#fun fact ! i collect fine press books | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scaranation · 1 year

Note

HII I SAW UR REQUESTS WERE OPEN!!! your writing is so amazing i couldn’t resist sending one in after i had binged everything…

may i request headcanons for a totally whipped al-haitham with the childhood friends to lovers trope throughout the years? as in how he was to reader in elementary, middle school, etc. but if not that’s fine!!! your fic with him liking reader since middle school was so 😭😭😭❤️ reader teasing him was so funny and i can’t scream about it hard enough 🥹

i hope you have an amazing day!!! keep up the good work!

thank you smm that rlly means a lot! im so glad you enjoyed my writing ❤️❤️ i love the friends to lovers trope sm writing this involved a lot of giggling and kicking my feet, whipped Alhaitham is just so cute. Anyway I hope you like this I had so much fun with it too 😋😋

༊*·˚ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Pairing: Alhaitham x F!reader

Content: fluff, modern AU, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, (very) whipped Alhaitham

ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

You’d first met Alhaitham when you were in elementary. He, being slightly younger, was in preschool. Unlike the other kids, he kept to himself, mainly studying a picture book in a secluded corner. Your play areas were separated by a low fence, one which you often loved to climb over.

“Haitham!” You almost fell onto the grass after scaling this fence once again in the break time, peeking over the smaller boy’s shoulder.

“Is that a kangaroo?” You pointed at the picture book enthusiastically. Alhaitham only looked up at you, blinking a few times with his wide green-orange eyes.

“No, it’s a pademelon.” He spoke surprisingly eloquently, tongue only slightly lisping over the syllables.

“You’re no fun.” You sighed, plopping down next to your self-proclaimed friend and beginning to draw flowers on paper with your new crayons. Upon seeing the curious look on Alhaitham’s face, you handed him the green crayon.

“You can draw flowers with me if you want.” You shifted closer. The boy said nothing, only holding the crayon tightly as he watched you happily scribbling.

Once you’d befriended Alhaitham, there was no turning back. He was shy and quiet, but utterly attached to you. You nodded excitedly whenever he babbled on about a new topic, although you never really understood what he was talking about, and played imaginary games with him in the playhouses. He never really understood the imaginative concept, but you would lead the way as he followed along with whatever you said.

“I am the princess, and I am going to become the queen! Bow before me!” You manoeuvred a figurine across the miniature castle.

“No, the crown prince’s wife will become queen when he ascends to the throne.”

“Oh, okay. You’re so cool, Haitham.”

Alhaitham only smiled at you. The truth was, he thought you were the coolest person in the world. He might know all the logistical facts, but he could never weave a story as you did.

“Huh? Haitham, you’re the knight. You need to go to battle!”

Alhaitham was shaken out of his daze when he realised he’d only been staring at you in awe, quickly grabbing the knight figure to move it. Beneath his long lashes, he’d constantly sneak glances at you - looking for your approval that he was doing the right thing.

Whenever you were absent, Alhaitham would ask everyone else where you’d gone. After verifying that - unfortunately - you really weren’t coming to school and shocking his peers with his sudden friendliness, he’d retreat to the outskirts of the play area. He would collect flowers and rocks, gathering them in his small arms - still a little chubby with baby fat - determined to find the best things to gift to you.

When you came back the next day, Alhaitham would shyly press the gifts he’d collected into your hands, eagerly watching your expression. If you smiled, he would too. Truly, although he was too young to know, you were his first love and the centre of his universe.

MIDDLE SCHOOL

During middle school, you and Alhaitham were in the same class. Due to his intellect, he’d been bumped up by a grade - much to his joy. The truth was, he’d been offered to move higher by two grades, but opted to only move one so he could be with you. Not that he’d ever admit that to you, of course.

Middle school Alhaitham would be better at hiding his feelings. He’d no longer be the the eager boy who openly chased your attention, although he still wanted it just as much. Rather, he’d deploy more subtle tactics, despite them rarely ever working.

It was undeniable that you were quite popular. Given your outgoing, virtuosic personality, you were constantly surrounded by friends. It hurt Alhaitham slightly, knowing that you were his favourite but he wasn’t yours. Despite this, he never changed his aloof demeanour - acting coldly to others, and less coldly to you. It was clear through his gestures that he had a soft spot for you, whether it consisted of paying for your lunch or bringing you snacks.

“Oh, we were supposed to bring a protractor to the test?” You hissed in the silence of the classroom, broken only by the whisper of pencils on paper. The teacher shot you a glare, motioning for you to be quiet.

“Here, I have a spare.” You felt a light tap on your shoulder, and spun around to see Alhaitham holding his hand out. His eyes hesitated before locking into contact with yours, the glasses making them look larger than they were.

“Thank you. You’re so cute, Haitham.” You whispered, shooting him a wry smile before resuming your position hunched over the test paper. You didn’t lie - he really did look adorable, those large eyes and small frame lending him to having a rather endearing disposition.

Alhaitham flushed red, his hands fumbling to close the zipper on his pencil case. He pushed his completed test paper to the side and placed his head on the desk, the hard surface cold on his burning skin. He mentally praised himself for always bringing a spare of every stationery item, just in case you needed it.

Whilst Alhaitham swatted away anyone else who dared ask him for academic help, he’d be almost eager to give you any form of assistance. If you were paying attention, you’d see the way his cheeks flushed when you leaned in to copy his homework, or the slight tremor in his voice when he explained a concept to you. Middle school Alhaitham - now hyper aware of his feelings for you - would be a stuttering mess at times, although that would soon change in his high school years.

“So, after completing the square… this equation can translate to- hey, why are you staring at me?” Alhaitham stopped upon noticing your gaze.

“Haitham, you can be so pretty if you tried a little more. I’m so jealous, you have such nice eyes.” You commented, running your fingers through his soft hair.

“… Why would I seek the superficial approval of others?” Alhaitham huffed, crossing his arms. Secretly however, your words spiralled in his head. Perhaps, if he did as you said, you’d like him too…?

He realised your hand was still on his head, and moved back. You whined in exasperation, flopping onto the desk.

“Your hair’s so soft though…” You mumbled, reaching out again.

“We’re here to study.” Alhaitham snapped, busying himself in flipping through the textbook to hide his red face. He found the content mundane, but teaching it to you made his heart flutter in knowing that he could be of use to you.

HIGH SCHOOL

Alhaitham in high school was drastically different from his middle school self, to say the least. He’d risen greatly in popularity for being the mysteriously smart and handsome student that barely paid anyone any mind. Much to your surprise, he’d grown even taller than you - making it a lot harder to ruffle his hair. It was rumoured that he’d brutally rejected confessions from many others, and had even made a teacher cry - but the shy boy you knew would never do that, right?

“Where are you headed?” You felt a large hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m… going to study!” You stammered, finally looking behind you to meet a piercing amber gaze.

“Studying? On your way to the bus stop that leads only to the mall?” Alhaitham raised an eyebrow.

“Um, yes, a new cafe opened there and I wanted to study in it.”

“Hey, what’s taking you so long? We’re going to miss the movie at this rate!” You internally cursed as the loud voice of your friends interrupted your conversation.

“Studying, huh… Well, have fun. Don’t expect me to help you this time.” Alhaitham scoffed, releasing his grip on your shoulder.

He sent you his notes later that night regardless.

It was well known around your school that you were friends with Alhaitham, although you vehemently denied any romantic feelings between the two of you - much to his dismay. Because of this, you often had students approaching you and asking to be set up with Alhaitham. Of course, being the epitome of moral excellency, you only agreed if they paid you.

"You know, this girl in my class is pretty cute..." You showed Alhaitham a picture on your phone.

"You like her?" Alhaitham asked, not even sparing a glance to the picture.

"No, I..."

"How much did they pay you this time?"

"What! I would do no such thing-"

"You know, if you just asked me, I could give you way more than whatever they're giving you. Stop trying to auction me off, I have no interest in such things." Alhaitham snapped his book shut. You frowned, tugging on his arm.

"Please? Just one date with her, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Kiss me."

"Why?"

"Wouldn't it be awkward if I were on a date with this girl, and I didn't even know how to kiss her?"

"Oh, true." Alhaitham internally winced at how you didn't give it a second thought, only leaning in to seal your lips together. Although he'd mastered the art of maintaining a cool facade, if you'd opened your eyes in that moment, you'd see the flush in his face. He reminded himself to close his eyes, recalling the countless books he'd read about the topic. It definitely wasn't how he'd imagined his first kiss with you to be, but he'd take anything you gave him.

"Now, you're going on that date right? Here's her number." You winked, pulling away. Alhaitham furiously tugged his headphones onto his ears to hide how red they were, shooing you away.

"I'll text you her number then, Haitham!"

You ignored the confusing twist in your chest, attributing it to the kiss. After all, sharing a kiss with anyone would make you flustered - surely, it was nothing special.

Regardless of your efforts to make whatever dates you sent Alhaitham on successful, it never seemed to work. In truth, you had no idea how Alhaitham knew you'd been spying on those dates - after all, you were so inconspicuous, posing as a mere passerby. But he'd grown used to your exact demeanour, and no matter how hard you tried to be nondescript, his eyes were inevitably drawn to you. Unbeknownst to you, your eyes were drawn to him too - perhaps that was why you felt a slight twinge in your heart.

"Which popcorn do you like?" The girl next to Alhaitham giggled nervously.

"Salted caramel." Alhaitham responded cooly. Your jaw hung open from where you sat hidden behind a poster wall. Whenever you got salted caramel popcorn - your absolute favourite - he'd raise an eyebrow and inform you of your poor decision making, muttering something about the awful taste. You closed your mouth to smile to yourself. Perhaps he was trying to impress his date with his (superior) choice of popcorn. Your smile faltered when you realised how close they were standing to each other, before you mentally cursed yourself. What were you thinking? Surely you didn’t… have feelings for the very guy you were setting up with another girl…?

You followed the pair into the cinema, sitting a row behind them. They'd chosen a horror movie, which you absolutely hated, but you bore with it.

A few minutes into the film, you felt a tap on your knee. Alhaitham held out a fistful of popcorn to you from where he sat in front, his arm outstretched behind him. You scowled. He'd shown no prior indication that he'd noticed you - did he have eyes in the back of his head? You took the popcorn anyway, frowning at how Alhaitham played it off by lowering his arm around the girl's shoulders.

As the movie continued, Alhaitham wished it was you seated next to him. He hated the popcorn, but he'd gotten it just for you, anyway. His heart beat a little louder every time you reluctantly accepted his offering, although he had to glare at the girl who'd stolen your spot every few minutes to make sure she didn't think he was blushing for her. How troublesome this ordeal was. From an objective perspective however, this was fair exchange. If it made you happy, then he was happy too.

Alhaitham wasn't particularly athletically inclined, although his scholarship demanded participation in extracurricular sports. Hence, he found himself in the odorous male changing rooms for the second time that week. It would've been a mundane practice session (with him showing off a little if you happened to be watching), until he overheard a teammate's plans to ask you out.

"You should do it, I'm pretty sure she's single." Another teammate encouraged the first, the echo of a slap on the back reverberating through the room.

Alhaitham frowned. He'd planned to play the long game, although this was an unexpected interruption to his plans. Of course, there were other people to factor in. How could he have been so foolish as to exclude that from the equation?

"Yeah, I've had my eye on her for a while." The first guy spoke again.

"She's taken." Alhaitham blurted. Blurted, as in - his mind didn't fully weigh the decision before it left his mouth in a measured tone.

"Oh, sorry man. Are you two...?"

"Yes, we are." Alhaitham lied smoothly. He'd figure out how to deal with the repercussions later, but for now, he had to prevent anyone else from asking you out.

"That's great. Wish the best for you two." With a friendly (although slightly forceful) pat on the shoulder, the teammate left Alhaitham to head outside.

Alhaitham’s confession to you was ultimately very enigmatic and confusing, just as he was. Although he’d more or less practiced what he would say, when it came to you, he was always at a loss. You were a contradiction, a threat - both to his plans and his sanity. Somehow, that was what made him love you so much.

“I’ve heard a rumour that you and I were dating, Haitham. How come I never knew about this?” You tutted.

“Ah, they’re just saying mindless things. We’re just friends, after all.” That was what Alhaitham meant to say. Instead, what came out was;

“So what if we are?”

“We’re dating?” You cocked an eyebrow, failing to hide your flushed cheeks. Alhaitham noted this detail, trying his best to control the situation. What on earth had he just said?

“Yes, we are. Since we both like each other.” Alhaitham explained, internally cursing himself for his straightforward delivery. The situation was so outlandish - he’d just made an assertion, then supported it to somehow (very obviously) gaslight you into being his lover.

“You like me?” You spluttered. Alhaitham smiled. You hadn’t denied that you yourself liked him.

“Yes, because we’re dating.”

“No we’re not.”

“We are now.”

You stared at him in stunned silence, shocked by his audacity. But you couldn’t exactly deny his claims.

“Okay, I guess we are then.” Your mind still spun. Had he just… declared your relationship status?

“… Thank you.” Alhaitham murmured. You fidgeted on the spot uncertainly, before finally mustering the courage to peck his lips. Before you could scurry off however, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.

“What are you-”

“I’ve waited years for this. God, you’re so stupid for not realising this earlier.” Alhaitham brought your lips to his, fiercely bringing you in to a passionate kiss.

You closed your eyes, melting into his touch as his hands deftly pulled you flush against him by your waist. Unsure of where to put your hands, you placed them on his chest - feeling it heave with every breath he took. His heartbeat thudded under your touch.

It was strange. Most people thought of him as being cold, almost robotic. And yet, he was so human now, from the light sheen of sweat on the column of his neck, to the flex of his jaw as it worked against yours. The slight tremble of his hand as it rose to rest on your nape, almost as though he too couldn’t believe what was happening.

The two of you pulled away after a while, panting heavily.

“I’ve… got to go.” Alhaitham muttered, walking off hurriedly before he could embarrass himself further. Nevertheless, it was alright for him to be selfish for once, right? It had seemed to work out in his favour.

Despite however much he tried to soothe himself, Alhaitham’s face was red, and a giddiness bloomed in his heart. Any other student would’ve been shocked to see the tender smile spread across his face, breaking that infuriatingly stoic expression. His childhood friend - and his first love - was now finally his.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin oneshots #genshin fluff #genshin angst #fluff #alhaitham #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham oneshot #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham angst #genshin headcannons #genshin impact x reader

4K notes · View notes

panda-writes-kpop · 5 months

Text

bang it on me, shatter (fem! reader, vampire au)

a/n: happy yooh day! this is a 2yoo fic but shush it's fine :) this one's especially for my girls and gays - y'know who you are <3 fun fact: I rewrote this fic three times, which means I have plenty of material if people are interested in a sequel.

tw: fem!reader (gay vampires rule!!!), vampires, blood, alcohol, drunk!reader, like one suggestive comment, reader has a hangover, implied death and gore. (can you tell I watched wwdits before I wrote this)

summary: gay vampires, that's the plot. you have your share of dirty little secrets, the biggest being that your two lovers are murderous vampires. luckily for them, you don't give a shit!

♡ Masterlist ♡

Quiet. Calm. Serene. Peaceful.

You preferred your nights to be all of those things. Although living with vampires could get chaotic, most nights were spent cuddled between your two lovers. Yoohyeon would wrap an arm around your waist while attempting to organize matters for the next few days. Dami, on the other hand, would place a hand on your thigh while reading a book or going through some records.

Tonight, however, would not be one of those nights.

You couldn’t even make it into the library before Dami’s familiar, Kazuha, storms into your room.

“Ma’am, your presence is requested in the front foyer. We have guests.” She plays with her hair for a moment before you rise from your armchair.

“Guests or guests?” You softly ask before brushing past Kazuha to grab an outfit for the night.

“…guests.”

You pause before grabbing your second most formal outfit.

I’m less attached to this one if blood gets on it.

“Tell Ms. Lee and Ms. Kim I’ll be down after I get dressed.” You wave off Kazuha, who bows before leaving.

“Make sure to have formal wear arranged for you and the rest of the staff. It’s going to be a special night.”

You lightly play with your hair as you quickly descend the stairs. It’s been a while since you’ve had guests - the girls usually went out and hunted when they were hungry. You could guess that they’d either gotten lazy or lucky with their food.

Given the surprise of the five women in front of you when you came to greet them, you went with luck.

“Good evening, ladies,” You pause before bowing, “what brings you to our humble estate?”

One of the ladies, a taller girl with black hair, answers.

“We needed shelter for the night. A bad storm rolled through and left us stranded.”

Definitely lucky.

“I welcome weary travelers. I can lead you to some spare bedrooms so you can change before dinner.” You calmly say before turning on your heel and heading to your left.

You hear five sets of feet follow behind as you point out some of the rooms.

“If you need anything before you get called for dinner, there are servants floating around to help.” You direct a few nearby servants to usher the girls into their rooms.

The servants are well-trained as sneaky hands find papers and treasures before five doors slam in harmony.

You quickly collect the important documents and grab a few jewels for the familiars before you head to the study.

“Kazuha, Yunjin,” You call out to the two women in front of the study, “take these and put them on your outfits tonight.”

“We can’t-“ Kazuha says before Yunjin snatches half of the jewels for herself.

“Speak for yourself, Zuha, and thank you.” Yunjin stuffs the jewels in her pocket, “they’re waiting inside for you.”

“Thank you.” Kazuha mumbles before gently grabbing her half of the treasure from you.

They both step aside as the doors in front of you open to reveal the study with the two occupants you were expecting.

Yoohyeon smiles as she spots you first.

“Did you find anything important, my dear?” She asks before you hand her two sets of papers.

“Only the best for my favorite people.” You press a soft kiss to her face before she pulls you in for a quick kiss on the lips.

“A seamstress and a musician… it seems we do have a crew of merry fellows.” Yoohyeon says as she skims the paper.

“No hunters?” Dami asks before you sit next to her and hand her one of the papers.

“One, but she doesn’t have any notable achievements or accolades. Could be a front since the other two don’t have any listed occupations or skills.” You toss the papers aside before grabbing Dami’s arm.

“Anything interesting?”

“Same story as the rest - family history in vampiric hunting, traveling with weapons, but you’re right, darling, everything else is spotless.” Dami grabs her book with one hand before setting aside the other paper.

You tidy up the desk in front of you before Dami grabs your hand.

“You look nice,” She quickly eyes you before going back to your book, “but hopefully you won’t mind that outfit getting a bit messy.”

The servants are in a flurry to finish the final preparations for dinner - dinner for one human and two vampires was easy enough, but six humans and two vampires? That’d be enough to drive any chef mad, especially on a couple hours’ notice.

You had to keep up appearances, for now, so eight meals would have to do.

That way, everyone had leftovers for a few days.

You take a seat on the small, simple chair that sits in-between the two grandest chairs that always were in the dining room as five more sit on the other side of the long table. A beautiful, silky red tablecloth sits on the grand table as dishes appear on the table as servants rush to and from the kitchen.

After the feast is set out, everyone scampers away except for Kazuha and Yunjin. Yunjin is holding a bottle of red wine, dressed in her finest, as Kazuha holds a bottle of “red wine” in a beautiful black dress with the new addition of a shiny golden necklace. Both girls sit on the short end of the table, far away from the door on the other side.

The first people through the grand mahogany doors are the guests, all five of them at once. You’re able to profile each of the girls - their travel documents were enough to go off of. JiU, the taller, black-hair seamstress, takes a seat at the leftmost section of the table. Next to her was SuA - one of the two girls who didn’t have any occupational description, but her light-brown hair sits gently on her shoulders in radiant curls. The girl in the middle - Handong, the hunter - sits confidently in the middle. Her eyes challenge yours as you, as innocently as possible, toss the paperwork towards her.

“They fell out of your coats when you were rushed into your rooms,” is the bare bones excuse you give.

“It’s alright.” The red-haired girl, Siyeon, offers you a smooth smile before grabbing the papers and redistributing them. The Songbird, the girl whose voice could calm anyone from a mile away.

The last girl is completely silent, but the pink-hair shines bright in the dark, moody room. Gahyeon, the second girl with so little information with her name, doesn’t sit until SuA sends her a pointed glare. Gahyeon immediately falls into her chair with a sharp thud.

Their eyes follow you up and down, like an animal hunting their prey. They’re trained killers, but not better killers than the two women you live with. These five girls have killed with knives or guns or poison, but they haven’t ripped apart another human with their bare hands. Safe to say, it would be a bloody, violent night.

Dinner was quiet and much less brutal than you were expecting. The five girls had a brilliant spread in front of them, enough to momentarily distract them from their goal. A meal is a way to anyone’s heart, but it also pushes their mind into a state of comfort.

Enough for them to not notice the extra liquid that was mixed with the wine. Not anything that would kill them, but enough to disarm them for a while.

You had plenty of wine - the less you remembered about tonight, the better. You weren’t black-out drink, but there was a noticeable flush on your face.

“Dear, I think it’s best if you rest for a while, hm?” Yoohyeon’s gentle hand on your right shoulder makes you look into her eyes.

“Wine’s good.” You mumble into your glass that Dami snatches from your hand. “You’re don't know how to have fun.”

“We can have fun later-“ Yoohyeon teases as you giggle.

“Yoohyeon, you flirt~” You try to smack her shoulder, but you miss it completely.

“We’ll talk in the morning, love, you need rest.” Dami sets your glass aside before helping you out of the chair. “You don’t need to remember what’s about to happen, but just in case, you should be far away. Yunjin, Kazuha!”

“Miss Lee,” Kazuha answers as she and Yunjin approach, “How can we help?”

“Take her upstairs, but not to the bedroom. You should be able to get her to the farther rooms in the east wing... preferably the one that’s the least dusty, if possible.”

“Got it.” Yunjin says as she places one of your arms on her shoulder.

Kazuha does the same with your other arm, and with one drunken foot in front of the other, you make your way to the east wing in order to rest.

The next time you regain consciousness, it’s completely dark outside. You’re sober, but the killer headache tells you that you had a bit too much fun last night. Luckily, a gentle hand combs through your hair as someone else places a glass of water and some acetaminophen next to your night stand.

“How do you feel?” Dami calmly asks as Yoohyeon cuddles into your side.

“ ‘m tired.” You mumble into your pillow - perhaps suffocating yourself would be more pleasurable than this headache?

Dami pulls the pillow back a few centimeters for your comfort (and safety, but she doesn’t know that).

Yoohyeon lightly grabs your sides before trying to erase the nonexistent space between you two.

“Yes, Yooh?”

“I love you~” She sings into your ear as you roll around and look her in the eyes.

“Is the kitchen a mess?” You deadpan as she nervously laughs.

“Would you be mad if I said yes?” Yoohyeon gives you a guilty smile before looking at Dami for help.

“We’re cleaning it up because we gave the servants a few days off. They put in a lot of last minute work that they deserve to be respected and paid for.” Dami explains as you lightly hit Yoohyeon’s shoulder.

“Ow.” She grumbles as you flick her shoulder again. “Can’t believe I let you disrespect me.”

“Move over, I want Dami to sit next to me.” You ask with as much sweetness you can muster as Yoohyeon reluctantly scoots over.

You move as well, but not before taking the medicine and a healthy sip of water.

You lightly pat the blanket as Dami takes a seat next to you. She gently grabs your hand while continuing to comb through your hair with the other.

Somehow, you managed to find your slice of heaven among beasts, the worst of the worst, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Not when they’d live and die for you and for your honor.

86 notes · View notes

kodzue-ken · 5 months

Text

Pressed Flowers

Link x gn!reader

2.7k words

This could be read as lu!Four or just minish cap!Link

a/n: this is my first ever x reader so i hope its okay! i apologize if there are any grammar issues. please enjoy!

The first time that you noticed that some berries were missing from the bushes in your front yard, you didn’t notice at all. You never paid much attention to the exact amount of berries on the bushes in the first place, only taking what was left and just accepting that some animals were getting to them first. You were living among nature, after all.

You didn’t even notice the next few times either. In fact, the only time that you did notice something was happening was a few weeks later, when the days were getting shorter and colder. At that point, the berries were no longer growing. Instead, you were spending your morning hunting for some herbs and flowers that were still alive in your garden and the area around your house; each one of the herbs that you found went onto a small cloth so you could keep count of the type and amount you had. The flowers were getting tucked into a small pouch on your waist. It had been moving slowly, so you were well aware of what you had. As you turned to gather the herbs and bring them in, you paused, staring at the cloth.

You were certain of many things; the cool air that was blowing through your hair, the soft crunch of leaves as animals walked, the feeling of the dirt under your hands, and the fact that you had fewer herbs than you did before. Pausing, you were unsure of what happened, you were sure that nothing had approached you, you would’ve heard an animal approaching, and most definitely heard a person approaching. Counting again to make sure that you weren’t seeing things, it only caused you more confusion. There were definitely fewer herbs than there were before.

“Hello…?” You spoke out loud, seeing if anyone was hiding from your view and thought it would be fun to take your things, which was becoming increasingly concerning the more you thought about it and waited for a response. When no one spoke up or said anything, you frowned and picked up the cloth with the remaining herbs and slipped back into your house.

You sighed and glanced back at the window by the door and shook your head again. Moving towards the kitchen of your house, you put down the cloth and move towards the fire that sat in the corner of the room, and went to start it, staring at the twirling smoke that rises towards the chimney, shifting between patterns and a haze. As you stare, mind drifting, you catch movement in your peripheral vision and snap your head over to the side, seeing something red slip into the shadows. Immediately moving, your finger catches on the corner of the fireplace and you gasp and look down. The sting of the wound wasn’t bad, but the slowly growing bead of blood was. The small red thing would have to wait, if it even was an issue; you were desperately trying to convince yourself that you were seeing things. After bandaging your hand and not seeing anything else, you forced yourself to attempt to forget all about it and went to bed.

When you awoke the next morning, you were convinced that everything was going to be fine. The sun was casting its soft glow into your room but not shining directly into your eyes, the trees were slightly waving in the wind outside the window, and there were no clouds in the sky. It looked like it was going to be a perfect day to go out and try to collect new flowers for your book. Climbing down the stairs to get breakfast, you were startled by there being a small white cloth by the fireplace. Slowly approaching the cloth, you were startled even more by the smaller card next to it with something written on it. You slowly picked up the piece of paper and brought it closer to your face, trying to make out the words - or word - that were on the paper. It was then that you noticed that the letters were just random scribbles. You couldn't even tell if the writing was supposed to mean anything; it looked like a child had gotten their hands on a pencil and was trying to act like they could write. You put the paper down and picked up the small cloth, realizing that’s exactly what it was. It looked big enough to hold against the scratch that you had gotten the night before, and that realization caused a shiver to run down your spine.

There was something in the house last night! But only these two things were left on the fireplace, meaning that whoever it was probably didn’t hang around. Squinting a bit closer to the note, you noticed that some of the letters looked like they were dripping down, the same way if someone just wrote something on a piece of paper and then held it up so that the unfinished drying ink dripped down the paper. But it didn’t look like it was ink - it looked more like some form of watercolor. Maybe someone crushed up some berries and then used a brush dipped in water to write the message. You slowly lifted the note once more and took a small sniff as you brought it up to your nose.

It smelled like berries. Which answered no questions except the note was written with slightly diluted berry juice. Your eyebrow twitched as you started at the note for a moment longer before you forced a laugh and put the note back down, standing up, your legs popping a bit. You turned a bit more towards where you kept the food and tried to start the day, putting off things until you had some food. The berry juice-written letter wasn't going to keep you from spending this day the way you wanted to.

After you ate, you slowly moved toward the small bookshelf you kept in the corner of the room. You were determined to find something to take your mind off of the swirling thoughts that held onto you tightly. Settling down by the window and opening the chosen book, you enjoyed the soft light pouring through the window.

As you were reading, you spotted something in the corner of your eye, snapping your head so suddenly you felt a crack in your neck, your gaze fell on a small creature that had been slowly climbing towards you, with what appeared to be a small nut in their hand, making eye contact with the small creature. “Ah!” you cried, stumbling out of the chair and away from it. It let out a little squeak and darted in another direction, dropping what it was holding. It darted towards your kitchen area and hid behind some of the pitchers you had. Calming down, you picked the strange-looking nut off the ground and moved slowly to the kitchen. “Hello?” You cautiously asked, “little guy?” You didn’t hear anything in response so you moved a little closer. “I’m- uh, I’m sorry about that, you just startled me,” you paused, glancing around to see if it had moved. “I’m not gonna hurt you, um, you-you wanted this, right?” you take the strange green nut that you were holding and put it in front of where you think they were hiding. “Um, well, here it is, I’m just- gonna head back to my seat,” you slowly move away from the kitchen and back to where you were sitting before, trying your best not to look over your shoulder. While it may have seemed like a strange decision to just move on after seeing the small creature, you weren’t sure any other response would’ve been better, it also helped that the small glimpse you had of the creature you noticed that it looked quite cute.

When you got up to make lunch, the nut was gone.

As you finished making lunch, you stared at the small leftovers that you had. “Uh, hello?” You spoke up, feeling weird speaking to an empty house, “I’m, uh, gonna leave these here, I’m not sure what you are and what you’re really looking for, but-” You trail off, shaking your head, there was no one responding to you, and you couldn’t even see if anyone was hanging around. Sighing, you just pushed the leftovers together and spoke up again; “These are for you, whoever you are,” you moved away and towards the door, “please take that offering with happiness and don’t kill me…?” You mutter to yourself, slipping out the door and taking a seat on the porch steps. While you were uncertain of what exactly the small creature was, and why they were hanging around your house, you had a feeling they weren’t there to hurt you. They hadn’t done anything bad, and since it took off when it saw you, you assumed that it was also afraid of you. Trying to remember if you had heard anything about small creatures living in the forest, you weren’t able to come up with anything specific. There were the usual monsters that trailed around the deeper parts of the forest (you had tried to see if you could gather flowers but instead ran off when you saw all of them), and the usual forest animals.

This continued for a few days, you would leave a little bit of food out and it would go missing when you came back to look for it. There had sometimes been a small flower or the same nut that had appeared when you first saw the creature left where the food was, you weren’t sure what to do with the nut, but you would take the flowers and hang them by the window. All of the flowers that were being left were ones that you hadn’t seen before, and you were happy to add them to your collection, even if you couldn’t tag them. It was nice, it didn’t add much effort to your day, and it felt nice to help whoever you were helping. You never had another face-to-face run-in, but the fact that the food kept disappearing was enough to show that they were still around.

You settled down to eat a small snack one day, the bowl of fruit and nuts sitting next to you. You weren’t paying much attention to what you were grabbing, and you bit down on a nut that didn’t taste the same as the other nuts that you had put into the bowl; assuming it was nothing, you just swallowed it and made a face. It didn’t taste all that great so you frowned, the taste taking over your taste buds in a bad way. Swallowing hard to attempt to get the taste out, and leaning forwards when it did nothing, your eyes started watering, you took a deep breath and leaned over to grab a glass of water that had been sitting next to you, after taking a few sips you took another deep breath and sighed. “I think I almost died,” you said to the air, eyes focused on the far corner of your house, running your tongue over your teeth and taking another sip of water.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for that to happen!” A small voice suddenly spoke up and you laughed.

“And now I’m hearing voices, what is happening to me today…” you murmured, closing your eyes and bringing a hand up to rub your forehead.

“I’m right here!” The voice spoke up again, and you blinked, staring down at the table, and spotted a small figure poking their head out from behind the fruit bowl.

“Oh, hello,” you said, “wait-!”

“Please don’t freak out!” they cried, waving their little hands.

“Oh, haha, we’re very close to that right now,” You said, eye slightly twitching.

“My name is Link! I’m a minish, I um..” the green-wearing minish trailed off, “I’ve been hanging around here for a while, and I didn’t mean to cause you a lot of trouble but I’ve been helping the minish that live around here.” he fiddled with his fingers, stepping forward a bit and allowing you to see him fully. He was small, around the size of your thumb, with soft-looking blond hair and glimmering blue eyes that weren’t looking at you. He wore a green tunic with white pants and brown boots.

“There’s a lot of minish living around here? What are minish?” You asked, blinking as you focused your attention on Link.

“Oh yes!” he nodded, “the food that grows around the house and forest is important to the Minish that live around here, and you’re peaceful. Which is why us, the Minish, hang around here,” he said, holding up one of his small fingers and smiling at you. You feel your cheeks warm and a smile forms, the little minish was rather cute.

Before you can speak, the minish suddenly looked embarrassed and shifted closer to the fruit bowl, attempting to hide behind it. You turned your attention to him and that seems to stress him out more. “I, um, thought that you were very pretty and I didn’t mean to scare you that day by the fireplace! And when you were reading and chased me into the kitchen!” The words come out rushed and jumbled, “an-and! You started leaving food out and didn’t try to chase us away! And since you can’t understand us without eating the Jabber Nut, which I snuck it into the bowl here, that’s what you ate! So- um! Thank you,” Link smiled, face tinted red and his eyes closed tightly. Your smile widened and you laid your hand on the table, palm up.

“I’m very flattered,” you began, and Link looked up and jumped a bit when he saw you smiling and your hand resting on the table, “thank you for explaining how you can now talk to me, and for your kind words,” you were starting to realize that Link was pretty much harmless and he had been nice enough so far, and now you had a name and a face for your little house friend. Once you had finished speaking, Link took a few tentative steps toward your hand. You didn’t move and smiled at him once more, which seemed to have spurred him on as he slowly climbed into your hand, not weighing much and his clothes feeling soft against the palm of your hand. Slowly, you raised your hand, making sure that Link didn’t tip off your hand; tilting your hand towards your shoulder a little, Link slipped off and grabbed the collar of your shirt, giving you a thumbs up once he got his grip settled.

“How about we get to know each other a little more and you can tell me all about the flowers you’ve been giving me as gifts?” You smile, looking at Link from the corner of your eye, watching as he lights up and grins widely, eyes widening. He looks towards your eyes as best he can, blonde locks bouncing with the movement.

“Really?!” He cheered, blue eyes glimmering in the light, you nodded and smiled back, making your way towards the door that leads to a side room, where the flowers that you had been given were being pressed into a book.

“Of course, I saved them all! They were gorgeous and I hadn’t seen a lot of them before. I already tried to press all of the flowers that I could find, it’s a nice hobby to do when there's not much around except flowers,” you laughed a little, “and the flowers that you were leaving as gifts I hadn’t seen before! So I was hoping that I could find them one day to figure it out, but now you’re here!” You moved slowly towards the table and flipped through a few pages; showing off the flowers that you had been collecting for a while, with there being a small stack set aside for all the ones that Link had given you, ready to be added along with their information.

Suddenly you felt something soft and warm press into your cheek and the most melodic giggle in your ear. As you froze for a moment to make out what just happened, Link spoke up. “I’d love to help you! I can bring you as many flowers as I can find!” He beamed.

“Thank you, Link,” you said, a warm smile growing on your face as you spoke. “For everything.”

#link x reader #legend of zelda x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #legend of zelda #minish cap #link #loz #loz x reader #kodzues spaceship #char. link #astronomers work.pressed flowers

89 notes · View notes

wooahaes · 2 years

Text

lonely hearts club [pt.2]

pairing: non-idol!wonwoo x chubby!fem!reader

word count: 3.0k~

warnings: [see masterlist for an overview] specific-ish clothing mention for reader (dress with sunflowers on it), passing food mention.

daisy’s notes: wonwoo pining kinda hard. somebody help this man. also sorry for doing what i literally hate writers doing when they write lit majors and defaulting to classic lit/p&p for the passing book mention in this chapter. i’m legit an english major and there’s so many other books i could have grabbed.

summary: With graduation fast approaching, Wonwoo only meant to vent about his feelings to an anonymous Twitter account known for giving people a space to vent and an anonymous way to express themselves. What happens when the person he has feelings for is the same person behind the account... and the same person who thinks he’s in love with their best friend?

< prev || masterlist || next >

Wonwoo had covered Mingyu’s shift because of a surprise exam that he needed to prepare for tomorrow morning. It’d be fine--Wonwoo could always use the money--but Mondays were typically slow. Mingyu could have brought his textbooks and studied if he truly wanted, since this one had been a written exam rather than a practical one (preparing dishes was always fun for Wonwoo, to be honest--the food always tasted good even if Mingyu messed something up), but Wonwoo understood. He needed the space to buckle down and focus, and the store wasn’t the ideal place for some people to do that. He’d brought in his own books since he’d yet to finish the reading for one of his literature classes, but people were different and Wonwoo had only been reading while no one was in the shop. He had other things he needed to do (sweeping, organizing things, adjusting displays), sure, but at the moment it was reading time. His thick stack of bright blue sticky notes sat next to him, pen in hand as he idly drummed his fingers against the counter while reading. If he had something he needed to note, he’d jot it down and press the sticky into the pages before he’d move on. That was how Wonwoo spent most of his days working in the shop: reading when he could get away with it and doing work as it needed to be done. Whenever someone came in, he’d tuck it away and greet them kindly before checking in on them if they were taking a while and needed the assistance.

The door chimed, and in walked you, and suddenly Wonwoo was glad that Mingyu asked him to cover for him over someone like Seungcheol or Vernon.

He greeted you politely enough, ignoring the way his heart had picked up slightly. You greeted him in turn, and then walked off to explore the little shop. While it was mainly a record store with boxes filled to the brim with records both old and new, that wasn’t all it had. There were posters lined up against the far wall, a wall of t-shirts that had pretty much all their sizes kept in the back for floor space issues, some figurines, and a small display by the counter of CDs made by local artists. He’d seen a few things by Jihoon (under his stage name, but pretty much everyone in Jihoon’s friend circle knew about that and his Soundcloud) there, alongside something from Vernon once or twice. The whole deal was that any money made off of selling them went almost entirely to the artist with the exception of a tiny fee that was purely there as a thanks for housing their work (his boss had been a musician in his own youth and decided to support local artists as much as he could).

You’d taken interest in the t-shirts, though, and the fact you were really standing right there made Wonwoo’s fingers itch to grab his phone and text Mingyu. He didn’t know that you were into records, but you hadn’t stopped to actually look at any of them past an idle flipping through and looking at cover art. Not the serious interest in any of them, except for maybe the way you’d raise your brows at seeing something you recognized. There was no shame in that at all--not everyone was into collecting or playing records, and the shop did have its other things. But... You were wearing the cute black sunflower dress again. It brushed your mid-thigh and you always looked so damn radiant when you wore it, Wonwoo swore he couldn’t think straight.

Fuck, he really should just talk to you, right?

While you were preoccupied with looking through the shirts, Wonwoo pulled out his phone. He’d help you the moment you spoke up, but he needed to tell someone, and that someone was Mingyu.

wonwoo: she’s here.

mingyu: she?

mingyu: wait.

The sound of your voice carrying across the room made him click his phone off immediately and head out from behind the counter to you. He shoved his phone into his pocket after turning it onto silent, knowing that Mingyu would likely be blowing it up with further texts considering the initial cryptic one. Wonwoo could explain later: work (and, technically right then, you) took priority.

“Do you have any of these,” you pointed up at a Queen t-shirt, “or is this just for display?”

“They’re in the back,” Wonwoo said, hoping his tone sounded even and cool and not a dead giveaway that he was fluttering inside. “Do you want me to get one?”

You nodded, rattling off your size with an ounce of hesitation, and Wonwoo promised to be back in a moment. It was easy enough to find the shit itself--thank fuck the store stayed stocked with unisex sizes that went up higher than what most stores would probably keep. Even if it was sometimes for smaller people wanting a big shirt for fashion or for sleep, it was comforting to know that certain people could shop there. He checked his phone, saw where Mingyu had mentioned you by name, and shot back a quick text that yes, you were there, and he was talking to you, now shush and let him go back to helping you.

When he found you again, you were looking at a David Bowie poster with some intrigue. He watched you glance over at the price and then cringe slightly since the t-shirt itself would cost at least 30,000 won, if not more. He could see you debate it a little further. Even if you did decide to get it... maybe Wonwoo could give you a little discount. Just this once.

“Do you want this one, too?” He asked as he approached, shirt in hand.

You looked up with a hum, before rocking on your heels slightly. “It’s a little...” You paused, and then nodded. “Actually, yeah. I think I’m gonna treat myself,” you giggled.

He was still going to give you the damn discount because, fuck, you were even cuter outside of class. How was this fair?

He helped ring you up soon enough, hands fumbling with the keys as he had to input one of the prices manually. He’d give you his employee discount in a minute once his heart stopped racing. Even with the counter separating the two of you, he swore that you put some sort of spell on him.

“It’s Wonwoo, right?”

His heart damn near stopped at hearing you say his name. This didn’t feel real. Was he dying? Was this how crushes were supposed to make you feel? He’d read about love plenty of times, but he thought at least some of it was hammed up for writing. Instead, he spent the past few years slowly falling for you and now he was a mess when you were around. How was that fair?

He looked up, hoping that he wasn’t blushing or anything as he glanced down at the flimsy nametag attached to the breast pocket of his jacket. Then he nodded. “You’re in my literature classes.”

You introduced yourself by name, as if he wouldn’t already know it considering he’d known you for years at this point. “But,” you said with a smile, “my friends just call me Sunny.”

Maybe you did it because you weren’t meeting as classmates that time, but as two people existing in a little bubble together. Or maybe you’d thought he’d forgotten your name because he almost never used it since your conversations were always on-on-one, so he never really had to grab your attention. He never tried otherwise, his own tongue-tied feelings getting the better of him whenever he even considered talking to you outside of class.

“Like... sunflowers?” He asked, and then kicked himself internally for that. Did he sound stupid? He felt silly again, even after what that Twitter account told him...

You just giggled, no harsh judgment evident on your face. “Yeah! That was my friend’s idea,” you said, toying with the skirt of your dress, rocking on your heels again. “We were online friends for a while, and when we met up, I told him I was wearing the sweater with a sunflower on it. He called out “hey, Sunny!” and I’ve just been Sunny ever since.”

He smiled. Cute. It fit you.

“So you’re a literature major too, right?” You leaned against the counter. “I mean, we’ve had a lot of classes together, so I just assumed...”

You did remember him. He nodded nonetheless, acting as casual as a guy with a hardcore crush on you could. “With a creative writing minor.”

“Oooh, fun!” You beamed. “I’m glad we have classes together.” Another heartbeat skipped. “You’re one of the few people I know who has really good takes. Otherwise there’s people like that one freshman who kept trying to say that Lizzie Bennett was a stuck-up bitch who didn’t deserve anything?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. He remembered that guy perfectly. He’d dropped the major pretty early, if he recalled.

“See!” You said. “It was so weird! Jiyoung shut him down pretty hard.” You huffed, “I mean... Literature is open to interpretation, but the guy refused to listen to anyone else. He just kept being misogynistic about it and acting like Darcy didn’t have his flaws.”

Wonwoo just kept smiling and nodding along. He liked the sound of your voice, to be honest, Besides, he needed to punch in the number for the poster manually after slipping up the first time. “She’s smart,” he said after a moment. “Jiyoung, I mean. Aren’t you two friends?”

“Mmhm! And roommates,” you drummed your fingers against the wooden countertop, looking over at the small display of local artists’ CDs. “Y’know... I really like having people to discuss books with,” you said. “Do you have something I can write on?”

Wonwoo looked up, realization hitting him about what was happening. He nodded, reaching for the thankfully blank stack of sticky notes before sliding it and a pen across to you.

“I think we should hang out sometime,” you said, jotting down your number and your nickname. He watched you draw a little flower next to it, “Maybe we can talk about books?”

He nearly missed the button again to confirm applying his discount to it. “Hm?”

You looked up, realizing how forward you were being. “I mean, unless you don’t want to--”

“No!” He said quickly, immediately realizing how he came off. He didn’t want you to think he didn’t like talking to you when he was merely shocked you’d taken that first step. He calmed down, panic quelling. “I’d like that,” he said. You slid the sticky note back to him, and he laid the stack on top of his book.

When he finished ringing you up, he noticed the cute look of surprise when the price was less than you expected. But you handed over your card, letting him run it as he was bagging up your shirt.

“Text me sometime,” you said as you took the paper bag from him, fingers brushing against his for a second. “Okay?”

He nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

And then he watched you leave, the framed poster in your arms and t-shirt in the bag dangling from your fingers. He watched you disappear down the street, and suddenly Wonwoo felt like he could breathe again without worrying how you’d interpret it. Seeing you in class already felt hard enough sometimes, especially when he actually had something he wanted to say--but you coming into his work? And acting just as lovely as you did in class? His heart was still racing, coming down from that high of seeing you in that pretty dress again and hearing your sweet voice...

Mingyu had texted him again. Wonwoo said he got your number--that you specifically gave it to him--and that maybe things weren’t so one-sided after all. He wasn’t about to get his hopes up, but...

.. Still. That had to mean something, right?

Wonwoo texted you that night. You’d been busy hanging up the poster in your room with Jiyoung’s help. Admittedly, you hadn’t listened to everything by Bowie yet, but you’d have to do it. Just in case Wonwoo asked. You liked the poster, though, and it fit in with the rest of your belongings, so it was a worthy impulse buy. When you checked the receipt later, you noticed a discount that... you didn’t think you could apply for? It was unlabeled, sure, but you’d never shopped there before--so unlike Wonwoo knew that and was giving you some sort of first timer’s discount, you weren’t sure what it was. Truthfully, you weren’t going to question it: it cut down a small amount of the price and you were able to stop and treat yourself with your favorite drink on your way home without feeling guilty over the extra spending, so it was all good.

The moment your phone went off, you practically lunged for it. It’d been an unknown number, but the text accompanying it quite literally mentioned being Wonwoo from class--and, for good measure to prove it’s him, he mentioned hoping that you liked both the poster and the t-shirt. You felt pretty secure in knowing that it was indeed Wonwoo.

“You seem excited,” Jiyoung said as she straightened the poster a little further. You glanced back at her, watching her take a little step back and purse her lips before going to adjust it again. “Who’s that?”

“Just a friend,” you hummed.

Jiyoung just smiled when she looked back at you. “Are you replacing us?”

“It’s not like that,” you waved her off. “He’s literally just a friend.”

She quirked a brow, “He?”

You rolled your eyes. People didn’t like you like that and she should know it. “You remember Wonwoo?”

“I know of him,” she smiled, heading over to sit on your desk chair. “The guy from class, right? When did you two start talking?”

“It’s a recent thing,” you said. “I happened to go to the record store he works at.” You’d mentioned the store earlier in the group chat, and you could see Jiyoung’s eyes light up in recognition--mostly because she’d been the one who teased you about how your personality seemed to boil down to books and pining half the time.

“He’s cute,” she said. “He seems smart, too. Like... he doesn’t talk that much, right?” When you hum in affirmation, she continued on, “but when he does, it’s usually really well thought out. Like he was saving his words to blow us all away.”

You nodded along. Maybe you’ll introduce them once you get a better feel for him, but if she’d already noticed that... there was hope for your plan, wasn’t there?

Jiyoung hopped back up, “I’m gonna go to the library first thing to print something for class, so I’m gonna head to sleep. Don’t stay up too late texting Wonwoo,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes and called out goodnight to her as she was leaving, and then immediately texted Junghoon to see if he was busy. When he wasn’t, you went straight for the call.

“I think this is going to work out.”

He let out a long sight. “Sunny.”

“No, really, I do!” You said. “I got his number, I was texting him, and I think Jiyoung is kinda interested in him...” You took a deep breath. “I’m not going to do anything right now, but he really seems like he’s Jiyoung’s type. He just needs some time to warm up a bit--”

“Sunny,” Junghoon repeats, and you can already hear annoyance laced into his voice. “I don’t know if you should meddle.”

“I just want them to be happy,” you admitted after a hurt moment of thinking to yourself. “I just... I get so many people in my DMs pining and being sad and this time I can actually do something about it. Do you remember the guy who wrote songs for his best friend?”

Junghoon said nothing. He did, because that one had been your breaking point. Every love song the guy wrote, he thought of them and it hurt to know that his best friend liked someone else.

“He even said he didn’t know if he could ever move on from these feelings because of how deeply rooted they were,” you looked off toward your window, frowning to yourself. “I don’t check on anyone for my own health, but... He was so upset about it.”

“I’m sure he’s okay now.”

“But you don’t know that,” your fingers curled into your first, nails biting into your skin. “I don’t know what happens to anyone I speak to through “lonely hearts.” This time I can.”

Junghoon took a deep breath. You could tell that he’d been thinking about this since yesterday, especially with his earlier doubts. “What if Jiyoung doesn’t actually want to date right now?”

“Then... I’ll have a new friend?”

“Is it really fair to him if you’re starting this because you have other motives?”

You didn’t know what to say to that. All you could do was just stand there, opening and closing your mouth as you grappled for the words to express how you felt. Was it fair? Maybe not. Wonwoo was nice, though. Wonwoo was smart and had good class discussions and all you needed was one good thing to make up for all the people you couldn’t actually help past a safe place to speak and an anonymous tweet to get their feelings out. Wonwoo deserved a happy ending just as much as every other person who came to you, and this was a way you could guarantee that. But maybe Junghoon had a point... If you were getting close to Wonwoo just because you wanted to push him to confess his feelings to Jiyoung, then maybe you didn’t have pure intentions in befriending him.

“Maybe it’s stupid,” you said after a moment.

“Sunny...” Junghoon sighed again. “I just don’t want you to get hurt if this doesn’t work out the way you think it will.”

“Why would I get hurt?”

A long pause, long enough you glanced at your screen to make sure the call wasn’t dropped. “Just... be careful,” Junghoon finally said. “I love you. Goodnight.”

And then he hung up, leaving you to stew in your thoughts further.

taglist: [ask to be added!] @yoongischeeksluv @rebelspy @mystiicturtle @hwashiningstar

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x y/n #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x you #wooahaes.lhc

82 notes · View notes

excellentexecution · 2 years

Text

@niccolahiromithomas asked: "Daaaayuuuuummmmmmmnnnnnn! Lo did not tell me his Mama was so damn fine. I would like to take her for a ride. I'm sure his old man ain't workin' her out right given he ain't here. Shit! I wouldn't want to be anywhere else if I had that sexy, thick ass to tap every night," Trevor mumbles to himself after watching Niccola bend over down the hall as she gathered bed linens from the closet for him. Unbeknownst to the young man, the other Hart man of the house so happened to get some last minute time off and had just arrived while he had been out to the comic shop with his son.

Logan had been looking forward to the trip for days, then. Saved his allowance just for the occasion, his sought-after comic book well within reach, only thing left was for he and his father to make the voyage to the local shop. It wasn’t a promise that Bret was willing to break. Logan had been doing well in school - his latest report card showed his hard work paid off - several Bs and two As. Chores around the house completed when asked, too, the boy deserved a special treat, a perfectly pressed comic wrapped in clear plastic protection. It was a reward that he earned. That, and Trevor being allowed to spend the night in good sleepover fun, a classmate of Logan’s that the Hitman thought was a kindhearted friend. Maybe a little foul-mouthed - his parents were a rowdy pair themselves - but not someone that was of great concern. Bret hadn’t had any worry at all about leaving the other boy alone with Niccola, not while he and his beloved Logan made their trek out to the shop. Just a couple of minutes to drive to, a few more to make the purchase, Bret’s wad of cash already in hand, prepared to pay and spoil his son just because he could, thereafter hurried home so that the two teenaged kids could share in reading the newest of comic editions, a limited release. But that all changed once the father and son duo finally reentered the home, stepped through the front door and eyed up the scene before their eyes.

Logan gone to the kitchen for a snack, the cabinet doors opened then reopened, small hands not yet aged by life searching earnestly for something tasty, Bret was the one who stood there in the entrance way, by himself with disappointment painted on his face. Trevor wasn’t the only person who had ever made comment about Niccola. Some more tame than others - her body a most favorite of topic points - a handful that danced on thin ice of being considered flat-out smut. Like always, Bret would try to keep his cool. Responsible in both mind and action; collected in his thoughts for he couldn’t give way to emotions that dared to spill over, violence never the answer. But even so, Trevor was definitely the youngest. A fact that broke the Hitman’s heart more so than what was actually said, suspicion as to where he heard such language blamed on his mother and father. For all the obscene garbage he so confidently shared aloud, obviously not aware of such, for Bret still caught sound of it, his parents were far worse. Gossip trash was their prized conversation starters. Inner family disfunctions always on their lips, when it came to the Hart home, they didn’t offer an ounce of mercy.

As was gathered through the grapevine of neighborhood and school parents, Niccola was unsatisfied. Utterly miserable when it came to the bedroom - her husband’s recovery really had put a damper on their love life. Forever changed it, walked it thirty paces back and not one pace forward, ruined whatever wonder was still had. They weren’t the same, so was whispered. As good as dead - Niccola should go out and get herself a man who still could get it up - the Hart husband selfish for keeping her prisoner in a sexless, boring marriage. If only they knew. For though it took time to get them to where they needed to be, the Hitman not as quick as he used to be, arousal a pesky little bugger to keep steady, they weren’t yearning for more. Their love making was amazing still. Perhaps even better than before, touches across soft skin savored for longer, cherished in ways that Bret and Niccola never thought about before. Like it would be their last, because, at one moment, it almost was. No rumors were ever given attention to. Not of those sorts - the ones that didn’t matter in the end. Least not from parents who seemed to be jealous from within their own unions, from what was eavesdropped about Trevor’s own, it was they that were joyless. Desperate for love that wasn’t real for them; Bret couldn’t fault their son entirely. But still, he hurt the elder male so.

“Trevor?”

Bret said gently, delicately, as if he were approaching an injured baby fawn and not some boy who spoke about his wife as if she were nothing more than a piece of meat, an object for pleasure and none else. “I guess you weren’t expecting me and Logan to be back so soon. Well, we’re here now, and I know that Lo has been dying to show you his comic book. I don’t think I need to have a discussion with you about what you’ve just said. I know that you know it was wrong. And not only that, but that it was also incredibly disrespectful to Mrs. Hart. Y’know, I always thought of you as a good kid. I still do. But this behavior, I don’t want it in my house. I don’t want it near my wife or my children. I don’t want this to affect your relationship with Logan, he really likes you, but, son, it needs to end here. I don’t ever want to hear you speaking about my wife like that again. Because, you’re not just disrespecting Logan’s mother, but our whole family, and I know that you’re smart enough as to understand why that would upset me. You do understand why, don’t you, son?”

“Go run along. You and Logan should be spending time together. I’ll be making dinner with Mrs. Hart for you kids in the next hour or two.” He explained, lightly squeezing Trevor’s shoulder in compassion, in fatherly affection that the boy didn’t seem to be receiving at home, second chances. “You’re a great guy, Trevor. Don’t let others influence you. Don’t be like those negative people around you - you’re better than that. You’re so much more than it. Go on. Go see Logan.”

Giving space so the boy could meet with his curly haired companion, Logan and his very wide, beaming smile, Bret walked to where Niccola was finishing up with getting the required linens. An old set that was always saved just in case - leaning against the wall, arms crossed over a broad chest, serious deliberation upon slightly sad expressed lips, a frown.

“I think we need to have a talk with Trevor’s mom and dad. Poor kid’s got a lot on his mind. He needs somebody, Nickie.”

And true to his words, Bret would be there for him. With either stern discipline or fatherhood kindness, the child would get himself straightened out. For no one, none on any corner of the planet, would freely insult Bret’s precious family, the mother of his children nor the babies themselves. Not as long as he still breathed.

___

#[ Niccolahiromithomas ]#Revenge of the Survivor | WWE Era #Making Love Out of Leather and Lace | Bret x Niccola #[ Hitman bout to lay the law down on somebody else's son <3 ]

5 notes · View notes

kaedehyuck · 2 years

Text

[3:40pm] “So”, Childe started, leaning forward in his seat with a smirk stretching on his lips, “Truth or dare?”

You raised an eyebrow at this, wondering what prompted his to ask you this randomly. The two of you had been working on a project that he was your partner for. It was bearable, except for the occasional remarks he would pass that you definitely didn't ask for.

“Why?”

“Why not”, he pointed out, “Can’t we take a break? Or will you wilt if you part from your precious books?”

“I’m not a flower, Childe.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Truth or dare?”

Another thing Childe loved to do, or at least it seemed like it, was push your buttons. He had been at it constantly, trying to get to flustered and annoyed and every thing he did. It was amusing to him, but for you? Not so much.

Deciding that he wouldn’t get any less persistent or less annoying if you ignored him, you spoke up, “Truth.”

He frowned, “You’re no fun, but fine, would you kiss me right now?”

Childe was confused at how much of a rule follower you were, head in her books, an overachiever to the max. Sometimes he wondered if you lived in the library and almost expecting you to pack your bags any given moment and move in there indefinitely.

You intrigued him to say the least.

Eyes snapping up to his, you gaped at him, wondering how you would approach this. “Dare.”

He got up from his seat, leaning impossibly close to you, that infuriating smirk still on his lips as he studied your features, “Fine then, I dare you to kiss me.”

You were positively stuck now, frozen by the fact he was so close to you, just tilt your head upwards and you would be kissing him. Your eyes fell onto your fingers as you wondered how to avoid playing his little games.

“Never have I ever”

“That's not the game-!?”

He lived to get on your nerves, you were sure and you knew that the only way you would get anything done was if you caught him off-guard. Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his rather insistently, which did the job pretty to full effect. He let a confused sound, but kissed you back, his smug demeanor melting away almost immediately.

Pulling away, it was your turn to smirk as he looked at you bewildered. You picked up your pencil, twirling it with your fingers and licking your lips, “Truth or Dare, Childe?”

He struggled to find words for a moment, before collecting himself again, “Uh- dare”

“I dare you to shut up and work on the project with me.”

He pressed his lips together, sitting beside you and peering over at your notes, “Hey Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“I dare you to go on a date with me”

#childe x reader #ajax x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact fanfiction #childe x you #childe x lumine #childe fanfiction #ajax x y/n #ajax x you #genshin impact ajax #childe

177 notes · View notes

aruuq · 2 years

Text

“Purple Cones” – Arataki Itto; Advent Calendar Day 13

characters: itto x gn!reader

genre & style: fluff

word count: 1.4k

notes: i love him

warnings: a tiny little bit suggestive in one short moment

event’s masterlist

A loud vocal laugh fills the room as a man enters, his silhouette hidden behind a huge conifer, its tip bent against the ceiling, snow falling from the twigs to the floor you have just finished mopping. “Look at this fine gentleman!” Itto says loudly after throwing the tree into the corner, his hands on his hips, chest pushed forward and swaggerish smirk on his face as he turns around, visibly proud of himself. You sit curled up under a blanket, random book in your hands, eyes lazily following its text, deciding not to pay any more attention to the Oni than it’s necessary. “Please, sweep after yourself, honey. I’ve just finished cleaning the house.”

“Yeah, yeah, will do. But first, look. at. it! I’ve found the perfect tree, dontcha think?” Itto makes one jump so he’s in front of you, and kneels immediately, large palms slapping your covered thighs, head moving forward so he blocks your sight from the book. You look up at him, his cheeks in pretty pinkish color, lower lip quivering, tears collecting on his bottom lashes, tiny amounts of white fluff on his horns. You only sigh, rubbing his cheek bone with your thumb, shaking your head slightly from side to side. “Why didn’t you put a jacket on? You’re gonna get sick. Your nose’s already runny.” You pull a handkerchief out of your pocket and start gently drying his upper lip. Itto leans into your touch, and when you’re done with wiping his face, he smiles widely. “I would sweat my clothes otherwise! Besides, it's good training to chop a tree in snow, ya know? Cold builds immunity, baby! And you’re speaking to Arataki ‘the One and Only Tree Decapitatorritto!’ I definitely know what I’m doooinngg!”

You chuckle softly, pressing your mouth against his forehead. “So silly…” You can swear that his pupils are heart-shaped when you pull away to kiss his cold cheeks. “So, we’re dressing the Christmas tree up today?” After putting the book on a coffee table, you stand up and approach the tree. It’s big, barely fitting in your living room. The branches are extensive and full of needles in a pretty deep shade of green. There’s more than enough space for all of the Christmas decorations hidden in your attic, the ones you’ve bought this year and those that Itto’s won in competitions with (mostly) children and adults in town.

“Can you please put the tree on a stand and go for the ornaments? They’re in these big boxes with the colorful tape on it, right next to my old desk.” Before you have a chance to finish your request, Oni has already picked the tree up, and is trying to fit its trunk into the metal stand. His movements are chaotic, a bit too aggressive and hasty so you try your best to guide him. Sometimes you feel as if Itto wasn’t a grown up man, his behavior surely reminding you of the kids he’s always making fun of being dumb because they’ve been beaten in a game he himself has created the rules of. But you can't complain, it has never even crossed your mind, since his light-hearted soul always lights up your day, making you forget about all the cares of the world.

“What do you think, baby? Yellow, blue or pink?” Itto asks with a boyish smile, holding three pieces of Christmas lights. “They’re made of luminescent spines, the seller said they’re gonna work for at least a month! So sparklyyy! See? See? They even blink!” He waves with them right in front of your face, bright colors mixing in your head. You try to catch them to take a closer look but right before your hands land on the cables, Itto snaps his arm backwards. “You can’t be so careless when touching them, they’re really delicate!” He instructs you with a low voice, ignoring the fact that he’s just almost slammed them in the wall behind him. “So which one? Yellow? Blue? Or pink?”

“Maybe yellow?” You murmur slightly unsure. “‘Think they’ll match the rest of the ornaments the best.” Itto focuses his irises on the lights, his fingers rubbing the chin, as he squints. “I think you may be right, sunshine,” he speaks slowly, nodding in agreement. “Always knew you’ve got a good eye! Well, maybe it’s not as good as mine, but it’s ‘cause I’m Arataki ‘The Master of Color Theory’ Itto!” He lowers his face, lips brushing against your ear. “You can always sign up for private lessons with me if you want so you’ll get even better, baby. Maybe one day the student will surpass the master, hmm?” Itto’s voice’s deep and low, and it makes a shiver run down your spine as you playfully smack his arm. Oni raises his hands in a gesture of defense, a wholehearted chuckle escaping his mouth. “Kidding! Just kidding!” The man begins to hang the Christmas lights on the branches of the tree, yet his gaze shifts to you again for a short moment. “But if you’re down, I can even get you a discount.”

You roll your eyes, sticking the tip of your tongue in his direction, while rummaging in the box. The amount of ornaments is a bit overwhelming, but you’re sure that Itto will eventually end up buying more, ‘cause for him the term too much is non-existent. You say he’s eaten too much for dinner and his stomach is going to hurt? You’re talking nonsense. The fault lies in the current phase of the moon, not in the triple portion with a quadruple spiciness, additional rice, three sauces and a pinch of a secret ingredient. He’s bought too much and now you don’t have enough money for food? A lie! Of course it’s been a money goblin stealing precious mora from your pockets. And, well, maybe there’s too much of one thing in the world and it’s beans. Because why? He, as an Oni, doesn't understand the phenomenon of it. But besides that, too much? What does this mean? For sure it’s not a perfect term for his personality sometimes, yeah?

“It looks sad,” Itto pouts, looking from the end of the room at the tree. “It’s so… naked. Feels almost illegal. And I don’ wan’ to interfere with the police... again.” A loud sigh escapes his lips, and you catch his palm. “Well, that's all we’ve got, bun. And please, don’t buy more ornaments. It’ll look much better at night, when the luminescent spines shine the brightest.” You stand on your toes, connecting your palm with his cheek, giving him a signal to bend down. “Should we put a star on now?” Your question is muffled, your lips pressed tightly against his mouth, and another wide snicker appears on the Oni’s face. “You know that the tree’s finished when the star’s on, so no more changes, yeah?” The man nods, his face melting in your touch, craving for more tenderness. It’s maybe a bit unfair of you, to play little games like this with him, but it’s the only option to keep him away from spending more of your savings for unnecessary decorations.

Itto picks the star from the bottom of the last box – it’s big and shiny, with tons of gold glitter glued everywhere and slightly worn paint in some parts, tiny purple cones sticking at the bottom of it; the last one being a modification done by the one-and-oni Arataki Itto himself. It’s the first one the two of you have ever had, so it holds a special place in your and man’s heart. Still in the crouching position, Oni hands you the embellishment. “Wanna put it on, baby?” You giggle, taking the decoration from his big palms. It’s obvious that you’re too short to press it onto the top of the tree (which, by the way, almost reaches the surface of your really high ceiling), so with a bit help of Itto’s firm grasp on your hips and lots of scared noises leaving your mouth when the Oni almost drops you once or twice, you’re able to put it on!

“So what, tomorrow’s the cookie baking, huh?” Itto suggests, while cleaning the melted snow from the floor. You chuckle, corners of your mouth raised as you nod, while deep, deep down inside you’re scared as never before. May Archons protect you, ‘cause it’s gonna be a long day with an adult-kid messing with extremely hot objects. Ah, maybe one day you’ll have the blessing of encountering Arataki “The quiet and unproblematic boyfriend” Itto. Well, you can dream of it, even if at the end of the day you know you wouldn’t want him to change ever.

266 notes · View notes

mostly-marvel-musings · 3 years

Text

DIY

A/N: This wasn’t planned. Or was it? @babyboibucky and @lil-stark Hope y’all like it!

Not my gif! Credits to the owner.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+, a little breast kink, soft pregnancy smut, tons of domestic fluff.

Word count: 1400

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @marvelgirl7 @mycosmicparadise @feetoffthetablee

Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @suchababie @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry

Taglists are open folks! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be tagged :))

Afternoon naps during the weekends had become a new favourite activity of yours. Waddling around the house with a heavily pregnant belly tired you out beyond belief, forcing you to take cat naps every chance you got. Bucky had developed a habit of joining you almost always because he never wished to miss a chance of holding you while you slept, also because he knew you were having trouble sleeping in the night.

There had been so many occasions when you would wake up only to find your husband gazing at your belly, hands lightly caressing while he whispered about anything and everything to the baby. The sight would fill your heart with love every single time, it had even brought you to tears the first time he did it.

However today, as sleep made it’s exit, you couldn’t find Bucky lying next to you where he usually was, instead there was some muffled cursing and muted thuds coming in from the nursery.

Pulling on Bucky’s old sweater, you padded towards the room to find him focused on his task at hand which was trying to read the instructions given on the manual of the crib you had purchased the day before.

He eyed the pieces of furniture he was supposed to put together warily before giving a confident nod to himself, as if mentally assuring himself that he could do it. And that was just too adorable to watch.

Leaning against the doorway, you stared at the love of your life for a while before announcing your arrival by clearing your throat.

“I thought we were going to do this together.”

Bucky glanced up in surprise before his face softened and he gave you a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck.

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

You shook your head and made your way towards him, stopping when your swollen belly met his flat one and giving him a small peck on the cheek.

“So, you figure this thing out?”

“I think so. You wanna help?” He asked softly,

hands automatically placing themselves on your bump. Bucky couldn’t help but get a little excited seeing his clothes on your pregnant body, even though you had been doing that for years. According to him, you’d never looked more radiant.

“Alright let’s build this crib.”

Fifteen minutes into it and you found yourself getting irritated and snippy because Bucky wasn’t following the directions you’d been giving him.

“Are you sure that’s the right way?”

“Yes doll, I’m sure.”

“Because that’s not what’s given here—”

“I know what I’m doing (Y/N)!”

He snapped, clenching his jaw as he stared at you as you held up the instructions manual for him to see.

“Fine. Seems like you don’t need my help after all! Have fun.”

You threw the piece of paper on the floor and stormed back to the bedroom, nostrils flared and fists balled up tight. It was probably an unnecessarily extreme reaction but you couldn’t help it, your hormones were on overdrive.

Pacing about the room, you took a few cleansing breaths, ready to apologise for your outburst when Bucky walked in silently.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you sweetheart.” He spoke first.

“I’m sorry too Buck, I just I don’t know why I get this hyper so easily, it’s my—”

“Pregnancy brain, I know.” He nodded, giving you a small smile, the kind that asked permission to call a truce and move past the whole thing.

“How is my little girl?”

“She’s sleeping. But Mommie’s wide awake…”

He chuckled and approached you once he saw you grinning wide, pulling you close to capture your lips in a soft kiss. He broke the kiss but you grabbed him by the back of the neck to resume, murmuring a ‘not done yet’ against his mouth.

Bucky grazed his hands along your bare legs upwards, taking his sweater with them, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Your tongues danced in harmony until you broke apart only to throw the piece of clothing out of the way.

He took his time to let his darkened eyes rake over your naked form, the kind of look that made your pussy quiver in anticipation. There were times when you’d get aware of the fact that your body looked awkward and bloated because that’s how it felt for months, but not to Bucky. He was mesmerised by the way your beautiful body adapted to this new phase, the way your body shape changed to accomodate a baby, his baby.

He loved how sensitive it had gotten over these last few months, the way your breasts had swelled up in size along with your belly.

“So beautiful…” he whispered before guiding you over to the bed, helping you to climb on top of him after he’d removed his own clothing.

You had been a little extra sensitive and uninhibited in all departments during pregnancy, including all those times wanting to ride Bucky hard at any chance you got. It was almost a second craving along with those weird food demands you were making, all of which was considered normal in the ten thousand books he had got for you to read.

You licked your lips at the sight of Bucky’s erection waiting so eagerly for your warm touch before wrapping a hand around the length, a few pumps and a flick of your thumb to collect the precum later, you maneuvered yourself so your entrance lined up. Pulling your damp panties aside, you sunk down on his cock slowly, eliciting a sinful groan from his mouth.

The feeling of being so stretched out made you throw your head back and sigh as you stayed in that position, giving yourself some time to adjust.

Your hips rolled against his own at a languid pace as you anchored your hands on his chest, your hair cascading around your face before Bucky gently pulled them aside to watch your face.

His pubic bone grazed against your clit with every move as you rode him, your shallow breaths and pants filling the room. Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt his metal hand come up to fondle your breasts.

Sitting up as best as he could, he latched his mouth around your nipple and sucked, making you cry out loud while his hand attended to the other one with gentleness. They felt heavier in Bucky’s hand, full of milk meant to feed and nourish your child after she would arrive. They were for him now, today to caress, to love and cherish.

“I can feel you’re getting close, doll.” He breathed, laying back down and bringing his flesh hand over to your stimulated nub, rubbing it in tight circles.

“Fuck that’s it. Keep doing that.”

He obliged, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, you felt your insides tighten and walls flutter around his cock before you let go. A loud cry escaped your mouth as the coil in your belly snapped and you shuddered, the intensity of your orgasm triggered Bucky’s as he dug his fingers in your hips, grabbing them roughly.

A few sloppy thrusts into your quivering pussy was all it took for him to paint your walls with thick ropes of cum, his head thrown back and a look of bliss on his features.

He laid you down on your back carefully after pulling out, watching his cum dribble out onto your thighs before he cleaned you up with a washcloth and returned to bed.

Your skin was flushed and a lazy grin decorated your face as he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing feather light kisses there while running a hand all over your heated body.

He felt his little girl kick against his hand as he splayed it across your bump, making you look at each other and back down where she kept nudging, letting you know it was time to eat.

“Alright alright! I’m getting up. You want Daddy to make his delicious grilled cheese?”

Your eyes held a glint mischief as you looked at Bucky, giving him your best puppy dog look which you knew always worked.

“Come on Momma bear. I’ll make you all the grilled cheeses you want.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #dad bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

833 notes · View notes

pies-writes-and-more · 3 years

Text

Karasuno boys when you wander away

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Dachi Sawamura, Asahi Azumane, & Kageyama Tobio, all with a Fem!Reader

Warnings: probably some swearing but nothing besides that :)

A/N: So this is somewhat based on my IRL relationship haha. I’m very bad with just walking away or getting distracted by something and always worry my partner xD thought it would make for some cute headcanons! Let me know if you’d like more!

Haikyuu Masterlist

Tsukishima had only looked away for a moment. He walked towards a fresh fruit stand, glancing at the peaches and wondering if you wanted one to snack on on the way home. He glanced back and his lips parted to ask you, but you were no where to be seen.

His lips turned into a frown, trying not to give into that small moment of panic as his eyes scanned the outside market. You were no where to be found nearby. His heart pulsed harder against his chest as his mind reminded him of that news story of girls going missing in public places. Tsukishima pushed through people, giving half-assed apologies as he thought about you being dragged away and no one noticing. How had he not noticed? How would he find you? What should he do now?

His heart raced as he continued to look for you, giving out a small yelp when he felt someone grab his hand.

“Tsukki?” You were suddenly next to him, smiling innocently up at him. “Are you okay?”

The rush of relief that came with seeing you next to him was followed with frustration. “Idiot! Where did you wander off to?” He scolded, his hand tightening on yours.

“There was a puppy,” you admitted with slight embarrassment, smiling shyly. “I just gave him a couple of pats - he looked so lonely. Everyone was ignoring him,” you explained, nodding towards an older man who was dozing off on a bench. He had a leash in his hand and a large dog sat next to his feet, eagerly watching people was if begging for someone to pet him.

Tsukishima shook his head in disbelief, “You scared me for a dog? Moron,” he grumbled, pulling you further into the market. He didn’t want to be in such a big crowd right now.

You giggled, trying not to note the redness in his ears, “Aw I’m sorry Tsukki, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You tugged on his arm gently, trying to give him an apologetic smile but he kept looking away from you.

“Whatever, get yourself lost for all I care,” he pouted slightly and you tried your best not to laugh at how such a tall boy could act like a 4 year old.

“I’ll stay with you, promise. Won’t ever leave your side!” you insisted, clutching his arm and beaming up at him.

Tsukishima glanced at your smile, noticing it looked... almost playful? “What?” He raised an eyebrow, already knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“You care about me,” you teased, reaching up to poke his nose playfully. “You were worried about me because you careeee about me.” You had expected him to pull his arm away, stomp off until you apologized for making fun of him.

But instead he just rolled his eyes, flicking your forehead gently, “Maybe just a bit.”

That surprised you just a little, your heart skipping a beat or two in response, “I am sorry, Tsukki, I didn’t think I went off that far. It just got really crowded,” you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand gently. “But lucky for me! You’re so tall so it’s easy to find you!”

Tsukishima scoffed some more but blushed anyways, feeling now like he had overreacted, “Whatever. You’re buying me a snack to make it up to me, idiot.”

“Mmkay!” You beamed, the two of you roaming the market together. Tsukishima pretended like he had completely forgotten the whole thing, but you noticed that he never let go of your hand that easily after that. And he always kept you close in crowded areas.

So yeah, maybe Tsukishima Kei really did care for you.

Daichi is a calm cool collected dude. Calm. Cool. Collected. It was as if he was chanting these words in his brain, eyes frantically trying to find you. CALM COOL COLLECTED, he desperately tried to remind himself. Everything is FINE.

But that still didn’t answer the question: where the hell could you have gone off to?

It was one of the first big matches that Daichi ever invited you too and the crowds were 10x bigger than anything you’ve been to. Daichi’s whole body trembled with the idea that you were completely lost and waiting for him to find you.

“I’m sure she’s alright, Daichi! Y/N’s probably just exploring,” Asahi clapped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder, though Daichi could tell he was nervous too.

“Stop being such worry-bums,” Suga insisted, smacking both of their arms. “Y/N can be as scary as the rest of us! No one would pick on her!”

You were fully capable of dealing with things yourself, Daichi knew this. But he felt a surge of protective energy anytime he felt you needed him. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbled to his friends, his feet quickly running around the gyms to try and catch a glimpse of you.

“Daichi!” Your voice made his eyes widen, darting around to try to find you. Suddenly, he was attacked with a full on jump hug, staggering backwards to keep them upright.

“Y-Y/N! Where’ve you been?” Daichi asked with a laugh, holding you tightly and trying to avoid showing you how nervous he was.

“Coach Ukai told me Hinata left his shoes in the bus so I went to grab it before the game! Shimizu-san and Yachi were both busy so I wanted to help!” You explained, smiling up at him while holding the little bag up for him to see. Your eyes flickered over Daichi’s for a moment, noting the slight blush on his cheeks and the way he couldn’t fully meet your gaze. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, your lips turning into a little smirk, “Were you worried about me, Daichi?” You teased and laughed as his face turned even more red.

“Well I can’t win without my lucky charm on the stands,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair.

“Oh and I just thought you liked me,” Y/N shot back with a laugh. “Didn’t know it was just cause of your game.”

You turned on your heel, starting to walk back to the gym, Daichi following while stammering out a, “I-I do liked you!” He tried to laugh off his nerves, rubbing the back of his neck as he gave you a smile, “Don’t make me all nervous before a game, love!”

You two shared some more laughs as everyone warmed up, and just before you headed to the stands, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Daichi tried to play it off cool but he was wobbly the whole walk towards the team and the group of boys just laughed, all slapping his back in pride.

Unlike the Cap’n, Asahi is not calm, cool, or collected. I mean I think he’s cool but not in this sense LOL.

Asahi and you decided to have a picnic for lunch in a nearby park. But while he was setting up, you magically disappeared and Asahi felt all of his panic just intensify.

Did you? Leave him? To be on his own? Was this your way of breaking up with him?

No, Asahi tried to convince himself, you loved him. You guys had been together for almost a year now, that’s not how you’d end thins... is it?

Maybe you got lost? Did Asahi walk a little too fast to this spot? He knew sometimes you had a hard time keeping up with his long legs but he thought you had been holding his hand this whole time.

His eyes scanned the somewhat busy park. He couldn’t find you anywhere. His heart was starting to beat way too fast and his fingers were shaking while he tried to text the other third years to ask what the hell he should do.

Suga: LOL knowing Y/N she probably saw some cute chipmunk or something and stopped to take a photo of it

Daichi: don’t worry, Asahi, she’ll probably find you soon - you’re this gigantic dude in a park. I doubt she’d lose you

That didn’t help. Now Asahi was noticing how parents and kids were specifically avoiding him. His bottom lip pouted as he wondered just what he could do to seem less intimidating. Should he sit down? No, what if you were trying to see him? Sitting would only make it harder!

Just as he was considering climbing up the nearby tree to see the park from a higher distance, you popped out from some nearby bushes, holding a few wildflowers.

“Asahi?” You blinked in surprise, finding him trying to find a foothold on the tree. “Are we... eating in the tree?”

“Y/N!” The poor boy almost knocked his head on the tree when he turned around to see you, eyes widening. He immediately ran over to you and twirled you around in a hug, “God, you scared me!”

You quickly apologized profusely seeing how nervous he was, “I’m sorry, Asahi! I saw some pretty flowers over there and thought maybe it would be nice to decorate our tablecloth with!” You kiss his nose and cheeks over and over again trying to get him to calm down (but really that’s just making him more flustered).

The two of you share a gorgeous meal together, and you spend the rest of the day with his head in your lap and you braiding his hair, intertwining some of the flowers you found. The two of you talked about everything and anything and Asahi made sure from that day forward, he could always spot you. Any time you guys weren’t holding hands or standing next to each other, everyone noticed that Asahi’s eyes would dart over to you every now and then, whether consciously or unconsciously.

When he got home that night, he pressed the flowers you put in his hair in a book and kept them as a keepsake. And then gave them to you in a gift for your anniversary later.

Kageyama would start feeling panic and wouldn’t even know why. The game was starting soon and something just didn’t feel right. His muscles? No… he felt in tiptop shape. He stretched a little extra today too to make sure he wasn’t feeling stiff. His stomach? No, he made sure to have some food and milk a little earlier. And he wasn’t feeling nauseous so it couldn’t be that. His hands? No, they felt perfect in fact. He was so excited for this game earlier, he had felt the anticipation running to his fingers to just set the perfect ball. So why was he feeling so uncomfortable?

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think about what was making him feel different. His eyes scanned the crowd unconsciously before realizing what it was.

You weren’t standing up there with the rest of the Karasuno fans.

Where the hell were you?

His feet moved towards the gym doors before Ukai yelled at him, “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Kageyama? The game is staring soon!”

Kageyama’s eyes widened, noting the whole team watching him curiously. Why did Kageyama seem so nervous? He never seemed nervous.

“Don’t worry, Kageyama, with my spikes better than ever, we’re definitely going to win!” Hinata grinned, trying to lighten the tense air in the team.

“I’m not worried, just don’t be stupid on the court,” Kageyama replied, shrugging it off. But his eyes still scanned the stands. Where were you? You had said hello to the whole and wished Kageyama luck just a few minutes ago? So how come you weren’t standing up there with Coach’s friends and Yachi?

The whistle blew to indicate the game starting and Kageyama felt his stomach turn. Why was he feeling like this? You were probably fine so what did it matter?

You had been buying some milk from the nearby vending machines to make sure that Kageyama had some after his game. You knew that he had accidentally finished all the ones he had packed earlier and had been kinda crabby about it so you thought maybe it would cheer him up. You had stood in line for the vending machine for what felt like forever but it was all worth it knowing that you could throw the milk boxes into your lunch bag to keep them cool. Knowing Kageyama would be excited about it made you really happy.

As you walked back towards the gym, you could hear cheering. Your eyes widened as you realized that the game had already started and you ran towards the stands.

“Y/N! There you are!” Yachi’s smile looked oddly nervous. Not that she wasn’t normally nervous at these games, but this one seemed different. “I think something’s wrong with Kageyama.”

Your eyes shot down to the court, seeing how stiff Kageyama looked next to everyone else. They were patting him on the back, yelling “We’ll get the next one!” and Noya screaming, “BRING IT ON!”

“He was looking for you in the stands earlier I think,” Yachi told you with a small giggle, “He looked really nervous when he couldn’t see you.”

Your heart swelled slightly, wondering if Kageyama was off his game because he hadn’t been able to see you. “Kageyama!!” You yelled from the stands, cupping your hands around your mouth. The dark haired boy’s head shot up to look at you, a sense of relief growing on his face. “You can do it!!” You screamed some more, the people on the stands behind you yelling in support.

Even from far away, you could see his lips turn upward in a smile.

Alright, you both thought to yourself. Now we can get started.

2K notes · View notes

c-e-d-dreamer · 3 years

Text

Okay, I know hockey player versus figure skater is a super cliché rivalry, but all day today, my brain was like “hockey player Cassian! Hockey player Cassian! Hockey player Cassian,” so here we are. Also, fun fact, this exact event actually happened to my little brother at one of his games. TW for blood and injuries. Hope you enjoy :) @nessianweek

The cool rush of the air conditioning is the first thing that hits Cassian as he pushes through the doors. The throwback pop song pumping out of the speakers and the smell of popcorn from the snack bar hits him next. He shifts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, resettling the weight, his sticks clacking together in his other hand. He makes his way over to the board declaring the locker room assignments for the day, squinting until he finds the Illyrians. He's about to head off toward their locker room when his eyes snag on someone.

Nesta is perched like a queen on one of the benches in the lobby, her white skates resting beside her. She has a sweatshirt pulled on, but the red skirts of her dress skim across her thighs, and Cassian can see the jeweled embellishments peeking out under the collar. Unsurprising, she has a book opened in her hands, probably another of her smutty romances. Even in the harsh fluorescent lighting, Cassian finds himself drawn into her eyes, the way they glint as they dance across the pages.

Cassian doesn't have to think twice before he's sauntering over to her. He drops his bag with a loud thump at her feet, a smile pulling across his face at her answering glower. He loves this game they play. The way he pushes her buttons and she pushes his always leaves flames licking up his skin in the most delicious way. He's sure they make quite the sight, the hockey player and the figure skater, but he'll never stop going back for more.

"What do you want, Cassian?"

"Love the outfit today, Nes. The sparkles really contrast well with your dark soul."

"Don't you have to go smash someone into the boards?"

"I'd love to press you up against the boards."

Cassian throws a wink her way for extra good measure, and the way Nesta's eyes narrow has his heart ticking up slightly in his chest.

"Prick," Nesta mumbles, opening back up her book.

With a chuckle, Cassian takes it for the cue that it is, picking back up his bag and heading for the locker room. He offers Azriel an easy grin as he passes him, his brother merely shaking his head at his antics yet again.

~ * * * ~

Nesta hears her sister before she sees her, Feyre's laughing bouncing off the walls of the lobby. She closes her book and grabs her skates, but as she heads for the door, her steps falter and pause as she takes in Elain walking in beside Feyre.

"Since when does it take both of you to pick me up?" Nesta asks once her sisters are close enough to hear.

"Actually," Feyre starts slowly. "We were thinking we could stick around for the game."

"What," Nesta deadpans, taking in both her sisters' expressions and inwardly sighing when she sees they're both actually serious. "Fine. Give me the keys, and I'll pick you both up later."

"Oh, Nesta," Elain says, taking Nesta's hand in her own. "It'll be fun. Besides, you and Cassian are friends. Don't you want to see him play?"

"We are not friends."

"That's for sure," Feyre pipes in. "There is way too much sexual tension for that to be considered friendship."

Nesta shoots a glare Feyre's way, but her sister merely smiles innocently. The mischievous glint swirling in her eyes tells Nesta she's not getting the keys from her youngest sister anytime soon. Which is how Nesta ends up pressed between her two sisters, the cold of the metal bleachers biting into the underside of her thighs and a shared blanket draped across their three laps. Elain keeps clapping excitedly to her right while Feyre shouts, "go, baby, go" every time Rhysand cuts up the ice on her left. Nesta thinks her eyes might actually get stuck from rolling them so much.

Despite the equipment and jerseys making it hard to tell the players apart, the whole team blending together into a mash of blues and gold's, Nesta finds she can pick Cassian out fairly easily. She tells herself it's because he's clearly the biggest guy on the team and the hair sticking out the back of his helmet is a dead giveaway. But either way, her eyes always seem to find him any time he's on the ice, whether he’s sweeping along the blue line to make a play or throwing his body against the other team.

They’re into the third period when Nesta watches Cassian jump over the boards, joining the rush before falling back into the neutral zone as the other team gains possession. He guards his man well as the play shifts to their defensive zone, the other player trying and failing to shake Cassian loose. The player tries to deke around him, but Cassian is quicker, their sticks clashing together.

It's like it all unfolds in slow motion. The puck popping up into the air between them. The other player raising his stick like he plans to bat the puck down. The stick colliding with Cassian's head.

There's a collective gasp from the crowd watching the game as Cassian crumbles to the ice, falling onto all fours. And then there's red. A few drops at first, but soon it's a steady stream. It seeps into the ice, spreading out around Cassian like a crimson puddle.

"Oh my gods," Feyre whispers.

"I hope he's alright," Elain chimes in.

Nesta knows that her sisters keep speaking, but all she can hear is a ringing in her ears, like a high pitched screaming sinking its claws into her mind. Her hands fist into the blanket in her lap, and she watches with wide eyes as a trainer walks onto the ice, pulling the cage of Cassian's helmet up and sliding a towel under. With the help of two teammates, Cassian's on his feet and skates back to the bench. Nesta's stomach roils as one of the rink staffers and the referees scrape Cassian's blood from the ice, and even when the game resumes, she can't take her eyes off Cassian slumped over his knees on the bench.

~ * * * ~

Cassian can't help but poke at the bandage on his forehead as he checks himself in the locker room mirror. It's still tender, and he winces at the pain that radiates from that spot. Definitely going to leave a scar. At least he got a goal tonight. Small victories. With a sigh, he shoulders his bag, grabbing his sticks by the door and heading for the rink exit.

When he steps into the lobby, he finds Nesta standing there. Cassian knew that both her sisters were here earlier, but a quick sweep of his eyes around the room shows them nowhere to be found. When his eyes dance back to Nesta, she's already looking at him, something intense brewing in her eyes like storm clouds rolling in. It leaves Cassian captivated, and in a few strides, He’s standing in front of her, dropping his bag at their feet.

"What are you still doing here, sweetheart?"

Cassian throws as much cheek as he can into the question, letting that cocky grin he knows gets under her skin slide across his face. He expects Nesta to scowl, to make some snide remark back, to pick up their game right where they left off, but Nesta's face remains serious. He watches in confusion as she crosses and then uncrosses her arms across her chest, takes a deep breath like she's steeling herself.

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright," Nesta explains, her eyes glancing up to the bandage before settling back on his own.

"Oh," Cassian says dumbly, blinking down at Nesta a few times before his brain finally catches up. "It was just bad luck. Stick hit just right for one of the screws in my helmet to go right into my head."

"It looked… bad."

"Well, head wounds bleed a lot."

Nesta nods and silence falls like a blanket between them. Cassian's brain kicks into overdrive, suddenly desperate to keep whatever this precarious moment is going, keep her talking to him, keep those eyes on his. It sparks in his chest like a piece of flint, fire burning under his skin. He's so busy floundering, trying to will his head and mouth to produce actual words, that he almost misses the frown that takes over Nesta's face, her eyes caught on his hand.

"You're not thinking of driving, are you?"

The sudden question takes Cassian by surprise, and Cassian’s brow furrows in confusion until he remembers his car keys are in his hand.

"How else would I get home?"

"You can't drive with a concussion."

"What makes you think I have a concussion?"

"How could you not have a concussion?"

"If I had a concussion, why would I have gone back out on the ice to finish the game?"

"Because you're an idiot."

Before Cassian can even splutter out a protest at the insult, Nesta is reaching forward and snatching the keys out of his hand. Then, for good measure, she reaches out and takes his sticks out of his hand too.

"There's an Urgent Care like five miles away that should still be open."

With that and a final, firm nod, as if she's decidedly made up her mind and Cassian can't change it, Nesta turns on her heel and makes for the doors. Cassian is left there gaping, blinking dumbly after her retreating form, while his sluggish brain tries to grasp what exactly is happening. Maybe he is concussed. Not giving himself another second to contemplate, Cassian scrambles to pick up his bag, tossing the strap over his shoulder as he hurries after Nesta.

"Can I at least buy you dinner after?"

#my fic #acotar #nessianweek2021 #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian

232 notes · View notes

azucanela · 4 years

Note

bakugou/todoroki reacting to their s.o. who usually wears long sleeves and pants wearing a casual dress? please feel free to include anyone else! also if it's ok can you add a bit of spice or smth 👉👈

REACTING TO S/O WEARING A DRESS HEADCANNONS + SCENARIOS

[ft. bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shoto]

SUMMARY: for the first time, the boys witness you in a dress and... it ends pretty well for you.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: make out session, kissing, insecurities, SPICE, implications

A/N: THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS IT MAKES ME HAPPY TO WRITE IT <3 also this is as unholy as it gets [for now] a lil spicy hehe, just a tad

BAKUGO KATSUKI

OKAY SO

he’s taken you on dates, and normally you wear jeans and a t-shirt, and he’s fine with it, he doesn’t care, your clothes your business, you wear what you want and look good no matter what it is. sweats? hot. sweatshirt? hot.

dress? probably hot, he hasn’t seen you in one yet.

UNTIL NOWWWW

it’s getting warmer, and pants are for losers, so naturally, you wear a pretty lil sundress for your upcoming date with bakugo

he comes to get you in your dorm room, and you text him that the doors unlocked and he’s like AIGHT BET

not the type to knock before entering, but you have thankfully already been dressed and as he enters he realizes that his hypothesis was in fact correct

you are very hot in a dress

very pretty

beautiful

he’s confused though, like since when is this a thing, why are you being so casual about it? did he forget something important? when was your anniversary?

“what the hell?”

you’re like ??? because nothing has changed

so he’s like “you’re.. in a dress.”

“OH,,, haha... yeah.”

now he’s made you insecure, you suck katsuki

once he passes the confusion he is checking you out, your thighs are exposed, and so are your arms, so he’s a lil distracted and doesn’t realize he’s distressed you

when he finally comes to he goes to compliment you, “you look-”

“bad? i should change-”

“NO.” he shouts, and it is a little too quickly and aggressive, so his cheeks flush at this outburst, “you look pretty.”

then he realizes he was too nice, “idiot.

you smile at him, and move to the door, only for him to kick it closed

you’re like ???

he’s like

Katsuki tries to avoid the looks he gets from the rest of his classmates as he makes his way to Y/N’s dorm room, hands shoved into his pockets as he walks. They had a movie to get to, and Katsuki wanted to make sure they had time to get snacks before the movie started, so he intended to begin rushing her. Removing one of his hands from his pocket, he turns Y/N’s door knob, shoving the door open.

He pushes it slightly behind him, but not enough that it closes since he doesn’t intend to be here long, Katsuki looks up and turns to her, “oh hey Katsuki.”

She’s putting some things in her purse, which is on her bed, so she’s slightly bent over as she shoves some cash inside it. Meanwhile, Katsuki can’t help the astonishment that washes over his features as eyes her. “What the hell?” He can’t help but exclaim at the sight before him. This was the most skin he’d seen since... since ever.

Not that he was complaining.

Y/N’s brows furrowed at his comment, standing up and bringing her purse onto her shoulder she looked at him and tilted her head in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Katsuki opened and closed his mouth once or twice, trying to find words as he let out a noise of frustration, gesturing to her, “you’re wearing a dress!” Exasperation clear in his tone, confused as to how she hadn’t seen this as an abnormality. Had he forgotten something? An anniversary perhaps?

Y/N, on the other hand, felt her cheeks warm at this. It hadn’t really crossed her mind that she didn’t wear dresses often, much less clothing that revealed her skin, which was littered with scars from the training and all the incidents there had been in the school year thus far. She couldn’t help the thought that rushed through her minds as she responded rather lamely, “yeah. I am.”

Katuski collected himself, “well, you look-”

“Bad? I should change-” Y/N began, preparing to go to her closet to find another outfit.

Only for Katsuki to call out, “NO!” His cheeks flushing red as he realized how ridiculous his outburst must look, Katsuki looked away. “You look nice... idiot.”

Y/N beamed at him, moving towards him and the partially open door that he stood by, she grasped his hand, “let’s go then!”

As she brought her hand to the knob, she was yanked back by Katsuki, who released her hand when she was close enough pulled her to his chest, pressing his lips to hers. Y/N’s free hand came up to hold his jaw, while his hands dug into her hips as he kicked the door behind him closed before shoving Y/N onto it.

Gasping at the sudden movement, her other hand came to his hair and tugged harshly on it. In response, Katsuki released her lips and brought his mouth to her neck, one of his hands coming to the bare skin of her thigh and pulling it up to hold against himself. Pressing open mouthed kisses onto her neck, Y/N let her head fall back onto the door, giving him better access.

Exhaling deeply, Y/N spoke, “Katsuki we’re gonna be late.” As much as she wanted to disregard the movie, they’d already paid for their tickets, and she wasn’t in the mood to waste money.

In response, he bit down on her neck, causing her grip on his hair to tighten before he looked back up at her, swollen lips baring a cocky grin, “I don’t mind being late, babe.”

SHINSOU HITOSHI

he’s so cute ugh

anyways, i feel like his range in terms of style is trash bag or finest man in the room so he doesn’t care how you dress and if you switch it up on occasion

this does not make him immune to the S H O C K

anyways

you’re going out with friends, but he doesn’t know this so he comes over

you open the door for him like ? but then a light bulb goes off in your head like yes! your bf! he can help! surely!

so you let him in and now he is in shock

like wow you are always hot but WOW

dresses 4 life in shinsou’s book

AND THEN YOU TURN AROUND AND HE CAN SEE SO MUCH SKIN BECAUSE YOU NEED HELP WITH THE ZIPPER AND-

rip shinsou 2020

he’s dead

look what you did

who gonna help you with that zipper now huh

very respectful gentleman though

he looks RESPECTFULLY and TOUCHES respectfully

and he really wants to touch

“HOW CAN HE BE SO HOTTT AND RESPECTFUL” tik tok audio

helps you with your zipper tho

because he is a good boy

but you lowkey noticed his change in attitude and well...

hahaha....

Shinsou was bored, so naturally, he was going to visit his lovely girlfriend at her dorm. It was odd, not receiving the cruel glares from his fellow students for his so called ‘villainous’ quirk. Then again, his girlfriend was the most powerful student in her dorm, and the people there either already liked him, or were forced to get over themselves when the two had started dating.

Nobody wanted to face the wrath of Y/N L/N.

He made his way to your door, smiling briefly at those he passed, a small wave to one student he knew particularly well. Shinsou knocked at the door, and the sound of shuffling came from inside, before the door peeked open slightly to reveal Y/N’s head, a smile making its way onto her face as she saw Shinsou.

“Oh, Shinsou! Perfect, come in and help me.” Cute.

His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at her, and a small laugh left him, “alright.” Y/N. was sure to hide her body behind the door as she let him in, only increasing his confusion as he entered and she closed the door behind her. “Babe, what are you doing?”

When she closed the door, he finally got a full view of her body and realized she was wearing a dress. Shinsou couldn’t help the moment of shock he had as he looked her up in down. “You look beautiful.” He commented, coughing as he averted his eyes. He was looking, respectfully until his eyes trailed a little too low and-

“Would you mind zipping me up?” Y/N asked, turning around, exposing her naked back to him, save for the clasp of her bra.

Oh god you were trying to kill him.

Inhaling sharply, he nodded, “yeah, yeah, sure.” He replied. Moving closer, he brought his hands to her hips, allowing them to linger momentarily. He tilted his head as he noticed a scar running up her back, and couldn’t help but trace it upwards. Y/N felt her cheeks warm at this action, a shiver running up her spine being all it took for Shinsou to break contact entirely, “sorry.” He mumbled, embarrassed, his hand coming to the zipper and pulling it upwards.

She simply shook her head, turning around to face him, his cheeks burning red. “It’s fine.” Y/N brought her hand under his jaw and pulled him into a kiss, her other hand going to his arm.

Shinsou hummed into the kiss, allowing his hands to trail up his back once more, he finds himself regretting that he helped her zip of the dress as he presses her closer to him.

Y/N pulls away momentarily, much to Shinsou’s dismay, before pressing another peck to his lips and shoving him backwards. The backs of his knees hitting her bed frame, causing him to fall into a seat on the bed. Shinsou raises a brow, watching her figure come between his now spread legs and tilt his head up to bring him into another kiss.

His eyes flutter close as he finds his hands gripping her thighs, pulling onto himself before the other followed, allowing Y/N to straddle him, “what’cha doing, kitten?” He mumbled against her lips. She released his lips only to bring her own to his neck, as his hands hands went under her dress and up her thighs until-

“I have to go meet my friends.” She mumbled into his neck, exhaling deeply.

Shinsou groaned in annoyance, falling backwards onto her bed, “tease.” He grumbled under his breath, looking to her as she slipped off of him and amended her appearance, he couldn’t help but smile. “Have fun.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

SO CUTE I LOVE HIM MARRY ME

ahem anyways.

shoto always looks nice, its in his nature and how he was raised, so he could be the wearing the best fit in the room and you could be wearing sweats but he really does not care

he doesn’t really notice what you wear tbh, you’re pretty to him no matter what so

bb boy is just sitting at the bench, you two had agreed to meet up at the mall, and he intended to SPOIL you, per usual, not that you knew this

you did not approve of his spending habits

you are his spending habits

he’s on his phone, preparing to text you, and he sees a figure appear in front of him, white dress with flowers on it is all thats in his vision

he’s about to be like stranger danger what do you need until he looks up and sees

GASP its you!

and you look MIGHTY FINE

you always look mighty fine, no matter what you wear, but the fact that this was something new made it even better. shoto didn’t particularly care what you wore but WOW

he kinda just cannot speak, like his mouth gapes open, you have left him speechless, good job

he’s definitely eyeing you, and he isn’t very subtle but you look so GOOD like what the hell who allowed this

insert anime nosebleed from todoroki

you are going off on a tangent about bees or smth idk and he’s like not paying attention your words but he certainly is paying attention to how nice the upper half of your body is looking rn

iykyk

he does not understand the feeling he is having but he does understand he really really really wants to kiss you

several times

and he wants to touch

you are there like “shoto???”

and hes like yes, anything for you my sweet love, what do you need

“yes love?”

ugh shoto and petnames just

a simp

anyways you guys go to the mall and he’s holding you closer than normal, and even if todo is an oblivious bb, if he happens to come across someone look at you the way only he can look at you?

its over lol burn down the mall

what was SUPPOSED a lil intimate lunchtime behind the mall in a more empty area turns into spicy todo

Sighing as he shifted on the bench, phone in hand as he prepared to text his fashionably late girlfriend, Shoto realized someone was approaching him, a white dress spotted with pink flowers filled his vision and his brows furrowed. Shoto opened his mouth to speak to the stranger, looking up only to realize it was no stranger.

It was his fashionably late girlfriend.

Shoto couldn’t help but straighten his back at the sight of her, mouth gaping open as he eyed her appearance. This was... abnormal. He rarely took note of her outfits, however he’d never seen so much bare skin, that much he knew.

Y/N simply pressed a kiss to his cheek, as though nothing was amiss, she began to speak of the difficulty she experienced on the way to the mall. Shoto failed to pay attention though, his eyes lingering on her upper body as he nodded along in the midst of his shock.

“Anyways, would you mind if we ate first?” The breeze blew her hair slightly, and Y/N basked in the sun, “maybe we could eat outside.” She suggested.

Snapping out of his trance, Shoto nodded rapidly, “of course, love.”

Y/N beamed at him, extending a hand for him, which he accepted, pressing a kiss to it before sitting up.

This was also... abnormal. Shoto never deprived her of affection, but in public it was rare for him to kiss her and he just- Y/N tried to shake herself of these thoughts, but couldn’t help the warmth that she felt spread across her cheeks as they began to head inside the mall. When they made it to the food court Y/N selected a soba place, bringing a smile onto Shoto’s face, though when she tried to pay, Shoto had already been tipping the person at the cashier $100.

As Y/N had previously suggested, the two made their way outside, and as Shoto suggested, they found a more desolate space to enjoy their food. They had ended up behind the mall in a small, unbothered, field. He’d stopped by a store to purchase and blanket, and Y/N couldn’t help but get excited at the concept of a makeshift picnic. The pair sat down on the blanket, placing the bag of food down.

Shoto couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto his face as he looked at her, “you look beautiful.” He complimented, crossing his legs.

Y/N beamed up at him, “thank you, Shoto.” She leaned forwards, on her hands and knees as she pressed a kiss onto his lips. Shoto pulls away momentarily, only for his hands to find their way onto her face, deepening the kiss.

Pulling away, Y/N raises a brow, “you’re awfully affectionate today.” She points out, moving to sit down closer to him as she brings a hand to play with his hair.

“Well, I want to touch you.” Comes his response, and in that moment Y/N contemplates cursing Shoto out for his bluntness, though she’s distracted when one of his hands comes to her thigh, “may I?”

Oh god.

Y/N nods, enjoying this side of Shoto as he brings his other hand under her other thigh, pulling her into his lap before pressing another kiss to her lips. Shoto sighs contentedly at this, and Y/N’s hand remains in his hair, tugging gently at the bicolored locks. Meanwhile, his hands wander her body in wonder as he breaks the kiss to place his lips on her neck. Y/N can’t help but lean her neck further back.

“Happy?” She mumbled as he pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

Shoto looks up at her to respond, “very.”

A/N: this is my favorite thing it was literally so fun to write omg

7K notes · View notes

harryspet · 3 years

Text

off to the races (2) s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stripper!reader, ddlg, daddy!steve, abduction/kidnapping, mafia boss steve, bondage, a hint of peter x reader, toxic/abusive relationship, hella angst, little editing

A/N: im mentally shutting down because of school but at least i have mob!steve :)

In which you don’t want to be Daddy’s secret anymore.

word count: 3.5k

main masterlist

taglist: @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @disaster-rose @sexyxseabassx @marvelmaree

“Woah, dude, your room is awesome. Awe, you have all the good movies. I haven’t seen The Jungle Book in forever!”

“Peter, look!” You waved him over to the window, ignoring his astonishment for the paradise Steve had created for you. Peter stood there dumbly for a moment before walking over to the window beside your bed.

You heard the loud whirring of helicopter spinning blades echoing through the room even with the window closed. It was landing in the field behind the manor and you were questioning why Steve was making such a grand entrance today. You’d been stuck in this house for three weeks now and nothing this exciting had happened yet, “Who’s helicopter is that?” You looked back at Peter who’d crossed his arm nervously.

“Uhm … probably … maybe-” You scoffed, before looking back at the view. The helicopter was a sleek, black color and, as you narrowed, your eyes could make out some words written in gold.

“Stuh …. Stark …. Industries. Stark Industries,” You were calm as you took in the info before the realization hit you, “Stark Industries! Is Tony Stark here? Holy …. pancakes.”

Peter smiled, seemingly amused by your excitement, “Pancakes?”

“Steve doesn’t like it when I-” You stopped yourself from explaining, realizing there was a bigger situation at hand, “We have to go check things out. Get a closer look!”

“No way,” Peter shook his head, “I’m here to make sure you stay in this room.”

You rolled your eyes, “So Tony Stark must be here then, right?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Peter pressed his lips together like he was struggling to hold in all the secrets he knew.

“How the hell does Steve know Tony Stark? Stark is dirty too? I should’ve known … flipping rich people.”

“Flipping?”

You took a step toward him and despite the fact you were wearing a pair of fairy wings, he still seemed intimidated by you, “What do you want, huh? A raise?”

“Uhm … I don’t think you can do that … can you?”

“Of course I can. Steve is wrapped around my finger.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow, “But he’s Steve Rogers …”

“Look around this room for goodness sake! He does anything I want. If I tell him all about how you’re a great worker, how you’re a good friend to me, he’ll surely be appreciative. Might even give you a promotion and maybe you won't have to play babysitter anymore.”

He considers it just for a moment, “If he does anything you want then why are you locked in this house?”

“Fine, fine, so I don’t have complete control but I have some. I could be helpful to you in the future!”

“Y/N, if something went wrong he’d probably chop me up into little pieces and send them to my Aunt. Or he’d chop up my aunt and make me watch … depends on the kinda mood he’s in.”

You stared back at him, trying not to let the look on your face falter, “ … I’ll give you my movie collection?”

“I’m sorry but-”

“It’s my birthday soon?”

“I can’t,” Peter stated, sighing, “I’ve got pressure on me right now, and things have to go right tonight. It’s like a huge deal. I never get to go to stuff and the party is-” He stopped his rambling when he realized he’d said too much.

“Party?” Peter opened his mouth and closed it again. He turned away from you, eyes wide, and made his way to the door. Of course, you chased after him, placing yourself between him and the door, “What party?”

“Please move,” Peter begged, “I really can’t talk about it.”

“I won’t say anything, I promise!” You were the one begging now, “He doesn’t tell me anything at all. Can you imagine how I’m feeling? I’ll do everything you say, I won’t try anything, I just want to know what's going on …. please?”

“Steve can’t know,” You nodded eagerly and he finally gave in, probably because of your spectacular puppy dog eyes, “Tony Stark is having a party tonight, that’s where Steve’s going, and most of us are going to. A pretty important deal is happening.”

“Why doesn’t Steve want me to go?” You frowned a bit.

“I don’t think he wants anybody to know about you, to keep you safe, that kind of thing.”

“Right,” You nodded, “Even if I go crazy while he does that.”

Peter looked sympathetic, “I’m sorry.”

“I know this thing with me and Steve is not ordinary but is it crazy of me to not want to be a secret? Even after everything …”

You could tell Peter wasn’t expecting a deep question nor did he expect you’d confide in him, “I don’t think so,” Peter was trying to understand, you could see it in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure, “Obviously … you - uhm - care about him. I wouldn’t want to be the secret of someone I care about.”

He was taken aback when you suddenly hugged him. Unsure if he could hug you back, he awkwardly patted your shoulder which made you giggle, “Can I paint your nails?”

“What? No.”

“I have colors that aren’t girly.” “Hmm … can you do cool stuff like the shapes and sparkles?”

“Of course,” You smiled, “Step into my salon.”

“I didn’t get my sticker this week,” You bounced back from your toes to your heels, watching Steve as he got ready in his closet. He was fixing his tie in the mirror, making sure it was absolutely perfect, along with the rest of the look. Freshly trimmed beard and an aftershave that smells intoxicating. He smelt like money and looked like it too. That’s probably exactly how you would want to look in front of Tony Stark.

“You skipped dinner two days in a row, doll.”

You were frowning but it wasn’t like he was focused on you anyways, “But I did better after that,” You whined.

“I know, baby, you can try again next week.”

“Maybe if you were here then I wouldn’t have missed it,” You whispered, playing with your fingernails, “But I’m stuck here and you get to go out and have your fun.”

“Have my fun?” He questioned, buttoning up his jacket.

“You get home so late … I’m sure you go to your clubs, booze it up and talk to girls.”

He chuckled a bit, “You think I’m flirting with other women?”

“I don’t think, I know,” You leaned against the doorway, “You’re a guy, aren’t you? That’s what you do.”

He finally turned to you, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was as handsome as ever, like a movie star, “Doll, my days are long because I’m traveling from here to the city every day. I want to fall asleep and wake up with you. There isn’t and never will be anyone who I’d rather do that with.”

As he came closer, you knew he was going to lift you into his arms. Ever since he took you from the club and you sobbed into his shoulders, you’d find solace in his arms. Even if his hands were causing your hurting, they still felt warm and loving, “You don’t mean that,” You whispered, muffled against his shoulder.

“What can I do to prove it to you?”

“Take me with you,” You said and you felt him stiffen.

“It’s not safe,” He tried to explain.

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

“No, no,” He rushed out, carrying you out of the closet and into the bedroom. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because of what I do, what I used to do-”

“No, Y/N. I’ve never felt that way,” His tone was more concerned that it ever had been before, “Look at me, please?”

Begrudgingly, you lifted your head. You hated that you were feeling jealous or inadequate, “You took care of yourself all these years and I know you still can,” He continued, “Let me protect you now.”

“I’m not a baby.”

Steve could sense the small bit of pride still left in you and decided not to push you on it anymore, “Could’ve fooled me,” Steve smiled slightly, bouncing you in his arms, “Let me tuck you in, grumpy.”

“The sun just set!”

“It wasn’t actually a request,” He was already carrying you away.

“Wait, wait, wait,” You resisted, “Can I sleep in here? I’ll go to sleep right away, I promise.”Steve stopped, thinking it over for a moment, “I like that the … sheets smell like you, Daddy,” You added, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t fully a lie but you had other motives for not wanting to go back to your room. For one, your room locked from the outside and his didn’t. Besides that, you were almost sure that one of your stuffed bears had a camera inside its eye.

Steve tucked you into his california king-sized bed that night and watched you fall asleep until it was time for him to go. You felt the kiss he pressed to your forehead and, for a brief moment, you thought about changing your plans.

That feeling didn’t last long.

For such an expensive car, you thought your ride would be a lot smoother and much more comfortable. Turns out, hiding in any trunk, no matter how luxurious, behind big boxes of unknown items, was not a pleasant experience. An hour into the drive, you finally decided that you’d had enough and you needed to get the feeling back into your limbs. Besides that, you needed to check and make sure that your hair and makeup stayed in place.

When you climbed over the seat from the trunk to the backseat, the car instantly swerved before the driver corrected its path, “Y/N, holy shit!” Peter shouted, obviously frightened out of his mind but you were focused on making sure all the layers of your dress made it safely back into their places, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”

“Oh, calm down,” You said, looking at him through the rearview, “Just keep driving.”

“Are you out of your mind? If Steve sees you he’s going flip his shit!”

“Peter, you okay in there, kid?” You heard Bucky’s staticky voice over Peter’s radio. The younger man picked it up and answered, his eyes still focused on you.

You placed a finger over your lips and Peter gave you a death stare, “Yeah, I’m fine … I thought I saw a squirrel.”

A caravan of three cars surrounded Steve’s car as they all drove down this dark, winding road that you assumed would lead to Tony Stark’s mansion, “Did you not comprehend a single word I said?” Peter shouted, “Do you want me to get killed?”

“This is my problem,” You said, “Steve will know that you had nothing to do with it, I promise. But tonight is going to go super well so it won’t even matter. Steve is going to see me and realize he’s crazy not to show me off and then we’re going to go to the party and I’m going to charm everyone with my personality which is going to make him a ton of friends and even more money. Everyone wins.”

Peter was shaking his head the entire time as he listened to your rambling, “Y/N, I understand that you want to be more to Steve and you don’t want to be in the dark but this isn’t the way! This isn’t some charity event or some art gala, these are dangerous people.”

“But Tony Stark-”

“Is as dirty as it gets,” Your heart began to race a bit, “And Steve cannot just let everyone know his biggest weakness, even if they are his allies.”

His biggest weakness.

Suddenly, your mind was racing with thoughts of moments with Steve. Meeting him, going on your first dates, the hotel meetings, and the passionate kisses that always left you feeling like he felt more about you than he admitted. You never saw yourself as his weakness.

I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you.

When you snapped out of your trance, Peter had his walkie-talkie pressed to his chin, “Guys, uhm, we have a stowaway,” You slumped back in your seat, and when the car eventually came to a stop, you wished you were still tucked away in Steve’s bed. You think Peter was calling your name, probably apologizing and telling you how he had to follow orders but, honestly, you had tuned him out, “I-I don’t know …. I thought I checked everything …”

Your dress was adorable too, covered in pastels, while still remaining elegant. You imagined Steve's heart with flutter at the sight of you, instead, he was fuming. He was always so stoic, so full of composure, that the change frightened you. He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you from the backseat, and slamming the door shut. Pressed against the car, you looked into those blue-green eyes that were anything except nice.

“I didn’t mean to for all this,” Was all you could muster up the courage to say, “I just wanted to come with you-”

He shushed you before you got your words out, “We’ll talk about it later.”

You wished he would just yell at you now. He could bend you over right now and you’d prefer that over his silence and the obvious disappointment in his tone, “Later? But-” He pulled you away from the car and you stumbled in your heels as he pulled you along the dark road.

He brought you towards the last car in the caravan and Sam stepped out from behind it, closing the trunk, before handing something shiny to Steve, “What are you doing?” You asked shakily, the cold wind of the night blowing your dress.

“Turn around, face the car,” He ordered you and you feared whatever punishment you were about to receive would be worse if you disobeyed him. Slowly, you turned around and he wasted no time grabbing your wrist. You heard the metal click of handcuffs as they tightened around your wrist. You felt his strong hands on your waist and, as he lifted your dress, you assumed the worst. Your panties slipped down and as Steve lowered himself with them.

“Steve, please talk to me?”

To your surprise, as you stepped out of your underwear, you felt the click of metal around your ankles. When he stood back up, he grabbed your arm again, pulling you back so you were pressed against his chest, “Daddy will deal with you later,” His breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine, “Don’t worry, doll … open your mouth.”

“If you just let me explain-”

You weren’t sure why you even wanted to. He left your brain scrambled and wondering why you even did the things that you did.

“I won’t ask you again.”

Your lips parted and you realized he was forcing your panties into your mouth. The next thing that you knew, you were lying in the back seat of that car, your wrist hogtied to your ankles. And you thought sitting in the trunk would be uncomfortable. You were struggling and calling out for him and, as you expected, you were ignored.

“Get her back as fast as you can. I’ll keep things short with Stark,” Were the last words you heard before the door shut close and all your screaming was muffled.

You weren’t sure at which point you’d fallen asleep. As you laid there tied up, you thought a lot about him since there was nothing else to think about. You weren’t sure how he could love you and be so cruel at the same time.

That next morning, you awoke to sore limbs and makeup staining your pillow. Even though the car ride back was hell, you knew your punishment wasn’t over. You debated even getting out of bed, knowing what was to come.

You finally mustered the energy to clean yourself up, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. When you stepped back into your room, you were taken aback by what was sitting in the middle of your room. A giant, life-size brown bear was happily perched before your bed, holding balloons and a Tiffany’s gift bag.

It was exactly the opposite of what you were expecting today. You approached it cautiously, decided to sit and open up the present. You handled the bag carefully, finding an elegant white card sitting inside.

For my favorite girl on her birthday.

Love, Daddy.

You sighed, knowing he probably picked all of this out before you betrayed him and probably ruined any sort of trust he had between you. You hadn’t even realized it was your birthday which was probably due to the fact that you had no phone or any contact with the outside world. There was also a jewelry box inside, a gorgeous, rose-gold tennis bracelet inside.

As you snapped it around your wrist, covering your bruises, you promised not to ask how much it cost. It would probably make you feel even worse about yesterday.

You finished getting dressed, deciding to head downstairs for breakfast. You found Steve sitting at a table out by the pool, reading through a newspaper like a grandpa. It seemed like he was expecting you because there were pancakes and eggs waiting on the table, “Morning,” You greeted awkwardly.

“Good morning, doll. Happy Birthday,” He responded, his eyes still focused on the newspaper.

“Thanks,” Taking a seat in front of him, you instantly moved to grab the syrup, but the rings on his finger caught your attention. Below, you could see his knuckles were red and purple, bruised like he’d been punching something … or someone. “Your hands …”

He folded his newspaper, taking a look at them himself. It didn’t seem to faze him as he folded them on his stomach, leaning back in his chair, “Your wrist,” He changed the subject and you wondered if he was amused by the fear in your eyes, “Do you like my gift?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, I love it … thank you,” Your mind was elsewhere, “What happened to your hands? Is that from last night?”

“Last night is a blur. I was so angry after your little stunt, I had to have a few drinks to even get through the rest of the night.”

“Really?” You tried to hold in your scoff, “You seem very chipper today.”

“Only because I get to see your beautiful face,” He countered, smirking.

Your eyes narrowed at him, “What did you do?”

“That’s a broad question-”

“Did you hurt him?”

“Him?” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You mean Peter? I thought about it … I’m still thinking about it actually. If he was smarter, yesterday would have never happened but you must’ve been pretty convincing. Poor kid, he probably thought you liked him.”

“None of it was his fault! I-I was just being stupid, I was using him and he was just trying to be a good guy. Steve, please.”

“If I did, you would probably start to actually listen. You’d never try one of those crazy stunts ever again-”

“I will listen! No more stunts, I’ll be an angel from now on,” You stood up from your chair, moving around the table, “I know you’re just trying to protect me. Peter tried to tell me that and I should’ve listened.” You grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“That’s all I want,” He added sincerely and you nodded.

“I’ll pinky promise,” With your other hand, you held out your pinky. You thought Peter would be your way out but, here you were, begging to stay in order to keep him alive. Your pinkies wrapped around each other and you climbed into his lap. You kissed the sides of his mouth before kissing his lips.

“Soon, we’ll take a trip together, I know you’re itching to get away.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You kissed his lips again, “Your hands … what actually happened?”

“Punching bag,” He easily explained although you were expecting a tale of horror. Holding his hand, you brought his fist to your lips, kissing them gently, “That probably wouldn’t have happened a year ago … I think you make me more gentle.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think? Turning a beast into a prince.”

“For some reason, I have faith in you.”

“Peter!” You perked up as soon as he entered the living room, not realizing how grateful to see that he was still in one piece. Sam, Bucky, and Steve seemed to exchange confused glances from their places on the couch.

Peter seemed baffled as well, “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No, we’re about to watch Coco. Wanna join?”

“There’s popcorn,” Sam added, stuffing his face.

“And cookies,” Bucky chimed in.

Peter smiled, unsure, as he looked to Steve for permission, “Join us, son.”

“Awesome,” Peter clapped, making his way over to the couch, “This one always makes me cry.”

“Y/N, I thought you said this one wasn’t sad,” Bucky eyed you. You shrugged, snuggling yourself further into Steve’s side. You tried to hide a mischievous smile and act like you weren’t hoping to see three grown men tear up from a Disney movie.

“Okay, press play,” You tapped Steve’s chest and he raised the remote.

“Wait,” Steve paused, “Are all three of your nails painted?”

i’m thinking maybe i’ll make a christmas themed part 3, we shall see :)

#dark fic #dark!steve #dark!steve rogers #Steve Rogers #mob!steve #mob!stucky x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #dark steve x reader #peter parker x reader #mafia!bucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #peter parker #black!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x reader

2K notes · View notes

jaeminlore · 3 years

Text

Landslide | Mark Lee

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

words: 7.1k+

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

warnings: talk of absent fathers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You mean that?”

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

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

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

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

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

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

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

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

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

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

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

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

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flash is on.

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

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

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

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

837 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

The 13th Hour

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer conduct a 12-hour sexual experiment Category: SMUT (this isn’t as hardcore as it could have been, but it’s still explicit, so 18+ only) Warnings: Some language, Sex (edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, female receiving oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare) Word Count: 3.8k

Full Request: “...Okay... Spencer running a little experiment on you, seeing how many times he can edge you... and then how many times he can make you cum, being all clinical and scientific about it, I just can’t get the idea out of my head! Congrats on 1k🥰🥰🥰” — @bluesunrise02

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I’ve read something similar to this before, but I can’t for the life of me remember whose post it was, so if any of you remember, or know of another concept like this, please let me know! I hope this isn’t too similar, I did try to make it a little different than what I remember from the other fic. I hope you enjoy it! Also, DISCLAIMER! I’m... not really sure if it’s realistic for this to happen in 12 hours, so excuse me if that’s a little out there. I hope it’s okay!

***

HOUR 1

It was something the two of you had talked about before, but with both your crazy schedules, it was hard to find the time. But once there was a weekend where you and Spencer realized you both had off, there was no question about it. This was your time.

There was a notebook in his hands as he examined your body, laid out perfectly for him to do whatever he wanted. Though, seeing him writing things down now seemed strange considering he wasn't actually doing anything.

"What could you possibly be taking note of right now?" you questioned, verbalizing your minor concern.

He just looked up from his work and smirked at you, only for a few seconds before he went back, jotting something else down.

To experiment on your own, you closed your legs and rubbed your thighs together, hoping he'd get the signal.

The second he put his hands on your knees to spread your legs open again, you almost broke down right there. Because you finally realized why he was talking forever to get started.

He was making you wait for it. Getting you excited and antsy.

"Keep 'em open for me, sweet girl," he said softly as he ran the tip of his pencil over your bare thighs. The sensation admittedly made you clench around nothing, and he smiled, returning to write something down.

But then he was done teasing. He set the notebook and pencil down and sat beside you, making sure you looked him in the eyes before he spoke. "Are you sure you still want to go through with this? You know whenever you feel like it, you just say the safeword and we'll stop."

You smiled up at him with a slight nod and reached out to grab his hand. "I'm ready when you are, Doc."

He squeezed your hand and leaned down to kiss you sweetly. Though, the sweetness didn't last. After you started to get squirmy, his hands gently roaming your bare body as he kissed you for about a half hour—Yes, a half hour—he relented, trailing his kisses down to the insides of your thighs. By the time he actually truly touched you, you were already a whimpering mess.

If that was any indication as to how the rest of the day would go, you were in trouble. Good trouble, sure, but trouble nonetheless.

He took it easy, gently swiping his tongue out to tease your clit as his middle finger slowly—and torturously so—entered in and out of you. Whenever he could tell that you were getting closer to orgasm, he pulled back, pressing gentle kisses to the insides of your thighs again and then returning to his work sometime later.

This was a cycle that kept repeating until about another half hour had passed, and Spencer retreated to take more notes.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, brushing the hair from your face.

You smiled up at him, a little frustrated at not being able to get off, but blissed out nonetheless at all the build-up. "Mhm...

HOUR 5

By now he'd brought out the weakest vibrator you had, keeping it on a low setting as he alternated between pressing it to your clit and pumping it in and out of you. In between hours, you'd been drinking water and eaten a few decent snacks to keep yourself hydrated and fed.

You were nearing the end of the first half of the day, and after this next hour you'd be able to stop for an hour to eat lunch and take a break.

But you couldn't focus on that right now.

No, right now you were too busy gasping and moaning out every time Spencer's tongue flicked and swirled over your clit as his fingers worked the vibrator in and out of your body.

The pressure was building and building, and like it had become second nature at this point, you tapped his head to let him know you were on the brink. So he pulled away completely, leaving you whimpering and sweating.

He turned the vibrator off and came to sit next to you rather than in front of you. His hand grazed your cheek as he looked down at you, his gentle and caring nature instantly calming you down.

"Keep going?" he asked softly, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You kissed it and nodded, knowing you could hold out for another forty minutes or so. "I can do it."

"I know you can, sweet girl. Just a little longer, and then we can take a break."

He kissed you sweetly again before returning to his spot in front of you, and the sound of the vibrator turning on immediately set your insides aflame.

This time, he pressed it to your clit, and you jumped at the sensation. And as if that wasn't enough, he leaned forward and added his tongue to the mix, both of them completely overtaking your senses and sending you into a tailspin.

It didn't take very long for you to need to tap his head again, and he chuckled as he pulled away, leaning into your thigh. "So soon already, baby?" he mused.

"I can take it, I just... I need... more frequent breaks," you breathed, trying to look up at him and failing to keep your head up.

"Oh, that's gonna make the second half of this little experiment so much fun," he mused again, and then dove head-first back into said experiment.

HOUR 6

You were sitting at the kitchen table, and your legs felt like they might fall off. When you told Spencer this, he laughed and reassured you that you'd be fine, but let you know kindly that if you didn't want to go through with the rest of this and stop for the day, that was more than okay, too.

He made you toast and cereal for lunch, despite his protests to get you to eat something a bit more sustainable. But you insisted that you had to have Lucky Charms and toast, and really, who was he to say no to you?

It didn't take long for you to eat, so the both of you spent the rest of your hour-long break cuddled on the couch. You were wrapped in a soft new robe he'd just bought you for an anniversary present, snuggled into his side as he rubbed your head, his fingers brushing through your hair and almost making you fall asleep. And you probably would have, too, if not for the fact that you knew what was coming next.

Despite the slight exhaustion that was starting to wash over you, it kept you awake and alive with electricity just thinking about what the next few hours would entail.

HOUR 8

You'd ended up dozing off a little longer than expected, no doubt throwing off your experiment a little bit, but once you woke up on the couch to find Spencer taking more notes in his book, the feeling you had (relaxed and refreshed and ready to go again) let you know it was worth it.

"Can I see what you're writing?" you mumbled, reaching out to pull him closer to you.

"You can tomorrow. I want you to be as unbiased as possible, so you're gonna have to wait."

You kissed his neck and nuzzled into it, already feeling replenished and ready for phase 2. "Whatever you say, Doctor," you hummed into his skin.

About 20 minutes of making out on the couch, some water, and a bathroom break later, you found yourself perched on the bed again, this time leaning against the headboard and toying the hem of your robe, which you'd left on and open, per your boyfriend's request.

He watched you intently as your hands started to roam, slightly pushing the silk aside to expose your breasts and then gently kneading them. Under his intense staring you felt yourself grow wet again already, and it was... well, intense, for lack of a better word.

After being edged for five hours straight, even with a decent break in between, everything that was happening seemed to be amplified, every sense heightened so that with every touch and even every look, it likely wouldn't take long for you to start falling apart again.

And you couldn't wait.

Rather than tell Spencer this, you showed him, spreading your legs wide and pouting, running your hands down your front and then resting your fingers promptly at the crease of your thighs.

"Eager already?" he laughed, writing something down.

"Mhm," you whined in earnest, though you'd have been lying if you said you didn't do it to catch his attention, too.

Whether that's what did it or not, you were excited to see that he set the notebook down and was making his way to nestle between your legs once more. As he kissed the insides of your right thigh you reached out to run your fingers through his hair.

"You remember your safeword if anything gets to be too much?" he asked, pausing his trail of kisses to look you in the eye.

You nodded, repeating the word, "Raven." The day you walked into the BAU for the first time, the first time you met, he was reading The Raven, and the two of you had a decent discussion about it for hours once you'd had some free time.

And even that was before the both of you had realized just how compatible you two were. You shared a lot of the same interests, and where you didn't know about something, he'd teach you, and vice versa.

That philosophy also happened to extend into your sex lives.

You didn't even really know you were into edging and overstimulation until one night Spencer would not stop teasing you, bringing you to the edge just to pull back until you were begging for him to finish the job.

Now look at where you were.

His finger teasing your pussy and gathering the slickness that had unsurprisingly already started to form there brought you out of your fond daydream. You looked down at him, sighing out at the way he looked in that moment and the way he made you feel. And when his middle and ring fingers slowly pushed into you, his mouth dropping open and forming a small 'o' as he worked so curiously, you start to realize just how lucky you'd gotten.

HOUR 10

"Fuck, baby, please!"

Spencer came to a halt then, keeping himself buried deep inside of you as you gasped out for air.

"You wanna cum again, sweet girl?" he cooed, reaching down to cup your cheek.

You looked up at him and nodded, small whines escaping that closely resembled Mhm.

You'd already cum twice per hour since you'd started phase 2 of this experiment, but with only a few left to go, you pushed through the fatigue and focused on everything else. At first you tried to delay yourself again, thinking that maybe the payoff would be better and the overstimulation wouldn't be as bad, but you were sorely mistaken. After the third time you came, it was clear that there wouldn't be anything you could do unless you stopped it altogether, and you didn't want to. You knew your limits, and if there ever did come a time where you knew it was too much, you knew exactly how to stop it.

It also helped that Spencer was n absolute angel about everything. He always asked if you needed any water, if you were okay to keep going, if you wanted him to slow down or let you take a little break.

You had nothing to worry about.

He started drilling into you again, close to his first orgasm of the day, and you were more than willing to embrace it after having nothing but his hands, mouth, and a vibrator the whole time. Which, of course, was still a damn-near magical experience, but nothing ever compared to the way it felt when he straight-up fucked you. Especially now considering you were practically higher than you'd ever been.

When he did cum inside you for the first time that day, you yelled out, moaning obscenely at how... well, just good it felt. You couldn't think of any other words to describe it, especially while you were on the brink of coming undone yourself. Everything was just so high and sharp and good that you couldn't form proper words.

But you didn't need them.

You came shortly after he did, and Spencer still continued to slowly thrust into you. As his movements slowed, he tilted your head up to look at him, and spoke. "I think you can give me one more before our hour is up, yeah? Just one more, baby?"

"Uh... Uh huh," you breathed, giving him the best smile you could.

When he leaned forward to kiss you, his angle deepened, and you gasped out against his lips. He stayed there, taking sharp, staccato thrusts forward that kept his cum planted deep inside you and quickly started to give you another orgasm.

"You got it, baby, you got it. Let go for me, it's okay..."

His words sent you over the edge, your body finally shuddering with the effects of your sixth orgasm of the day. You clung to his neck, squeezing him until you were sure he couldn't breathe, but nonetheless, he kept at it, encouraging you with sweet words and running his hands gently through your hair.

When you were practically writhing around him in uncomfortable pleasure, he pulled out of you.

You breathed out a shaky sigh of relief against his shoulder, taking in all the sweet whispers he sent in your ear. Eventually your breathing slowed, and together you were both harmonious in slow, gentle breathing. You could have fallen asleep right there.

"I'm gonna pull back to look at you, sweet girl, is that okay?" he asked.

"Uh huh," you offered quietly, loosening your grip on him and allowing him to finally meet your eye again.

His gaze was soft, loving, everything that kept you going.

"Let's take a little break before we finish the rest of this, okay?"

HOUR 12

This was it. This was the homestretch.

After a half-hour break during which Spencer cleaned you up a bit, made sure you were rested and hydrated, and set up for this last hour and a half, he had you on your stomach. Your ass was up in the air, your cheek resting on one pillow while another laid under you for support. It was comfortable, and you knew that it was the best way to end off the experiment.

"You ready for me, pretty girl?" You heard Spencer's voice from behind you, and it made you smile.

"Ready whenever you are, baby," you offered back clearly. You were more than ready for this.

You could practically hear his smile when he said, "That's my girl." His hands ran over your bare ass, and to show that you were in good spirits, you wiggled a little, causing him to laugh as he brought his hands down to your pussy.

The contact made you clench, and a small moan left your lips as he ran his fingers through your wetness.

"I love how eager you are, sweet girl," he mused, continuing his slow back and forth motions from your clit to your opening. And you couldn't help it. You begged. You didn't even really know what in particular you were begging for, just that it was setting your soul on fire not being touched to the fullest extent.

"Please," you cried out, relishing in the way his fingers did touch you, and begging for more.

Thankfully he seemed to be merciful, not wasting any time asking questions and simply getting to work. Two of his fingers slid easily into you, and you moaned out at the sensation. Between that and the small praises you could hear falling from his lips, truthfully you could have fallen asleep. Everything was so high-inducing that it felt like you were floating.

But you didn't fall asleep. You made sure to stay fully aware of what was happening, even if it did feel like time and space were coming in and out of focus sometimes. Besides, that fuzzy feeling was how you'd come to know you were close to orgasm.

It rocked through you like water crashing onto the shore, each new wave of pleasure stronger than the next until it subsided altogether, leaving you with a clean slate in the sand. You were moaning out incoherently into the pillow as you tried to catch your breath, but then smaller, yet still prominent waves met your shore and left you humming as his hips stayed pressed into your ass.

You were coherent enough then to realize that he was coming inside you, and the fuzziness of your surroundings cleared enough for you to hear him calling out your name in sweet, blissed-out whispers. Each syllable was like a prayer, desperate and unwavering as your body relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding inside of you.

But you almost didn't even hear the last part.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

Surprisingly to you, you found yourself unable to respond—the words were forming in your head, but your body and your mouth simply refused to do anything to communicate how you were feeling.

What did come out was, "How... much... time?"

By now Spencer had pulled out and away from you, and was now perched on the bed, beside you while his hand stroked the hair from your face. "Time's up now, sweet girl. You did so well."

HOUR 13

Time, as it turns out, had not been up.

In actuality, the last hour only ended up being fifteen minutes, and upon seeing how exhausted and almost incoherent you were, Spencer decided to call it quits. Not to mention he had been tiring, himself. It gave him ample time to clean you up and get you into a nice, warm bath, though. As you waited for the water to run, he jotted some quick things down in the notebook and then tended to you the rest of the evening.

He washed you up, gave your shoulders and head a nice massage while doing so, and after about a half hour, dressed you in your favorite, comfiest pajamas. Your legs were so weak that he half-carried you to the bed, where you almost passed out on the spot. He'd crawled into bed with you immediately after throwing on a pair of boxers and a tee shirt, and took the time to rub your head, your arms, anywhere that comforted you.

You barely registered them because of how weak you felt, but he whispered praises against your temple, alternating between gentle words and even gentler kisses.

And now, you were well into the thirteenth hour of your experiment, sleeping soundly beside Spencer as he wrote a few more things down in the notebook.

THE NEXT MORNING

He wasn't there when you opened your eyes. It worried you at first, but you saw a note on his pillow that read: Left to grab breakfast. Be back soon. I love you. —S

You smiled lazily, stretching out and instantly feeling how sore your muscles were. Through a wince, you stretched out some more before spotting Spencer's notebook on his bedside table.

And... Well, he did say that you could look at it after the experiment was over, didn't he?

So you climbed over, grabbed the notebook, and flipped it open, your stomach fluttering with butterflies at the thought of what he might have written.

Sure enough, the more you read, the stronger the butterflies got. Your eyes skirted over page after page, detailing in bullet points the filthy things he did to you and how you reacted, every hour a highlight reel of all that he tried and even some of the things you'd said. Some of it you didn't really remember at first, but it slowly started to come back to you as you woke up more, the blush on your cheeks deepening immensely as you read on.

You got near the end of the experiment, and that's when you noticed an added 13th hour.

More than curious as to what that could entail, you read a few paragraphs in Spencer's messy handwriting that sent a shot of warmth straight to your heart.

Y/N has finally fallen asleep. This is the 13th hour we've spent together today since the experiment started, and truthfully I think it's my favorite one. I find that even the intense fire I felt burning through me all day could never compare to the warmth I'm feeling right now, as she sleeps beside me, blissfully unaware of what I'm writing while her breathing softly threatens to lull me to sleep. I can't think of a better feeling, to be surrounded by her presence. It's comforting and warm and beautiful, and that's not even the half of it.

No matter what remarkably devious things I do to her body in the name of sexual experiments, what matters most to me is that at the end of the day, Y/N feels just as comforted and warm and beautiful as she makes me feel. Which is why I think I'll bring her blueberry pancakes tomorrow morning— they're her favorite. And while I'm out, I want to pick up some of her favorite snacks, some flowers, and maybe a stuffed animal or two. And... maybe that's a little much...

But as long as she knows how much I adore her, nothing is ever too much.

Your throat was suddenly tight, and tears threatened to escape, every muscle in your body tense as they tried their hardest to prevent you from actually crying. Maybe the physical intensity of yesterday was to blame, but deep down you knew that Spencer's heartfelt words would always be more powerful than any physical toll on your body, heart, and soul.

You hadn't even registered that he'd come home, his voice snapping you out of your little trance.

"You weren't supposed to see that yet," he said softly with an amused laugh. When you looked up, his hands were holding a bouquet of pink carnations, your favorite.

And with the soft, loving look in his eye, a tear managed to fall down your cheek. "I love you," you whispered through a smile, feeling your body start to break down after holding in all the tears.

"I love you too, sweet girl," he replied, striding over to you in a few steps.

When he reached the edge of the bed, you sat up on your knees and grabbed his face with your hands, bringing his lips to meet yours as the flowers tickled your chest over the thin material of your shirt.

"You're going to smush the flowers," he mumbled against your lips, and you laughed, pulling away to take them from him.

"Thank you, they're beautiful," you said, tilting your head down to instinctively smell them.

Spencer smiled back at you, and the sight made your heart beat a little faster as he said, "Just like you."

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @s1utformgg @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup

tags not working: @takeyourleap-of-faith @emilyprentisslittlewhore

If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment, and I’ll add you!

#mercy 1k celebration #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

574 notes · View notes

honklore · 3 years

Text

landslide | karl jacobs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You mean that?”

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

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

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

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

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

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

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

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

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

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

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flash is on.

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

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

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

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

781 notes · View notes