these are all just from the past like two months does rbr know that charles doesn’t drive for them

Supersede p.3

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Word count : 4k

I went through this a couple of times, even deleted half of the paragraph and rewrite it back but I still feel like something’s missing. Probably because I kept on jumping from one timeline to the other one because I have to finish this one in one part. 😔

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flash

The roaring cheer from the crowd filled up the pit lane soon as Charles hopped off his car that was parked in front of the board, which had number 1 on it. It was his 10th podium in his career in Formula 1. The adrenaline was over the head. Charles had the brightest smile glued to his face as he waved to the crowd.

The roaring cheer from the crowd filled up the pit lane soon as Charles hopped off his car that was parked in front of the board, which had number 1 on it. It was his 10th podium in his career in Formula 1. The adrenaline was over the head. Charles had the brightest smile glued to his face as he waved to the crowd.

"My bracelet?" Charles waited for another piece of his bracelet while he slipped on the last piece of ring that Joris handed. "Joris, where’s the other one?"

"I think Leona took it?" He claimed, checking on his pockets. "Which one was it?"

"The one with black and white. Please ask Leona to give it back. I need it." He mentioned that before getting into the centre, he was once again greeted with a cheer from the crowd.

"Charles! Congratulations on your 10th pole position in your career."

"Thank you, thank you so much. It was a very tough qualifying, and everyone did so well."

Charles came to find Joris, who seemed to be engaging in a conversation with his girlfriend back in the garage after he was done with the photo session.

"Give me back my bracelet."

"Let me wear it for a while." She hid her arms at the back of her waist and giggled when Charles looked defeated. She always found it adorable how he always gave in and let her win in anything.

"Just please give it back when you are done with it."

"It’s just a bracelet? I can even make a new one for you." She rolled her eyes.

"I don’t want you to make a new one; just give it back. It’s a gift from someone."

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"Oh my! Are you okay?" You shrieked.

The idea of taking a picture on the bridge where you could capture the bits of the water ride in your background turned out to be a bad idea when you were drenched head to toe the moment you clicked on the selfie button on your phone.

The picture still made you giggle every time you looked at it. Instead of smiling, Jake and you had your eyes closed, and you could see the big splash of water that was about a drop away from hitting both of you. It was a picture that you could send to be included in those "pictures that were taken a minute before a disaster’ Tiktok videos.

"Having fun?" Dean asked.

"Yeah! Look at this!" You exclaimed. Dean gazed at the picture on your phone and burst out laughing.

"What happened?"

"We didn’t know the water could reach us, and we ended up drenched." You cackled and were about to head upstairs when Dean called you out.

"Charles left you your favourite ice cream. He was waiting for you to come back, but something came up literally 15 minutes ago, I think. So he had to leave." The screen showed a goal celebration from the opponent, making Dean grumble in frustration. "What even was my goalkeeper doing, bro?"

"It must be his girlfriend." You mumbled.

"Yeah, I think so too." You weren’t expecting him to hear you. "He has been a little distant now, hasn’t he?"

"What was his girlfriend like?"

He frowned and paused the match. "Can you come here and talk? I can barely hear you, silly. I’m losing this match because I can’t focus."

Rolling your eyes, you threw yourself on the couch as he went back to the game. "His girlfriend was a little; I don’t know how to say this in the nicest way possible. She seemed to have the upper hand in the relationship."

"Is she nice?" You muttered and flinched when he shouted.

"Why didn’t you pass? This is bullshit. Sorry, what were you saying? Oh, I don’t know." He jumped in his seat when the ball nearly went into the net.

"What do you mean you don’t know?"

"She was ignoring me the whole dinner. I was invisible, I think. Pass the ball!" Dean called out.

"You are ridiculous, Dean!" Rolling your eyes, you head back to your room, leaving your half-anxious brother in the living room, shouting all alone.

"Oh, the dinner ended early, so I only spent, like, not even an hour with her? Charles said he wanted to check on someone." Dean yelled out before going back to his game.

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"I’ll be right back!" You called out and took off your apron before dashing your way to the bathroom. You had started working on your part-time job again now that you were on a summer break.

Every time you started working, you would always set a goal. Last time, it was for Charles’s birthday gift. Well, not for the bracelet alone. You had saved up some money to buy him a watch that reminded you of him. Your budget wasn’t met on time, so you could only give him the bracelet as a temporary replacement until you could buy the main gift. The watch was still in your possession, and you didn’t think it would ever reach Charles. This time, you were saving up for the necklace that you had been eyeing for months. You lost the game with Dean the other night, so now you have to actually work for it.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

"Oh– I’m.." The sandwich wrapper in your hand was stuffed into your pocket. You were on a lunch break, and like usual, you would always have your lunch near the fountains where you could see your city from a higher view. This time, your lunch was interrupted by your brother’s best friends. "I’m having my lunch."

"I didn’t know you worked. Café de Paris?" His eyes trailed on the words written on your cap.

"Yeah, just for a short time, though, because I don’t really have anything to do during my break." You gave a soft smile. It’s been a week since the last time you saw him. Since the first argument

"Y/N, I really didn’t mean what I said that day. I just missed 

"I’m all set! Oh, hello! Baby, who’s this?" There was a girl in a short dress. She was stunning. Her makeup looked amazing yet very natural, enhancing her facial features. Her hair looked beautiful with the soft curls that bounced every time she tilted her head.

And she was wearing the bracelet. The same one you had around your wrist.

"She’s my friend. My best friend Y/N, this is, um, my girlfriend, Leona. Leona, Y/N." 

You saw the way she looked at you; the slight smirk on her face when she saw your uniform made you feel self-conscious and smaller. Looking down, you tried to straighten your shirt and kept your hands on your laps, your eyes looking away as you tried to think of a way to excuse yourself.

"Did you give her the same bracelet I got from you?" She scowled. The change in her tone made you dumbstruck.

"No, it was my gift for him." You gritted your teeth in silent fury. She had been looking at you up and down, disgusted, as if you had done something wrong.

"Chill. I am not asking you." She rolled her eyes. Charles was silent the whole time, but he kept on looking at you.

Charles wanted to hold you. He wanted to put you in his embrace. He wanted to talk to you about everything—every single thing. He wanted to apologise, but whenever he saw you, he would always mess things up.

"You don’t have to glare at me like that as if I were that desperate to wear this. Take it then." She pulled the bracelet off and threw it on the ground as she pulled Charles away.

"Just go first." He retracted his hand away, making the girl glunt at you even more before she walked away. "Y/N, what time will you finish your shift? I can wait for you and send you home?"

"Just go, Charles. Just leave me alone."

"Y/N, please,"

"Just go." You snapped. To that end, he walked away, and you looked at him briefly as he looked back every so often while you stood there with the bracelet in your hand.

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flash

The door to your room was barged open, causing you to jump and roll your eyes when your brother walked in.

"What do you want?"

"Well, I just wanted to check on my sister because why the heck did you keep on shouting?" You cursed under your breath when he laid down on your bed with his outside clothes.

"I just wanted to do this, but it’s not working!" The video on your phone was paused ten times as you dipped your head on the table.

"A bracelet? For who?" He took the Koala soft toy and hugged it, his eyes still locked on you at the dressing table.

"Secret!"

He cackled and turned his body to the side, arm angled upwards, head on hand. "I’m not a fool, silly. Charles?"

"How do you know?" He shouldn’t know. You had been so discreet with your feelings that there was no way he would have known, but Dean was also the one who knew everything about you.

"I’m your brother. I know everything. Need my help?"

"No, it’s okay. I got this." You actually wanted to go with a heart bracelet, but this had been your third attempt, and none of the results were up to your liking, so you went with a normal design, which is easier for someone new like you.

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"Charles! Come in!"

You were heading to the kitchen when you heard his voice, which made you trace your steps back and tiptoe your way back to the room.

"I’m sure Dean is sleeping. Wait, I’ll wake him up." Your mom stopped in her tracks when Charles called out.

"Mrs. Y/L/N, I’m actually here for Y/N. Can I see her?" Charles asked as he took a seat on the couch.

"Oh, she went out on a date. She did mention his name, but I couldn’t recall."

"Oh, it’s okay! I’ll just wait for Dean." Charles gave a soft smile as Y/M/N went upstairs, and he heard her shouting Dean’s name.

"Wake up! Your friend’s downstairs. You need to stop sleeping all day long!"

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"Y/N, I actually have something to tell you."

Jake has been acting different from the moment he picked you up. He had been the most outgoing and cheerful person on your first date, but he seemed to be anxious tonight. You could barely carry a conversation along the ride because he would always reply with one or two words.

"Is there anything wrong?" Something in your gut told you that it might not be something good, but there was a little bit of hope that maybe he was nervous because he wanted to talk about your "relationship". After all, this had been your fifth date with him.

"Do you want to order something first?"

"No, it’s okay. What is it?" Tucking the loose strand of hair behind the ear, you gave him a soft, reassuring smile.

"What? How do you know I have something to say?" Jake stuttered.

"Everyone can tell you have something to say to me!" Laughing, you placed your hand on the table and rested your chin on it. "What is it?"

"I wanted to tell you that." He titled his head back and groaned in frustration. "I just don’t know how to tell you this, but,

I’m back with my ex-girlfriend."

The smile on your face dropped almost instantly. It felt like someone kicked you on the head and knocked your breath out. "Wh–what? But I thought we had something. "

"You were amazing. I really had an enjoyable time with you, but I just wasn’t expecting her to come back." He tried to place his hand on yours, but you pulled it away and straightened your back. "And I will always choose her over anyone." He muttered.

That’s when it clicked on you. You would never be anyone’s choice. No matter how hard you try to please anyone, they will always choose someone else.

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"Mind if I continue my sleep here? Thank you. Make yourself at home." Dean gave a thumbs up sarcastically and threw his head back on the throw pillows as he drifted back to sleep. He was at his girlfriend’s house last night doing god-knows-whatever it was, and he came back all worn out, saying that 12 hours of sleep wasn’t enough.

Charles was sitting on the couch across, eyes on the door every once in a while. It has been more than 2 hours, and you should be coming home any minute now.

"What the f-" The phone blasted out The Weeknd’s song so loudly that it made both men in the living room jump in their seats.

"Turn it off, can you?" Dean groaned and covered his face with the throw pillow, making Charles click on his tongue.

"Dude, it’s your phone." He murmured while taking the phone off the coffee table. He was going to put it on hold when the familiar name on the screen caught his attention.

"Little Y/N."

"Hel–" 

"Dean," Charles heard you sob. "Can you—" another sob. "Can you pick me up?"

"Y/N, it’s me. Dean is sleeping." He replied.

"Oh, oh, it’s okay. I’ll just take a bus home."

Charles butted in before you pressed the end button. "Where are you?"

"I’m waiting for a bus."

"Where?"

"It’s okay, Charles."

He heaved a sigh of defeat. "Y/N, don’t do this. Text me your location. I’ll pick you up."

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You trailed the toe cap of your sneaker along the curve on the ground while the sound of a horn and faint music filled the air.

"I’ll always choose her over anyone."

"But I still like you."

"I need you to wait for me; can you do that?"

A chuckle escaped from your lips. Funny how, for a second, you thought your life was getting better, but it felt like you were hit by another rolling stone on your way up your dream hill.

"Pathetic." You muttered, your hand wiping your cheek as another tear escaped from your eyes.

"Y/N, let me take you home. I don’t think your brother is going to let me live if he finds out I let you take the bus this late." Jake pleaded for it ten times. It was getting more annoying now that he kept asking the same thing over and over. You tried to ignore him, but he ended up following you all the way to the bus station. "Give me that." He snatched on your bag, and you held on to the strap, glaring at him.

"Let go! I am not coming with you."

"What’s wrong with it?" 

"Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want to see you again. Can you just let go of my bag, dumbass?" You yelled when the strap slipped off your hand.

"Is this how you treat a woman when you take her out on a date?" Charles seized the bag and glowered at the other guy suspiciously.

"This is between me and her, dude. Y/N–"

Anything that involves her involves me too. Say whatever you want to say to her, but I’m not going anywhere." Charles got in between, and your sight of Jake was covered by his broad back.

"I just want to send her home." Jake chirped in.

"I’ll be taking her home. You don’t have to worry about that." Charles gave a nod and grabbed your wrist, walking back to his car.

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Your eyes were on your lap, and the words Jake said kept replaying in your head over and over.

"Am I.." 

Charles’s focus went on you when he heard your voice.

"Am I not worthy of love?"

Charles blinked, his brows furrowed, wondering where the question came from. "What makes you say that?"

"I feel like I’ve never had any luck when it comes to love. I never got to confess to you, and all of a sudden I found out you have a girlfriend. I thought Jake was going to confess to me, but it turned out he wanted me to be his backup plan. It was so silly of me to think that for a second, someone could like me back." You wept out of frustration, feeling like you just kept humiliating yourself over and over. "I’m sorry, I don’t know why you have to listen to that."

“I have always chose you.” He whispered.

But you didn’t hear. So, he continued.

"We broke up."

"Hm?" This was the first time you looked at him since you got in the car. He was so beautiful, even in the dark.

"Leona and I broke up." He blurted.

"Do you want me to ask why, or is that an invasion of privacy?" You glanced. He was still keeping an eye on the road; the street lights illuminated his face.

"No," he chuckled. "I know you always want the details on everything, so go ahead and ask."

"Okay, why? When?" You were now completely turned to face him, just as far as the seatbelt allowed.

"A week ago? I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. Everything was perfect at the beginning, but lately there hasn’t been a day where we won’t fight. It was draining. I don’t know what went wrong. And the–" He inhaled. "She got really angry when she found out about the bracelet, so yeah, we broke up."

"I’m sorry.." You breathed out.

"Sorry for?"

"For the bracelet, It was the reason she broke up with you." You straighten your back, leaning against the car set.

"Your bracelet was my lucky charm, Y/N. It was the reason I managed to get the pole and podium. I always felt the need to do my best because I wanted to make you proud. I wouldn’t have taken it off if it wasn’t for race week."

You wanted to hold his hand on the gear shift, but you were too scared, so you held yourself. "You always make me proud. Podium or not? Pole position or the last one in the starting grid, I’m always proud of you."

"Wanna go and get ice cream?"

"Yeah!" You exclaimed. "My favourite one?"

"Your favourite one. Are you up for a card game?"

"I never say no to a stupid card game." You replied.

Whatever happened that night was a little secret between Charles and you. You had told him to never tell your brother about what happened.

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"Y/N! You are cheating, aren’t you? That’s impossible! Give me your cards. Why can’t you just play clean?" You leaned away and brought the cards closer to your chest.

"The game hasn’t finished yet!" You put down another piece of card, giggling when he dumped his whole card right away and laid down.

"I don’t want to play anymore."

"You are so silly!" You gathered all the cards back into one bundle and put them back in a box. This was his third time losing, and while you were having a lot of fun, he was in misery.

It had been a few weeks since the last time you saw Jake. He did try to reach out, but you felt like there was no need for any other explanation from him. Charles came by every so often during his break, more often now that he has no one blowing up his phone.

He found out Leona was hanging out with someone else through Dean because, just like you, he was a really big fan of tea, but there weren’t as many hard feelings involved. She did deserve to be happy.

He came by again, though you told him Dean wasn’t home this weekend. Here he was, in your room, playing cards or listening to you rant about your customers.

"And then he was like, "Excuse me, where’s the whipped cream?" and my co-worker looked at me and was like, "Are you hearing this?"" 

He was lying on his side, head on his hand, while smiling and frowning, mimicking your expression as he rode the emotional rollercoaster ride where one second you were mad and the next second you were laughing. "Wait, I thought he said no whipped cream?" He recalled it.

"Yeah! And he was also the one who got mad because there was no whipped cream in his drink!"

"So what happened? Did he get the whipped cream in the end?" Charles sat up and bent down to get his paper bag that he had placed at the foot of your bed.

"Oh, I don’t know." You shrugged. My co-worker was the one who handled it."

"What the heck? You can’t just tell a story without an ending. That was anticlimatic, Y/N. Oh–" He took out a velvet box from the paper bag and handed it to you. "I wanted to give you this."

Your eyes went from him to the box in his hand. "It’s not my birthday yet."

"I know, but I won’t be here next week. I need to fly back to Maranello. Open it. I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but yeah, I hope you do."

The velvet box contained a Van Cleef & Arpels 18k rose gold necklace with a vintage Alhambra pendant. The one you had been eyeing since forever. "Are you crazy? I can’t take this." Your eyes widened in surprise as you closed the box. 

"No, take it. It’s your birthday gift! I can’t return it, silly. I threw away the sales slip." He crossed his arms so you wouldn't be able to shove the box back into his hands.

"It’s expensive! How do you know this was the necklace I wanted?" You gently took it out of the box and admired the way it was dazzling and dangling from your hand.

"I asked Dean. And I saw you were looking at it when I bumped into you during your lunch break the other day. Here, let me help you." He took the necklace from your hand and draped it around your neck. He found himself smiling fondly when you let go of your hair, the way the hair fell perfectly to frame your face as you gave off the brightest, radiant smile that always struck on him.

"I really don’t deserve this, Charles. My birthday gift to you was just that."

"Speaking about that, can you give me back the bracelet? Technically, it’s still mine." He scratches the back of his hair. "And I kinda need it for my next race."

"It’s all dirty now. But I can make you a new one."

"Just give it back, Y/N. And then you teach me how to make another one. Also, I was thinking if." He pursed his lips. "If I can take you out on a date after my upcoming race,"

The question had knocked you for six. You wanted to scream, but instead, you tilted your head away just so you could gather up all your emotions before you could look at him in the eyes. "I don’t know. Let me think about it first."

"I thought you liked me?"

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him head-to-toe. "Excuse me?! That was very cocky of you to assume."

"You literally confessed to me in my car weeks ago when I picked you up from the horrible date." He shrugged and cocked a brow.

"I didn’t."

"You did! Are you going to say yes, or am I getting rejected?" He tilted his head with a grin to catch your eyes as you kept on looking away.

"I’ll think about it. Oh! I actually have a belated birthday gift for you.” Standing up, you went to your drawer and pulled it open to get another small box.

“I thought the bracelet was my gift?” Charles took the box and tried to shake on it.”

“It was supposed to be a temporary one.” You looked at the box and back to him back and forth, trying so hard not to squeal. You had been waiting to give it to him as it had been in your drawer collecting dust.

“You got me another bracelet? Oh, I like it. It matched the rest of mine.” He put it on immediately and extended his arm to check on his bracelet collections from afar. “I am not gonna take this one off too. Thank you, Y/N. But I still need the old one though.”

“Oh, should we make a new one together?”

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Let me know if you could pick out few of the events where Charles picked reader first over anyone else!

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl

✧.* tag list for p.3! @sabrinaselina55 @honey6578 @julesandro @boherahpsody @gulphulp @bansheelydiia

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

since charles gf is friends with the boys since theyre young, how about a little something about her helping pierres gf when the woman feeling overwhelmed with their fame? like i imagine it can get crazy with paparazzi, all the money and the access, the travelling,the girls throwing themselves over them...nothing like us 9-5'vers are used to.

"We can go through here, it's usually calmer", you nudged Pierre's girlfriend while she walked along side you into the paddock, looking around at everything, "I don't usually see this way on TV", she mumbled, "photographers always stay on the other entrance, more famous people and all", you explained, thinking about the cuts you needed to take, "Fabiana from AlphaTauri taught me these paths for every race I went to when I first started dating Charles", you smiled at the memory, remembering how young (and lost) you were.

"Was it different because you were their friend before?", she asked you, "I didn't notice it at first, to be honest. But as we got older, everyone started guessing and wondering who I was, mean comments thrown as to why I was either at every race, because I surely had to have a job and why was I always in the paddock, or the other way around, why I wasn't here supporting them", you mused, "and I started taking these 'less famous' paths to the paddock", you explained, "it's not that the other ones aren't safe, but these are easier", you smiled as you reached the back entrance of Alpine, "Here".

.

"Hi, Y/N? How are you?", Pierre's girlfriend said over the phone while you cooked dinner with Charles' help, "Hello, dear, I've been good, and you? Pierre told me you'd join the race this weekend!", you replied, sensing some nerves on her tone but wanting to check if it was just your odd impression, "are you alone? I actually wanted to talk to you for a bit, if that's okay", she forwarded, making you ask her for a second.

Pausing the call, you looked at Charles, "can you handle the rest of the recipe, please?", you wondered, "just put these in halfway and then straight to the oven, right?", he pointed, making you peck his cheek before saying, "exactly. Merci, amour! Call me if you need anything", before leaving for your bedroom, wanting the call to be more private. "I'm back, sorry, just had to check Charles was capable of making the rest of our dinner", you giggled, "is everything okay?", you asked, "it, it seems so silly, but I don't know what to do, and it is consuming my kind day by day, and I don't want Pierre to be worried about this, he already has a lot on his plate and-", you decided to interrupt her, "hey, deep breaths, okay? Nothing is silly if it is bothering you. You can tell me if you want", you invited her to continue, "there has been a lot of comments online. Apparently people found my social media, and some managed to get hold of my posts because there are pictures from my Instagram page on the Internet and I have a private account, and it has spiralled so much, it's insane. They're talking about me like they know me, saying things that they take for granted and that are not the truth, and I'm not used to it. I thought I could call you to vent it out I guess, I know we can't do much about it", she admitted sadly, "unfortunately, this is part of what they do. But it is not because it is a part of what they do that you should accept it. And it's okay if it bothers you, it's only logical after all", you tried, "I wish I could say it gets better but I can only say there are days. And it's quite shit because you'll have to learn who you can trust and sometimes you do it the hard way, but in the end you're the one who knows about you and Pierre, so you just focus on that", you advised, "and don't ever think it is silly to call or talk about this. Either to me, to Pierre or to Charles. Even if my boyfriend is a little oblivious sometimes, we all care about you and want you to be well.".

.

Charles and Pierre had agreed to have dinner the day they arrived at the track location, wanting to spend some relaxed time before the busy race weekend. You were about to sit down when Pierre and his girlfriend arrived, making you drop your bag before greeting her with a kiss and a hug, "how are you? Charles is just there hanging my coat, go and give him yours too if you'd like", you offered before moving to hug her boyfriend and your long time friend, "Thank you for what you did with her. And what you do. I couldn't have asked for a better support", Pierre said as soon as he faced you, "I know she has been having a bit of a bad time dealing with things, and I know I sometimes don't have the best advice because I don't live this all thing like you do, it's different for us, but I'm very happy that she has you, too", he said before hugging you.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

(okay this is so soft and dedicated after I saw pictures of Charles with kids) Pure fluff!! You, Charles, and your son having a beach day and watching Charles and your son play around with your baby bump sticking out through your bikini

i’ve been in such a dad!charles mood today for some reason

but omg yes to family trips to the beach!!

your son loves spending time with his daddy so he’s glued to charles’ side all day

as soon as you arrive at the beach, he’s already trying to drag charles to the ocean

your two boys dig a little hole into the sand so you could lay on your pregnant belly before they went off to do their own thing

they let you tan and read in peace while they went swimming in the ocean

you read for a little while before you focus your attention on them

watching them swim around and laugh with each other

you smile to yourself when you hear your son’s giggles when charles tosses him up into the air before catching him and spinning around

charles catches your smile as he sets your son down and crouches down to his level

you see him whisper something into your son’s ear and pointing at you, making your little boy run over to you

you sit up once you see him start to run over since you know he’s gonna want to sit on your lap

he runs straight into your arms, sitting on your lap as he talks excitedly

“mommy! did you see! daddy threw me up!”

“i did, baby. are you and daddy having fun?”

he starts rambling about how much fun he’s having and the entire time, his small hands are absentmindedly rubbing your pregnant belly

just like his dad, he was obsessed with your baby bump

and speaking of dad, charles had also gotten out of the water and made his way over to you

“how are my two girls?” charles asks, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips

“your baby girl is a bit restless today. she’s been kicking like crazy,” you say, rubbing a hand over your bump

“yeah? you’re not giving mama too much trouble now are you love?” he speaks to your belly, laying down on his stomach beside you and pressing a few kisses to your bump

“she’s your daughter. of course she’s going to be trouble,” you joke

“why isn’t she kicking now?” your son frowns when he feels around your bump but doesn’t feel any kicks

“that’s because she’s sleeping now,” charles tells him

“mhm, it’s her nap time now. and speaking of, someone else needs to take a nap now too,” you tell him and he whines a little

“but i’m not tired!” he exclaims

“how about we build some sandcastles first and then we have nap time? sound good bud?” charles suggests and he quickly nods in agreement

you take out all the little shovels and buckets from the bag and hand it to the boys, watching as they set up

charles helps your son pack all the sand into the little buckets before they set them down, creating little blocks which slowly turned into a little castle

as you watched your two boys, you couldn’t stop smiling, thinking about how lucky you were and how much you love your little family

‪[TRANSLATION] Arena Homme+ Magazine April 2021 Issue featuring JAY B

Translated by defdaily.

JAY B is free and starting again from scratch. That is what JAY B has in mind. GOT7’s leader announced that he would be leaving JYPE as the group stays together. JAY B is preparing to debut as a solo musician while planning to also release mixtapes and hold exhibitions as Def. We had a chat with JAY B, who has gained more freedom and strength, at the swimming pool about courage, depression, literature and aspirations.

Did you come here alone?

Yes. I took a taxi here. I was the type to go around freely even when I was in JYPE but catching the taxi to work this time around felt new.

All GOT7 members decided to leave JYP but stay together as a group. As a leader, you needed to make a decision, right?

Although we ended up leaving JYPE, we wanted to continue as GOT7. We all agreed to leave [JYPE] and try it between ourselves.The product made from me taking responsibility/taking charge was the single 'Encore’ that was released not too long ago. I was involved in the whole process with a new record label. I was happy to see a good response [to the single]. It was lacking in some areas but I was just very proud that we were able to show a different step. Since we showed through this single that “we did not disband”, what’s next is more important. When we left JYPE, Director Jung Wook mentioned "Your role as a leader starts now." I'm realizing it now.

”I wanted to learn everything about the process of releasing an album and how difficult it is. I wanted to start again from scratch.”

Your role as a leader actually starts now.

I used to find the role of a leader burdensome at times but now I feel a greater sense of responsibility. While supporting each person’s journey, I thought I needed to be the one to step up once we got back together. We also talk regularly in our group chat. Not long ago, Jackson went to China. When Mark went to the USA, I could see him off but when Jackson was leaving, we couldn’t be together because of a schedule. So I told him to have a safe flight, apologised for not being able to see him off and thanked him too. He replied saying he’ll take care and be back.

What motivated you to leave the large agency you've been working with for a long time?

The thought came to mind suddenly as we were promoting as GOT7. Am I taking all these benefits I get for granted? When a schedule is released I just do it, and when they ask me to confirm things I do, but what kind of long process has it gone through before it came to me? Who sends a request and how is it processed? Why am I only waiting until it reaches me and simply watching it unfold? I wanted to be directly involved in that process. I wanted to learn everything about the process of releasing an album and how difficult it is. I want to be humble and start from the bottom again.

Didn't you need the courage?

Of course I did. I was also afraid. My position has risen to all the way up here, but when it comes to my actual knowledge, I think I'm only down there. I was afraid that the difference would feel too big once I left the company. But I think I would have been more afraid if I stayed at JYPE. Since that difference would have grown bigger and bigger. My real self is here, so I should face it head-on a little faster. That's what I thought.

As JAY B or as Def. who releases mixtapes and holds exhibitions, you must have had the desire to do something new.

I want to do research and build it up step by step without haste. JAY B will show hip hop and RnB music that appeals to the general public and Def. will do activities that Def. wants to do. It could be mixtapes or exhibitions, or other different kinds of fictions. Def. is the nickname I used as a bboy before I became a trainee. It’s like air floating about freely. It could be house or soul or acoustic or even modern rock. In a way, you can say that Def. is close to my “main self” but since I debuted as JAY B, I’ll also show a devoted side of myself through JAY B. I want to be a person who can do both what he has to do and what he wants to do freely.

Listening to your mixtapes, and hearing that you like the styles of D’Angelo and Ray Charles, you seem to be attached to the Southern US rhythm and blues and soul music.

I do like them a lot. I like the entire hip-hop culture that originated from there. That culture also includes DJing, graffiti and even bboying. Since I started as a bboy, I would look up older videos to watch, study the culture and also look into what each dance move symbolizes, with my bboying crew and that's how I became fascinated. What captivated me the most was their obstinacy. I felt respect towards the conviction and obstinacy they carried with their culture.

Is that mood still incorporated in your music and dance?

Yes. For example, I don’t think choreography is dance. I think dancing is when music plays and you like the rhythm and start humming and bobbing your head and moving your body. I think dancing is a free act you do out of enjoyment.

What was the reason you joined an idol group after starting out as a bboy?

I gained an interest in music too, not just dancing. When I was young, I listened to D’Angelo’s music and wanted to become a singer like him. But I was rebellious when I first joined JYPE. Haha. I was even suspended for a month once as a trainee. I definitely said hello but they said I didn’t so they said "If you're going to be stubborn, then go home" and me with my young heart replied “Then I shall head home.” and left. Then I met up with my bboying crew after a long time, and in just a few months it turned into a different world. The crew members were above me and I was worried because I could feel myself far away by myself. Should I go back to bboying? Should I continue as a trainee? In the end, I wanted to do my very best in whatever I chose so I decided to focus on becoming a singer. Since I wanted to do music, it was a choice I made with no regrets.

You started as a dancer and ended up as a main vocalist. What was music to you back then?

It was a challenge. Trainees are divided into singing and dancing. I joined as a dancer but what I wanted to do was become a singer and not just do dance. But since I was put into the dancing division, I worked even harder with singing to break that prejudice. I often felt defeated. I still feel defeated with singing. Haha. But music is about endless research. Now it’s more about research than studying.

You grew up as an only child to your parents who did farming?

I was an ordinary kid. I enjoyed Haruki’s Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage and thought the “colourless” kid was just like me. I was a calm kid who helped his parents with their farm work. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t have any older siblings but they said I used to talk to myself a lot. My mother said there was a way she would know if I was home or not. If I was home, she would hear me talk to myself and be like “Oh really?” “Yes really” haha.

It’s extraordinary to read Haruki at that age.

There was an older friend that I knew and he was really cool. He looked really cool reading on the bus with his legs crossed. He said “Hey, Read a book and build up some knowledge.” As I was trying to be cool like him, I gained a favourite author and started reading more since I enjoyed it.

What kind of books do you like?

When I was a teenager I often read Kafka On The Shore. It felt like Kafka was just like me, and so while reading it, I even cried. The style of Murakami Radio was also interesting. The ending phrase “But I like that more…” was very witty. I’m collecting books from secondhand bookstores from authors who won the Young Author awards. I like Lee Jang-wook's short story Byeon Hee-bong. The main character knows the actor Byun Hee-bong, but the world doesn't know him. He would ask "Don't you know Byun Hee-bong from the movie The Host?" But no one knows. I like stories that don’t intend to be funny but they end up making me giggle.

What do you read these days?

I try to read poetry. I purchased and read the first volume that appeared on Moonji’s Poetry Collection, but it has too many Hanja characters. Haha. I started with Munhwak’s Poetry Collection. I have volumes 1 to 85. I also read poet Park Joon's collection of poems and poet Lee Eun-gyu's Affectionate Name. I even underlined and wrote things down.

Among the idols and musicians I’ve met, I think you are the most extensive reader.

We went on tours often and we would have a lot of time in my hotel room. When I went out I took pictures and when I stayed in my hotel room I read books. When I go on an overseas tour, I pack around 30 books in my suitcase. Then I bring back the books that left an impression on me, and those that didn’t sometimes I dispose of them there. These days, I look for independent publications too. I often look for independent publishing bookstores in Nakseongdae or Haebangchon. There are many books that contain honest stories that are not refined, and the power of those sentences is great.

How does reading influence your work?

The poetic expressions with poetic license help when writing lyrics. You read a new sentence and think “What is this expressing?” You receive inspiration from that image being expressed in a new way. I think of lyrics as poetry too. There are times I write how I feel honestly, but when I want to include a certain meaning I’d want to write the lyrics like poetry.

In your photo exhibition <ALONE> last year, you took pictures of objects and signs in the middle of the road.

Wouldn't it feel very lonely if you think about it from an object’s point of view? The camera captures just an instance but the object will stay there. I think each person has an insatiable loneliness. I like the artist Seonglib’s works, and I feel loneliness in his drawings. I don't know why I keep talking about loneliness, I guess I’m familiar with loneliness.

Seems like you take more pictures of objects and landscapes than people.

I don’t really like taking pictures of people. You can clearly see a person’s emotions in their eyes. I prefer hiding things rather than revealing them too much. I prefer objects, backgrounds, and natural objects rather than subjects that openly express 'It's me!'. Tranquil things, I like when you go past something and go “that’s how it was.” I try my best since my job requires being presented to people but that’s also how I am.

Who do you like as a movie director?

I like Woody Allen’s directing. My favourite is Match Point. It's a love story that goes beyond taboos, and it's electrifying. The face of the actor who secretly asks the reunited lover to give him her number remains in my memory for a long time. How could he direct such a real-looking, raw look in their eyes? When I was a theater and film major, I used to take directing classes rather than acting. If I were to direct a film, I would like to shoot an eccentric witty romantic comedy like Love Fiction directed by Jeon Gye-soo.

Are you self-conscious as an artist?

I’m interested in a variety of genres, and interact with crews often, but I think goofing off just because they are an artist is an arrogant attitude. Everyone is their own artist, no matter what they do, right? I'm not trying to be pretentious, I just think there's a difference in expression, and people who work in the office are also doing their own art. That’s why I’m a little shy about the title “artist.” Is there a need to be puffed up with pride because I’m an artist? I’m just a person.

While filming for “What's in my bag” and revealed your medications for depression and panic disorder. When did you face your depression?

I didn’t know I had depression. I thought I was being weak for a short while and let it pass. But on an occasion I got examined and found out I had depression. They asked how I lived by without going to the psychiatrist. I said I just thought I was the type to feel blue. Haha. I’m the type that doesn’t show [what is wrong] but they said I was in a state where I needed treatment. After going to counselling and taking medications, I’m much better now.

“I just wanted to talk about it. It may not show, but depression is both a common and dangerous illness.”

I think you’re cool for having the courage to talk about this.

I got diagnosed and looked at the people around me. There are friends who are ashamed of it and try to hide it, and there are friends who talk about it as if it’s insignificant. I just wanted to talk about it. It may not show, but it’s both a common and dangerous illness. A mental illness is an illness too. Among my fans, or those who read this interview, if there is someone who feels depressed, don’t be ashamed of it and I hope you receive treatment and overcome it. It’s not an embarrassing thing and it doesn’t need to be hidden. And I was filming content where I show what’s inside my bag; I can’t lie. I wish everyone would be healthy.

Are you bad at lying?

Yes. If I have to tell a lie, I think it’s just better to not say anything. Since I’m the type that’s honest and straightforward, I also don’t like beating around the bush.

Can you share a way one can take a step forward towards recovering from depression?

Look at the world in a broad view. Know that there are many places you haven’t been to yet and there are many things you haven’t felt yet. It's also good to take a walk and go off your usual route and take a path you've never been on. Small adventures can also be of great help. Just by leaving the house you’re already halfway there. I think there are more ways you can refresh yourself outside rather than inside. Also, I thought I was an honest person but after being diagnosed with depression, I thought I should be more honest with myself and more faithful to myself. At times like this, think of yourself before others.

What do you believe in?

I just believe in god. I don’t have a religion. I don’t know what kind of existence god is but I do believe that there is a god. When I’m thankful or am having a hard time, I pray. “Thank you.” “Please let me get through this wisely.”

What is the greatest motivation that moves you?

As long as I’m alive, I want to continue doing work that will leave a message. I believe that there is no next life. I think I should live this time diligently to the fullest. To have no regrets.

Translated by defdaily.

Hc of Amy and Mac stealing Jakes phone to talk a butch of selfies before he has to go on a stakeout 💜

(whoops I put Maya in this too hope that's okay)

"Babe have you seen my phone?"

"It's probably wherever you left it last."

"That's... really not helpful at all." Jake grumbles while digging through the messy after-dinner kitchentable, covered in schoolwork and some dessert plates and a stack of Amy's paperwork.

"Maybe the kids have it."

The giggling he hears from the hallway seems to corroborate that statement, and as he stalks down to the kids room Amy's proven right by the look of Mac and Maya huddled together on Mac's bed, swiping back and forth on Jake's cellphone screen.

"You're gonna make me late, guys! Uncle Charles is already downstairs." He makes to grab for the phone, but Mac pulls it back quickly. "What were you playing on there again?! And how do you keep managing to unlock it-"

He hears the door bell ring as he speaks - apparently Charles is getting a little impatient, which is allowed, considering they have to be on the other end of the town in less than an hour for their stake-out. So he just levels his kids with that look he's finally perfected, the dad-stare that gets them to fess up to almost everything, and Mac quickly hands over his now re-locked phone.

He has no time to check what games they downloaded again and if he has to pay another unexpected phone bill for it, because Charles rings again and he's far more interested in giving both of them a goodbye hug and kiss.

Amy gets one too as she hands him his bag, and if he was in less of a hurry he might actually notice the little mischievous glint in her eye.

-*-

Stake-outs are usually boring, but this one takes the cake. They've been snoring on and off for two hours now, after the first hour of chatting and catching up and Charles telling him about this new restaurant he's found that Nikolaj refuses to go to. The building in front of them seems so deserted Jake begins to wonder if anyone has ever actually lived there since the 80s, and the most action they've seen so far was an alley cat getting schooled by a giant New York rat (that was entertaining, at least).

He pulls out his phone after another look over to Charles - staring through the binoculars as if that could change anything - to finally check what havoc Mac and Maya have caused on it.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary - no new apps or re-arranged folders or buttload of homepages open - but then he opens his photo roll. The last picture he remembers taking was the Opening Hours sign of some shop Amy was interested in, but that photo is nowhere to be seen on the front screen. It's a wall of faces instead, of dark curls and chocolate eyes and the occasional blurry close-up of some shirt.

He can't hide his smile as he taps on the first one to take a closer look. Mac and Maya must've run through the entire apartment, he realises as he keeps swiping left to go back to older ones. They're on Mac's bed in the first ones, weird perspectives from up high as Maya is clearly trying to kick Mac in another wrestling match as he snaps pictures of her. They're in the bathroom next, where they were supposed to wash their hands after dinner, but are doing over the top kissy faces at the mirror instead. There's a stealthy few shots of Jake and Maya at the dinner table too, him trying to convince her to at least eat some more carrots before pudding, and a floor-level selfie of Mac with a grimace on his face and some beans hanging out of the side of his mouth.

He's giggling softly now, and Charles is going to ask why any second, when the next set of pictures makes him soften even more.

Amy is on the couch in those ones, going through her paperwork, and he remembers the scene vaguely as he was heading for the kitchen to get dinner ready. She's unaware in the last few pictures (which would be the first ones they took, then, going in reverse order), but then she looks up and he can see a smile break across her face in the next one as she realises what they're doing.

And then, suddenly, there are several family selfies, as Amy has pulled Maya on her lap and Mac to her side, his short arm stretched out as far as he can to get them all in the shot. They're smiling at him, blowing kissy faces, and Jake recognises at least one where Amy tries to wink.

He closes the pictures app with hesitation before pulling up his text chain with Amy.

so I see we r raising a bunch of insta models he sends her before opening the pictures again to show Charles, who squeals with delight.

I want to say I tried to stop them but I feel like the evidence stacks against me she answers back a few minutes later.

He picks the best group selfie of them - one where they're all in focus and smiling and Maya is squishing her cheek against Amy's and Mac looks like he's saying Cheese! - and sends it to her.

I am printing this one he adds.

He's rewarded with two more pictures from Amy - Mac and Maya sleeping soundly in their half-dark room, their faces buried in the pillows and Maya's bum up in the air in that weird pose she seems to feel most comfortable in.

Come home soon, Amy adds. We miss you already.

@stvtistics​ sent:  🍑 - a sexual memory (👀 firey red head huh?)

   Fuck. Bamboozled, got, had, absolutely smeckledorfed. There was no way to talk herself out of this one. “Okay, fuckin’ alright.” Inhaling deeply through her nose and puffing out the breath, white locks were smoothed back up to her bun. 

   She tried several times to fight off the grin on her face to attempt to start a particular story. Hands pressed against her face, she tried to hide the red flush that crawled up one cheek, over her nose, and to the other. “Ugh!” Sighing, her glasses started to float off the bridge of her nose. Pushing them back up, she finally started. 

   “Okay so, when I was in community college for fashion design, sewing, costuming- anything and everything I could get my hands on fabric related, I kept running into a particular redhead, because our classes had lined up and my hair was white by then, so I stuck out just as much as he did. His name is Charles, but no one calls him that, everyone just calls him Buddy. And just. I-don’t-know. He just has this bravado about him- a gravity that I really couldn’t stay away from. And he thought me getting flustered at every minutia of an advance was funny. So, like, he’d come and hang out in the studio with me, cut out my patterns for me and what not and like- he’s a genius, such a smart guy, and we’d get to talking while I worked. Which totally helped keep me focus and all that. So hours would pass, and everyone would slowly peter out and it’d just be us. Now, let me uh, paint a picture, I’m five-eight, right? And I always wear heels, so, ya know, I’m not that tiny, thin yeah but like, I’m a tree. Call me a two by four,” she giggled. 

    Pushing her glasses up her nose again, she tried to continue. “I could stand behind him and disappear. Hand to God. His hand is like, three times the size of mine. But anyway- everyone’s gone, and as long as you’re in the major, you could stay in the studio as long as you want. Lock the door afterwards, be a good noodle, all that jazz.” A brief pause. “Studio’s at the top floor of the tower in the art department, it’s one thirty in the morning and I’m trying to get him to go home and sleep. ‘Buddy, please, just go home, I’ll be fine.’ ‘Oh no, I gotta make sure you get home okay’ and all that shit. ‘Why don’t you take a break, you’ve been bent over that sewing machine for the past three hours?’ And I, so stupidly, might I add, without thinking- go ‘just bend me over.’ Just bend me over.” Howling a note of a laugh behind her hand, she continued. “And we stared at each other for all of ten seconds before throwing everything off of a nearby table and just, havin’ at it. I, genuinely, honestly, hand to God, had to watch how I was sitting the next day otherwise I was makin’ faces in the middle of class just thinking about,” she giggled, “how the. The stupid fucking curtains matched the carpets.”

Hi, I hope that you are doing well!! I was wondering if I could get a private bts ‘date with an idol’ ship? I have survived the past 19 years including a pandemic, possible world war and a crappy remake of Olympus has fallen, so imaging a date might be a good idea for once. 😅 Okay, a bit about me: I am a literature student, a waitress/barista and I do volunteer work. I love doing things like baking, hiking, painting, dancing and listening to music. I don’t really have a type, but I am a hopeless romantic. I love the idea of love, only it has to be faith and the right one. My ideal date will be something peaceful yet adventurous, like strolling around galleries/museums, having a hike and then picnic, go hop on a train and see where it goes or just making dinner together. [...]

@itismeanne Hello beautiful soul thanks so much for requesting. I love doing these so much so I hope your enjoy this one. Your pictures aren’t awkward at all they’re lovely my dear. And awhnnn thanks so much for your kind words I’m happy you exist too.

The member your going on a date with is…Namjoon

His outfit for the date: 

Your outfit for the date:

How it started: You’ve recently just started your new job in the new café to save up extra money for school. This café was known as the best in town for it’s iced americanos and for selling the best authors books.

One day your boss called you in to take one of your co workers ship and gave you the heads up that a special quest has entered the café. When you walked in you immediately saw RM from Bts sitting by the window drinking the new Frappuccino drink in the menu that you came up with.

You wanted to jump and squeal out of excitement, but you had to keep your cool to save yourself from the embarrassment. Your boss finally gave you an excuse to approach him by handing you the book RM requested from the back. 

Your Boss: Hey y/n make sure you hand this over to RM. He requested this song writing book from the back. Plus I’ve noticed you looking at him for a while go get him tiger. He pats your back and gets back to work 

He leaves right before you get the chance to thank him. With you getting excited you already walk over to RM with a plan in mind. You even offered to slide in a gift card for limited books and coffee for him to thank him for all he has done with his music it has changed you life. 

Y/N: Clears throat. Here’s your book just as you requested from my boss Charles. I actually love using that one for when I used to turn my writings into music, but I’ve learned to enjoy literature more. 

RM: That’s interesting that you say that I bet you would be an amazing writer. He smiles right back at you and notices the gift cards sliding out the book. Whoa, is this from your boss too? 

Y/N: Actually, that’s from me. I wanted to thank you for working so hard to share the world your music and it has helped me become a better woman. You blush picking up the gift cards that fell on the floor and handing them back to him.

RM freezes looking shocked yet thankful for the kind gesture. He’s always had memorable encounters in public with fans, but never with a fan that has made his heart beat so rapidly. 

RM: Thanks so much I’ll make sure to keep coming back here so I can write my songs here. 

Y/N: How about you come back tomorrow if your not too busy? Of course to help you find more inspiration for your next comeback. You laugh out of nervousness. 

RM stands up after finishing his coffee and before he leaves he turns back to face you and says…

RM: Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow for our…date. He winks and walks out the door smiling to himself. 

Y/N: Right tomorrow. 

You smile singing to yourself looking forward to tomorrow…

The Date Spots: Café Library/Van Gogh Exhibit

Since your café is closed on Fridays your boss was generous enough to lend you the keys and have the whole café open for yourselves. You even spend the first few hours to bake some muffins and tidy up around. 

You’ve come prepared just in time when you heard the sound of the bell ring when he was opening the door. 

The both of you walked up to each other smiling so purely and begin your song writing session.

Where the kitchen area is there is a secret area to the bookstore where you bring all your customers books from. You’ve set up fairy lights to around the books cheers and lit up candles to set the mood.

Namjoon felt very flustered that you went all out for this meeting and took more of a liking to you. In the first few hours you got to share your ideas for the title track of the next Bts album, but it became more hard to focus with all the goofing around.

After wasting 12 pages of paper it ended up becoming a paper ball fight in the study area. Namjoon gets way into the paper ball fight and ends up loosing balance leaning against your petite body on the book shelf’s.

Y/N: Whoa are you okay? Kind of lost track there. You giggle helping him stand up straight.

RM: The god of destruction is back at it again it seems. So sorry... Notices that the books behind you fell. Let me help you get those up.

The two of you organize the books back into the shelf bonding more over your favorite books, authors and quotes from your favorite stories.

RM: Hey Y/N since we’ve pretty much finished the song here I have a suprise for you as well. I have tickets to the new Van Vogh exhibit 20 min away from here. Would you like to finish off this date with a bang?

You stand there gasping as he hands your ticket over and gladly accept his invitation. You wonder why he was going all out to spend this whole day with you, but you didn’t seem to care because you were so happy.

You and Namjoon reserved a spot for the last show around 7 and almost missed it with traffic in the way. He grabbed you hand running to the ticket booth so you two won’t miss the beautiful show that your about to witness.

When walking it started off pitch black and you both cling onto each other not sure what was about to happen next. Finally the lights come on projecting all of Van Gogh famous pieces throughout his career.

You were perhaps just a tad bit more excited than Namjoon, but he was still happy to witness how much fun you were having and would cherish this moment with a fan forever. Perhaps he thought about you more than a fan at this very moment.

Namjoon: What’s your favorite Van Gogh piece y/n?

Y/N: Mines would have to be the Terrance of a cafe at night. It reminds of how I first saw you and how I’ve learned to have a passion for what I love thanks to you. How about yours?

Namjoon starts getting a little caught off guard with your poetry and makes him fall for you even more.

Namjoon: Well, actually mines would have to be almond blossoms. They remind me of how innocent, bright and strong they can be just like you. The blossoms bring so much life out of everyone and wants to continue to spread peace.

You both sit down together staring it each other’s eyes continuing the compliment battle as the background changes to Vincent’s most popular piece The Starry Night.

The colors move so swiftly across the background that it projects the most perfect romantic setting.

Y/N: RM err...Namjoon I’m sorry to be a bit forward, but would it be wrong to kiss you right now? You push your string of hair behind your ear.

He leans in further caressing the side of your face stroking your hair.

Namjoon: Normally I don’t kiss anyone on the first date not even army, but I can’t help but want to break the rules.

You both lean in closer finally touching lips as you kiss under the starry night. It was a very slow paced quick kiss, but it was unforgettable.

The Aftermath: “That was one of the best dates I’ve ever been on in awhile!”

His words kept repeating in your head when he’s walking you home hand in hand.

Y/N: I had so much fun today too Namjoon. I hope in the future we get to do this again soon.

He stops walking for a second looking sad for a moment. When he meets people like this he wish he can drag them along in his crazy idol life everyday so he wouldn’t have to worry about long distance.

You rub his shoulder reassuring him it’s going to be okay. You both might have very different lives and might end up finding other people in the future, but that doesn’t stop your precious memories together.

Y/N: How about we make a deal. If we don’t end up finding other people with in the next 10 years, then we have to wait for each other. If we do, than we let each other know right away. Deal?

Namjoon: Deal!

You both seal the by pinching each other like crabs on your arms. It was both of your way of pinky promising.

You exchanged loving eyes at each other one last time before you head inside. He blows a kiss at you and says.

Namjoon: No matter who I end up with, you still will mark down as the girl in history to become my first love. Don’t you ever forget it.

With that he walks up to his ride home leaving you speechless yet weak to the knees with his strong words.

You lean against the door sighing reflecting on the whole day with him.

Y/N: Same for you Kim Namjoon. No matter who I end up with, I’ll never forget why happened today. I look forward to seeing you again.

Thanks so much again for requesting and I hope this somewhat made your night/day. ♥️♥️♥️

The Dancer-Chapter Two

Previous chapter on AO3    A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Chapter Two

In the absence of maintaining her little book shop, Claire’s swelling bank account allowed her to move into a townhouse with a large main room that she kept unfurnished. Floor to ceiling mirrors lined two walls and custom lighting allowed her to turn up the ambiance to practice new dance routines. A lifetime of frugal living still governed her lifestyle and there was ample money left to hire a private instructor to continue coaching her.

Madu was an Egyptian, born into a family of dancers who followed the traditional dance of the gypsies. He was the real deal and cousin to the studio owner who first took Claire under her wing. His first lesson was very harsh, she was sore for a week and his continued assault of her musculoskeletal system took her to the brink of quitting him. When she was clearly trying to find the words to tell him nicely, he ordered her into several poses with rapid changes, then turned the music on. He asked for the most difficult movements and pushed her to do them perfectly. Claire was shocked she could perform many of the movements used by competition belly dancers, and the bigger picture was revealed to her.

Madu turned up the volume of her sex appeal with instruction in using her eyes to add mystery and allure. Claire struggled through this, but not because it was hard. When Madu demonstrated the classic looks, Claire lost it and laughed until she begged him to stop acting like a woman in love. He was completely ridiculous acting like a seductive woman, but Claire finally nailed the eye movements he was after. Claire’s favorite new moves were athletic and fun, easily incorporated into any routine to heighten the energy of the crowd or break the sexual tension when needed.

“You are not a stripper Claire. You do the exotic dance of gypsies for entertainment not for…” Madu was stumbling to find an appropriate word for erection while staring at his crotch. It was yet another moment when Claire lost her mind dissolving in giggles.

Arms were Madu’s focus for several weeks until she could move them as if she had no elbows. He was a great teacher and his perfectionism fit Claire’s personality like a custom glove. In addition to her dance instruction, Madu added running five miles, four days per week to help her breathing.

If Claire became winded, he would stop the lesson and point to her heaving chest and quivering stomach. Disgusted with her weakness, the lesson would be cut short with the teacher leaving abruptly. Claire would hit the streets and push herself to run faster and farther, day after day, just to see the approval on his face. It was a love, hate relationship and Claire blossomed under his instruction.

Jamie watched the paper for book club advertisements or any other activity that was literature centric. Where are ye, Claire? I know ye canna stay away from books so ye got to surface eventually. He wondered if she left Edinburgh but continued to search for signs of her, week after week, hoping to find she had landed on her feet.

Jamie continued to visit the restaurant, at least once a week, to watch the dancer. He noticed the changes in her movements and felt her beckon him like a siren to a sailor. The first night she showed her face he almost had a heart attack. It was unexpected and felt intensely personal.

The headpieces and scarves that hid Claire’s face were difficult to wear and she was losing patience with using them. Still, if Jamie Fraser was in the audience, she covered her lower face. During one performance, Claire’s face scarf was accidentally pulled off while she danced in front of Jamie. She was horrified and watched his face with mounting fear of being discovered. There was no recognition in his eyes, so she stopped covering her face with great relief.

Somehow, enticing Jamie with her erotic dance and ignoring his requests to speak with her mollified her need to stab him in the heart. When she felt extra hateful toward him, she would dance very close and slip her finger into her bra, pinching her nipple so he would see her reaction. Only he would see it and Claire could torture him with this movement whenever she needed to.

Claire was the vengeful and punishing dancer, Jamie was hopelessly obsessed with her. Neither of them realized how twisted and abnormal this dynamic was.

Jamie sat at his desk pondering his six months of searching for the little bookseller. Maybe she married her high school boyfriend and moved to the country to raise a houseful of bairns. Or maybe she moved to London where she would find like-minded readers to share her love of the classics. He told himself to give up trying to find her. In a last-ditch effort, he placed an ad for a Charles Dickens book club, the location of which was yet to be decided.

Over the following week, Jamie received a handful of inquiries to his anonymous posting. He looked through the names of the interested and brushed them into his desk drawer feeling his quest to find Claire was finally quelled. He might always wonder what happened to her, but he was ready to change her status to someone he once knew. He headed out to catch the early show at Omar’s and get lost in his fantasies.

It was two weeks later when an inquiry for the book club passed over his desk. He read the short response of interest and his eyes landed on the signature, Claire Beauchamp.

“There ye are Sassenach,” he said quietly.

This would require the aid of his sister and maybe a friend of hers to break the ice with Claire, so she didn’t run away at the sight of him. He picked up the phone to recruit Jenny’s help while drafting a notice for the first meeting of the Dickens book club.

“You want me to what?”

“Tell this girl I’ve been lookin for, that I want to speak with her, so she doesna run away at the sight of me.”

“Ye may have lost yer touch with the lassie's brother but ye willna get any help from me,” she scoffed.

“She lost her bookstore when the Edinburgh store opened. She is very young and sweet, and I’ve become obsessed with finding her.”

“The clubs in the city suddenly empty out of lasses?”

“I dinna want to date her or spend time with her Jenny. I just want to know she’s alright. If I can help her I will. Please, Jenny, try to understand that I canna let this go, canna let her go, knowing what I took from her. If she can just tell me she’s fine and landed on her feet, I’ll have no need to speak to her again.

Claire arrived at the designated coffee shop with a Tale of Two Cities tucked under her arm. She was excited to see three women sitting together, open books in front of them, talking animatedly. She felt her soul curl up with a well-worn blanket to enjoy this classic novel with new friends.

“Hello, my name is Claire, I am here for the book club meeting.”

Jenny’s smiling eyes lifted to a face of innocence, bright golden-brown eyes, and ivory skin that hosted not a drop of makeup. Her smile was trusting and sincere and it was clear to Jenny why she had haunted her brother.

After the introductions, the two other women left the table leaving Claire alone with Jenny. Jenny watched her nervous eyes dart around the coffee shop and did her best to corral Claire with a quick explanation.

“Dinna fear lass, this meetin is for yer benefit and I’ll tell ye why. Seven months ago, my brother was ordered to open a store in Edinburgh which caused yer bookstore to close from the competition. He has looked for ye ever since to make sure yer alright. Please, Claire, hear him out before he loses his mind. It might help heal a part of ye also.”

Claire’s heart was pounding. This woman could only be referring to Jamie Fraser, and what was this nonsense about his concern for her? She clutched her book intending to leave but when she stood there was a brick wall behind her.

“Please Claire”. Will ye talk with me for just a few minutes?”

He was blocking her exit so there was only one way to move, back into her chair.

Jenny smiled sweetly at Claire as she vacated the seat. Jamie claimed it and was now facing Claire across the table.

“I swear on my sweet mother’s grave I only want to talk to you. Make sure yer alright, that you found yer way. I promise I willna bother ye again.”

Claire looked up at Jamie’s eyes and felt like crying because they were so desperate.

“You have five minutes Mister Fraser.”

Jamie’s voice was soft and gentle as he inquired about her life, her new job, and her hobbies. He just wanted to keep her talking until she could relax and see him with new eyes. Not of an enemy but someone who sincerely wanted to help her, if she needed it.

Slowly, Claire opened her mind to this unexpected inquiry and assured him she was fine and working a new job she loved. Jamie seemed okay that she didn’t share the details of where she worked because he could see in her face how much she loved it. They shared a second coffee and Jamie finally let go of his guilt about forcing her to lose her business.

Claire had danced inches from this man on so many nights as she worked through her hatred and need to hurt him back. She found it difficult to connect that man with the one across the table as their conversation continued. She watched his eyes and his smile, feeling sad that this was a one-time meeting. Her enemy had a sincere desire to see her healthy and healed from his assault on her life. She forced herself to relax for just a few minutes and bask in the attention of Jamie Fraser.

“Well, I should go, Mister Fraser. I don’t hate you anymore and I appreciate your concern for me, but I am just fine.”

“Your people are lost without ye Claire.”

“What?”

“The customers that joined yer book clubs and school reading program are comin to me to facilitate such things and I dinna have a clue. There is a need for ye and I want to offer ye a job and all the space and support ye need to bring those programs back to Edinburgh. I pay pretty well too.”

Claire could feel the blush burn her cheeks while her heart swelled with the sentiment of her old customers.

“I…I couldn’t Mister Fraser. I’m no longer in the book business.”

Claire pushed her chair out to leave and offered her hand to Jamie. He shook it, slipping his card into her hand he asked her to think about it. The offer was open.

Jamie watched Claire walk to her car and wondered why she wouldn’t divulge the job she was doing now. Something was different about her. Her clothing and hair were the same, but she had a more confident air about her. It was a positive improvement he decided and hurried back to work.

The seatbelt clicked and Claire exhaled a long breath. Maybe she would consider the job and stay close to her beloved books. Maybe her heart would finally thaw out and she could feel normal again. She had lived like a training Olympian for the past six months, dedicated to dancing and training because it felt safe. She looked at his card, I’ll just add this to the stack on my counter, she thought miserably.

Driving home she tried to decide if she was happy during the last six months. She had made great gains with her dancing, moved into a better neighborhood, made very good money, and had her best friend, Geillis. She realized she moved through her days going from one obligation to the next and even if those obligations made her money or improved her skill, they were still obligations. What is the opposite of an obligation? What is the true form or feeling of happiness? She considered these questions for the next several days and finally decided she didn’t know. Maybe it was time she found out.

Claire made a list of all the activities that sounded fun and threw a small notebook in her glove box in case she thought of something while driving. She compiled her list over the weekend and there was a total of three activities. Fishing, camping, hiking and she was only guessing at the fun part because she really didn’t know.

“Christ, if I die tomorrow, I will have lived twenty-two years and never had fun,” she mumbled.

Claire ran to answer her ringing doorbell and a box was thrust into her hand, Madu was on the other side of it.

“It’s a gift from my cousin.”

Claire pulled the top off and gasped at the beautiful hair inside. It was a waist-length human hair wig that she slipped on and felt instantly transformed into a beautiful, exotic, woman. She pulled a comb through the luxurious hair and giggled with delight.

Geillis played with the hair while Claire got ready for work that evening. The sight of Geillis twitching her hips and moving her arms like a hula dancer with the wig puckering at the crown of her head made Claire lose it. She couldn’t stop laughing until she was kneeling on the ground holding her stomach. Geillis scoffed and pulled a panting Claire to the door.

 Well, she thought, that was fun.

Geillis helped twist the long hair into a complex top knot that would fall out when she rolled her head, letting the curls tumble down her back as she spun. It was time.

Claire pressed her back against the dressing room door, wrists crossed above her head and waited for the spotlight. The music started with just a wood flute, soft and slow, like the music that pulled the cobra out of his basket. Her eyes were downcast as her body undulated softly. As the music rose in tempo and complexity, her eyes flew open with fear and darted around the room in mock terror. Attempting to push away she looked up at what held her to the door and suddenly threw her body away from the invisible bonds as she twirled, arms out, showing the joy of freedom on her face. Arms wide at her sides she spun across the floor lined with tables until she came to rest in the middle of the room.

Madu’s voice was in her head, “You are alone and free to dance as your joyous heart demands. What would that dance look like?”

Claire’s eyes were downcast watching her hip lift suddenly. A slight smile and she looked at the other hip lift. Back and forth she looked at each hip lift higher and faster. She spread her arms with a huge smile as her body launched into a head-spinning routine of all the classic moves of the belly dancer holding the diners spellbound. She twirled back to the stage door and was once again bound at her raised wrists. She looked up in mock horror and the spotlight went out.

Jamie watched the dancer against the door. He could hardly breathe when she tried to escape but could not. He filled his lungs when she twirled over and over again once free. The hair came tumbling down and bounced with her movements. She had never looked so beautiful and he felt he would explode if she didn’t speak to him.

He handed Omar his card and a hundred-dollar bill and before he could stop himself, he asked for an introduction to the dancer.

“Omar, would ye consider introducing me to your daughter? I have tried, each time I come to see her dance, but she willna reply to my request.”

Omar looked up at Jamie, one of his best customers, and cleared his throat. He was never blessed with a daughter but had come to feel like a father with Claire. If she led this man to believe she was his daughter there was a good reason for it.

Jamie licked his lips in nervous desperation, “is she promised to someone? Is she not allowed to speak to the patrons? Will she ever speak with me?”

Omar was searching his mind for the right response. One that would protect Claire and keep Jamie coming around to watch her. “It is not our custom,” a long pause, “but you never know.” He vaporized into his office leaving Jamie more confused than ever.

As autumn turned to the bitter cold of winter, Claire was running in snow and slush and the humid cold dipped into the single digits. She rounded the corner of her last mile and felt her legs lock up and turn to concrete. She slowed to a difficult walk gasping for breath. She had to get warm or feared she would die, as every step got harder. The nearest building was the new bookstore and she lunged for it as it spun in front of her. Once inside she bent over, hands on knees, hoping the spinning would stop as the floor came up to smack her cheek.

Claire felt her body was being jostled as she returned to consciousness. She was leaning against a large muscular chest so someone must be carrying her. A door closed and she felt a soft couch under her. She kept her eyes closed, more for nausea than a desire to stay hidden behind her lids. Her gloves were pulled off and someone blew warm air against her fingers.

Claire opened her eyes to Jamie, crouched on the floor trying to warm up her hands.

“Jamie Fraser.”

“Oh, good yer awake, ye scared me half to death lass. Dinna move yet. How do ye feel, should I call an ambulance?”

“Certainly not! I am fine, just a little dizzy. I am sorry for the drama, but your store was the closest warm building and I knew I was in trouble. I..I’m really very sorry.”

“Dinna move yet Sassenach! Please stay there for a few minutes. What happened to ye?”

“What did you just call me?” Claire’s voice was soft and questioning and she could see Jamie blush.

“Sassenach. It means …outsider…because of yer accent. Yer no a Scot is what I mean.”

“Maybe if I was, I wouldn’t pass out after running three miles in the cold.”

Claire inched her way into a sitting position and took a deep breath, feeling better but not well enough to run herself home. Jamie kept telling her to stay put so she did, enjoying a lovely chat with this interesting man. He fed her cookies and coffee until the color came back to her face. When Claire glanced at her watch and almost shot off the couch reaching for her phone.

“Madu! I am so sorry! I passed out halfway through my run today and I’m at the new bookstore in town. Can you come and get me? Yes, I’m alright, my friend here saved me with cookies and coffee. What? No! I did not say cookies. Why, did you hear cookies? She laughed weakly and dropped her phone into her coat pocket. She smiled at Jamie.

“Thank you for the rescue Jamie but I am out of your hair. She shook his hand and feasted on the bluest eyes she had ever seen, “goodbye.”

Jamie watched Claire from his upstairs office until a car pulled up to take her away. No cookies, he thought, what kind of life is that?

Jamie wanted desperately to watch the dancer tonight, but he was just there last night. He worried about his obsession with her and pushed back with a limit of once per week. The night before she had dropped backward like she was made of rubber and he felt her head on his shoulder. It took him several minutes to breathe normally again.

“Who are ye lass, and why won’t ye speak to me?”

A month later Claire was bobbing through crowds of shoppers as she ran through the retail district of Edinburgh. She couldn’t wait for the holidays to end so she could have her solitary run back. She launched into a sprint and heard her name called in the distance. She turned to see Jenny Fraser and friends, arm waving over her head with a big smile.

“Claire! Come say hello!”

Claire smiled and jogged back to the group and Jenny. Four women about her age were all smiles and warmth, talking about Christmas and Hogmanay. Claire was swept away by the welcoming women and allowed herself to sit and chat over hot cocoa. She could hear Madu in her mind listing the evils of sugar and became increasingly agitated until she broke away from the group and started running again. It felt like she was transported to a town in a Rockwell painting where she would have friends like Jenny and weight gain from Christmas treats was her biggest concern. Maybe someday she thought.

Getting back to her townhouse she added something to her list of fun activities on the refrigerator. “Having Cocoa with friends.” Her list was growing. There were now six activities.

Jamie struggled through Christmas day at Lallybroch. His anxiety felt like an army of ants had invaded his legs, biting him without mercy. When supper was over and cleaned up, he took off for the Bookstore to catch up on some work. Try as he might, the oppressive walls were closing in on him before a single report was read. It was useless to continue his fake reading, so he grabbed his coat and walked the streets, looking in store windows and letting his thoughts wander. Someone ran past him, billowing steam from panting and running quickly away.

“Claire!”

She stopped and turned around but all he could see was a white smile deep inside her hood. He caught up to her and putting his arm around her they walked together. Claire was really happy to have a diversion on this lonely day and night. She needed company and for a time Jamie was a dream come true. They pointed and joked about what was displayed in shop windows and Jamie asked a lot of questions that she couldn’t answer. He finally gave up to enjoy the respite offered by little Claire tagging along.

“I will respect yer privacy Sassenach, no more questions about yer job or where ye live. Can I ask why ye run all the time, and without cookies! So, tell me the truth of it, squirt.”

Claire looked up at Jamie and felt a friendship that she knew was real, still, all she could do is laugh and shrug her shoulders just before she took off to run home.

“Wait! Have ye thought any more about the job?”

Claire was jogging backward so she could see him, “I’ll do it!” Said laughing, before she turned around to run home.

Jamie watched her until her form was little more than a dark mark on the horizon. It was getting quite cold, so he turned toward the bookstore to head home.

Now that the distraction of Claire was gone, the shrouded mystery dancer spun in his head and Jamie felt his anger rage. Get out of my head, he thought, I’m tired of livin like this and I’m tired of you. Jamie forced her out of his thoughts and instead took a hard look at what was becoming a real problem. His constant presence at the restaurant, stalking her in the parking lot, shelling out at least four-hundred-dollars a month and losing interest in any other part of his life. Jamie pulled his truck to the side of the dirt road he lived on and looked straight ahead at Lallybroch.

He stayed in that position like he had been turned to stone. All the supporting evidence of his ill-placed obsession ran through his mind over and over until his head pounded. The obvious answer was to stop seeing her, cold turkey. She refused to speak to him for months and his continued pursuit was pure folly, if not illegal. He exhaled a long, sad, breath and promised himself he would see a therapist if he could not stop on his own.

“Christ, I need a twelve-step program for belly dancer watchin. A new low for ye Jamie boy,” he said to the air, and finished his miserable ride home.

Jenny was in the living room bundled into a blanket on the couch with her phone in hand, laughing and texting one of her gang. Jamie sat down and sighed rubbing his hands on his jeans. His sister saw his miserable face and put her phone down.

“I know ye’ve been possessed by some problem lately. Is this a sign yer ready to talk about it?”

Jamie looked at sweet Jenny’s face for a full minute before speaking. “I have a problem Jen and it’s gonna ruin my life if I don’t find a way out. Let me tell ye what I’ve done.”

Jamie talked for thirty minutes, pouring his heart out and leaving no secrets. Jenny had never heard more than a handful of sentences out of her brother in one sitting so she made not a peep during this momentous confession. She wiped at tears in her eyes twice, feeling her brother had been duped out of his money and time by swindling gypsies.

Jenny was furious. The boy who walked her home from school each day, taught her how to drive, took her shopping for her prom dress and held her up during their father's funeral was hurting. He was the king of men to Jenny and she was rocked to the core with hatred for this belly dancer.

take me home

2/?

~ all i want for christmas is your name

read on ao3

Everyone expects baby Peralta-Santiago to arrive early. It’s a Santiago child, they’re all early. Amy had expected, or  hoped, that early meant after Christmas but before the new year. That’s not the case. 

She instead decides to begin her journey into the world on the coldest night of the year, only four days from Christmas. Amy feels the first contractions at 4am, after spending the whole night attempting to find a comfortable position. All the while Jake snores next to her,  taunting her. 

She can’t bring herself to be genuinely angry at him - not yet. Jake had been nothing but supportive and excited for their baby, he had been since they decided to start trying. They were having a  girl. It had shocked everyone but Amy and she had been three hundred dollars richer for it. He had cried with her at the ultrasound when they found out were having a girl. Jake also stayed up late with her, gave her massages at her demand, provided her with every craving she had. He may not be carrying a 10-pound human (maybe an exaggeration, Amy couldn’t tell) inside him, but he deserved his rest as much as she did. 

So she lets him sleep until the contractions are close enough to worry, but it doesn’t take long until they hurt bad enough to dig her nails into his arm. “Ames?”

“B-baby.” Amy winces again before sucking in a deep breath as the contraction slowly subsides. 

“Is something wrong?” Amy shakes her head, “Is… Is she coming, Ames? Was that a contraction?”

“Yep.” Amy laughs, finally smiling at Jake’s concerned features. “Nine days early, she’s really outdoing the rest of the Santiago’s.”

“David couldn’t beat you at this if he  tried .” Jake encourages with a teasing grin. “We’re having our baby?”

“We’re having our baby.” Amy cries happily, shifting closer to him so he can wrap his arms around her, “I love you.”

The next 15 hours are a blur. Jake is a lot calmer than she expected - not like in every movie or TV show ever where the dad freaks out and faints at the sight of anything gooey - but he stays calm, he guides her through her breathing exercises and offers physical support when she needs it. Jake gets the nurse to back off when she congratulates them on a Christmas baby, because he knew how stressed she was about the dessert she definitely wasn’t bringing for Christmas. He’s really the perfect partner. 

Amy remembers the days of feelings simmering just under the surface and thinking to herself,  Jake is way too immature. It would never work  . Before Jake, Amy thought that being right was everything. Against David, Amy always had to be right and could never lose an argument without lowkey being the end of the world for her. She had never liked being wrong, but she wears this misconception with a badge of pride because there is  no one  else Amy could imagine or  want  to do all this with. 

Jake Peralta was her person. And they had a baby girl together. 

A baby girl born at 7:37pm on December 21st. Seven pounds, twenty inches. A baby girl whom they keep calling Baby Girl Peralta-Santiago because she had been cursed with decisive cops as parents who were apparently indecisive in every other way. 

It’s not really at the top of their priorities - they’re busting adoring every inch of her wriggling in her mother’s arms. Amy traces with her finger the dark hair that peaks from under her hospital issued beanie, over her eyebrows and past her blinking and confused eyes down to her cheeks, nose, lips and chin. “She’s actually your twin, you’re just born many years apart. This is a scientific discovery, babe!” 

Amy rolls her eyes at his quiet enthusiasm, her fingers moving back to stroke their daughters cheeks. “Santiago’s just have strong genes.”

“That’s why you’re all so gorgeous of course. Thanks Victor and Camila!” Jake slides closer behind Amy so she can rest her head against him, and both of them are able to watch their daughter attempt to focus on something. “What’s your name, mija?”

The post baby hormones are almost more of a bitch than her pregnancy, so she has to take a moment to pull herself together at Jake saying  mija to their daughter . “Por favor, no te pongas de acuerdo con Naomi. He just wants to name you after Nakatomi plaza and we have to stick together so he can’t trick us!” 

“Oh  please  , Ames. You were the one trying to name her Hermione.” Jake scoffs, “She’s gonna end up being Baby Girl forever. We can’t even make that work! People will think we’re trying to copy Friends!”

“Her name is definitely not baby girl. We’re going to figure it out, let’s just enjoy her and fall asleep.”

~ 

They leave the hospital without a name. The nurse informs them that they have two weeks to decide and get the paperwork in. But the time restriction somehow stresses her out more than picking the perfect name, combined with Christmas being in two days and not having any presents or an outfit for her to wear. 

Jake holds her hand the whole time she rants, just as he always did, his eyes shifting occasionally to the tiny newborn sleeping in the bassinet next to their bed. “Ames, take a deep breath. I’m almost certain she’ll forgive us if she doesn’t have any presents at four days old, and Charles already told me he found four potential Christmas outfits.”

“What would I do without Charles?” Amy sighs happily, turning to run a hand through Jake’s sleepy curls. “What would I do without you?” 

Jake leans forward so their foreheads were touching, both leaning into the quiet moment with only their breathing and tiny baby snores and grunts in the background. He kisses the side of her mouth, his heart warming as a small but tired smile creeps on her face. “We should probably sleep while she’s sleeping.”

“I still have so much to prepare.” Amy whines, her head falling down to his shoulder. 

“Just a little nap, Ames. I’m sure she’ll be screaming at us soon enough for the boob.”

~

It’s a lot of the same for them. Sleep, feed baby girl with no name, change diaper, attempt to think about Christmas, sleep more, eat when Charles comes over with food, brainstorm baby names, and sometimes even more sleep. 

A tradition of their own since they had moved in together was to stay in on Christmas Eve, watching  Harry Potter  and stay up till midnight so they could open each other’s presents - it was a little harder this year. Jake was holding a milk drunk, almost four day old baby in one arm while his other was wrapped around his half asleep wife, trying himself not to fall asleep while Harry fought off Voldemort for the first time. 

Even when he wasn’t nodding off himself, his eyes were usually on the baby in his arms. Charles had gone all out in the baby Christmas outfit department. She had on a thick red headband with a bow on the side, snowflakes printed all over with matching pants, a onesie that read ‘My 1st Christmas!’ and a knitted cardigan over the top to keep her warm. Jake was afraid of the parents he and Amy were becoming, because they both  loved  it. She looked so  cheesy  but it was the cutest thing in the world, and they even did their own mini photoshoot before she started screaming to be fed. 

So here Jake was, surrounded by his family - a milk drunk baby and his wife fast asleep on his shoulder. The baby in his arm begins to squirm, grunting and opening her eyes. “Cómo te llamas, mija?” Jake’s heart warms as she meets his eyes, “Angelica? Eliza? Peggy? Or no Schyler sister names?”

“Absolutely not.” Amy mumbles next to him, eyes still closed. 

“Eliza isn’t a bad name.” Jake replies with a frown. 

Amy opens her eyes, stretching and looking at their baby. “She doesn’t look like an Eliza.”

At that, she grunts and her face contorts in a grimace. 

“Gotcha, no Eliza.” Jake snorts, both him and Amy watched in amazement as she continues to grimace before closing her eyes again and smiling. “Ames! She smiled, definitely not Eliza! She must have hated Eliza.”

“That, or she passed gas.” Amy giggles, pinching her nose. “Hey, look at the time.”

“Midnight! Happy Christmas!” Jake whispers, stroking her cheek lightly before turning to peck Amy on the lips. “Merry Christmas, I love you.”

“Merry Christmas…” Amy sighs happily, closing her eyes again for a moment. “Already four days old and she’s about to face the most chaotic day of the year.”

“We can just skip it?” Jake questions, his voice squeaking as he tries to believe his own words. “I know it’s crazy, but who expects us to go out with a four day old for more than half an hour?”

“My parents is who.” She shakes her head, “Maybe we can be late?”

“Wow you  are  sleep deprived.” Jake laughs softly, “What if we’re late  and we leave early?”

“You’re talking crazy talk now!” Amy snorts, biting her lip as to not disturb the sleeping baby. “I’m getting sick of calling her baby girl, seriously.”

Jake nods in agreement and they fall into a peaceful silence, with only the sounds of the city and Harry Potter in the background. She never thought it would be  this impossible to choose a name for their baby. The baby wrapped up in Jake’s arms was too perfect to have their name rushed. 

The time they spent  trying  , and waiting for results and keeping it a secret from Boyle - it all lead to this moment. Not so much her being born, even though that was a  huge  deal, but being given her name. She had to live with it for whole life (unless she  wanted to change it  - they had both been very adamant in supporting this potential for their daughters future). Maybe they were overthinking it, and the fact that they’ve had a combined thirteen hours sleep in the last two days wasn’t helping them make a choice. 

“Maybe we should revisit some names?” Jake offers, and Amy’s certain he’s read her mind.

“Okay, yeah. Good idea.” Amy agrees, “But no Naomi.”

“Yeah! I get it! Naomi’s out of the picture!” Jake tips his head back in laughter, which wakes the infant in his arms. They’re lucky she doesn’t cry, but just stares up at her father again. “Good you’re awake, we need your help.”

“Now should we go over the suggestions from the squad?” Amy looks to her phone, which has an extensive list. 

“I mean, Rosa’s suggestion is Kid and Charles insists on Charlotte, so no?” Jake shifts the baby so she’s resting on his bent knees. This way she’s able to attempt to look at the both of them while fighting off sleep again. “I think I have an idea…”

“Do tell.” Amy’s not looking at him but looping her pointer finger so she can grip tightly onto it. 

“So I thought Luna-”

“Jake we agreed no character names!” Amy groans, pouting up at him.

“I  know but hear me out, Ames. I’ve thought about this.” Jake’s eyes begin to shimmer, either from tiredness or pure affection, she can’t tell but she knows he’s sincere. “So I thought Luna Rey, for a few reasons. So first, they both have a meaning in Spanish, right?”

“Moon King?” Amy snorts, “That barely makes sense.”

“Ah, but they have meaning. Rey has more of a meaning of Captain Holt to me, and he’s your mentor and best friend after- nevermind he’s your best friend. But also Captain Holt is basically king of the precinct, so it totally works.” Amy can’t really fight that, so she nods and waits for him to continue. “ And Luna, because, well you probably don’t remember because you were deliriously tired but there was a full moon the night she was born. And I stood with her in my arms by the window and just thought about how beautiful they both were. Our baby, and the moon - except she’s prettier. So Spanish meaning, boom!

Okay... So, uh, reason one was basically all my reasons meshed together, and I’m too tired to put up a proper argument for you right now  however  , my final statement. Luna Rey Santiago-Peralta, has both personal and cultural meaning while also happening to be named after two  badass characters that we both love. Rey and Luna Lovegood. Debate over.”

Amy’s lack of sleep is the only reason she’s unable to keep the tears at bay as she laughs at her husband. The first time she had heard the name Luna, she had been so vehemently against it but now after hearing Jake’s case, she can’t remember those protests. 

“Luna? Es ese es tu nombre?” Amy whispers, her heart expanding five sizes as she says it out loud. She doesn’t react like the last time, but she does attempt to pull Amy’s finger into her mouth. “Luna Rey Santiago-Peralta.”

“We’d like to formally apologise for giving you too long of a name.” Jake chuckes, “Do you really like it?”

“Yes, I do.” Amy sniffles, smiling at him brightly. “I’ve really turned you into a debate genius.”

“Only for Luna. It’s what she deserves.” Jake teases with a kiss to Amy’s nose before his eyes drift back to Luna. “It’s really her first Christmas, I’m too tired to process any of this.”

“Happy Christmas, Luna.” 

“The happiest of Christmases, to both of you.”

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Twenty One

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

December 16th, 2017

It was a simple slip-up. A small slip of the tongue that really shouldn’t have had such catastrophic events as it did. But Patton had him wrapped in a hug in their closet, a hand clamped over Virgil’s mouth in an attempt to keep him quiet as Charles absolutely trashed their room, looking for them. All because Virgil had accidentally called him, “Dad” in a sarcastic tone when Charles was ordering him around.

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut tight and a few tears slipped out without his permission. He tried to focus on his breathing, on the feeling of Pat’s hugs, but all he could truly focus on was Charles screaming and throwing things to the floor with a crash.

When Charles finally lumbered away, Patton and Virgil left the closet, cleaning up what they could of their room. Virgil vowed never to slip up like that again. He didn’t want anyone getting hurt over a simple word.

April 16th, 2019

It was a simple-slip up. A small slip of the tongue that had Virgil paling when he realized what he had said. He tried not to hyperventilate as he realized he had just did what he had told himself years ago that he would never do again.

Logan’s birthday was today, and as such they had gone to a restaurant of Logan’s choosing for dinner. It was such an innocent question, he hadn’t even thought about it much. But he had said it. “Dad, can you pass me a fork?”

Everyone had frozen and looked at him. Virgil was trying to figure out how he could get out of this situation without getting hurt. Mister Emile was sitting next to the forks, so it was clear who he was talking to. He didn’t see a way out of this.

Mister Emile jerked to life again with a blink and passed Virgil a fork. “Here you go, Virge.”

“So wait,” Mister Remy said. “If he’s Dad, then who am I?”

Tears were forming in Virgil’s eyes and he couldn’t look at anyone at the table. “I’m sorry!” he blurted. “That’s not what I meant to say!”

Everyone was staring at him still and he buried his face in his hands as Patton hugged him. “It’s okay, Virge. You’re not gonna be in trouble,” he murmured.

“Why would he be in trouble for calling our dad ‘Dad’?” Logan asked. “That is, technically speaking, who he is.”

“Last time he called anyone Dad was to Charles,” Patton said. “And uh...Charles didn’t take that well.”

“Oh,” Logan said softly.

“Hey, Virgil, can you look at me?” Mister Emile asked.

Virgil peeked out from behind his hands and was surprised to see that Mister Emile wasn’t angry, or even upset. He was grinning, and there were the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “It’s okay if you want to call me Dad, all right? Is that who you think of me as?”

Blushing scarlet, Virgil nodded.

“Well, then, I can be Dad,” Mister Emile said. “No need to kick up a fuss about it.”

Virgil sniffled and nodded, offering him a watery and thankful smile.

“I repeat my question,” Mister Remy teased. “If he’s Dad, then who am I?”

Dee perked up and immediately made a sign close to his face that Virgil recognized but couldn’t place. Logan laughed. “Amiable? Bit of a mouthful, Dee,” he said with a good-natured smile.

Mister Remy just looked thoughtful. “Amiable. I could work with that. It is a little long, though. Why not just call me Ami? If you boys want to, of course.”

Virgil croaked out a, “Sure,” as everyone else offered varying noises of agreement. “I’m confused,” Virgil said, mulling over his words. “Why are you all so okay with what I said?”

“I already saw Dad as...well, Dad,” Roman said. “But I was a little scared to be the first one to say anything.”

Logan hummed his agreement. “I’ve seen both of them as better fathers than I could have ever hoped for, but I was at a bit of a loss as to what to call them,” he mumbled the last bit, turning red.

“Your pragmatism would get in the way of affection, nerd,” Roman teased.

Logan stuck his tongue out at Roman and Dee giggled, making Patton smile in turn, and a knot loosened in Virgil’s gut. Nobody was mad at him. Everyone else agreed with him that Mister Emile and Mister Remy were Dad and Ami. This didn’t have to be as terrifying as it was.

Everyone continued dinner soon after as if nothing happened. Virgil knew that Mister Emile...Dad was occasionally sending him glances filled with affection and proud smiles, and so was...Ami. This would take some getting used to, but Virgil didn’t regret it.

...He didn’t regret it, but it did make him nervous. He wished he could get rid of that feeling, but he had a sneaking suspicion that would never go away. He would always be nervous about something or another.

“So Virgil,” Dad said, grabbing his attention. “How was school today?”

“Oh! Uh, not bad,” Virgil said, shrugging. “Patton and I played with some of the other kids in our class at recess until we found a little caterpillar and that sorta...took all the rest of our time outside.”

Patton lit up. “It was really cool! It was bright green and had at least a dozen legs and I’m not sure what kind of caterpillar it was, but I know it’s gonna make a beautiful butterfly!” he exclaimed.

“There are many kinds of caterpillars that are green,” Logan said, humming. “But considering the region, that does narrow down our options some. Not by much, but a little bit.” He pulled out his phone and searched up something that Virgil couldn’t see, but then Logan showed them the screen. “These are just a few options the caterpillar could be.”

Virgil was enraptured by the pictures of butterflies and moths that Logan had pulled up. “That’s so cool!” he exclaimed. “They’re all so cool-looking!”

“And pretty!” Patton added. “They’re super pretty!”

Virgil looked at Patton with a grin. “You always did like the pretty things, Pat.”

“Yup!” Patton exclaimed with pride in his voice. “Because who wouldn’t want to be pretty?”

“I, personally, would prefer to be handsome,” Logan offered up. “But if you choose to want to be pretty, then that is, after all, your choice.”

Patton grinned at him. Virgil nudged his twin playfully. “Patton’s a little weird sometimes. I don’t understand why he would want to be pretty, but I won’t judge him.”

“Some time, I wanna try on a skirt,” Patton said. “One with all the bright colors and pretty flowers that some of the girls at school wear! They always look so pretty, and the skirts swish around, and it looks so perfect...” He sighed happily. “Yeah. I want to try a skirt.”

“We can go to the store and see if you find one you like,” Dad offered. “Not tonight, but maybe this weekend?”

Patton gasped. “Really?!”

Roman laughed. “I’ve found that Dad and Ami never offer anything that they don’t intend on finishing. If you want to try a skirt, they’ll let you.”

“Yes!” Patton cheered.

Logan laughed, right up until the wait staff came over with an ice cream sundae with a candle stuck in the whipped cream, and started singing “Happy Birthday” to him. Virgil sang along with their whole family and the workers. He was a little worried when Logan started crying as they sang, “Happy birthday dear Logan,” but Logan was still smiling, so Virgil assumed the tears were happy ones.

When Logan let every last one of his brothers get a taste of the ice cream, he wiped his tears and said, “That’s the first time people have sung my actual name in the Happy Birthday song in a group,” he managed to choke out. “Jack did it last year, and this year he did it again at lunch, but this is the first time anyone’s done it in a group.”

“Happy tears?” Virgil asked.

Logan laughed and nodded. “I like it when people use my real name.”

Patton nodded sagely. “Yeah. I don’t understand why anyone would think you’re anything but my brother. And you’re a great brother, too.”

Logan grinned as he took back the sundae and took his own bites. “Thanks, Pat. That means a lot.”

Virgil shook his head. “Pat’s always ridiculously nice like that. Honestly, I worry about him when it comes to bullies, because he always gives everyone the benefit of the doubt.”

Patton shrugged. “Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves, no matter what rumors about them are. And I really don’t care too much if they try and hurt me. So long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

Virgil smiled shyly and ducked his head. “You flatter me, Pat. But you also shouldn’t base your happiness on mine, because that could wind up hurting you.”

Patton shrugged. “Okay. As long as you’re not hurt, I usually don’t have reason to be upset. Better?”

“Still kinda focusing on me, but it’s a little better,” Virgil conceded.

Patton grinned in victory. Virgil rolled his eyes and gave Patton his Don’t think you’ve won look.

Oh, but I have! Patton said with his smug grin.

Virgil stuck his tongue out at Patton. “Play nice,” Ami said. “Don’t want any hurt feelings.”

Dee waved his hands and signed, “I think they’re playing.”

“Yeah, they’re playing, but sometimes people can stop playing and wind up hurting others if they’re not careful,” Ami explained. “So I’m reminding them to play nicely.”

Virgil swung his legs as Logan finished the last of the ice cream. “You know, we do know to play nice,” Virgil pointed out. “I wouldn’t ever hurt Pat intentionally. I count on him too often to push him away.”

“Same here,” Patton piped up. “Sometimes all you have is family.”

Roman got a distant, sad look in his eyes. “Sometimes, you don’t even have that,” he said softly.

Virgil frowned. Roman worried him, sometimes, when he said things like that. He hoped that Roman was okay. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like if Patton weren’t in it. But no one knew about where Roman had come from, not even Dad and Ami. So Virgil could only wonder.

Logan finished his ice cream and everyone stood up, Dad pulling out the money for the meal and leaving it on the table. When they all left the restaurant, the clouds were hanging heavy overhead. “It might rain soon,” Virgil noted.

“Yeah,” Patton agreed. “But that means we can be all cozy inside tonight.”

“Speaking of tonight, I was thinking we could either do a game night or a movie night?” Ami proposed. “If Logan is up for it, that is. And he’d get first game and or movie choice.”

Logan perked up and Virgil smiled. He liked it when Logan got excited about things. It usually meant he’d start sharing his trivia knowledge, or he’d become more expressive, which Virgil didn’t get to see often. “If I get first choice on movies, I totally want to see Black Panther,” he declared. “It’s great, and I need to introduce my brothers to Marvel.”

“That is a bit more of a...grown-up movie,” Dad pointed out.

Logan frowned. “Oh, yeah...I forgot that Shuri is sometimes...not PG-friendly. Uh...how about Into the Spider-verse then? Still Marvel, but a little more kid-friendly.”

“Sure,” Dad agreed. “And if anyone gets scared, they’re free to leave the room at any time, no judgement.”

“Maybe a little disappointment,” Logan said. “But not at you, more in the fact that I picked a bad movie if it scared you.”

“Oh, you know what else is PG?” Roman asked. “Shrek is!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil cackled as Logan snapped, “We’re not watching Shrek on my birthday!” He huffed and tweaked his glasses. “Everyone knows that Shrek 2 was better anyway.”

“But they’re human most of the movie! That’s no fun!” Roman exclaimed.

“Maybe, but I Need a Hero was a show-stopper song,” Logan rebutted.

Roman crossed his arms and huffed. “I guess!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands into the sky.

Virgil laughed as Logan gave a smug grin not unlike the one Patton made earlier. “Into the Spider-verse first. Then we can talk about the possibility of Shrek 2.”

“Fine,” Roman whined.

Virgil bounced in excitement. “I really want to see Into the Spider-verse,” he offered. “That and maybe Detective Pikachu when it comes out.”

“That won’t be on-demand for a while,” Logan warned. “You’d have to see it in the actual movie theater.”

Virgil shrugged. “Worth it. I like Pokémon a lot.”

“Noted,” Logan said. “Maybe we could talk about it sometime. I enjoyed breeding Eevees to complete the evolutionary chain, and observe their different stats.”

“Definitely!” Virgil exclaimed. “I want to learn more about the stats, for sure!”

Logan smiled, but looked pleasantly surprised. “You might be the first person to actually say that to me,” he said. “I won’t complain, though.”

“Consider it your birthday present from me,” Virgil said with a laugh. “A free pass to ramble.”

Logan laughed in response to that, and Virgil’s heart warmed.

Yellow Curtains - Chapter One

Lucas Lallemant happens upon several people online who appear to be living lives quite similar to his own-- maybe even the same. (Or, all the alternate Isaks find each other online when Even becomes famous)

Lucas first saw the picture on his Instagram explore page, at three in the morning when Eliott was with his parents. He should have been sleeping, he supposed, but over the previous week they’d spent together his body learned to gel with Eliott’s at night. He could only sleep with his arm draped over Eliott’s midsection. This problem should have been fixable; he tried to wrap his arm around a pillow, or a bundle of comforter, but the fabric didn’t feel as warm and didn’t have a chest that rose and fell with each rhythmic breath. It wasn’t the same.

Hence, a late-night/early-morning browsing session.

He followed a lot of actors, meaning his explore page feed usually filled with photos from upcoming movies and low-budget indie films from all over the world. Eliott loved that kind of thing. He could sit and watch foreign language dramas, unsubtitled, for hours and hours commenting on the use of color in each scene and the smoothness with which each actor spoke. Lucas had never been one for cinema he couldn’t understand. He appreciated the concepts, and English wasn’t so bad to hear, but it wasn’t his niche.

Really, the only reason he followed so many actors in the first place was to keep up with Eliott’s obsessive interest in obscure titles with equally obscure directors and plot lines. He didn’t know half of the people whose pictures he liked.

 Well, he knew a few. Xavier Dolan posted a new photo. Lucas liked it without much thought. He would always appreciate the man who inspired his and Eliott’s art of a reunion, even if he’d never stayed awake through the entirety of one of his movies.

“It’s in French!” Eliott had yelled at him. “No subtitles! It’s in French!”

“Not my thing,” he’d replied.

“Dubstep wasn’t your thing either, and look at you now.”

“I don’t actually like dubstep, I just love you.”

Xavier Dolan earned his like for the sake of that conversation alone. Lucas treasured when he had the opportunity to tell Eliott how much he loved him in some sappy way. He scrolled down past Xavier Dolan’s post and into a section of related ones, probably all from similar directors. 

In the midst of his browsing, he found his attention drawn to a photo of two blond boys, standing together in a location tagged as Oslo, Norway. Call it fate, call it intuition, but he knew for sure something was different about these two people.

He tapped the photo so it took up most of the screen. One of the boys wore a gray sweatshirt similar to the one Lucas himself had in his closet. The other sported a jean jacket with a small pansexual flag pin on the pocket. The latter boy’s posture reminded Lucas of someone, although he wasn’t quite sure just who. He oozed confidence. If you looked at his face though, he seemed quite shy and timid. Lucas scrolled downward to read the caption.

 isakyaki Congratulations to my wonderful boyfriend, Even Bech Næshiem, on directing his first full-length movie. I love you and cannot wait to see everything else you have to offer.

 Even. The name stirred something in Lucas. He looked at the picture again. Which of the two was Even? Was it the taller boy with the jean jacket or the smaller one in the sweatshirt? He felt like he’d seen them both before, if only in passing, and surprised himself by feeling a tinge of resentment towards the shorter. Maybe they fought sometime? There was that whole mess with Alex, Charles, and those boys a while ago. He clicked into his Instagram messages and shot one to Eliott.

 lucallemant: Do we know Even Bech Næshiem?

 Eliott took a millisecond to reply.

 srodulv: he’s a director

lucallemant: yeah, but do we know him

srodulv: no???

 Huh. Go figure. Lucas turned his focus away from the photo. He accessed his home feed.

Emma and Alex were together tonight (or rather, last night) judging by Emma’s Instagram story. From what he heard from the girls on Sunday, they decided to be a legitimate couple instead of just a wild fling. He wondered what Yann thought about this development. The guilt was definitely still there, from when he made deliberate plans to break Yann and Emma up, because if he hadn’t said anything to Camille about the kiss then they would still be together. He was friends with Alex, sure, but the guy cheated. He’d done it once, and he would again. Lucas didn’t want Emma getting herself hurt anymore.

Chloe posted something yesterday afternoon, too. She must have gone out with Yann to some coffee shop within walking distance. Another thing to feel guilty about. Even though he didn’t totally forgive Chloe for telling everyone she could about him and Eliott, he knew he’d really screwed her over by pretending to be in love with her for so long. Regret-central on Instagram tonight.

He couldn’t force himself to move through everyone else’s posts. He’d probably seen the rest, and if he hadn’t then he obviously didn’t care very much about the people involved.

Instead, he looked back at the picture of Even from earlier.

Logically, he knew he couldn’t know either boy. They both lived in Norway, and one was supposedly somewhat famous, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen them both before somewhere—and not just in a foreign language movie.

 lucallemant: did we know him at one point?

srodulv: no

lucallemant: are you sure?

srodulv: pretty sure. why?

lucallemant: he looks familiar

srodulv: there are a lot of people on earth

srodulv: maybe you’re confusing him for somebody else

lucallemant: who would I be confusing him for?

srodulv: I don’t know

 Lucas looked into the poster’s profile. Okay, so the shorter boy in the photo was Isak. Even was the taller, then, the one with the crazy hair and the sweet smile. The familiar one. He scrolled through Isak’s photos of the two of them together, noting at one point a girl who looked a lot like Emma. Something fishy was happening here. He’d never seen these people before, and yet it was as if he had seen them every day for his entire life.

 srodulv: Could be the dynamic

lucallemant: what do you mean?

srodulv: they have our dynamic lol

srodulv: the artist and the grumpy one

srodulv:  ❤️ ❤️

lucallemant: haha

 Lucas turned off his phone and sat back against his headboard. Eliott had a point. He could recognize Even because he seemed similar to Eliott in interest and posture-- that’s what it was. His phone buzzed.

 srodulv: here, you can really see it here

 Eliott attached a YouTube link for something. An interview.

Lucas tapped to pull up the interview on YouTube and clicked on the subtitles. If he was to put them in French, they would be auto-generated. Auto-generated subtitles were never trustworthy, so he’d just have to watch the interview with English ones and fumble through the gist of what each person said.

“Where did the two of you meet?” asked the interviewer.

Isak laughed and turned to Even. “Do you want to tell him?”

“Kosegruppa,” said Even. “Thank you, Vilde.”

“And how did you get the chance to talk with him?”

Again, both Even and Isak shared a glance and a giggle.

“He took all the paper towels,” said Isak. “All of them. Then he asked if I needed one, handed me one from the trash, and invited me outside to smoke a joint with him.”

Lucas paused the video. He met Eliott at a group meeting, didn’t he? He first saw Eliott sitting in the back and they made eye contact for a beautiful moment. Afterward, when they met at the bus stop, Eliott took all the candy bars and offered to smoke a joint with him. That was… similar, to say the least. He made a mental note to Google kosegruppa later. He pressed play.

“And you found that charming?” the interviewer prodded.

Isak threw an arm over Even’s shoulders and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Of course I did. I was in love with him from the moment we locked eyes. I would have kissed him right there if it wasn’t for Emma.”

The interviewer leaned inward, closer to the two boys. “Who is Emma?”

“Emma is my ex-girlfriend.” When the interviewer looked concerned, he clarified, “It’s okay, we’re on good terms now.  Everything’s smoothed over. She sat down right next to us and started—”

“—sharing the joint!” Even finished. “It was so awkward! I couldn’t make her leave. But I guess things worked out in the end so… sorry, Emma!”

Again, Lucas paused the video. When he and Eliott were at the bus stop, the exact same thing happened with Chloe. The exact same thing. When he looked at Even’s easygoing expression again, he realized he’d seen the same one on his own boyfriend’s face dozens of times. This was starting to get a little creepy.

He closed the app before he could watch the rest, and sent another message.

 lucallemant: did you watch that interview?

srodulv: yeah

lucallemant: with subtitles?

srodulv: they didn’t have French

lucallemant: watch it

srodulv: it’s three

lucallemant: you’re not sleeping

srodulv: how do you know

lucallemant: you’re answering me

srodulv: maybe I am answering you in my sleep

lucallemant: they met the same as us. Watch the interview, please

srodulv: I can’t, I’m asleep

 If Lucas didn’t love Eliott so much, he could have strangled him.

He reopened the Instagram app to explore Isak’s profile once more. He could distinguish the main characters in Isak’s life from the posts: Even, three other boys, and the girl who reminded him of Emma. Maybe she was Emma, the Emma Isak referred to in the video interview. This was all too bizarre. He also was a part of a four-friend crew, had a tag-along in Chloe for a while, and had a first-and-only kind of boyfriend. Lives don’t get much more similar than that.

He figured he might as well send a message, ask about it. Isak probably wouldn’t even see it in his inbox, since he dated a film director and their relationship seemed to be quite popular. He would not even notice the new message on top of all the others.

Lucas typed the words into the box and hit send before he could convince himself to do otherwise.

 lucallemant: Hello, I saw your interview and it was kind of crazy. You met Even the same way I met my boyfriend, complete with an annoying intervention. If I may ask, did you ditch a double date to have your first kiss?

@cervo-live-in-arts I hope you enjoy it !!

9. A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths.

* * *

“This...”

“This is...”

Both of them spoke at the same time, and both of them stopped talking before fumbling with their words. They were laying on Laurent’s bed, in the Clemence-King family farm. Lau’s father, Charles, left for a short business trip, so Lau immediately took the opportunity to invite his boyfriend over for the first time... and now here they were, with seemingly something to say.

“You speak first”

“N-No, you do”

“You do !”

Silence, once again. Lau awkwardly changed his position, sinking deeper into the mattress and pushing the blankets over his face, as if he was trying to hide his blush.

( I am hiding my blush, who am I fooling. Barnaby can sooo guess... Merlin, I’m ridiculous )

He slowly lowered the blanket from his eyes, and his gaze met Barnaby’s. He looked as awkward as him, and probably as shy. Man, maybe inviting Barnaby over was a bad idea, after all. It was the first time they were officially alone together... and they had no idea of what to do.

( What do couples usually do when they are alone together ? )

An answer made it’s way in Laurent’s mind, but he immediately chased it away. No, he had more serious things to focus on. He nervously bit on his lip, and started to fiddle with the blanket.

“Barnaby” he said at last. “I’ve been meaning to ask this for... quite some time, really, but I’ve always refrained...”

Barnaby raised an eyebrow, staring at his boyfriend with a worried look.

“Huh ? What’s wrong, Lau ?”

Immediately, scenarios started flowing through Barnaby’s head... not so good scenarios. In the span of a few seconds, he saw Lau breaking up with him and ordering him to go back to the Lee Mansion, even though it was three in the morning.

“I was just wondering... if you really wanted this”

“Wanted what, Lau ?”

The redhead sucked in a deep breath, and finally pushed the blanket off him before sitting up. He was wearing a loose shirt that used to belong to his brother, because he couldn’t afford himself a proper pyjama. He slowly grabbed the hem of his shirt, and gently pulled it above his head... before removing the shirt altogether, placing it on his thighs. And then, he closed his eyes, waiting for Barnaby’s reaction.

Lau had told him about his lycanthropy, and Barnaby was well aware that, when a transformed werewolf had no distraction, they would start to scratch itself, leading to bloody, horrendous scars that covered their body. Obviously, Barnaby assumed Lau would have these sort of scars... but now, he was actually looking at them, and it was even more horrible that everything he had dared to picture himself.

Just thinking of Lau being so lost, to the point of hurting himself as a wolf, completely ripped Barnaby’s heart apart. As he looked at the marks, his thoughts were spinning in his

( you couldn’t protect him you couldn’t help him dad is right you are only a useless piece of SHIT )

mind... suddenly, Lau sighed.

“Quite terrible, right ? I... you never saw me without a shirt before, and I figured that before we go any farther in our relationship, that you should... see this. I...”

Merlin, he had no idea of how to explain his own logic. He wanted Barnaby to see that he could have much better than him, but the sole thought of telling him that... it twisted Lau’s stomach in such a way it almost made him groan in pain.

“It’s just that... you could have much... much better than a werewolf boyfriend. You know what people say about them... Merlin, Barnaby, your uncle is part of the Werewolf Capture Unit and-”

“But I’m not my uncle” Barnaby spoke at least.

His voice was the total opposite of what Lau had expected to hear. It was soft, gentle... understanding. Slowly, Barnaby sat up, and slid closer to Lau so that he could pull him into an embrace... and it was probably the most heartfelt, the most sincere hug Barnaby had given him. Lau immediately melted into his touch, burying his face into the fabric of his shirt and sniffing Barnaby’s faint sandalwood smell.

( ‘You smell like fresh laundry... and... sandalwood’ Lau had said to Barnaby once, with a smile on his lips. ‘You know what sandalwood can do ? It can balance your feelings and relax your mind, as well as purify energy and-’

He had kept talking, and the entire time Barnaby had been staring at him with a lovestruck gaze )

“I know you’re not your uncle, Barnaby, but...”

He trailed off, and Barnaby started holding him tighter.

“No buts. I’m me, and... and I love you, Lau. No matter your background. Your dad is mean, your brother is gone, you have been bitten by a werewolf, you have to break curses left and right... but that’s part of you, and I love every single part of you. Even the ones you don’t like much...”

Gently, he cupped his cheek, and made him look at him. Chocolate brown eyes met emerald eyes.

“You’re passionate, gentle, bold, caring, funny... you love flowers and sewing, as well as singing, and you are crazy over Puffskeins. See ? You are... you are so much more than the flaws you see”

He pulled Lau away so that he could get a better look at him. He saw his scarred chest, his freckled shoulders, his trembling bottom lip as he was trying to not cry... Barnaby kissed him softly, before pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes.

“I love you, Lau. I love every single little part of you... and I’ll never leave you behind, I swear”

Barnaby’s family wanted him to marry a pureblooded girl, but screw that. Lau was literally the love of Barnaby’s life, and he refused to leave him, even for a second. Without a thought, he kissed Lau’s nose... then his cheeks, the crook of his neck, his shoulders... he leaned down to kiss a scar on his chest, but Lau suddenly pulled away, blushing.

“N-Not here... not yet”

Barnaby nodded, and went back to kissing Lau’s neck, then jaw, then cheek. Finally, their lips met, and Lau snaked his arms around Barnaby’s neck, refusing to ever let go. 

And they won’t let go until a long, long time. Barnaby pulled his lover closer, and made them both lay on the bed, before kissing him passionately. With each kiss, with each caress, Barnaby did his best to show Lau how much he loved him... and when he pulled away at last, they were both blushing, so close to each other that they were breathing each other’s air.

Lau giggled gently.

“You’re starting to have morning breath”

“You too”

Taking suddenly a more serious expression, Lau cuddled up against Barnaby, ready to sleep.

“Thank you, Barnaby”

“For what ? I’m only loving you”

“That’s why I’m thanking you. Thank you for loving me... and I hope you feel as loved as I do right now”

Barnaby smiled, and kissed the top of his head.

“Believe me, I am”

“What is it you wanted to tell me earlier ? I sort of monopolized the conversation...”

Barnaby smiled, and held Lau closer.

“I wanted to know if we could make jam later”

please don’t say I’m going alone

He hates the Universe because he has a single hour left of hugging a girlfriend who is now asleep by pure post-crying exhaustion, an hour left of trying to memorize every little detail about her. He hates the Universe because there's only a month left until their one year anniversary and now they won’t get to celebrate it together, because she just spent all too much time away from him undercover in prison in Texas and now they're being separated again, because her face is puffy and pink from crying and he thinks his might be as well.

Or, what went through Jake’s head before he said goodbye to Amy for Florida.

This was actually kind of a semi-prompt from @alwaysandbeyond who wondered aloud in the tags why Jake chose the selfie of Amy he has with him in Florida and prison and said that someone should write a fic about it. Truth be told I’ve always been curious about this so I… wrote the fic. Hope you like it and apologies in advance for the feels

read on ao3

Jake has two hours before the first of four cars that will take him and Holt to witness protection in Florida arrives. He spends them both at Amy’s apartment. There’s no use in packing if he’s not allowed to bring anything with him; no use in anything but hugging his girlfriend so tight he fears he is squeezing her small frame to pieces, all while telling her repeatedly he loves her and won’t forget about her. Not a great promise, considering he has the memory of a goldfish. But he remembers emotions. He remembers anything that caused a strong emotional response at the time or still does. So yes, he’ll remember the woman who has made him feel love in all its different kinds - from aching, unrequited infatuation to the effortless and tender-hearted commitment they’ve reached after almost a year. He’ll remember the fierce but quirky, competitive but lovable detective who just told him she loves him so much and wants to move in with him until he’s old and gray-haired and rotting away in a retirement home in Coral Palms. “They’ll get you out of Witsec”, Amy keeps on repeating for their first ten minutes of their two last hours together, while Jake can’t stop imagining the nightmare scenarios of never getting home again. “We’ll get you out. We’ll catch Figgis. You’ll come home. You have to come home.” He agrees with her. Both of them know nothing's for sure and maybe they really will never see each other again, but last hours are better spent pretending than accepting brutal realities. There will be plenty of time to do so in Florida, he assumes. Amy cries. Long, heaving sobs shake through her body and her tears dampen his t-shirt when she’s pressed tight against him, the two of them together on her bed for the last time in a long while. He tries not to think about how her bed would have been their bed someday soon if Figgis hadn’t called when he did. We should move in together. Haha, said the Universe. Very funny. Jake officially hates the Universe. He hates the Universe because he has a single hour left of hugging a girlfriend who is now asleep by pure post-crying exhaustion, an hour left of trying to memorize every little detail about her. He hates the Universe because there's only a month left until their one year anniversary and now they won’t get to celebrate it together, because she just spent all too much time away from him undercover in prison in Texas and now they're being separated again, because her face is puffy and pink from crying and he thinks his might be as well. He knows he won’t forget her, but he also knows he cannot possibly remember everything, because there's so much to notice about Amy Santiago he’s discovering new things every single day. Some days it’s the cutest constellation of moles at the small of her back, some days a brand new meal she can actually cook without burning the kitchen down or poisoning them both, and one day she even tells him the back-story about a tiny dot in white ink on the foot; a relic from one of the few times she got drunk at a college party and wanted to know what getting tattooed felt like. Other days he discovers how the shape of her eyebrows change marginally sometimes because she claims it’s impossible to fill them in exactly the same every day, or how the sparkling gleam in her eyes when he tells her he loves her is different from the one she gets when she’s really excited over a case, but not all too different from when she’s truly engaged in re-reading the Harry Potter novels for the umpteenth time. (Jake’s not yet sure if he should take it as an insult or a compliment to mean roughly as much to her as he’s discovered those seven books do. From the amount of Ravenclaw or Hogwarts-stamped paraphernalia he keeps finding in various places over her apartment, he’s hoping for the latter.) No photograph could capture the all-consuming focus in her expression when she watches Jeopardy or how melodious her laugh sounds when it's untamed and authentic. Her quick-witted comebacks or the adorable way she scrunches her nose when Hitchcock says something distasteful couldn’t ever be framed into a picture, no matter how skilled the photographer. He knows he’d find every single one perfect, but they still wouldn't capture enough. Maybe he should follow the orders someone gave him and abstain from bringing anything personal to Florida. On the other hand, maybe it could be helpful to have something physical there to ground him. Something to look at to know she’s real and exists somewhere out there, something to remind him she’s more than an intricate and hyper-realistic daydream, might help during all the months and maybe even years he’ll be stranded without her. It’ll have to be a photograph. A picture won’t capture any of her intelligence or humor, but there’s a chance it could capture a sliver of the ethereal beauty she is and right now a chance of a sliver is all he needs. The question is simply which one. He has a ton of pictures of her in uniform or with other members of the squad, all unusable. A picture of her at work would be too difficult to explain should someone see it. No cop pictures. There are even more dorky selfies of the two of them together, making funny faces or even trying to hold the camera up and kiss at the same time, but right now only seeing them so free and happily unknowing is an all too painful sting. And a picture of him with a girl would be even yet more suspicious if he got caught; there’d be no way for him to deny ever knowing the woman in the picture and he’d be screwed. No couple pictures. It doesn't leave him with much. For a moment he’s scared no picture on his phone lives up the necessary requirements, until he swipes far enough to reach a collection of shots he’s nearly forgotten. The pictures are from approximately two months into their relationship, back when everything was still new and a little intimidating. They’re taken in his apartment, and if he closes his eyes, he remembers the moment clear as day. ~ nine months earlier “There are so many Die Hard pictures in your camera roll. Honestly, Jake - aren’t some of these identical?” Amy’s on his couch, taking up most of the space with her head on one armrest and her feet in his lap. They’re looking through each other’s phones for some trivial reason mostly to do with boredom; it began with Jake needing help to spot spelling errors in a text, and now they’re having too much fun looking at pictures in the other person’s gallery to stop. “I don’t know that for sure and I’m not deleting any of them until I have proof!” He tickles her left foot with his free hand, the corners of his mouth twitching when it makes her giggle.  “And you have way too many pictures of laminated documents to get to tease me about Die Hard.” “I’m confident I could prove some of these are the same. And lam' jobs are important! I have a blog!” “And I follow said blog! Because I’m an awesome supportive boyfriend!” “Then where are all the pictures on your phone of me, huh? The ones you show your college buddies when you’re having a beer together and bragging about the attractiveness of whatever girl you’re hooking up with?” He can tell she’s trying to fake seriousness, but she keeps interrupting herself with fits of laughter. “Isn’t that what all white heterosexual cis men do when they meet up?” “Amy Santiago, how dare you assume I’m straight?” He’s the one laughing now, his grin growing wider from the sight of hers. “And I have plenty of pictures of you. I think. I had to delete some because I was running out of space for Die Hard stills.” “Maybe I should solve the issue. I’m deleting all the Die Hard stills I know you have doubles of and replacing them with selfies.” “Real mature, Ames.” His eyes light up when an idea hits him. “Ooohh, wait - will there be selfies of you in just a bra? Without one?” “Yeah, I’m the immature one of us two right now”, she scoffs, but the smile on her lips lets him know she’s not really mad. “And no, there won't, because I’m classy. And afraid of you leaving your phone on your desk and Charles somehow finding them.” “You know he’d just be ecstatic I had them.” “That makes it worse. Now, I need to get to work.” She sits up straight and holds out the phone a little bit in front of her so it captures part of the wall behind her as well. “This is serious business.” Jake lets the camera click once, twice, before he dives forward and into the frame. The sudden impact of his weight against her makes Amy fall to the side, and the next few shots come out blurry as he attacks her with a little sloppy but mostly playful kisses. “You’re ruining the pictures”, she whines. “Nah, I’m making them better”, he claims then and puts the camera app on timer before pressing another kiss to her lips. “Now I can show my hypothetical college buddies pictures of me kissing you, so they’ll know you’re for real.” “That would be an issue?” “Oh yeah, they would never believe I was actually dating you. You’re way too pretty.” He swipes through the collection of pictures of them kissing they’ve taken now, showing her the few of them that turned out reasonably sharp. “You’re way too pretty!” “You’re prettier.” “No, you are - oh god, we really are that horrible lovey-dovey couple everyone hated in high school, aren’t we?” Amy hides her face in her hands. “What have we even become?” “Doesn’t matter, because these pictures are hella adorable. I won’t even delete them for more Die Hard stills.” ~ He desperately wants to take one of those cheesy pictures with him to Florida. Even in the less sharp ones, it’s evident to anyone with a functioning pair of eyes how happy they are, and it makes Jake curse silently when he remembers that happiness is being taken from them now, picked up and dumped right into a coursing river of destruction by Figgis. (He should’ve just become an accountant or something equally mind-numbing because at least then he would never have to leave her.) But a picture of the two of them together is too risky and too revealing of his past, so he options for the second best thing - one of the few selfies Amy captured before he joined her. She looks considerably more serious in this picture than in the next one, her lips more a shy smirk than the wide grin she has in the pictures with him, but she looks gorgeous enough for him to want to look at it forever. More importantly, it’s a reminder the next pictures exist. It’s a fragment of a memory of better times, and it’s all he’s brave enough to bring. There’s a buzz from the Bluetooth printer on the desk in Amy’s bedroom as the picture begins to print. Her head shifts a little from where it’s resting on his chest, startled by the sudden noise, and he very nearly starts crying again, because in fifty minutes he’ll be separated from her with nothing more to keep than the selfie he already knows he’ll be staring at until he’s memorized every inch. He’s not going to forget her.

Babysitters Club - Ch 1

A/N: If you don’t like Real Person Fiction (RPF) DO NOT READ THIS FIC! It does focus on real people and does focus on some heavy REAL LIFE situations that people face.

That being said I think Misha and Vicki are #relationshipgoals and they are endgame irl. I love both of them and would never wish anything bad for them and/or their family. This is a work of fiction and in no way represents anything I want to have actually happen...

Trigger warnings: Eventual divorce (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

Pairing: Misha x Reader (EVENTUALLY)

You sat on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television, trying to find the channel with the show that the kids loved the most. You stopped as the face of that beloved puppet popped onto the screen and you smiled in triumph. You heard the toddler at your side let out a squealing giggling before she settled down on the floor at your feet. “Alright sweetie. I need to go make lunch. I’ll be right over here ok?” You said as you carefully stood. The little girl was so engrossed in the show she didn’t even respond. You smiled and shook your head before making your way across the room to the kitchen to start making grilled cheese, the toddler’s favorite.

As the pan heated, and while you prepped all the ingredients, you marveled at everything going on in your life. You started out as just a babysitter to make some money in high school, but as you entered college it became more of a full time gig. Before long you found yourself employed as a professional nanny. Word spread and suddenly you found yourself unable to juggle the workload. That was how you found yourself employed by THE top nanny agency (because, yes, that was a thing, apparently.) The one that supplied nannies to the rich and famous, though those were only the select few. You were still “slumming it” with the upper-class families as the veteran nannies liked to tease. Personally you liked it that way. You didn’t have to worry about the paparazzi snapping pictures of you or fielding the wife from finding out about Mr. Famous’ many affairs. Just the simple task of watching the kid (or kids as the case may be.) It was nice not to be tied up in all the hullabaloo of having famous clients.

So far, the only thing you’d had to worry about was potty training, and explaining to the wife why her husband’s business flight had been delayed (not your job per say, but you’d received the call on the home line, so figured you could relay the information.) You peered at little Abby who was still fully engaged with the television show, and smiled again. You made quick work of making two sandwiches, one for you and one for her (she would most likely only eat half right now before her nap and then half when she woke up.) You froze as you heard the door from the garage open and the tell-tale sound of keys jingling signaling that the wife was home. “Hello Mrs. James.” You said, moving the pan to the sink to cool and be cleaned. “you’re home early.” Abigail James was a tall, leggy brunette that was the most sought after interior designer in the entire state (probably the country…but you were biased.) She was married to Mike James, software developer for Microsoft (just enough of a bigwig to be able to afford anything she wanted whenever she wanted it) and they had two children, Abby and Charlie.

Abigail Madison Winston James III. That was Abby’s full name and it sounded every bit as pretentious as the child was silly. Abby was just Abby. She was a bundle of energy that loved to swim and swing and scrape knees. She was a joy to be around and made your job easy. Charlie was her little brother. Charles Michael James was almost a year old and was a smiley baby that could find a way to make a mess in a completely empty room. He was forever finding ways to make messes right after you cleaned and got everything put to rights. (His parents understood his antics and often snickered as they watched you scramble to clean up the last minute messes when they strolled through the door.) The James’ were a loving family and you hoped to have one just like them one day.

“Hello, Y/N. Yes, my client ran into a few snags today before design so I got to come home early.” You nodded as you watched Abby run up to her squealing with delight. “It’s just as well, Mike and I have been meaning to talk with you.” You felt a churning in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh?” You asked pensively as you set out lunch and watched as Abigail placed Abby in her chair so the child could eat.

“Yes. Mike has decided to take a position in upstate, and we’ll be putting Abby in daycare after the move. As sad as we are, we are going to have to cancel services.” You felt the pit in your stomach spread and get heavy as a cold settled over you. “We’d love to take you with us, but that’s just not viable for us.” She offered sympathetically.

“No I understand.” You smiled. “I’m so excited for you all! It’s going to be great. Upstate is amazing.” Abigail nodded and stroked Abby’s hair as she stuffed the grilled cheese in her mouth. “When do you move?”

“Actually we are beginning the move next week, so this will be that last week we need you.” You wanted to wince at how quickly everything was moving but you understood. This was just a job and no matter how attached you got to the clients, this was plain and simple, just a job. You’d miss them, that was for sure, but you understood. You had to. “We called the agency already and I think they’re planning a few interviews for you so you won’t be out of work because of our change in situation.” You nodded. That was standard practice.

“Perfect.” You smiled at her. “Well, I’m going to miss you guys.” You offered sadly. “It’s been amazing working with all of you.” Abigail smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

“You have been a God-send and I don’t know how we’re going to get along without you.”

“Oh, you’ll do fine.” You reassure her. “Well, then, I’ll leave you to it. Charlie has been down for his morning nap for about an hour and a half, he should be waking up soon.” Abigail nodded. “And, Abby is finishing lunch, so she’s good until her nap time…” You trail off quietly. “I’m sorry…you know their routine.” You shake your head as Abigail laughs gently. “Well, if you need me for anything, just call the agency.” Abigail gave you a soft smile.

“I will. I promise.” She turned to her daughter. “Abby, Y/N is going to be going now. Want to give her a big hug before nap time? She won’t be here when you wake up since Mommy’s home.” Abby smiled up at you before stretching her hands up and wiggling her fingers at you, signaling she wanted up in your arms. Quickly you scoop her up before smothering her in a giant hug and peppering her face with playful kisses which caused the child to squeal as she wrapped her arms around you.

“Bye, bye baby girl. You’re going to have so much fun coming up!” You say quickly, smiling at the little girl in your arms.

“Bye bye Y/N!” She coos before leaning towards her mother to clean her up and get her ready for nap time. You smiled at Abigail again before giving her a gentle wave and making your way to the door to scoop up your purse and make your way back home. As you slid into the driver’s side of the car, you heard your cellphone ringing. You checked the caller ID and recognize the agency’s number. They must have found you an interview already. That was promising.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N.” Sylvia’s voice chirped into your ear. “So, I have an interview for your next assignment.” She started tentatively. “How do you feel about traveling?”

~~~

Misha stared at the profiles before him. He and Vicki had decided that it was time for a full-time nanny to help with the kids. West was five (or going to be very soon) and Maison was three. Vicki could take care of them on her own, but it became more and more apparent to the two of them that the kids (or at least little West) wanted to go with his daddy whenever he traveled. Misha knew being on the set of Supernatural all day was going to drive the kid nuts, so a nanny would help keep the kid busy and out of trouble. The problem was, he’d never needed a nanny before and had no idea how to pick a good one. They’d gotten the name of this agency from a couple of Vicki’s friends that used them, and had called them this morning. Almost instantly the company had faxed over about five profiles of current nannies that were available and open for traveling, but none of them really seemed to instill any confidence in him (of course it was just a sheet of paper with their information and a short blurb about experience, but still.) Maybe this wasn’t going to work.

He could still take West to work with him in Vancouver. He was sure that Jensen or Jared could help with keeping an eye on Westy as well as any other crew member that would be willing. He wrinkled his nose thinking to himself. He really didn’t want to impose the role of “babysitter” on any of the guys. They would be just as busy (if not more so) as him, so in all honesty that option really was moot. He let out a sigh and flipped through the profiles again before he heard his phone ringing. Tapping the screen without looking he answered quickly, noticing Vicki turn her attention to him from across the room where she was playing with West and Maison.

“Mr. Collins?” He perked a little.

“Yes.”

“Hello, this is Sylvia from the agency.” She chirped cheerfully. “We spoke earlier about your inquiry for a nanny to travel with you and your children while you were on set?” He hummed into the phone. “Yes, well, there has been a development.” He wanted to sigh. This didn’t sound good. “One of our best nannies just became available as of this morning. I was wondering if you were interested in me sending over her profile or if you’d already made a decision?”

“No. That sounds good.” He said as he moved to go sit by his wife as he listened to the receptionist from the nanny agency (God, he couldn’t even believe that was a thing) chirp off a few things about the newest nanny she wanted to send over.

“She’s been employed with us for almost six years. She’s received her degree in child development with a special emphasis on child psychology. She’s worked with numerous clients and has received nothing but the highest marks and customer reviews.”

“Then why did she just become available?” He asked, truly interested. If she was so good, why would any family let her go?

“Her current family is moving upstate and decided to terminate services since their child was going to be placed in preschool after the move.”

“Ah.” He answered. “Well, then yes. Go ahead and send over her information. I’ll go over it with my wife and let you know who we want to meet with.”

“Very good sir. I’ll send over her information for you to peruse at your leisure.” Misha hummed into the receiver again. “Alright sir. Well, we hope to hear from you soon.” With that a quick click sounded in his ear and he sighed, tucking his phone away.

“Everything alright Mish?” Vicki asked as she sat down next to him on the couch.

“Yeah. They’re sending over another profile. This one sounds almost too good to be true.” He commented as he watched West and Maison begin to play.

“How so?”

“Degree in child development, or child psychology or something like that.” He shrugged. “She’s one of the top nannies they have.” Vicki gave a hum of her own.

“You’re right.” His phone dinged, signaling that he received an email, most likely the agency sending over that profile. He opened the file attachment and scrolled through it, vaguely registering that it basically parroted all the same information he’d just been told. He turned his phone to Vicki.

“What do you think?” She read through the information and thought for a moment.

“It’s worth a meet. If she really is as good as they say, then we shouldn’t have a problem.” She said. “And West will definitely let you know if things aren’t working out.” Misha nodded in response. West was definitely an outspoken child that had no problem telling them how he felt. They’d have the initial interview, and then maybe a secondary where she got to meet the children. Then they’d make a final decision.

“Alright. I’ll call them and set up the interview.” Vicki nodded again.

“I’m going to get the kids fed while you do that so Maison can get ready for her nap.” He nodded and placed a quick kiss to Vicki’s cheek before she walked away. He placed the phone up to his ear and listened as it rang.

“Hello! This is Sylvia from The Nanny Association Agency. How can I help you?”

“Hello, Sylvia. This is Misha Collins.”

“Oh, hello Mr. Collins. I take it you’ve made a decision?” She queried enthusiastically.

“Yes, but we’re still a little on the fence.”

“Oh dear. Well what can I do to help assuage your fears and placate your concerns?”

“My wife and I were hoping to do an initial interview with one of the nannies and then if we feel comfortable we’d like to have a secondary interview where we can see her interact with the children. These are our kids and we’re just unsure about trusting them with someone we’ve only met once.”

“I completely understand. Standard procedure states that you are entitled to up to three interview sessions. Many families do only have the initial interview, but it is completely up to you if you would like to stage a few more interview sessions just to make sure. These are your children and we understand how important it is to make sure this is the correct fit.” He smiled into the phone. “Does that help Mr. Collins?”

“Yes. That helps a lot. Thanks.”

“Wonderful. When did you want to schedule your initial interview? We have two days from now at eleven, twelve thirty, one, four, or would another day work best for you two?”

“Two days will work. Let’s schedule for one.”

“Very good sir, and who did you decide to meet with?”

“The last girl you sent us. Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Wonderful. She’s highly recommended and I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. I’ll relay the information and she will meet you two days from now at one.”

“Great. Thank you.”

“No, thank you Mr. Collins.” Sylvia replied into the phone before listening to it click as he hung up the phone. Misha tucked his phone into his pocket and sighed, stacking the printed profiles in the folder and sliding it away. He hoped this girl, this Y/N, was going to be a good fit. He really didn’t want to have to start over with all of this headache. Especially not with filming starting soon.

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Paragraphs from my original work

I’m really excited about this work, but very few people have noticed it. I thought, maybe if I post a paragraph from each chapter I’ve written so far and tag the blog I made for it, people might interact. Here’s the blog @everythingbeautifulhasthorns

I’m randomly grabbing a paragraph from each chapter. Each one I pick will help the reader understand the character more, without giving away important plot. This is an LGBTQ+ book, and it’s 16+

Chapter One - Lysandros’ P.O.V.

    There’s a soft knock at the door, and for a moment I think my best friend has stopped socializing with his cool friends to check on me, but it’s a stranger’s voice I hear through the wood. I think it’s wood? It looks like it, but then again it could be that lightweight linoleum designed to look like wood, but be much lighter and cheaper to replace if ruined. Which might be a good idea with me around, because I’m suddenly feeling queasy. I focus on the words as they float through the door made of to-be-determined material. “Uh… You’ve been in there a long time… Did you drink too much? Did it make you sick?” They don’t really sound all that concerned, and their words slur together like they have had plenty of their own to drink, but I find an urge to respond to them.

Chapter Two - Albion’s P.O.V.

“Do you have to splatter the table with mashed potatoes? We’re guests here, you know. We might get invited willingly next time. But that’s only if you don’t make such a big mess!” I roll my eyes, but swipe at the potatoes with my napkin anyway. “That’s better. Wayland doesn’t like messes.” I knit my brows together. How in the world does she know that? It doesn’t seem like common knowledge. And it doesn’t seem like something he would let just anyone know. I’ve seen him make a mess before. Did he do it to fit in? He’s wonderful how he is. He doesn’t have to do anything to fit in. He sets the stage for everyone else most of the time. I guess everyone wants to fit in, to some extent. Even the people everyone looks up to. But Cicilia has her ways with things, so she probably knows that fact about Wayland for a strange reason. I don’t want to know.

Chapter Three - Lysandros’ P.O.V.

My phone vibrates again, and I toss the blanket aside. It’s Albion. I click on the message, and smile a bit when I see he’s sent a picture, as requested. It’s no surprise he’s wearing a shirt, now that I know he has anxiety, but he’s got this stupidly cute expression on his face. His nose is scrunched up, and his tongue is sticking out ever so slightly. The eye under his pushed-aside bangs is closed, and he’s grinning. I didn’t even know it was possible to grin while sticking your tongue out. My eyes travel to the bookshelf, which extends out of frame in all directions. It really is huge. He’s pointing at one, and I bounce excitedly when I see the title. Oliver Twist! I love that story! Charles Dickens is a genius! He was so ahead of his time. He must have an amazing phone camera. There’s at least a hundred books in the picture, if not more, but I could read each spine if I wanted to. I watch another message pop up.

Chapter Four - Albion’s P.O.V.

“I suppose he was attractive. We have pretty similar eye colors, actually. And our hair is somewhat similar in style, especially at one point in his life. Are you secretly flirting with me?” Well. There goes that careful consideration. Why can’t I ever stop my mouth from saying what I’m thinking? “I’m kidding. I don’t actually think you are. Gods, why did I say that? I probably just blew my chance to be your friend, fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. And I’m super sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I understand if you-” Laughter comes to my ears, causing me to fall silent. (This chapter is NSFW so there’s not much I could grab lol)

Chapter Five - Lysandros’ P.O.V.

"You better not die on me. I'd miss you too much.” He (Wayland) sighs heavily. “Jokes aside, I think you should go to therapy. I've thought you might have an anxiety disorder for awhile. If you do, and that was a panic attack, then you deserve help. You shouldn't have to go through that.” He pauses, looking away. “And I hate not being able to help. You’re my best friend. I’m always going to want to protect you. But there’s some things even I can’t protect you from. If there’s a chance of you being able to do it yourself, or with help, then you should. I’ll stand behind you. I’ll support you as much as you need. After all, I am the place for your Butterfly to Land.” I laugh brokenly, tears springing to my eyes again. Wayland pulls me close, placing my head on his chest. “Maybe it’s a good thing Albion is trying to be your friend. You might be able to ask for suggestions on dealing with anxiety, if you have it.”

Chapter Six - Albion’s P.O.V.

    “I hope they give you the help you need. And if anyone feels the need to be mean to you because of your cane, Cicilia and I are always here to defend you, if you’re too tired to.” She smiles thankfully at me.

    “That is very much appreciated. I don’t mean to pry, but you’re not straight, are you?”

    “Absolutely not. Have you been having trouble with straight men flirting with you?” She tosses her head back and groans.

    “Yes! Why are they so persistent? They don’t even listen when I tell them I’m a lesbian! They just say they can ‘change my mind.’ Gross.” She shudders.

    “It’s their misogyny.” She bites her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing. “And probably their toxic masculinity. Getting a no from a pretty girl hurts their pride too much to go on, don’t you know? It’s an absolute travesty they cannot bear.” She lets out a short bark of laughter.

    “You’re absolutely right!” There’s a lull in the conversation. Cicilia takes the opportunity to change the subject. (I am aware this isn’t a single paragraph, but I love the interaction so much.)

Chapter Seven - Lysandros’ P.O.V.

(His little sister is speaking.) “I made a new friend today! Mommy wouldn’t let me bring him home though.” She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout. “He was the prettiest frog you’d ever see, bubba! He was bright green, and he had a light and dark brown stripe that went from back leg to back leg, crossing over his cute little nose and through his eyes! He hopped right up to me at outside time! He let me pick him up and stayed in my hand all the way until Mommy picked me up. Then he hopped onto the seat!” She giggles gleefully here. “Mommy asked me about him, then said he would be a lot happier in the wild, so we took him to the park. He’s safe there. I hope I can visit him!”

Chapter Eight - Wayland’s P.O.V.

“You can wear that. You’re pressed on time and it looks fine. Now let me brush.” He places both hands on the sides of my head, and positions it so I’m looking forward. He pats my hair reassuringly, then gets busy untangling it. Even though it’s been in a braid, it’s still an absolute mess. I close my eyes and let myself enjoy it. He’s always gentle with me. But then again, he’s gentle with everything. I’m so glad he’s my best friend. I couldn’t have asked for a better one. “You’re going to have to wear it down today. I don’t buy thick hair bands. I don’t need them.” I chuckle, and carefully look at him.