unsure of where this was going.

“Yes! Totally!” He let go of your hand then, before giving an awkward high five as you hadn’t been expecting it.

But you were still thoroughly confused, even as the saleswoman had now excused herself, gladly wandering off to assist other customers. And even the store detective just coughed somewhere in the distance, finding you both no longer a theft threat as much as just just two more weird young people he was not going to ever understand.

——————————

If anyone noticed that the amount of things you rang up were visibly less than what Jean, Ororo, and Kurt had gotten, no one said anything.

Soon enough you were all back in the van again, but Peter kept admiring the watch still. The odd beep and chime going off on it every now and then as he played with its functions.

It was evident enough, that even the Professor finally looked back at him. Which Peter noticed as well just grinning. “I didn’t steal it.” He proclaimed proudly.

“I know you didn’t,” Xavier answered, but then giving you an odd look next.

You tried to smile back, but weren’t sure if this might now be the time to bring up your plan or not with the Professor’s attention on you. Yet before you could think to say anything more, Peter just added happily. “Oh, and Prof., if you do reboot the X-Men, I’m Quicksilver. So I call dibs on that, the rest of you will have to think of your own stuff. Though I’m pretty creative, I can help for maybe a small fee if you need inspiration.”

“Seriously?” You answered, just turning your head to look at Peter then.

But you were even more surprised when Xavier actually looked impressed for a moment. “Quicksilver? Hmm. An old nickname for liquid mercury. Which of course in the Roman pantheon, Mercury was also the god of trickery, thieves, and often depicted with wings on his feet as the fastest of the gods. He-”

“Uh.” Peter interrupted. “I was more thinking that my hair is silver and I’m quick. Also this badass watch (Y/N) bought me says that on it. But that god stuff is cool too I guess.”

You heard Raven about snort laughing as the Professor’s thoughtful expression quickly faded. “Fair enough.”

—————————

By the time you did reach the rental car lot, you tried to get Xavier’s attention before he could go inside the rental office with Raven. You almost jogged up to him actually, that worried about missing your chance.

Yet as you reached him, you saw him wave Raven off, telling her he would be just a moment. She only shrugged, walking ahead inside.

Before you could even open your mouth though, he just gave you another curious look. “You know, for all your worrying about this, it’s the ride home that I’m more concerned about. You realize from Washington D.C. back to New York, that’s going to be about a five hour drive all on your own.”

You don’t know why you felt any surprise. Honestly it was more of a relief though that you didn’t have to explain everything from scratch. Having a psychic as a father figure had its benefits at times, if otherwise you felt you would have difficulty communicating something.

“I promise I’ll call as soon as I get to Peter’s and again when I leave?” You offered with hope.

“I’d really feel better if you had one of the others to ride back with...” He countered, but giving a sympathetic look. “You know, of all my students, I just...you really are one of the last I’d expect to befriend him this way. And I say that with me actually being quite fond of him. Though admittedly I did think him just a pain in the arse when I first met him. I didn’t have my powers then though to see any deeper. So it wasn’t the best first impression to be honest.”

You both glanced over at Peter who now seemed preoccupied with playing with those stolen sunglasses as he just chatted with the others. He’d agreed to let you plea the case to Xavier on your own, thinking you could probably be the more sincere and convincing of the two of you.

“I think he’d really like to come to the school once everything’s rebuilt,” You added, looking back to the Professor.

“Yes, I know.” Xavier agreed. “He’s really hit it off with you all. He’s enjoyed this despite everything else. It’s nice to see, really. Though...I do still worry about the inevitably of his father returning. There will still be a lot to unpack there. And Erik may not want him at the school as much as Erik’s always disagreed with some of my worldviews.”

You frowned a little, having not thought about Magneto in quite a while now. “If he cares about Peter at all though, you’d think he’d realize it’d be better for him to be somewhere he had friends. Where he’s happy...”

“One would hope.” Xavier answered, but then looking to you once more. “You’re sure about this aren’t you? Determined to make the drive back alone?”

“I mean, if anyone tried to give me trouble, I could always use my powers.” Yet you still smirked, parroting his teaching you’d heard for years. “But still as discreetly as possible of course.”

He took a breath, that concern still not leaving his expression even as he relented. “You have come a long way since that little child I met all those years ago.”

“I wasn’t that little.” You smiled, knowing full well which day he was remembering. When you’d been sitting, feeling abandoned in that airport as your real father had been explaining again this place you were being sent to in New York. Saying he’d call you all the time once you got there, all the while you knew he never would.

That’d been the first day you’d ever met Charles. When your own family was too afraid of you, when they were far happier to have you move across the country. But Xavier had flown all the way there just to share the plane ride back to New York, with your stubborn, silent self.

Abruptly you leaned down, putting your arms around the Professor’s shoulders as you hugged him. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” You said, knowing full well how close you all had come to losing him only a few days ago.

He laughed lightly, but returned the gesture even though he was a little surprised. “Or you’re just happy to get your way. Do be careful alright? Both of you.”

“I promise. Thank you.” You smiled, really meaning it before you let go of him to stand back up.

As you did so, you could see Peter looking your way. He gave a questioning expression, then turning his thumb down then up as if to ask the results.

You smirked, nodding as him thumb went up to confirm the Professor had agreed with your plan.

“Sweet!” You heard Peter exclaim from all the way over there.

————————

Xavier had given you the phone number to the motel in New York that the others were driving to. They’d gotten another van, though thankfully a little newer than the beaten up government one they were now leaving behind.

A car had been rented for you and Peter. A blazing red thing you now leaned against as you waited for him. You’d already said your goodbyes, which were pretty brief as you expected to see the others again soon.

You were still close enough to overhear as Peter got to Scott however. It caught your attention as you’d heard Peter’s tone change.

“Hey, man...I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t get your brother out.”

It was the first time you’d heard Peter talk about that specifically with Scott. But when would have been the right time?

Yet Peter kept on pretty quickly, the awkwardness obviously still there even with that hint of guilt. “If um, if I lived closer you know, or I wasn’t in this damn thing-” He’d motioned to his cast. “I’d run up there and go to the service too. I mean, I know how important siblings are...”

Scott seemed a little taken aback himself, but shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. None of it would have happened if it wasn’t for that psycho god, whatever we want to call him. And he got his. It’s all we can do.”

You could hear the little bit of waver in Scott’s voice though, and you knew the sad reality would likely be that it still wouldn’t fully hit him that Alex was truly gone until Scott was back home with his parents, and his brother was glaringly absent.

But Peter just patted him on the shoulder before walking back to you on his crutches.

His eyes were still a bit sad, but he smiled at you as he neared you. “Well, ready for a roadtrip, babe?”

“They gave us a road atlas, so I think so.” You answered, already walking to open the passenger door for him.

“Ah, maps are for suckers.” He answered, handing you his crutches so he could sit down in the seat. “Sure, it’ll look way different going so slow, but I have an excellent sense of direction.”

“Uh huh,” You responded with a healthy bit of skepticism. “We’ll see.”

—————————

“So...we’re finally alone.” Peter said, still snacking on whatever brightly colored candy that actually was that you’d grabbed from the gas station for him.

“Sure, and going seventy miles an hour on the interstate, while I need to keep my hands on the wheel and eyes on the road to not kill us, yes.” You answered.

“It’s practically a straight line, it about drives itself.” He responded, but while just fiddling with the radio for the umpteenth time.

Every time a station went to commercial, it was clear he couldn’t handle the wait for the music to come back, only trying to find something else to listen to right away.

You finally laughed a little as he’d accidentally found some other talk show yet again.

“What?”

“I’m waiting for that dial to fall off in your hand.”

“Man, you think one of these gas stations has some cassettes or something?”

“I have no idea.”

“Hey, are you hungry yet?”

You shrugged. “I could probably eat.” The bit of food on the plane had been pretty awful. You hadn’t even finished it.

“I need to pee anyway.”

“Again?” You glanced at him. “That’s gotta be the Mountain Dew.”

“Oh yeah, that’s all gone.” He shook his empty cup, just the sound of ice jostling around in it. “I’m thinking Dr. Pepper now...and a cheeseburger. Maybe McDonalds?”

“Sure.” It really didn’t matter to you. All those fast food places were all about the same. “Golden Arches it is then...let me know if you see an exit with one and I’ll-”

“There was one.” He pointed as it went right by.

“Um...one with a little more notice please.”

“Got it. I’m on watch, captain.” He gave a little mocking salute, before pulling his sunglasses back down as if that would somehow help his focus as he stared out to all the upcoming exit signs ahead.

——————————

He was adamant about going inside to eat instead of just going through the drive thru once you did find the next McDonalds. You wondered if he was trying to stretch out your time together a little more.

Which you would have no complaints if so, now laughing as you sat at a table inside. You’d seen the odd looks an older couple had given you as they’d come in, and Peter was fairly certain it was due to his silver hair.

“I mean I could always try a mohawk, full on punk if they think this is too weird,” He commented, pulling some of the silver bangs back in front his face as he chewed on some fries. “I still think Ororo’s is badass, but I don’t know if I have the right head shape for it. What do you think?”

“What head shape is a person supposed to have?” You asked, seriously not knowing, but still smiling.

“Of course even the best hair gel doesn’t hold up too well when I run. It probably wouldn’t stay up long.”

“Uh huh.”

“Hey, are you even listening to me or just admiring the view?” He grinned in what you were sure was supposed to be his attempt at a dashing look, albeit with a little bit of ketchup still at the corner of his mouth.

“Can’t I do both?” You answered wryly, just taking another sip of your drink.

“You gonna stay for a little bit after we get to my house?” He asked abruptly then.

“Well I wasn’t planning on just throwing you in the yard and driving away. But it is a decent drive back to New York.”

“You could spend the night.”

You quieted, that warmth rising back in your chest. But you didn’t think he meant it that way. You chose to believe that anyway.

“Well it’s not like we haven’t slept together before.” He continued.

“Slept in the same bed.” You quickly corrected. “In the same bed. With clothes on.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Semantics. And it was nice, right?”

“It was.” You admitted. But that didn’t mean the chance was going to come again anytime soon. “And semantics? Really? After trying to remember the difference between epitaph and epiphany?”

“Hey! I shine every now and then. It’s not always a swing and a miss.” He gave a pretend pouting look. “Fancy private schooler picking on a poor high school dropout, come on.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll have much reason to study anytime soon.” You admitted. “This was a really dramatic way to get out of my organic chemistry final.”

And he really did look pleased at that. “So you’ll have plenty of time to hang out with the bad influence that is Pietro once I get this cast off. You said that place had a pool right? Sounds like a party.”

—————————

Traffic hadn’t been too terrible the rest of the way. And you’d only gotten turned around a couple times, despite his self proclaimed excellent sense of direction.

Even though you knew it’d been hours, it didn’t feel that way at all. You both mostly just talking about whatever, or even when it was quiet, just listening to the music he chose.

It wasn’t all even rock music to your surprise. He seemed to like just about everything. But when you recognized a song as a favorite of your own, you did notice how his excitement grew a little. You wondered how often if at all he’d really gotten to share that love of music with anyone else.

By the time you’d gotten off the interstate again and the roads started to get smaller and smaller, you knew you must be getting close even before you started to see houses here and there.

“Hey, woah up for a second,” He said raising his hand abruptly.

You did so, but only gently pulling to a stop on the side of the street to not block any other traffic as you looked over at him.

Not that there were any other cars. You thought maybe you saw someone walking their dogs in the distance.

But he didn’t say anything for a moment, just taking his sunglasses off again as he turned his head to meet your gaze.

“What?” You asked as another song started on the radio. It was slow, but you thought you’d heard it somewhere before.

“It’s just around the corner.” He looked almost sad for a moment though, before suddenly smiling again. “My house I mean. You’re going to come inside, right?”

“Well...yeah, as long as that’s okay with your Mom anyway.” But even as you answered, a new bit of nervousness found you. What if she blamed you when she saw he’d been hurt though? Would she think you or your friends were dangerous? You’d never thought of that until this moment actually.

You blinked when you felt his hand touch your face, drawn back out of your thoughts as that song continued on in the background.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked then.

But you just tilted your head slightly in question. It’s not like he’d ever truly asked before. Though you could never really tease someone for wanting continued permission.

And was he nervous too? Knowing he was about to be home again and that this would be over, at least for the time being?

You unbuckled your seatbelt easily enough, leaning across the center console as he did the same.

The kiss was soft though as you closed your eyes. His hand moved gently behind your neck as he held you in close. It felt just as good as the times before.

But you knew there wasn’t much more either of you could do now. You both had to go home.

He was the one that finally pulled back, just looking at you contentedly for a moment before he shifted fully back into his seat.

“You know, my Mom’s going to think I’m full of shit if I say I made any friends...and more than a friend too.”

“You can call me whatever you want, whatever you’re comfortable with,” you said honestly. It’d just be easier, because you didn’t know what was right or wrong either.

Whatever happened, you were just grateful for what you’d already had. How could you not be?

—————————

The black mailbox with Maximoff lettered on the side came up soon enough as you pulled carefully into the driveway, before throwing the transmission into park and killing the ignition.

It was a neat little house, with hedges on the side of the property line and some white patio furniture you could just see up a small incline with decorative stones leading up to it.

The house was also directly across from a public green space with jogging or walking paths weaving between several trees it looked like. Which was a little amusing as you wondered if Peter ever used them.

After you’d gotten out, you rounded around the back of the car, pulling Peter’s crutches from the backseat. He’d already opened the passenger door and stood up as well, before you realized the front door of the house was also opening.

“Peter!” You heard a woman call, and you looked up to see a little bit older woman with dark blond hair now rushing down the steps.

Her arms flung around him as soon as she got close enough, holding him like that for only a moment before she pulled back away. “They wouldn’t tell me anything! Those assholes in the suits, whoever they were! They wouldn’t even tell me where you were-” She looked down, “God, your leg, are you hurt anywhere else?” But then just as quickly her eyes were on his face again, critically, “He did it, didn’t he? I told you! I told you he would hurt you and you don’t listen, this whole time I haven’t slept, do you know that!?”

“Mom!” Peter finally exclaimed, trying to get a word in, as he grabbed her shoulders. “They were CIA, I just told them to tell you I was okay. It hasn’t exactly been a breeze getting back home, this was the best I could do. And it wasn’t Dad, he didn’t-”

“Like hell! Did you see San Francisco? Did you see New York City!? Buildings ripped apart, Peter! Who else could do that!? It’s all the news can talk about, he-”

“It wasn’t just him! Would you just listen for-”

“You could have been killed!” She yelled, her voice almost echoing now off the side of the house as you just stood there still holding his crutches.

You felt entirely invisible to be honest as the two of them just continued, only focused on one another in their arguing.

It was so loud actually that you didn’t even hear someone else then walking up behind you from the park across the street. You didn’t know they were there at all before their voice was almost right beside you.

“Who are you?”

You startled at the question, turning your head to see a young woman now standing there. Her eyes were dark and guarded, the very first thing you noticed honestly as you reflexively took a step back closer to the car.

“Wanda! You’re here!” You heard Peter’s voice rise again though. “A little help here please!”

But Peter’s mother only kept on. “You leave your sister out of this! She’s not the one that ran off after a sociopath and disappeared for days!”

“He’s our father!” He yelled back.

Yet the girl with the long auburn hair kept her attention on you for another moment. “Well whoever you are, you’re probably going to regret coming here.”

You could only remain silent though after that as she just walked on to her mother and brother.

She hugged Peter abruptly, working her way between the two even in their fighting. “I knew you were alright. I could still feel you, even though Mom didn’t believe me. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t an idiot.”

Peter seemed to calm some at Wanda’s touch though, just responding. “You have no idea. I punched a god in the face. It’s a long story.”

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here.)

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x oc #quicksilver xmen #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x oc #quicksilver #x men #x men fanfiction #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen fic

[strawberry--bride]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sharon’s Route [MANIAC 03]

Location: Sakamaki Manor ;; Kitchen

*Thud*

Sharon: ( There we go! I’ve got everything ready to get started. )

( It’s been a while since I last made mom’s strawberry shortcake. )

( However, I’ve been really craving it as of late. )

She picks up her little recipe book. 

Sharon: Let’s see...I should start with the batter for the cake part.

*TIMESKIP*

*Ping*

Sharon: ( Ah! The cake’s ready! I hope it turned out okay... )

She opens the oven.

???: Oi. Are you makin’ that sweet crap again?

Sharon: ...!!

She turns around.

Sharon: Ah, Subaru-kun. Good morning! You’re up early today.

Subaru: I was tryin’ to sleep, but this sickly sweet smell lingerin’ through the whole damn manor woke me up.

Sharon: ( Uu...I guess Subaru-kun isn’t too fond of sweets, huh? )

( Actually, I haven’t seen him eat much food in general... )

( At the dinner banquets, he barely touches his plate. )

Do you...not like cake, perhaps?

Subaru: I’m a Vampire. I don’t need human food to survive.

Sharon: Even if you don’t need it, you could still enjoy it! 

Personally, I really enjoy the process of making the food as well. It helps you feel more involved with what you’re eating, so it tastes even better afterwards.

Subaru: Heh. I kinda get that. I don’t mind messin’ with my prey a lil’ before I dig in either.

Sharon: ...

( That’s not what I meant though... )

...Ah! Say, why don’t help me decorate this cake? That might help you understand it a little better!

Subaru: ...Haah? Are you mental? Why would I bother with that?

Sharon: Well, you’re here now anyway. You might find it surprisingly fun...? 

I already have the whipped cream made. So we just need to put it on there and then add fresh strawberries on top.

Subaru: Oi, I haven’t agreed yeー

*Rustle*

Sharon: Here you go. Your apron.

Subaru: HAAH!? You must still believe in fairytales if you think I’m wearin’ this pink shit!

Sharon: It’s the only spare one I have...Besides, it’s just the two of us here!

You wouldn’t want to get your clothes dirty, do you? Whipped cream leaves nasty stains.

Subaru: ーー Tsk! 

Subaru reluctantly puts on the apron.

*Rustle rustle*

Sharon: Mmh~ Let’s put on the whipped cream first!

She hands him a bowl and a spatula.

Sharon: First you cut the cake in half...Then the cream goes in the middle!

Subaru: ...

Sharon: Mmh! Just like that! You’re a natural at this!

Subaru: Shut up...! I’m only doin’ this ‘cause you were bein’ darn persistent!

Sharon: Hehe~ While you’re doing that, I’ll cut up some strawberries.

She grabs a cutting board and a knife.

Sharon: Hm, hm~ 

( I wonder how long it has been since I last cooked together with someone? )

( It’s kind of bringing back memories. )

Subaru: ーー Oi.

Sharon: ...Hm?

Subaru: I’m done.

Sharon: Awesome! I’m finished here as well! Let’s put the strawberries on together!

...But before that, you have to taste test~ 

She plops a piece of strawberry inside her mouth.

Sharon: Mm~ Delicious! ...Here, try some as well.

Subaru: ...

Sharon: Subaru-kun?

Subaru: ...Heh, now that you mention it. I suppose I could go for some ‘strawberry’ just about now.

He steps closer, cornering her against the kitchen counter.

Sharon: S-Subaru-kun...? The strawberries are over there...

Subaru: Idiot. I’m not talkin’ ‘bout those. There’s a much sweeter one right in front of me after all.

Sharon: ...!!

*Rustle*

Subaru: What? You’re the one who said food should be enjoyed. I’m doin’ just that.

He leans down to bite her throat.

Sharon: Uu...

Subaru: Nn...Mmh...

Sharon: ( Huh...? )

( I wonder why...It doesn’t hurt as badly as it did before... )

( It’s this strange, numbing sensation... )

( Making me feel weak in my knees... )

Subaru: ...Feelin’ good already? Look at you, you’ve totally grown addicted to my fangs.

Sharon: I...haven’t...!

Subaru: Doesn’t sound very convincin’ when your face’s as red as those strawberries you love so much.

Sharon: ( I can’t deny that... )

Subaru: Let me suck from this side next...

He bites her once more.

Sharon: Ah...

Subaru: Nn...Nn...

Voices can be heard from the hallway.

???: Huh~? Ayato-kun, where are you headed with that marker?

Ayato: Hah? Laito. ...Hehe, listen up. I saw Subaru head outta his room earlier, so I snuck inside real quick to leave him a lil’ surprise.

Laito: Geez, Ayato-kun~ You shouldn’t tease baby bro so much.

Ayato: Fuck off! I still need to get my revenge for last time!

Besides, he should be grateful to have Yours Truly grace his coffin with my beautiful art!

Sharon: ...

( Those voices...Ayato-kun and Laito-kun? )

( Seems like they’re up to no good. )

Subaru steps back.

Subaru: Ayato...That jerk...!

Sharon: ...S-Subaru-kun, calm doーー

Subaru: ーー YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS!!

Subaru suddenly dashes out of the kitchen.

Sharon: Ah, Subaru-kun, wait...!!

...

He’s gone.

( I wanted to tell him he ran out while still wearing the pink apron. )

Haah...

( I can’t see this ending well... )

ーー MANIAC 03: END ーー

<- [ Maniac 02 ] [ Maniac 04 ] ->

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik lovers custom route #sharon's route #(( some Subaron for y'all uwu )) #(( I wish I could do Subaru justice ;; )) #(( he's my favorite but I suck at writing him T _ T ))

[honeyabyss]

Sleepover

Lucifer:

Okay so you want to have a sleepover with Luce, it probably happend a lot already, but not under those circumstances, it’s rather falling asleep in his study and waking up in his bed, questioning if something else happend last night

you propose the sleepover and at first Luce is confused like “but you already sleep in my room? wait a sleepover isn’t about sleeping? why would it be called a sleepover then?”

so you explain him, that it’s about spending some fun time with friends and that it leads to staying over night...and Luce agrees to your propsal of a sleep over

at the day of the sleepover you enter his room to find him organizing documents and other work related stuff

...? Wow that sounds like a lot of fun...

Well excuse you for Lucifer being a responsible righthand man, who still has to do some work!!!

you watch him work while listening to a few of his old records and sipping some demonus, all in all just like any other day you decide to visit him in his study, just the location changed

you’re bored out of your mind and your sighs annoy Luce so he asks you to stop..let’s be honest you probably going to answer his request with another sigh

“Is this not what you had hoped for today?” asks Lucifer the obvious

after some explanation he finally gets that you wanted to relax together and not do the usual stuff

“I apoogize, I simply assumed ‘fun time together’ meant the same to you as to me. I enjoy all the time spent with you” smooth talks his way out of his mistake

he actually puts his work down and asks you if you’d like to take a late night walk through the garden instead

when your walk ends, it is already very late, even for Luces terms, so you decide to go to sleep

“What are you doing? You’re sleeping on the bed! What kind of host would I be to let you sleep on a flimsy matress on the floor?”

climbs into the bed after you “the bed is big enough, stop complaining”

you can’t escape his death grip

Mammon:

has probably claimed your bed as his already, given how often he sleeps over at yours

you want to change it up and sleep in his room this time, Mammon gets very bashful talking about how you can’t cause his room isn’t cleaned up, yeah no shit Mcs room isn’t clean either due to certain demons hogging their room and leaving their crap everywhere

anyway, you two make yourselves comfortable on the two sofas in his room, a sofa for each to have more space for yourselves and also because Mammon is embarrassed, not that he would admit...

you watch some movies, probably of the genre action, and eat some delivery pizza, Mammon even pays!

you fall asleep on your sofa midway through the 4th movie, you wanted to go to sleep, but Mammon roped you in for another one, cause he thought you two could last a little longer...yeah neither of you could...

anyway after some time Mammon wakes up, his back hurts from sleeping on the sofa and he is about to start complaining, when he notices you’re still asleep on the other sofa, so he decides to just shift into a more comfortable position

he ends up watching some more TV, sadly for him the only things that get sended this late are horror movies, scared from just watching about half an hour, he turns the TV off and shifts in his seat restlessly

the great Mammon isn’t scared and he isn’t seeking your comfort, neither is he worried about his the human, but he ends up laying you down in his bed anyway, with him half sitting on the floor and half laying on the bed to give you some space, his hand holds yours while he falls asleep again, more at ease being close to you, he forgets about the horror movie he just saw

Leviathan:

sleepover? Did you mean your regular all nighter with games and anime? Yeah it's nothing new for this pair, that doesn't mean that Levi is  n’tvery happy about you suggesting it this time

he actually plans out the whole night, "finish this game until then, so we have enough time for these new anime episodes coming out this night, OH! And we can't forget this game... Hmm maybe if we put it here?”

Has a very tight schedule, because he wants to make the best out of his time with you

" Arrhhg!!! No you can't do that Mc! If you keep playing this bad we'll never finish this game in time!" he complains but ends up feeling really bad right afterwards and apologizes repeatedly

you suggest to just play for fun and forget the schedule after all this isn't the last night you two can spend together

Levi.exe has stopped responding

 you want to spend more time with him even though all he did today was complain? Are you an angel Mc? Or just mentally insane?

you keep playing late into the morning actually having a lot of fun, laughing a bit too loud and getting scolded by Satan who just wants to read his book in silence so SHUT THE FUCK UP, thank you.

"ah Mc! Watch out! Someone's attacking from behind you... Oh? Did you fall asleep? It's already late for you huh? What a normie falling asleep at 6 am..."

he is a bit overwhelmed by the situation and doesn't really know what to do with you now, you fell asleep in a beanbag in his room but it probably isn't comfortable enough to sleep on for long, but to get you into his bed bathtub he has to either carry you or wake you up, keeps mumbling to himself for a while gathering courage and lastly carrys you into his surprisingly very comfortable tub as it is big and layed out with blankets and pillows, he is a blushing mess by the time he is finished

he isn't tired yet so he goes back to playing, but he turns down the volume as to not wake you

Satan:

you probably spend a lot of time in each other's rooms already, mostly in his due to his brother's constantly appearing in your room, so when you ask to have a sleep over the only thing that changes is that you actually plan to sleep there this time and not just accidentally fall asleep

Satan texts you the whole day asking you about things you want to do or not want to do, so he can get the right things, considers you equally involved in the preparations as him, so your opinion isvery important to him

you end up deciding on a few books you'd like to read and make yourself comfortable together

Satan isn't used to much physical attention but he pulls you next to him on his bed nonetheless, it is easier to read like that

you take turns in loudly reading a passage of the current book

the atmosphere is very relaxed, you laying comfortably in bed, some tea (or cold bevarage of your choosing) and some dimmed lights only there so you can see the letters on the pages

as much Satan enjoys this reading session with you, the situation also relaxes him so much that he falls asleep midway through your reading part, all you notice is that his head suddenly drops on your shoulder leaving him in an uncomfortable looking position

you put a marker in the book and put it away for later, before carefully lowering Satan and yourself in a comfortable sleeping position and pulling the blanket over the two of you

content you fall asleep next to him, in his sleep Satan pulls you closer, carefully holding you

when he wakes up a bit later that night he is embarrassed about being so close and swiftly pulls away accidentally waking you up, you're still half asleep not entirely grasping the situation and just pull him back closer seeking warmth and fall asleep again, leaving Satan a blushing mess that slowly calms down and falls asleep again

Asmodeus:

a sleep over? Did you mean sex and sleep cuddles? No? Oh well, but tell him if you change your mind

what do you mean staying awake for long? Do you think his beauty is natural? I mean yeah it is, but he also has to take care of himself

agrees to let you spend some time with him before going to bed, because how could he deny you his beauty?

he insists on doing his normal skin care routine and if you want or not he's going to do the same to you “stop running away from me, I can't see much with this face mask on! But you will catch me if I fall while chasing after you, right?"

"How could you betray me? I fell on my perfect booty because of you" he actually starts crying after having fallen over some clothes

stressed Mc noises while crouching down next to him, apologizing and trying to calm him down

it's a trap

he pulls you into a hug letting himself fall onto the floor, caging you in with his limbs, there is no escape, he might look lithe but he's still a demon and with that very strong

"fine. I'll leave you alone, but don't complain later if your skin isn't as smooth as mine... Oh? But I won't let you free from my embrace, because this is the payment for making me fall and not catching me"

true to his words he doesn't let you go, he carrys you to his bed, takes his mask off with one hand, and makes himself comfortable in bed, laying down half on you to keep you from running away and because Asmo just wants your love and affection so your better cuddle back

Beelzebub:

sleepover? Can we order food? Already dials the number of all restaurants that have delivery

it's actually a very spontaneous sleep over, you just haven't been able to see each other much lately due to school related things and because Beel had a lot of training for his upcoming Fangol match, so you missed him and asked if you two could have a sleep over, Beel was overjoyed and instantly bear hugged you

just chilling on his bed eating food and talking about the day

don't worry Beel the vacuum will take care of any crumbs that fall onto the bed and might be uncomfortable to sleep on

after finishing a year worth of food, you clean up the packages and dishes and bring out the garbage

"you can take the bed, I don't mind sleeping on the sofa" Beel is an adorable gentleman who just wants to keep you comfortable all the time, even though he would love to cuddle you

if you insist he will sleep in the bed with you, but will be a bit nervous, so he keeps a small distance between you two, if you want cuddles then the best option will be to just take the lead and bring him in a position of your choice, it's not like he doesn't want to cuddle he just doesn't want to hurt you

once he falls asleep he will hold you contently and share all his warmth with you

a heads up: maybe take a shower in the morning, I bet Beel will dream of food and might drool on you

Belphegor:

ah yes sure we can have a sleep over

you expect him to stay awake? Really? The Avatar of Sloth himself is supposed to be awake? You're asking a lot human....

after some back and forth with a few breaks, because Belphie fell asleep midway through the discussion, you end up deciding on doing something you both might enjoy... Though Belphie thought it is a bit childish at first

so you end up stealing all Blankets and pillows you can find, Beel gives his volunteeringly away for his friend and his brothers enjoyment... While others ,cough Lucifer cough, have to be a dick about it and not give you his blanket even though he never sleeps anyway

you build a blanket fort in the planetarium, Belphie tries to help here and there, but 1. he is sleepy and 2. he never build one before so he needs your help

after you finish building your very comfortable night shelter, Belphie almost instantly falls down on the pillows and spreads himself out

you join and cuddle up to him, making him grumble a bit as he now has to adjust his position again

the view from the planetarium is the second reason to why you chose this place, Belphie lazily points out to some stars and tells you about their names and meaning

after some time you fall asleep, "you make me stay awake, but fall asleep yourself?", Belphie obviously can't have his title of avatar of Sloth be stolen, so he accidentally wakes you up by nudging your side with his elbow "oh sorry, did I wake you? I'm really sorry, I just wanted to find a more comfortable position..."

like the little shit he is, he pulls you close and falls asleep before you even realize what just happend

Solomon:

oh? A sleep over with him? He didn't do that in ages... Actually I don't think he ever done it, at least not in the "hey you're my friend and I just want to spend some time with you" sense

anyway don't accept any of Solomons ideas! “We can cook-” NO “Oh okay take out it is, more time for the fun part I guess... So wanna do some magic pranks? I have some new spells I still have to test-” NO “Oh... Well your right it might be a bit dangerous. How about we visit some old friends of mine? I'm sure I'll get them to make a pact with me this time-” Solomon... NO!

I'm very sorry Solomon, but I'm sure Mc doesn't want to die just yet

so you meet at Purgatory hall, because there is no way the brothers will leave you two alone... For a "sleep over" uh huh sure they'd be watching you the whole time, no fun wouldn't recommend, so Purgatory hall it is, Simeon will agree to check in on you to calm Lucifer down

Solomons room is probably as much of a mess  as Satan's so the only place to sit will be his bed, "make yourself at home, just don't sit down on that book it's cursed... Oh and don't spill this potion... You're better off not knowing why..."

he will tease the hell out of you. Period. He has spend too much time with Asmo "visiting a man at this time in is room.. That's very dangerous... Someone less of a gentleman than me might take advantage of that, unless that is what you had planned wink wonk”

just hit him with a pillow

but he will hit back

pillow fight it is, but it wouldn't be Sol if it didn't contain magic, he plays unfair making a magic pillow wall around himself while throwing pillows at your defenseless self, when you surrender he will let down his wall and fall onto you laughing loudly and freely, which attracts Simon's attention who looks into the room and smiles gently at the two of you enjoying each others company

Solomon has a lot of fun with you and actually feels comfortable enough to laugh, which gives you an immense boost of pride making you want to keep him laughing, so you start telling him bad puns and jokes until both of you are wheezing and panting for air having laughed too much

as you calm down the exhaustion hits and you both agree to rest for today, Solomon slides under his blanket and holds the blanket up for you, you slide into his awaiting embrace and cuddle into him

he might use the new position to tickle you a bit, but not much as he doesn't want you to slip out of his embrace, you fall asleep tangled together

Simeon snaps a picture of you two, but don't worry it's really blurry cause it's technology and Simeon just can't handle it

Simeon:

a sleep over? That sounds nice, he definitely wants to spend some more calming time with you

seeks permission for you from Lucifer instantly, so you don't have to go through it

even goes as far as to pick you up from the house of lemantation and carry your bag, cause he is nice

will drop of your stuff and take you out grocery shopping then, how to better spend your time then with your favorite hobby? Simeon likes to cook so that is what you'll do

don't worry he will help you with everything you don't know, don't know how to cut this? Let me show you, cut to a cliché scene of him standing way to close behind you guiding your hand to correctly cut this.. Shadow bellpepper? I dunno

anyway you two end up having lots of fun while cooking and Simeon might take any chance to tease you, damn this closet sadist angel with way too tempting shoulders

the whole family enjoys your cooking, grandpa Solomon, mom Mc, Dad Simeon and dog child Luke

when you retire to bed, he tucks you (oh god this got autocorrected to fuck and I'm so glad I saw that before posting it) into bed and gives you a kiss on the forehead for good dreams, will then settle himself on the sofa, "are you trying to tempt an angel? As much as I'd like to cuddle... I don't think we should..."

will reluctantly join you in bed but turn his back to you and keep space between you, will tense up if you put your arms around his waist and  cuddle into his back... But will enjoy it after getting used to it, will tangle his fingers with yours and hold your arm around his waist

Luke:

he is the one to ask for a sleep over, because Simeon said he is only allowed to stay awake longer on special occasions and he is a big boi and wants to stay awake longer and spend more time with the adults, “so can you please come over? I'll even bake you a cake...”

so you bake a cake together.

it's really nice and you have fun, Luke is really confident and takes the lead, telling you what to do next

 Oh and occasionally you have to bring grandpa Solomon out of the kitchen, cause he is trying to help, but... Yeah, no.

you have to help Luke put the cake in and out of the stove, cause he almost burns himself and you just want to help, but Luke sulks a bit, don't give him headpats he's not a dog, just hug him and tell him you care about his well-being

the cake turns out great and you have it as a dessert after dinner with everyone, grandpa is sulking, cause he wasn't allowed to help but whatever he'll get over it

it's about the time where Luke normally goes to bed where he starts to get a bit drowsy, his answers in your conversation about everyday things, are getting shorter and he needs longer to find the right words, so you suggest going to bed, but Luke wants to stay up late...

He falls asleep 10 minutes later and you tuck him into bed, you try to leave but he keeps holding your hand, guess you'll have to stay

Simeon finds you two cuddled together later that evening, as he wanted to check in on you before going to sleep himself

Barbatos:

it's the very rare occasion of Diavolo leaving the castle for a business in the human world, and Barb has been left behind at the castle to upkeep the work there, luckily there is not much to do so Barb decides to invite you over for some rare alone time... Also because he feels a bit lonely after spending almost each day with a man-child

when you arrive at the castle, Barb is already waiting for you at the front gates with a basket "I hope you don't mind if we have our dinner outside? The weather is so nice today I thought we could eat in the castle garden"

night picnic with Barb.... Actually now that I think about it... Isn't it night all the time in Devildom?... Anyway night picnic

Barb has literally made a feast for you two, he is so used to cook in big portions you'll have 'some' rest food to bring back to Beel tomorrow

just relaxing in the garden on a fluffy blanket surrounded by magically glowing flowers and eating nice food with Barb while talking about anything that comes to mind

his inner butler kicks in after you're sated and he instantly stands up to clean, but you pull him back down to relax, he is a bit flustered as he finds himself on his back with his head resting in your lap, your hand softly stroking through his hair, but the embarrassment soon gets replaced by pure contentment as Barb calms down and let's you play with his hair

he falls asleep in your lap, but you don't mind and let him take a small nap

when he wakes up again about an hour later, he bashfully apologizes for falling asleep... "it has gotten a bit chilly, shall we go in now?"

butler Barb is a British gentleman and that's why I like him, so after he put all the food and plates back into the basket he shakes out the blanket and drapes it around your shoulders to keep you warm, you better be grateful and take him with you under the blanket!

he brings you to a room which is right next to his so you can find him quickly in case you need something

"you want to sleep in one room? Is that truly wise? I'm still a demon and there is only one bed in my room... You don't mind?.... Oh well if you insist..." he is not used to being close to people of any race, laying down his butler demeanor and being his casual self is still a bit hard to him, but you're patient and so he tries to relax with you

he keeps distance in bed, and asks you multiple times for your confirmation that this is really to your liking

you fall asleep quickly and Barb, not in a creepy way, watches you a bit trying to find any sign of discomfort, as he doesn't find any he takes a big breath and takes your hand again looking for discomfort, but he relaxes with a content smile as your grip tightens around his hand as well

 he falls asleep feeling very happy and as if he has achieved a big next step of getting closer to you

Diavolo:

slaps 'youthful fun 101' on your desk in rad "how do you do, fellow kid? Ready for some neat sleep over at my castle this weekend?"

...

yeah... Let's fucking go!

Sorry Barb

he wants to try everything you can do at a sleep over... He never had someone to do that with, so just be nice and make the best out of it

you start out easy, you need to have a base to return too and later rest so the dining room gets redecorated to a giant blanket fort, eveything is covered in blankets and pillows

with the base set it's time for some fun, Dia suggests to play some games so here you go playing... I dunno party games... Even roping Barb into a round of Poker.. Barb wins due to his pokerface....

after some games to set the mood, Dia is up for some rather surprising things, braiding each others hair, doing face masks even a manicure, this man wants it all and he is having so much fun don't ruin this for him

much to Barbs dismay Dia wants traditional sleep over food so pizza it is, Barb was at least able to convince him to make the pizza themselves so it is less unhealthy, so here you three are in the kitchen baking a messy pizza with all sorts of toppings, because Dia can't decide on just a few

Barb is starting to regret having bought this youth trends book for Dia

after eating a delicious pizza it is movie time with an excessive amount of snacks to choose from as if you're not already full from the pizza, so you two cuddle up in your blanket fort and watch some movies on a laptop, until late into the night, Barb has already retired to his room but only sleeps with one eye closed always ready to jump for the fire extinguisher

Dia has too much energy

how about hide and seek  at night, in the castle, in hell, with no one else knowing about it, you hide in the kitchen almost scaring Barb to death when he enters to get a glass of water, he drags you out of the kitchen and exclaims the kitchen to be a restricted area

stop scaring Barb he almost kicked you, cause he thought you're a rat

what’s better at 3 am then having a 2-man full out blown karaoke party, waking everyone in the castle up

only positive thing for Barb: you sing until your voices are hoarse so you can't scream at him anymore

with the last energy you two have, you decide to top this very successful and entertaining sleep over with a pillow fight, messing up your blanket fortress

you fall asleep cuddled together under a half collapsing blanket fort, but don't worry Dia is shielding your body so nothing is going to suffocate you

Barb wants to retire... But he's also happy for his lord that he had such a great time

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

[mmvalentine]

The Bargain Pt 4 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Feyre’s last session was on a Thursday evening, Rhys’ last appointment of the day. And she was running very late.

Feyre rushed down the street, trying to scrape her hair back into some semblance of presentability, and narrowly dodged bowling an old man over in the street. She skidded to a halt outside the tattoo shop, spared just one glance at her reflection in the glass and then swept in. Despite noticing with horror the dark circles under her eyes.

She stood in the doorway, and watched Rhys look up from where he was sitting and sketching, probably startled by the clanging she was making by bursting through the door like this. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to him, still panting slightly. “I know I’m unacceptably late. Do you still have time to finish my tattoo?” Rhys put down his pen. "Of course," he said. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," Feyre said, looking away and self-consciously tugging on her dishevelled shirt. "I... got caught up at home, I'm really sorry." "That's okay," Rhys said. "Come on in."

They set up like usual, and soon Rhys was putting the finishing touches on Feyre's arm. She lay there and stared at the ceiling, Tamlin’s latest temper tantrum reeling through her head and still pounding in her ears. And this time, she barely felt the needles at all. She could hear the machines buzzing but the pain seemed very, very far away.

In all honesty, she was glad of a little pain today. Morbid as it may seem, her insides were churning so hard, the sharp physical sensation actually made more sense than the hurt and confusion that she felt every time Tamlin lost his cool. How strange, that being tattooed today seemed like just what she needed.

So she let Rhys finish the shading around her wrist, add dot work, and highlight in white, and just lay quietly. Better than opening her mouth and letting Rhys see what a mess she really was.

But Rhys seemed to notice anyway. He kept glancing up at her, as if waiting for her to resume their usual chatter. After about half an hour, he spoke.

"You know I'm really glad you're here," he said. "All day I've been tattooing this guy who just won't stop singing." It took a moment to filter through, but Feyre had to admit she was intrigued. Rhys went on, speaking quickly as if trying to fill the silence.

"Yeah, he's carrying on and on and even giving tips to Mor- she's one of the artists here, who's in a band. So he's telling her all these things about performing and vocals. Thing is, he's absolutely shite."

Feyre looked at him. Was Rhys… babbling?

"I had to make sure I talked to him the whole time, because if I stopped talking he started singing." Feyre snorted and Rhys smiled to himself.

"So here I am, trying to concentrate and tattoo as fast as I can, and trying to come up with lengthy topics of conversation before one of the guys comes over to murder me." "What did you talk about?" Feyre asked him. "Jellyfish," Rhys told her. "Jellyfish?!" "Yeah I've been listening to podcasts about ocean life and it's all I could think of at the time." "Okay," Feyre said. "Hit me with some jellyfish facts."

"Did you know," Rhys said, "that there is a species of jellyfish that never dies. It's got two life stages, sort of like you know insects have a larval stage, but it just shifts back and forth from one to the other indefinitely." "So it's immortal?" "Yeah, basically. Another species can glom onto each other and form a mega jellyfish, where like there will be a mouth jelly and an excretion jelly and all that but they're just one big jelly now." "Woah like hivemind jellyfish?" "Sure, except jellyfish don't have brains." "That's crazy." "Uh huh."

Rhys let Feyre ponder jellyfish facts while he went back up her arm checking for bits he had missed. Found a spot that would be shaded darker, and started on that bit. The needle bit into her skin with a whine.

"Hey," he said tentatively. "Are you okay?"

Feyre sighed inwardly, and wished fervently that she was the kind of girl that could make a guy laugh, and not worry.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she answered. "I'm so sorry I was late today. Looks like everyone else has pretty much packed up for the day and you're staying late because of me." Indeed the last artist had left the space ten minutes ago, and they were now alone.

"Well, actually," Rhys said, "I'm just about done here. Just have to finish up this bit... and we're finished." He sat up straight, put the machine down and wiped her down. Then he stretched in his seat while Feyre stared at her arm, turning it this way and that. A whorl of night sky and dreaming stared back at her, and for a moment she forgot Tamlin altogether.

"Rhys," she said, "this is incredible. Thank you so much. I…I love it." Loved the way it looked on her, actually. She had never been particularly fond of her own body, and couldn’t stop staring down at herself.

"You're very welcome. If you want, you can go look in the mirror and see then whole effect before I wrap you up."

So Feyre slid off the bench and skipped over to the full length mirror by the wall, and Rhys chuckled as he started packing his area down. She took in her reflection, this time bypassing her tired face completely and just seeing the ink in her skin. She had had the tattoo for months now, but it hadn't prepared her for what the finished product would look like. It looked like... like herself.

When she came back, Rhys wrapped her arm she paid the remainder owing. And then all that was left to do was leave. Go home. To Tamlin.

She stood on the spot, with one ankle turned out and her bottom lip between her teeth. Rhys paused.

"You don't want to go home, do you?" he asked her. And she looked up at him, and his searching, violet eyes, and couldn’t lie to him. She shook her head.

Rhys nodded. Looked around the empty studio, and then said, "Okay. Well I'll need another twenty minutes to finishing break down, and then I will tell you the rest of the jellyfish facts I know before you go. Deal?"

Relief slid into her veins. "Deal."

So she sat a stool in the corner of the studio while Rhys pottered about, putting things away and sanitising his station. Then when he was done, he pulled up another stool and sat opposite her, and told her everything he knew about scyphozoa while she picked through his sharpies and drew pictures in the blank spaces on his left forearm. It was only fair, she had said, since he had inked hers. He even had her sign the work, just below the heel of his palm.

"I'll get it tattooed," he said, "and then when you're world-famous I'll be a collectible item." Feyre laughed. "Okay, well then I'll give you a nice artistic autograph so you don't have to have some random girl's name tattooed on you." She scribbled her signature, and Rhys turned his wrist around to read it. "Oh so by artistic you mean illegible," he said. “Wouldn't want to upset any love interests," Feyre said, "I can't fight for shit." Rhys laughed. "Well there's no one to fight, but thanks for your thoughtful consideration."

They smiled at each other for a minute, until Feyre’s heart squeezed painfully and she forced herself to stand. "I should go," she said. Rhys took his markers back, and walked Feyre to the door.

And yet still, she couldn’t quite walk out.

"So, I guess this is it," Feyre said. "Thank you for everything." She lingered. "You know, I still think we could be good friends, you and I."

Rhys put his hands on the top of the door frame and leaned against it. The hard muscles of his triceps and forearms framed his face, and the light from the shop spilled around him.

"I'll make you a bargain Feyre," he said. "When you're getting tattooed you're really vulnerable and it can be easy to latch on to people who make you feel safe. So, give it six months, and if you still want to be my friend, I would love that. Okay?"

Feyre nodded. "Okay."

She turned to go, but before she did, Rhys reached out one last question.

"Feyre?" She turned. "Are you going to be alright?"

And Feyre put on her very best smile, smoothed it over her face like lipstick, and tried to photograph him, there in the doorway, in her mind.

"I'll be alright," she told him. And she waved and walked home.

****

This is based on actual conversations that I had with my tattoo artist recently, and he assures me all of those jellyfish facts are true. Mind blowing stuff.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @asteria-of-mars

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #fluff #mine

[nerdypanda3126]

Heart i’s

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers 250 Follower Celebration using a prompt list of 50 Wordless Ways to Say I Love You. I chose #48, getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

And this also got combined with an unused prompt in the sprint fic server: “You think you know me so well.” “How’s your coffee?” “Perfect, thanks—oh, that proves nothing.”

Read on Ao3 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Alya, there was a… dog… who ate my… sweater, and it was a wool sweater, and it made his stomach upset and—” 

Alya waved her off, chuckling, and Marinette flumped down into the seat next to her. “No worries, girl, that cute guy behind the counter already had this ready for you. On him, apparently.” Alya slid the still steaming to-go cup of coffee over to her with a knowing grin. 

“That was really nice of him,” Marinette said, taking the coffee suspiciously. Whenever Alya was involved, she was never sure there wasn’t a plot afoot. Alya raised her eyebrows in a suggestive question. 

“Yeah, nice,” she said, air-quoting Marinette, “or… maybe he’s hitting on you.” 

Marinette almost sputtered out the drink she’d been in the middle of taking. “What, Luka? Pff, no, he’s—I mean, of course he knows my order, I come here all the time. That’s nothing, I’m sure it’s…nothing...” She trailed off as she turned her head to look at him. 

Behind the counter, he was nothing short of professional, with an easy-going nature that translated well to great customer service. His hair was a bright teal that always made her wish she was brave enough to dye her own, and with his uniform hat on (backwards, always) it was just barely too short to cover the simple black gauges in his ears. They’d talked occasionally about the tattoos covering his forearms, although he’d mentioned others (that she was not going to think about with Alya sitting right there), and every once in a while she’d get a flash of his silver tongue piercing that always made her wonder if his mouth tasted like metal. 

“Uh huh, so you’re telling me there’s absolutely nothing there?” Alya brought Marinette back to earth with her teasing tone. When Marinette turned back to her, she pushed her glasses up on her nose like she’d just found a great scoop. 

Marinette blushed. Considering she’d just been thinking of Luka’s tongue in her mouth… but she couldn’t tell Alya that. So instead of answering her, she took a swig of her coffee. Alya rolled her eyes.  

“Go over and ask him out, M!” She leaned over to whisper like they were conspirators. “I think he’s got a thing for you, too, and if you like him, and he likes you…” 

“Alya, he does not have a thing for me, and I—” She bit back the lie she was about to tell Alya and revised it to something a little more true. “I don’t have time to date right now.” 

“He doesn’t have a thing for you. Mhmm. Right.” Alya turned the cup in Marinette’s hands until her name was showing. The lowercase “i” was dotted with two lines that formed a small heart. Marinette stared back at it. 

“That’s… his marker… must’ve been, you know, he had to… dot the 'i' twice.” She set the cup down hurriedly. 

“And it’s not like he’s been looking over here the whole time dying for you to notice him.” Alya shrugged nonchalantly, but her grin had grown to a smirk. She nodded back behind Marinette again and she dared to turn her head to look. 

And just barely caught the shy smile he gave her when their eyes met before he turned away again. 

“That’s… he’s…” Marinette floundered to come with an excuse, any excuse, but there was no reason he should be looking at her like that. With those electric blue eyes that felt like they could see straight through her. She felt flushed and she turned back to Alya, pulling at her collar. “It’s… warm in here, don’t you think?” 

Alya just stared back at her smugly. Marinette abruptly stopped fanning herself and twisted her fingers together on the table instead.

“Look, you think you know me so well, but there’s really nothing going on. Luka and I are friends. We’re friends, okay? I come here and I talk to him sometimes, and he makes good coffee, and that’s it.” To prove her point, and also to stop talking about this, she took a long draught out of her cup. 

“How’s your coffee?” Alya asked, that smug smile and teasing tone still firmly in place. 

“It’s perfect, actually, he remembered the double shot of espresso and he put in some of that chai flavoring that I like and—oh, that proves nothing.” 

Alya was chortling now, trying to hide it behind her hand and utterly failing. 

Marinette set her cup down with a little snap on the table. “Okay, fine, you’re right, I like him, okay? The reason we come here for our coffee dates is so I can see him, and I come here specifically when I know he’s working, and sometimes I sit here for hours pretending to sketch, but I’m really waiting until he has a second to come sit with me, and sometimes we end up talking a lot, and sometimes I think about kissing him, and sometimes I wish I had the guts to tell him, ‘hey, I have a major crush on you, would you want to go out sometime when you’re not working?’ but I don’t, and he doesn’t like me like that, so I’m not going to say anything so I can keep coming here and dreaming about him in peace and why are you still laughing?” 

Alya pointed behind her and Marinette spun in her chair only to come face to face with Luka. He was frozen in shock, it seemed, a pace or two behind her, holding another cup. 

“I… you… heard all that, huh?” Marinette asked, biting her lip. He nodded as a cute pink tinge started to creep over the tops of his cheeks. 

He cleared his throat and gestured with his cup to their table. “I, uh, I’m on break, and I wondered if I could maybe join you.” His eyes flicked to Alya before landing back on Marinette. 

Marinette felt Alya squeeze her hand, and heard her announce she was heading out anyways, but she was absolutely frozen. Luka slid into Alya’s vacated seat across from her and her eyes followed him the whole way. He let out an embarrassed chuckle and looked down at his hands around his cup before he glanced up at her. 

“How’s your coffee?” he asked, his voice low and quiet and much more musical than it had any right to be. 

“It’s perfect,” she managed to say. “Thank you.” 

He nodded and dropped his eyes again, fiddling with his cup, his lime green fingernails keeping time as he turned it around and around on the table. When he looked up at her again, she realized she’d been holding her breath since he sat down. She forced herself to pull a shaky breath in and let it out slowly. 

“I guess I was maybe a little too subtle,” he finally said, chuckling, motioning with his cup to hers. 

“You mean…?” 

“I mean.” He aimed another one of those shy smiles at her. “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out. For a while, now, actually, there’s a pool going on for how long it’d take me.” 

“You’re kidding.” She was surprised into giggling. He stuck his tongue out playfully, flashing his tongue piercing at her in the process, and she lost her train of thought again. “But you’re so cool,” she heard herself blurt out, then instantly she smacked a hand over her mouth. 

That cute blush was back and he grinned at her. “Oh, you should know me better than that by now,” he said, “I’m just a dork with tattoos.” 

“A smoking hot dork with tattoos,” she muttered, smiling, but he must’ve heard her because he chuckled again and dropped his eyes and ran a hand through his hair at the nape of his neck, rubbing a teal strand between his fingers as he regained his composure. 

“Okay, sure.” He cleared his throat to stop his laughter, but he was still grinning. “Sure, I’ll take that.” He dropped his hand back to his cup and leveled her with that look again. “Only if I get to say you’re a gorgeous, intimidating, espresso-fueled, way out of my league rock star.” 

She was blushing again, she had to be, but she couldn’t seem to stop smiling either. “You could say that.” She took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “Except for the out of your league part, considering we have a date on Saturday.” 

He tightened his grip on his cup, but that was the only indication she’d rattled him. “Saturday, that’s right, how could I forget? At the ice rink, wasn’t it?”

She hid a giggle behind her hand, relieved he was playing along. “Mhmm. You were going to show off those fancy moves of yours.” 

“I was, actually,” he said, and his eyes glinted with mischief. “Twirl you all around, show you off, maybe throw you in the air a bit, who knows?” 

She gulped. “Throw me?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.” He winked at her. “Especially if you fall for me.” 

She sputtered rather inelegantly, and he just grinned back at her, apparently pleased with himself for rendering her speechless. Someone called his name, and his smile slipped as he refocused. 

“My break’s over,” he said regretfully. When he stood, he paused as if he were thinking. “Wonder if I should tell them you beat me to the punch.” That soft, shy smile fell on her and she forgot for a moment that he’d been bantering with her not a moment before. “Either way, I win.” 

Something like a squeak came out of her and he chuckled before his hand dropped to her shoulder and squeezed gently. He hesitated, then stooped to press a quick kiss to her cheek, seemingly before he could think better of it, and walked away. 

When Alya bounced back in, squealing and demanding details, Marinette was still frozen in place, her fingertips lightly touching her cheek, and a dazed, lovestruck smile on her face. 

She reached for her coffee as Alya gushed, more out of a need to keep dreaming than to wake up, and caught sight of the small heart over her name as the spiced flavoring he’d thought to put in wafted up to her. Subtle, he’d said, maybe it was too subtle. She closed her eyes and took another drink of what had to be the most perfect cup of coffee she’d ever tasted, letting his unsaid words linger on her tongue and in her fluttering heart, smiling like she’d never be able to stop. 

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #mlb fic #lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #luka couffaine #lbsc 250 followers celebration

[depressedacadamia]

5 times Leo hit on Calypso as her Barista and one time it worked

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Coffee Shop AU! Calypso is running late one day so she ends up going to a coffee shop- what she doesn’t expect is for her barista to be Bad boy supreme

Later on in this fic, they sing this song.

Warnings?: Not much, terrible pick up lines, mainly fluff, making out.

A/N:  This took me so long but alas, here it is! This is kinda my first official fluff and I tried okay. Anyway, enjoy, comment, share, like- you know the drill. <3 from moi!

The 1st Thursday

Calypso was not happy with the line she was waiting in. She was running late and thus was at a coffee shop- somewhere she preferred not to go. The weather was terrible, grey skies as well as heavy rain that had Calypso drenched. The stupid forecast hadn’t predicted the rain and thus she had left her apartment without an umbrella nor raincoat. 

The coffee shop was small but cute, she had to admit. The staff seemed small but efficient and within a few minutes, Calypso found herself at the front of the line, face to face with a boy with rich dark tan skin and the most dazzling smile she had ever seen. He had long dimples and his dark curly hair would flop over his face in a cute manner.

“Hi, Welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Super sized Mcshizzle and I will be taking your order today, do you have your order ready?” He looked up at the girl in front of him and immediately, his lips stretched into a lazy and goofy smile. She frowned at the nickname but internally she wanted to laugh, even his name badge read Super Sized Mcshizzle- Who called themselves that?

“Can I get a cappuccino with 2 espresso shots, please.” She reached into her bag to pull out her purse while the boy at the counter hummed and tapped at the machine in front of him.

“What kind of milk?” He looked up again, cheekily smiling as if he had something planned.

“Uh, almond is fine.”

“And your name?” He asked, pulling out a marker. Before she could answer, he cut in.

“Does your name start with a C-”

“-Actually it doe-” 

 “-Because I can C us together.” 

Calypso resisted the urge to smile and instead raised an eyebrow at the horribly cheesy pick up line. Despite this, she was a bit impressed- Her name did technically start with a C.

“Calypso. That’s my name,” She told him as she walked away from the counter and sat at one of the stalls, waiting for her name to be called out. 

The 2nd Thursday

Somehow, Calypso found herself queuing outside the same coffee shop the next Thursday. Whilst she told herself it was because the coffee was perfect, it was truly to see the brown haired grinning boy who had served her last week. Pick up lines weren’t really her poison, but he wasn’t creepy and even she had to admit it- He was cute. 

As the queue grew shorter, she grabbed her purse ready to pay. She had subconsciously chosen to wear better clothes and style her hair today. Was it a stupid decision to wear white when drinking coffee? Absolutely. But Calypso was 100% willing to take the risk. 

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Bad Boy Supreme and I will be taking your order today, do you have an order ready?” The boy looked up, with his hair flopping about. He had rolled his sleeves up and Calypso, who wasn’t about to get caught, quickly averted her eyes elsewhere. She noticed that his name had changed- so had his badge. Did he have a collection of these names? She’d have to ask him next time.

Oh, so there will be a next time, huh? She asked herself. 

Shut up. 

“Oh. Calypso, right? Same as last time?” He asked as he hovered his finger over the machine.

“Oh, yeah. Cappuccino please.” 

As she waited for her name to be called out, she pulled out her sketchbook and started sketching the cute barista. From his elf like ears to his slanted chocolate eyes and the funny curl that went in the complete opposite direction of his hair earning him a messy hair look. It was only a basic sketch but it had outlined him. 

“Cappuccino for Calypso?” a familiar voice called out. She was slightly surprised to find her Barista also handing off her coffee but she also quite flattered. Or maybe she was just overthinking this. He could easily just have switched around for a friend- it can’t have been just for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she reached into her purse, trying to find the appropriate change in her purse. 

“You and I are like nachos with jalapeños. I'm super cheesy, you're super hot, and we belong together.” The pick up line rolled off his tongue as he leant over the counter separating them. He had a smirk that made Calypso immediately lose her strong front and spill her change all over the counter.

“What?!” she sputtered as her eyes darted to the change. She managed to scoop most of it into her arms without looking too much like a fool. She quickly grabbed her coffee and made her way out of the shop as fast as she possibly could, hoping she didn’t look as ridiculous as she thought she did. 

The 3rd Thursday

“You don’t understand, last time the pick up line was creepy. She probably thinks I’m a weirdo now!” Leo groaned as he slammed his head on the counter beside his friend Will who always worked the same shift as him. Unfortunately, Will did not get to witness what Leo kept on describing as ‘a catastrophe’. 

“She won’t come in today, I bet. Ugh, I really screwed up.” 

“It really can’t have been that bad!” Will argued, dragging Leo by the arm to the front counter. 

“I said You and I are like nachos with Jalapenos. I’m super cheesy, you’re super hot and we belong together.”

Will cringed. “Okay, that is bad.”

Calypso could not believe she was coming back to the coffee shop. The previous pick up line was terrible, in fact it was almost as bad as the ‘I’m here, what are your other two wishes’ pick up line that a creepy person had used on her earlier but in all honesty it wasn’t the barista that was the problem. It was the fact that she could not crush over someone with pickup lines as bad as those. This time, she had decided to use her card to pay so she wouldn’t have to deal with spilt change everywhere. 

“Hi, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee. I’m Commander tool Belt- that’s because my major is engineering and I fixed the old coffee machine- how can I help you?” The curly haired boy in front of her said miserably while slumped behind the counter with his face practically leaning on the machine.  

“I was hoping for the usual?” Her meek voice came out questioning. Leo’s head shot off the counter, almost slamming into the machine. 

“Wow… uh cappuccino again?” 

“Yep…” she searched for something to say. “So engineering major huh?” 

“Mhmm. I like making things I guess. What about you?” 

“Natural sciences. I was going to do art but I guess plants and animals are more of my poison.” She shrugged. 

“You can draw?” he asked, his voice peaking interest and turning around slightly. 

“Yes, why do you sound so surprised at that?” 

He batted his hand. “Oh nothing, just something we have in common.” He then winked and Calypso had to do everything she could to not react. She stood in front of the counter, waiting for her coffee but saw that her barista was screwing his eyes up and writing something on a cup. She wanted to pull out her sketchbook and draw the cute face he was pulling, leaning back and holding the cup in front of him as if it were an invention he had never seen. 

“Cappuccino for Calypso!” A sing-song voice that could only be her barista called out. She had to admit, his voice was not bad. In fact, it was quite impressive and it had a nice harmonious tune to it. 

“Thank you…” she said in a suspicious tone, as she swiped her card over the contactless payment machine. Her barista was suspiciously silent and she had yet to hear a terrible pick up line. He had a mischievous smile as if he had set something on fire and not told anyone anything about it. As she picked up her coffee, she noticed a lot more black marker on the cup and held it away from her face to read it.

Are you made of Copper and tellurium? Because you are CuTe.

She wanted to face palm at such a classic science pun but she was also impressed that he knew elements of the periodic table so easily. She let out a small laugh to let him know that she had noticed the pick up line before she took a small sip and smiled. 

The 4th Thursday

“I’m telling you, she actually laughed at the line! That’s a good thing right?” Leo asked as he put on his apron. 

“And I’m telling you, if you want her to go out with you, hit her with a star wars pun,” Will ugred while tying his apron behind his back.

“You’re obsessed with star wars.”

“Hey, it worked for me and Nico!” Will pointed out as they made their way to the counter.

“Sun boy, we all know you and Mr Debbie Downer did not get together over Star Wars pick up lines,” Leo argued. 

Calypso was running late. She hated being late. It was like slowly ticking off the boxes for panic 101. She was wearing mismatched socks, had the wrong books for class and the laces of her shoes were untied. At least the line was significantly shorter than usual and while normally that would have made Calypso question the occasion, she was too much in a rush to truly care.

As she ran in, she tripped over her laces and almost fell had it not been for the arms of the person in front of her. As she looked up to find her saviour, she found herself face to face with the curly brown haired boy who today wore the badge of ‘Admiral Leo’.  She thought Leo was a nice name and it suited him very well- much better than any other name would have.

“Hey, tie your shoes!” he scolded her and she was surprised by his concern over her safety. Alas, she had spoken too soon, 

“I don’t want you falling for anyone else.” he murmured, his lips right by her ear and his hot breath making goosebumps form all across her neck. He then reached down onto his knees, and did her laces. However, she noticed the manner he did them were different to how she would normally do them. 

“You know that’s how children do their laces, right?” Her hands rested on her hips as he gasped dramatically and held his hand over his heart. 

“Are you calling me a child?” 

Before she could say yes, he cut her off.

“The answer is I totally am a child because that means I can eat off the child menu,” He grinned foolishly. “Life hacks with Admiral Leo!” 

The 5th Thursday

“I’m telling you Leo- Make the Star Wars pun. Please! For me, do it for me!” Will begged as he tied Leo’s apron for him. Leo was reluctant to go with a Star Wars pun. He didn’t know if Calypso would get it or if she was into nerdy stuff like that but he was running out of ideas. He hadn’t gotten any terrible sparks of inspiration and the Star Wars inspired pun that Will had told him couldt go too badly?

Nervously, Leo waited behind the counter, his hands tapping as if he had just slapped on a nicotine patch and then glugged 6 espresso’s. In other words, Leo was anxious. If he just made the drinks without thinking about it, he could get his mind off it but when he started remembering that she may walk in at any moment, he could feel his hands shake and his stomach begin to churn. 

Calypso was very happy. She had no classes today, no research studies to deal with and she had even managed her time well enough to hang out with a friend before heading towards her newly found and now favourite coffee shop. She knew it was it because of a certain curly haired and cheekily grinning boy. 

“Hello, welcome to Steamy Beans Coffee, I’m Flaming Valdez- don’t ask please- how can I assist you today?” He once again looked up and when seeing Calypso, he recited her order before the words could come out of her mouth. 

“Cappuccino with 2 espresso shots and almond milk?” 

Calypso, a bit shocked, nodded. She could feel small butterflies forming in her stomach thinking about how Leo had memorised her order. 

Stop being silly. He probably memorises every regular’s order. 

 “Soo… Flaming Valdez… what’s the story behind that?” She asked, despite his warning. Leo tipped his head back and let out a throaty laugh that had Calypso tingling all over- How can a person have such a gorgeous laugh? How can someone look so good while laughing? 

“Oh, that’s a good story. Every year, we celebrate the owners birthday by having the shop to ourselves. No customers, just the staff chilling. Anyway, so it’s like 9pm and we’re all meant to be out because it was sunset an hour ago but instead we’re still in the shop. Everyone’s gathered right out there because your boy, Flaming Valdez, brought in Roman candles!” Leo pointed to the chairs and tables outside the shop.

“Roman candles?” Calypso asked, a tad confused. Her face scrunched up a bit and Leo almost died from how cute her face looked.

“They’re like fireworks. There’s a slight difference with how the shell explodes compared to fireworks and they are a much more traditional version of fireworks but…” He trailed off when he noticed Calypso’s confused face- he just managed to remember that she wasn’t a nerd like him and didn’t study fireworks in her freetime. 

“Anyway, Will has the red ones and I have the green ones and so we literally start shooting them at each other like we’re re-enacting Harry Potter or something!”

“What! Can’t someone get set on fire from that?”

“Well yeah actually, they can. Will shoots one at me, sparks at my hair and sets it on fire. I’m running around trying to stop my burning hair while everyone is laughing. The crowd started cheering ‘Flaming Valdez’ and since then, they’ve adopted me that name. I’ve tried to get them to change it but it seems to stick,” he laughed while making her coffee. 

“Yeah, I think I’ve seemed to notice. Super sized Mcshizzle, Bad boy supreme, Commander tool belt, Admiral Leo and today- Flaming Valdez.” She listed all the names he would wear on his badges off her fingers. However, that may have been a mistake because when she looked up, she saw Leo shooting her a sly grin that made the butterflies start going crazy in her stomach again.

“So you remember my names, huh?” 

“It’s the nice thing to do,” she defended, a blush rising on her cheeks as she reached for some napkins.

Leo took a deep breath- he couldn’t believe that he was going to use Will’s Star Wars pick up line. 

“Do you like Star Wars? Cause Yoda only one for me.” The words practically rolled off his tongue and Calypso froze before breaking in laughter. She couldn't hold it in anymore- this was by far the funniest of all the pick up lines he had used. She pulled out a pen and scribbled something down on her sketchpad before ripping it out.

Leo, distraught, watched as she laughed at the pick up line. He should have listened to his gut and never made the pick up line. Oh gosh, he looked like an absolute loser now. Who makes Star Wars puns other than nerds? He handed Calypso the coffee and watched as she quickly left.

 He noticed the sketch she had left behind, it looked oddly familiar. In fact, he could have sworn it looked just like him. She had been sketching him everytime she waited for her coffee. He traced finger gently over the outline of his face, smiling. She had drawn everything in such detail, he felt like he was looking in the mirror but at the same time he felt she had facetuned him and made him look.. Well, perfect. Did she think he needed all these faults fixed? Or was this just how she saw him? She somehow made every flaw seem gorgeous and beautiful and he didn’t know how to feel as he looked at the bottom of the sketch. 

His eyes widened as he read the note left at the bottom of the sketch. 

Hey Leonidas (your co-worker told me that). Here’s my number - 07669833256. 

P.S- Star Wars puns ALWAYS work.

Yours truly, Calypso

“Leo? Are you good?” Will stopped to ask him. 

“Star Wars puns always work- you were right,” he said starstruck. 

The Next Friday

“Mamacita, get off those tables, I need to clean them,” Leo huffed, holding a spray bottle threateningly and a cloth in his other hand. Calypso, giggling and giddy hopped off the table. She watched as Leo quickly sprayed it down before wiping it. 

“Are you checking me out?” Leo’s smug voice cut through Calypso’s thoughts, snapping her out of mind. Her initial reaction was to stutter and wildly deny it however today at 7pm, she felt more bold than usual and decided to tease him a bit.

“So what if I was?” 

Leo almost froze at the bold response, not expecting the reaction from her. They’d been officially going out for one week and so far, Calypso had been quite shy. A kiss on the cheek here and there, a bit of innocent flirting but no one had really openly confessed their feelings. It was obvious to everyone around them that they liked each other but they seemed determined to have the other say it first. 

“Well if you were… " He turned around to see her smirking with both hands on her hips. He was not losing to Calypso- he would make her confess her feelings first if it was the last thing he did. She sat herself on the counter behind her and beckoned Leo forward with her finger. He raised an eyebrow at the bold move but obliged. 

Leo stood between Calypso’s thighs, his hands slipping around her waist. Their faces were close enough that if Calypso and Leo both moved their head slightly forward, they’d be kissing. Funnily enough, they both had started eating mints and chewing gum whenever they’d be with each other as if they were planning the moment. 

“I still can’t believe those pick up lines worked,” Calypso sighed, her hands moving onto Leo’s shoulders, comfortably rubbing them back and forth. 

“Bad Boy supreme is very much offended by those comments.”

“Nu uh. Ever since that blond co-worker of yours told me that your full name is Leonidas...” She paused to unsuccessfully hold in a small laugh. “...That your name is Leonidas, it’s been Leonidas and it will always be Leonidas to me.”

“Not even Leo?” He asked, his eyes entering puppy eyes mode. Calypso remained unimpressed and shook her head. Their eyes locked and they could feel each other's thoughts. Just as their heads were leaning in,the radio behind the counter bugged out and static started blaring everywhere. Calypso wanted to curse god- of coure something just had  to ruin the moment. Immediately, the two students shoved their hands over their ears and Leo jumped over the counter to quickly fix the horrendous noise. A few minutes later, About Love  by Marina started softly playing through the cafe’s speakers. 

The moment seemed like it was manufactured for a movie. The beautiful sunset on the horizon, the romantic music and most of all, Leo’s playful smile as he held his hand out asking Calypso to dance. She, of course, accepted and the two twirled about in each other's arms. They weren’t very good and they kept on stepping on each other's toes but eventually they got into a position where Leo’s hands were wrapped around her waist and Calypso’s arms were thrown around Leo’s neck. 

Leo watched as Calypso closed eyes and softly sang the words to the song under her breath. 

“Started in the strangest way, didn’t see it coming.”

Leo started singing with her, “My head gets messy when I try to hide.”

“The things I love about you in my mind” Their voices were harmonious and in sync. 

“I don’t really know a lot about love, a lot about love, a lot about love but you’re in my head, you’re my blood and it feels so good, it hurts so much.” Calypso had her head leaning on Leo’’s chest and she could hear the steady thumping of his heart quicken.

“Shall I take this as your confession of love to me?” He murmured into her hair. Calypso shot her head up so fast that she almost butted Leo in the chin. 

“Hell no, Leonidas.” 

Yet, as she said those words, her face leaned upwards towards Leo with her intense gaze falling to his lips. They looked soft, supple even and she felt so tempted to reach out and brush them. In fact, she felt so tempted to touch them that she didn’t even notice her actual hand reaching out to brush against his bottom lip. 

Leo had to physically restrain himself from shivering when he felt Calypso’s finger brush over his bottom lip, dragging it back slightly before slowly setting her hand at the side of his face. Slowly, like they were two magnets slowly attracting each other, they leaned in. When they were practically breathing in each other's face, Leo decided to spring one more pick up line on Calypso. 

“Did you know that my lips are skittles?” Leo cut in quickly. Calypso quickly frowned, not catching on. Leo continued, “ And you’re about to taste the rainbow.”

Calypso groaned, throwing her head back while Leo giggled to himself. Sick of chasing each other, Calypso grabbed Leo’s face with both her hands and smashed her lips into his, abruptly shutting him up. To say Leo was surprised would be the understatement of the year. He was in a true state of panic, thinking what he should do with his hands, his lips, his entire being. Her lips moved against his, encouraging him. He wrapped his hands around her waist, both of them moving up her back, pulling her into the kiss. 

They pulled away for a brief second, looking each other in the eye before slamming their lips back together. Had anyone walked in on them, it would have only been appropriate to say that they were devouring each other- their lips pushed and their hands pulled. Their lips moved in sync and Calypso weaved her hands into Leo’s curls. It was demonically passionate as their tongues slipped across each other's lips. The heat of the kiss spread across Calypso’s face- the blush was so obvious, she felt like her lips were on fire. Nothing could have stopped them, not even if the entire world was on fire. 

As they pulled away, Calypso had one more trick up her sleeve. 

“As far I’m concerned, the rainbow tasted pretty damned good,” She remarked, referencing to Leo’s previous pick up line. 

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