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actuallyjustabiscuit · 6 months ago

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Ok first of all

Waking up to this nearly gave me a heart attack.

I was already happy with the attention this post got but when I woke up to 99+ notes waiting for me I was like “…The fuck?”. And then I see who’s responsible…and morning instantly made. Thank you Second

For this 👆🏽For this to happen. Ragatha has to actually TALK to Pomni. And that’s gonna be like pulling teeth.

I’m sorry. You’ve opened the floodgates. I now have more to say. Unhinged essay underneath.

I always thought that this part here

meant that Ragatha had officially run out of patience with Pomni and was really hurt for being abandoned TWICE now. (Note: This is where my investment in the story was officially cemented because nothing hooks me in better than unresolved tension between characters).

And for a while in between the Hiatus I was afraid this meant Ragatha’s demeanor towards Pomni would shift into something colder because of resentment.

But the one key detail that kept that fear at mostly at bay was the fact that Ragatha chose to walk and stand next to her

And that got me thinking “Fuck, she’s probably waiting for some kind of apology. Which is pretty reasonable.” And of course Pomni clams up cuz how shitty it must be to realize that there were no ends to justify your means.

And then we get ep. 2 and we almost immediately get this from her

(I shriveled up with love when I saw her use those stupid finger guns)

She’s saying this to Pomni who just woke up from a nightmare (of course she’s not aware of this) and is obviously still too shaken to process anything she’s saying. But after she’s done reassuring her and only gets a confused “Huh?” in response she does this

She immediately deflects. Clearly this was not the response she was hoping for, but she’s too much of a pushover to be more direct about what she wants. “There’s no hard feelings” my ass.

Now this awkward interaction could mean she was secretly hoping Pomni would at least offer an apology to maybe make her feel a little better about being left behind, or it could mean she was expecting Pomni to also forgive her for the bad first day and they can officially clear the air between them.

But since she’s clearly NOT doing ok after everything, and can barely speak even a few words to her, Ragatha probably feels like she has to start doing more to make up for it all. Which could explain her (almost condescending) exuberance with trying to get Pomni into the adventures. But of course, this doesn’t go as planned either.

You guys notice how one of the first things Ragatha says to Pomni are “How’d you sleep?” and “Hope you’re doin’ alright” but doesn’t really give her the opportunity to answer those questions.

Ragatha doesn’t like talking about bad things. I bet if she could have all of her negative emotions surgically removed she would if it meant having to avoid potentially abstracting.

Now compare this with how Pomni starts her convo with Gummigoo

Pomni can clearly see Gummigoo is going through his existential crisis, Gummigoo answers honestly, Pomni gives him the chance to elaborate.

This whole sequence is amazing for further establishing Pomni as a character who is willing to help others. But for her to help, the other person has to admit that there is a problem.

Ragatha couldn’t even admit she was the slightest bit upset at what Pomni did. This whole time she hasn’t really had an honest conversation about what happened between them. In fact she’s been deliberately avoiding it.

It’s so so so great that after an entire episode of Pomni being so aloof and dismissive of Ragatha’s attempts at friendship the one time she actually meets her halfway is when she offers Pomni a place in Kaufmo’s funeral, because it’s the one time Ragatha openly acknowledges the tragedy of what occurred the other day. It’s not just a “doozy” as she put it in the beginning, someone is gone and Ragatha (happy, cheerful, “isn’t this place just so great!” Ragatha) wants to express her grief.

And just to get in Pomni’s head for a bit, that brief glimpse of grief Ragatha was willing to share with her is very important for their budding friendship.

Remember this

(of course you do you simps)

Now it was pretty obvious this was all just a dream, but it’s interesting that this is what Pomni would imagine Ragatha saying if she abstracted. Implying she believes Ragatha had managed to survive this long because she’s always managed to maintain a happy facade, something Pomni knows she herself is not capable of doing.

But now she sees this is not the case, Ragatha is capable and willing to show negative emotions. Now it’s just getting her to talk when prompted that’s gonna be the real challenge.

I’ve been dissecting Ragatha’s character with surgical tools because I am not the least bit normal about this damn doll, and something that I’ve gathered upon rewatch is how much responsibility Ragatha has been taking for Pomni’s first day. Prepare for another character analysis about everyone’s favorite confirmed girl failure

Useless Lesbian jokes aside, it’s so interesting to me how much Ragatha cares about Pomni liking her. To the point where she believes Pomni’s terrible awful no good very bad first day has some relevance to how she thinks Pomni thinks of her.

At first I thought this was just the result of her people pleasing tendencies that needs everyone to like her for her to have any degree of self worth (no I’m not projecting, shut up), but she doesn’t seem to be this pushy about getting along with anyone else.

Another possible reason for this behavior was that she just wants to make the newcomer feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible to lessen the blow of being trapped, and she’s doing such a bad job of it that it’s making her think less of herself for failing. But here she’s specifically talking about the “horrible experience” of having to deal with Kaufmo’s abstraction.

Here Ragatha is literally writhing in pain from glitching after getting her ass handed to her by Kaufmo and she briefly stops Pomni from leaving to get the help she needs to apologize to her about having a bad first day.

Honestly, Pomni’s awkward response to this was hella fitting.

Like, Jesus Christ, Ragatha. Priorities girl.

When I first watched this, I thought her little apology fell under the same category as someone apologizing for hearing bad news, (y’know like a “I’m sorry your dog died” kinda thing) said in a way to express sympathy over a bad situation. But in episode 2, it really feels like she actually blames herself for what happened.

and I think I know why.

It was Ragatha’s idea to go see Kaufmo in the first place and introduce Pomni to him. We know that she honestly believes that participating in the adventures are essential to persevering a person’s sanity. And yet she didn’t suggest to play along with the game Caine left for them. Instead, she thought it would be nice to check up on a friend who was suspiciously absent. And was, according to what Kinger told them before they left, slipping off the deep end.

I know hindsight is 20/20, but these should have been major red flags for her that Kaufmo may not have been alright and they should’ve all probably stayed away. And I think she realized that too late, which is what might’ve led to that awkward apology to Pomni in the hallway.

Kinger is right to reassure her that Pomni doesn’t blame Ragatha for what happened (which is why she thought Ragatha was being weird for apologizing in the first place), but I imagine Ragatha is the type of person who can’t help but dwell on the “should’ve, would’ve, could’ve”s of life. So it makes sense that she would continue to take things personally. And I bet it got even worse after

…yeah. That.

Of course, I don’t think Ragatha could’ve known that was gonna be the outcome. But she was very wary when Pomni suggested it, loudly wondering if that was even “allowed”. But she went along with it cuz it made Pomni happy.

Whelp.

Yeah this woman’s self esteem so about to go into the negatives. Which is why I’m really hoping for a good heart-to-heart between these two. Cuz they both really need it. Ragatha especially.

I think it would really help her to know Pomni wouldn’t want her to feel like less than nothing.

#The brainworms are wiggling again #Help #I hyper fixated too hard and now I’m writing a thesis #Someone please tell me to STFU already

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pluviophile-imagines · 3 years ago

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I saw those tags on your shouto post pluvi,,,,I AM KINDLY ASKING U TO ELABORATE. please (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

it’s a certain kind of agony to be here in shouto’s fancy high-rise condo, sitting with legs crossed on his couch, watching him quietly prepare dinner while you sit and stew in your questions and insecurities.

it isn't as if this is your first time here. in fact, that's kind of part of the problem; you're beginning to spend more time here than at your own apartment, and while it's not something you're entirely opposed to it does create a number of questions which you can't answer yourself and aren't entirely keen on asking aloud.

you and shouto have something. it's not something you've ever attempted to define before, but you've never much cared for that. he's handsome and attentive and just the right amount of weird, easy too talk to and easy to do more than talking with. you've been more-than-talking with him for many months now so you might consider yourself the foremost expert on more-than-talking with number three pro hero shouto.

but herein lies the issue currently sitting heavy in your heart: for all that more-than-talking you've come to realize you want to be more-than-friends too. and, most terrifying of all, you're not sure he's on the same page.

he's remarkably hard to read, for how candid he generally is. and he doesn't tend to volunteer information like that. so you sit in his fancy living room with eyes on but not seeing him diligently making you food, trying to figure out how to best broach the topic.

“shouto,” you call out finally after your minutes of rumination, and watch as his head pulls up to look at you so he can hum lightly in response, giving you a quiet, content little smile. you feel silly saying it—it's cliche, frankly—but you don’t have the time to think of anything better so the words come tumbling out. “what are we?”

for a moment the words don't seem to register. he blinks at you, once and then twice.

"huh?" is all he seems to manage. he looks almost horrified by your question; the expression on his face is enough to make you wither a little inside.

“i’m sorry,” you rush to say, “i, uh—probably shouldn't have—i’ll go—”

“no!”

he’s even faster, voice frantic like you’ve never heard from him before, eyes wide as he rounds the counter to make for where you’re halfway standing on the couch.

“no?”

“i thought—” he cuts himself off, pauses for a moment. his hands reach out to gently push you back down while he takes the seat next to you. then he says your name. “we’ve been dating since november?”

now you’re mortified for an entirely different reason. “what?”

“this is our six month anniversary?” his brows are furrowed, his nose scrunched-up, his lips pursed.

“it is not,” you say, because you couldn’t have been dating someone without your knowledge. it’s absurd.

"you've met my mother," he points out helpfully, or perhaps desperately.

"i—" he's right, you realize. you've met his mother, and his siblings—including, it's dawning on you, a certain infamous ex-villain who you're quite positive a mere fling would not be given the privilege of being introduced to. "holy shit..."

"you're halfway to moving in."

"i know." you bury your head in your hands. "that's why i asked."

he frowns a little. "did i really not ask you? i could've sworn it was before that gala, you joined me so i figured—"

"you asked me to be your date to the gala."

"is there a difference?" he wrinkles his nose more, shaking his head as you stare in disbelief.

"yes."

"hm." he hums, lost in thought. "i suppose this is on me, then, for not making my intentions clear."

you might be inclined to agree, though it's been far to long to be the fault of either one of you solely. still, his admission soothes the ever-increasing anxiety you'd felt leading up to this conversation, and the mortification of the revelation. you're glad, ultimately, that you've brought it up.

he stands suddenly. you watch quizzically, not moving from your own seat until he holds out a hand for you to take so that he can help you up. then he turns and, without letting go of your hand, heads back towards his bedroom.

"what are you doing?" you're following him despite your question as he leads you.

"making my intentions clear."

he rummages around, digging through his dresser until he finds what he's looking for. it's a velvet clamshell box—a jewelry box, clearly, made all the more obvious as he opens it to show you the dainty, elegant necklace within. you gasp as you stare at it, palm coming up to cover your mouth as your gaze snaps back to him.

"oh, it's gorgeous..."

"i'd intended to give it to you tonight. though i suppose it's a bit much for asking you out properly... i'll do it anyway. will you allow me to date you?"

"yes." you nod enthusiastically. "absolutely."

he's already taking it out of its box with dexterous fingers. soon enough it's dangling in his hold, and he's gesturing for you to turn around. you do as he says, tilting your head down to allow him to put it on you.

"god..." you let yourself giggle, a little breathless, the giddiness of todoroki shouto being your boy friend (for real) getting to you just a tad. "this is gonna be one hell of a wedding story."

"we just started dating and you're already thinking about marrying me? isn't that moving a little fast?"

you hit his chest softly with the back of your hand. "watch it, i'll break up with you on our anniversary."

in response, all he does is press a kiss to the nape of your neck. the smile he's giving you can be felt against your skin.

#ask.🌧#tsumooo #pluvi's pals #char.🌧 todoroki #mine.🌧#THANK YOU MONTY ASJKDH #this is v fast but #i am tired #and i will be passing out now #in the morning i will hate this pacing ngl kauhbfsvhk

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shotorozu · 4 years ago

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hullo, hope ur having a great day. Do you know that thing where people’s girlfriend shows their boyfriend how a tampon works? Like they demonstrate using a bottle and show their boyfriends, can I have that for the big three? ty and godbless 😚

how it works

character(s) : midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki

legend : [Y/N = your name] quirk not specific, i used they/them pronouns but Y/N has a 🐱

headcanon type : crack (literally one mildy dirty joke from bakugou but that’s it)

note(s) : anon specified that they meant the main three in another message so,, do not be confused with that part. uhh i don’t use tampons either so how they worked really confused me 💀

»»————-　♡　————-««

midoriya izuku

to start off with this post, i’d say you’d have to show him. like— he’s not the type to straight up ask you how a tampon works

but he is kinda curious so..

he lives with his mom, and only his mom. so it’s not like periods are a totally foreign subject to him. BUT HIS MOM DIDN’T SHOW HIM HOW TAMPONS WORK

and he didn’t have any female friends, or any girlfriends before you so.. yeah.

moving on, he’ll get all red and flustered when you first ask him-

“izuku, do you know how tampons work?” it was wrong of you to ask him while he was STUDYING

“t-tampons??” he’ll immediately drop his pen, the blood rushing to his cheeks immediately.

but, because izuku is quite CURIOUS, he’ll say yes. he probably wouldn’t have gotten the guts to ask you upfront anyway

you prepare a clear reusable cup, and you’d fill it with water as you get ready the tampon

“ok, so this is how it works.”

you say that as a warning, just before you plung the tampon into the water

and izuku’s there, nodding— waiting for you to demonstrate to him how it works he sounded really excited NJWJDWJ

anyways, you dip the tampon into the water— and izuku’s eyes widen like saucers when he sees it EXPAND

holding it up, you show him what it looks like, the size of the tampon expanding twice it’s size in a matter of seconds.

“o-oh.” izuku lets out, startled.

he’ll start glancing back and forth between the wall, and the soaked material— clearly flustered, and also unsure what he’s looking at.

“does it really get that big?” he asks in a whisper like tone, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him

and you just nod, amused by izuku’s face— which is literally like this 😳

needless to say, he has a lot of respect for you. especially if you can use tampons so casually

but at least he knows how it works, but this will probably keep him awake at night for a bit

out of all of the characters in this list, he’s the most mortified (in a way) it’s almost amusing.

todoroki shouto

shouto will just straight up ask you himself.

pure definition of shower thoughts. he thinks a lot in the shower (thus why he’s kind of a conspiracy theorist.)

so he probably thought of that during the shower— and he didn’t really wanna ask just any of his girl classmates.

yeah, he has a sister. but all she ever did was disappear for a few days once a month,

he obviously has his mother too, he wasn’t exactly close to her either because he was isolated from his mom, and even his own siblings

but then he remembers he has you, his s/o so..

he immediately rushing towards you, entering your room in his usual manner, asking you how it works (with his blunt nature of course)

and you’re just like 🤠❓❓ “..why do you wanna know”

shouto just tilts his head, “i thought of it during the shower.” his curiosity quite raw “and.. i have no one else to ask.”

and you can tell he means well so.. you kiss his cheek and stand up “alright! follow me.”

fastforward, you sit on the counter as you fill a clear glass with water, while you prepare the tampon

“you ready, shou?” again, you say that as if you were warning him— but he only nods, watching attentively to see what would happen.

you dip the tampon in the cup, and it immediately absorbs the water— expanding by a lot

the color in shouto’s face drains, and he’s just there like 😦 “woah.”

“it expanded by a lot.”

“yeah, it does that.”

“can you feel it when it expands?” shouto asks, holding the string to check how heavy it is

and unlike the other two in this list, he’s brave enough to actually hold the string, not disgusted whatsoever

“hm.. i don’t know? it feels normal.” you shrug, opting to just look at shouto’s reaction

“i see.” he nods, “thanks, Y/N.” he kisses your cheek, before hoisting you off the counter

he’s glad he knows but.. he has a lot of respect for you if you can wear one every month.

homeboy just thought it just stayed like that the entire time

out of all of the boys, he’s more chill— seeing that for the first time. but he’ll probably ask if you want to use pads out of concern NWNSNSJZ

bakugou katsuki

no.

nope.

he does not want to know.

it probably came across his mind a couple of times before, but as of now? he’s not curious. not in the slightest

it’s not like he thinks periods and tampons are gross. he respects you for dealing with that shit— but he’s just not curious.

on the contrary, you still ask him if he wants to know how tampons work.

in this case, you use pads— but you already know it expands to that size already.

“kats, are you curious as to how tampons work?” you ask him one day, when you guys are just relaxing in your room

he turns his head slowly, looking at you in the eye “... no.”

“why though??”

“don’t you just plug ‘em in, and then take it out?” katsuki rolls his eyes as if it was that simple

“it’s not that simple though,”

“i still don’t wanna know.” katsuki insists, voice gruff “actually.. why are you asking me? don’t ‘cha use pads or some shit?”

he’s right but you choose to ignore him

“so you wanna die one day, knowing you don’t know how tampons work?” you tease, grinning at him

he only rolls his eyes. he doesn’t really want to know, but again— he can’t really resist you anyway

so he finally says yes. “fineee. but make it quick.”

moments later, you’re in the bathroom, filling a clear cup with water. katsuki just stands by the door way, watching you prepare the items

for dramatic effect, you added red food coloring, which earned a scoff from your boyfriend “what’s the food coloring for?”

“dramatic effect. and also accuracy.” bakugou only grimaces

you tell him to go closer, moments before you show him “okay. you’re about to see how this works.”

“just get on with it,” he says, feigning impatience— but you know he’s actually watching

you dip it in, and katsuki had to do a literal double take— watching how a small cylinder turned into a weird.. red floppy sponge

bakugou’s standing there, a hand on his hip like 🤨 “what am i even looking at?” his ears cringe at the sound of it dripping back into the cup

and your face is just 😟 huh BECAUSE YOU USE PADS AJDJWJSJ

“i.. don’t know??” you laugh at his reaction, and he honestly doesn’t wanna hold it even though he knows it’s just water with food coloring

“it was literally a cylinder a second ago.” he comments outloud, brows furrowed and face contorted in utter confusion.

“i know right?” you comment in amusement, “i mean.. i knew how it works but i never saw this in person.”

“ah yeah, it’s because you use diapers.”

katsuki teases. you know he’s just joking, but you still glare at him like 👺

and he just holds his hands up in resignation “sorry.”

in short, it was quite weird to see it expand in real time. but at least bakugou katsuki knows how tampons work.

“but i’m still bigger.” katsuki kisses your temple, before turning around and exiting the bathroom— going back to your bed.

you’re appalled.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, and use my work for audio readings without my permission :))

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jaeminlore · 4 years ago

Text

Landslide | Mark Lee

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

words: 7.1k+

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

warnings: talk of absent fathers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You mean that?”

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

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

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

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

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

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

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

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

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

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

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

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

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flash is on.

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

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

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

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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kiridarling · 4 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

eijirou kirishima | f!reader, DARK CONTENT, drugging, noncon, but also the reader isn't not into it bc like...i have my limits okay, talk of vomit for a sec (no actual vomit), degradation, bondage, size kink, hair pulling, ripping clothes, slut-calling once or twice. minors dni!

— 3k words

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart? Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

"See somethin' you like, Sweetheart?"

"U-Um," you flush a deeper red than the stranger's hair and pray he can't see it under neon red lights. Either way, you've been caught red-handed, and recoil. "Sorry."

The stranger's crimson eyes soften before relaxing into a kind smile, and he lifts a dismissive hand. "I was just messing with you! That's on me."

He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head and the smile grows wider, displaying the rows of predatory sharp teeth that shouldn't look as gentle as they do. You relax in the seat to his right, immediately turning to the bartender to order a funny named a drink. The redhead raises an eyebrow, leaning his arm on the counter.

"A Stranger Danger?" He nearly deadpans.

"Club Special," you shrug. You've never been particularly great at holding your alcohol, but this drink provides just enough punch for a buzz, aka what you need to get through the night. The bartender slides over a tall, rose-dyed wine glass without another word.

"Eijirou Kirishima," the stranger says with his sharp teeth, offering a large hand to shake. He looks comical next to you, all hunched over the neon bar while you sit up straight for your head to reach his shoulder, and as you take the handshake, can't help but notice how his palm eats yours like it's nothing.

"Y/N," you smile. His hand lingers before it pulls away, and he tells the bartender he'll have what you're having.

"So," Eijirou starts once his order has been placed. "You come here often?" You snort at the cheesy line, and the way Eijirou smirks implies he knows just how cliché it is.

"Sometimes," you shrug vaguely. The club's fairly new, so it's not as if you can say you've been going here for years. You lift the drink to your lips, the sugar-crusted rim tickling the corners of your mouth. "You?"

He shrugs, "When I want to get out."

You nod at that and offer him your glass with a raised eyebrow. Eijirou shakes his head, lifting a glass of his own. Your nose scrunches.

"Beer?"

He takes a sip before answering, lips white from the foam before his tongue licks them over, "Stella Artois. Want some?"

Your eyes shift between your dainty glass and his not-so-dainty one before you snort, "I'll pass."

Eijirou shrugs, reclining back in his seat and beer in hand, "Suit yourself."

You pat your back pocket for your phone, but when you realize there's a loss of weight on one side, you pat your right buttcheek to realize you left your wallet in the car. Fuck.

"Uh, hey," you say, knocking the redhead on the shoulder. You figure he's trustworthy enough, and the bartender always keeps an eye out for you anyway. "I'll be right back—left my wallet in the car."

Eijirou nods at that as you push away from the counter practically shaking your head at how distracted you can be sometimes. Seriously, your wallet?

At least the bartender didn't ask for your ID. Yikes.

You slam the car door shut with a huff, wallet finally in hand as you trudge back to the bar. When you return, Eijirou's got the beer lifted to his lips and greets you with a small wave as you sit down.

"Long time no see."

You giggle while grabbing your glass by the neck. As the club starts to fill out, you begin to shrink into your shell—throwing the entire drink down the hatch fixes you right up, though.

"Oh wow okay, looks like we're just going for the whole thing, then," Eijirou chuckles as he takes a much more civilized sip of his. You smack your lips with a satisfied aah.

"Gotta get the buzz going somehow," you wink, before getting comfortable in your seat. Alcohol warms your veins already, prompting your body to start pulse in time with the bass of the music. Eijirou smiles, watching you.

"You like this song?" he asks softly, before adjusting so you're both sat the same way—elbows and backs against the counter, facing the club and all its chaos. You shrug.

"I guess. I've never heard it 'till now."

He tosses his head back onto his muscled shoulders in a chuckle, and you watch the entire act in slow motion. The glint of his teeth in the neon lights, how his chest balloons and quivers under the weight of a bellow. You find yourself staring much harder than you intend to, but he doesn't seem to notice, eyes locked on the dance floor.

"Touché, touché," he says upon recovery. The alcohol in your veins turns to syrup and time starts to blur more than you're used to it being, body so light and weightless you have to pat the chair to make sure you aren't floating. That usually doesn't happen.

"You okay?" Eijirou frowns when you falter. You pull a smile and nod.

"Mhm," you say, though silently panicking when you feel like you're falling out of your seat. You grip the countertop just in case. "Mhm, yeah."

He raises an eyebrow, "You sure?"

"Yeah," you nod, before clearing your throat. Your body flashes hot then cold, and you wonder if you shouldn't have taken that drink down like you did. "I'm um—I'm going to go to the bathroom, one sec."

You're unsure if Eijirou says something as you leave because you pour all your energy into stumbling across the obnoxiously loud club, filled with too much bass and pandemonium for your liking. You're suddenly overwhelmed by everything and your esophagus goes numb at the thought of vomiting, but you make it to the singles bathroom just in time to shut the door and control your goddamn stomach.

With a sigh, you rest your head against the cool sink. The incessant buzz of the overhead lights is much, much better.

You take a deep breath and flick on the sink. Ensuring it's as freezing as it can possibly go, you launch some into your face. You don't even consider ruining the amount of work that went into your outfit today, because ultimately you aren't sober enough to give a shit, blinking back at your reflection to find it fairly blurry. You nearly stumble and fall, but your vice grip on the counter keeps you alive.

"You okay?"

The second you step back into the noisy club, Eijirou's there—with his sweet sharp-toothed smile, he's posted next to the bathroom door and you find yourself grappling his jacket for stability.

"Whoa—Careful now," He chuckles at your sloppiness with a lifted eyebrow. You blink once, twice—the spots floating in your line of vision don't disappear. His hands snake around your waist to keep you from falling and eating shit, and you dig your forehead into his muscled chest.

"Gotta—I gotta go home."

"Okay," Eijirou soothes softly upon realizing how utterly shit-faced you are. "How'd you get here?"

"Walked," you groan and nearly cry, looking up at him with a pout. Eijirou coos.

"Well, no offense but I don't think you're good to walk on your own, Sweetheart."

His voice is heady with something you can't quite recognize, but it's comfortable, and you melt into his chest with a weak nod.

"Mhm."

"Can I help you home?" He offers with a kind smile. You nod, fists gripping his shirt in tufts.

"Yes please."

"Oop—careful."

"I am al—hic—always so fu—fucking careful," you slur. Your body has gone so numb that Eijirou gave up and resorted to carrying you bridal style the rest of the way instead. But he has to set you down so you can stuff your keys in the door, but you can't even do that right.

"Need me to do it?"

"No!" You puff your cheeks, trying twice more before you successfully get it in the keyhole. "'Mma strong independent woman who don' nee' no mahn."

Eijirou chuckles, and using his big shoulder, opens the door to chauffeur you inside. Neither of you get very far, maybe halfway to your room, before your legs give out and the only thing that saves you is the hand on your waist.

"Down this hall?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod so profusely it gives you a temporary headache.

You blink and you're in your bedroom, your front hitting the sheets with a soft thump. Huh. Maybe he carried you the rest of the way. With a face full of pillows, you groan at the new and improved position as you feel the bed dip behind you, and Eijirou grab both of your wrists.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

Something soft and silk ties your fists behind your back. You recognize the material as the belt from your robe, tossed carelessly on your bed during the chaos that ensues every time you get ready for the club. It's not until you try to pull your hands apart that you realize they're tied tight.

"Pulling is only going to make it tighter," Eijirou says with an absentminded sigh, like he's done this before, and trepidation spikes in your chest once he raises your hipbone and slides a pillow underneath to angle them, the only way you could break free—especially with the new grip on your hips.

"Ei—" you try to squirm, legs kicking blindly into the space behind you, but once he seizes your thighs he's sitting on your calves to keep you in place. There's the undeniable sound of cloth ripping and your behind is suddenly met with cool air, prompting a shiver or two.

"Eijirou, what are yo—"

You're interrupted by a stinging slap to your ass and a growl. "Don't tell me I gotta gag your pretty mouth too, Sweetheart."

His voice is low and sharp with a threat, his grip tightening around your thighs.

"You're soaked already? Fuck...and I bet you taste so sweet too..." he bites back a groan in thought, sliding a finger down your slit.

He clicks his tongue but it's damn near mocking. You gasp as he fills you with two large fingers instead of one, body tensing as the alcohol-induced numbness fades in favor of amplified arousal. Eijirou chuckles at your reaction.

"Taking it so well already," he purrs, hand caressing the crest of your ass. In your defense, there isn't much you can do but take it. Ah-ah, Sweetheart—Speak up for me."

"O-Ow," you hiss when your head is wrenched. upwards via your hair to expose your broken moan. Eijirou's grip only tightens after you complain, and you can feel his hot breath ghost the base of your neck. His thumb finds your clit and doesn't move, it just sits there as heavy weight—and it's just as frustrating as it is teasing.

"Ei," you rasp into the pillow, voice hoarse and thick. "I nee—fuck, more—"

"More?" He chuckles derisively, shaking his head with a tut. "Two fingers and you want more? Fuckin' slut."

Each word is loaded with something pitifully mocking and if you were in any other position you would've curled a lip and spat back. But that's a little hard with your face in the pillow and Eijirou's weight above you, isn't it? You shake your head against his fist until he lets go in favor of crackling a solid hand against your ass.

"Oh, you like that, don't you Sweetheart?" He grunts and his fingers increase in speed, the lewd squelch bounces off the walls of the bedroom and echoes in your head in the most insulting way. "My fingers fill you up that good?"

"Y-Yeah, I—" you choke around drool that gathers in the corners of your mouth and shake under his palm. "Fuck me Ei, I nee—"

The quick spank cracked against your ass shakes you from your thought process. "Dirty fucking girl—you really so desperate to let a guy you just met fuck you like this? So goddamn easy."

But he's removing his fingers regardless, stuffing them between your swollen lips as he assumes the space behind you. You hear the quiet fumble of his belt and the run of his zipper, before you feel his hot cock pressing against your soaked entrance.

Eijirou pushes in with a groan, his free hand finding your hips to keep them in place. Your legs thrash as he fills you up with a pleasurable burn, and by the time he bottoms out, you're positive he's filling you up all the way to your lungs.

"Fucking hell," he heaves above you, and the fingers in your mouth disappear to grasp the sheets. You shake along with him, back straightening in a poor attempt to alleviate the burn—and he barely gives you a second to breathe before he's pulling out and slamming back in.

"Fuck!"

You jump each time the head of his cock rams against your cervix, feet scrambling in a poor attempt to escape. Eijirou growls and puts all of his weight in his hips to ensure you'll stay still, a big hand smushing your face into the sheets.

"Sing for me, Sweetheart—I wanna hear ya."

Your voice cracks as Eijirou speeds up, simply using you for his own pleasure—but maybe that's what excites you the most.

"Ei—"

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart?" He spits, and you can feel the sweat dripping from his shoulders onto your exposed back. "Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

You whimper uselessly and nod, but Eijirou growls, yanking your head up for a proper answer.

"I said, don't you?"

"Fuck I—" he hikes your hips even higher for a better angle and gets one, the head of his cock forcing a scream out of your lungs as you yelp, "I do!"

"'Course you do," he chuckles, and drops your head back onto the pillow, "'Course you fuckin' do—"

"Ei-Eiji—" you gasp like you've been underwater forever. "I can't, I nee—"

"Dumb little baby can't even speak," he coos, before his hand finds the sides of your neck and squeezes. "What? Whadd'ya need, Sweetheart?"

And honestly, you're not completely sure what you need, you just know you're chasing after *something—*and Eijirou's got you sprinting after it while you melt into the sheets into a hot, gooey mess. You think the split ends of EIjirou's hair ticking the back of your arms, but you aren't sure. The only thing you are sure of is the burn between your legs and the feeling of being very, very close.

"'Mma cum!" You squeal, the vein in the side of your neck bulging. Eijirou grunts and slides a calloused hand under your stomach to play with your clit, hissing as you squeeze around him.

"Awe, the little slut's gonna cream all over my cock?" He coos, and you're positive his hips speed up just a bit. The grip on your neck slides to the hands tied behind your back for leverage. "Yeah she fuckin' is—I can see your eyes rolling back already."

And he's right, because the weight of your orgasm knocks the wind out of your lungs and your lips round to form and 'o'. You couldn't say if you screamed or not, as the ringing in your ears peaks with your orgasm. The only reason you know Eijirou finishes is because his hips stutter to a stop while you lay face down in the pillow, heart thrumming against your ribcage.

"Hey, you okay?" Eijirou nearly scrambles to get your back on your chest. You know this type of thing gets him nervous, but he does it oh so well, and there isn't much you can do but smile at the ceiling lazily.

"You just railed me into the sheets and you're asking if I'm fine?" You snort at your boyfriend's frazzled appearance—and the afterglow doesn't help, his chili red hair sticking in every other direction except the one it's supposed to.

"Yeah," Eijirou doesn't even hesitate and then gives you a quick peck on the lips. His voice edges on a petulant whine as he says, "I was rough, Sweetheart."

"Because I asked you to be," you quirk an eyebrow and finally, the redhead stumbles to your joint bathroom butt naked. "And don't forget to wet the towel this time!

A little shuffling in the bathroom, and then:

"That was one time!"

"And my vag will never recover!" You holler back. Eijirou just snorts before the white noise of a running sink takes possession of the conversation, and you scoot to the section of your shared bed that isn't soiled with a sigh.

You roll onto your side and come face to face with a framed selfie of you and Eijirou on your first date. Next to that one is first anniversary, second anniversary, third...

Now you're edging on the fifth, comfortable enough where he's walking around with his soft dick out and you've given up in swatting at his hands every time they grab for your tits. You two are comfortable—this is comfortable.

Eyeing the bathroom door, you still hear running water. Sneakily, you reach for the drawer where Eijirou keeps the the ring he doesn't know you know he hides. But frankly, you're the only one who cleans this goddamn house, so it wasn't like you weren't going to find it. You open the red velvet box to blink down at a diamond ring, thumb caressing gem. It glimmers even when the lights are low, and you can't help but be jealous of it—which is silly. You know it'll be yours anyway. The ring is always smoother than you expect it to be, but that thought doesn't last long, because you quickly toss it back into Eijirou's drawer and assume a less suspicious position upon hearing the sink turn off.

"What?" he asks with a small grin as he walks in with a wet towel in hand. "You're giving me that weird look again."

You snort, rolling your eyes before adjusting so you face the ceiling again. Spreading your legs, you demand, "'S nothing. Now clean me up, big boy."

Eijirou huffs at that but he assumes the space between your legs with a light blush. You smile.

He'll do it. When he grows the balls.

#—𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #CLUB 777 #mha smut #kirishima smut #bnha smut

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here!/ Part 20 Here! His POV Part 1! Here / His POV Part 2 Here! / Part 21 Here! < This is Part 22!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

Commission Info For Love Letters Here!

A/N: This has some NSFW themes, so if you’re under 18 don’t interact.

Also the Tag list is closed, I think this is about how many people can add for this. An alternative is to follow and turn on post notifications.

Um.. I guess this will be going on hiatus for a few weeks. I’m just busy at work, and I’m kind of out of ideas, also low engagement in the last few parts has made me feel a little discouraged.

That being said- if you order a letter with a twilight character, I’ll probably end up giving a hint for some things that will happen in the series. So if you are on the fence about getting a letter- or you just really can’t stand to wait, there’s always that option haha.

Anyway hope you like it ~

* “(Y/N).... what are you doing?”

* Muffled noise escapes you as you dig yourself deeper , drowning in his scent

* “(Y/N)”

* Your name leaves in a whisper and a smile curls onto his mouth

* “I mean how can you even see the television from that angle” he mumbles

* You sigh, your breath fanning across the lilac shirt he wore, you’re head firmly nestled in his back

* You’re in his room, lying beside him on his bed, essentially spooning him. The movie flickers on in front of you, you’re only half way through the first Harry Potter movie right now

* Honestly you’ve wanted to snuggle into Edward’s back for a while now, ever since you did it right before you both kissed for the first time

* It just feels so warm and safe here

* “I can hear it just fine” you mumble back. You feel the muscles in his back ripple as he shifts, your arm slinging over his chest.

* His hand covers your own. His hands so big it almost entirely envelops your own. And you can’t help but imagine what that hand would feel like in other places

* Tangled in your hair, trailing up and down your sides, under your shirt, dipping beneath the waist band of your shorts-

* Nope nope nope

* Gotta keep it PG 13

* He wants to go slow after all. Or at least you think he does. But well, you thought he might want to be with Bella

* And that was wrong

* Ugh, you want to pull out your own hair. how easy would it be if he could just read your mind and let you know-

* No it doesn’t work like that

* You sigh

* You have to put the work in if you want to make this work

* You have to communicate

* You stir besides him, wiggling you hand out of his and tapping the hard muscle of his abs

* Ugh, of course he’s chiseled like a statue

* Wait you’re a vampire, you tap your own stomach. It feels like a hard slab

* Well damn

* “Hm?”

* “We need to talk”

* “About what?” He asks absentmindedly, eyes never straying from the television.

* He must really like Harry Potter.

* “About sex.”

* He shoots right up. The remote falling to the ground with a clatter

* “Ah sorry, let me get that” he mumbles, climbing out of the bed to pick up the remote and put the movie on pause

* He clears his throat, sitting on the edge of the bed, a whole 5 feet away from you

* “So what did you want to talk about, again?”

* He seems so awkward, maybe you were right, maybe he does want to go slow

* But then what was with that “I’m not waiting for marriage” crap?”

* “I want to be physically intimate with you” you say bluntly

* Why did you say it like that? Like you’re some kind of scientist or something?

* *internal cringe*

* Not that he seems to care

* Edward’s grinning

* “Are you seducing me right now?”

* You’re not sure why but that smile annoys you

* You scoff

* “I’m trying to find out where you’re at, sexually speaking”

* He looks at the ground for several long seconds before finally meeting your eyes

* “So I um-“

* Okay you’re finally getting somewhere

* “I guess I have this kink where I like being called-“

* “No Edward not that!”

* You’re a little annoyed,

* But also a little turned on

* You’ll have to put a pin in that,

* oh boy, Edward with a kink.

* It’s probably something super vanilla like a praise kink

* or something cheesy like a daddy kink

* Like what are you, sixteen-

* Well, he technically is but-

* You’re getting off track

* “Do you-“

* how do you say this?

* “Do you want to have sex with me?”

* And it would sound like your propositioning him if you hadn’t emphasized the ‘want’

* You know he’s on the asexuality spectrum, maybe he just doesn’t feel like that for you

* You know he loves you a lot

* And wether or not he wants to have sex won’t change the way you feel about him,

* But knowing will help you manage your expectations

* “Why...why would you think that I don’t?”

* He looks almost hurt as he says it

* “We’ve been dating for two months and you haven’t made a move”

* Not after he said that thing about ‘Not waiting for Marriage’™

* You feel his hand cover your own, he’s still a heathy distance away from you

* But even just the touch of his hand on yours sends a shiver down your spine

* “How could you ever think I don’t-“ he cuts himself off

* His free hand moves to cradle your face, brushing hair away in that way he’s always done

* You sigh leaning into his touch

* “You’re so beautiful...so lovely.. of course I want to be closer to you in whatever way I can” his words leave breathlessly, and you can see he wants you just as bad as you want him

* “Then why-“

* “You live in my house,” he stresses. “You’re surrounded by my family, who haven’t been very subtle with how pleased they would be for you to join the family. We are literally never away from each other”

* “Do you want me to move back to Denali?” You joke and he laughs, amber eyes warm as he looks into yours.

* “I just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable... or suffocated.” He squeezes your hand

* “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to, for me.. or anyone else.”

* So he’s been trying to be considerate of you

* And of the living situation

* Isn’t that just so like him?

* You feel a small smile stretch across your lips, your hand threading into his hair

* “I don’t ever feel uncomfortable, not around you.”

* And it’s true, you trust him completely.

* You know he’ll never hurt you, never

* You foreheads are pressed together, and it’s only a small shift to catch his lips in your own

* Your hand escapes from his and trails to his face, your hands tipping his head back to get a better angle

* He feels so good like this

* He would feel so good underneath you, begging you to go just a little further

* “Now I’m propositioning you” you feel a small breathless chuckle escape him

* “There’s ... another reason I haven’t brought it up” he mumbles

* You hold your breath- he doesn’t have that bubbling desire does he?

* You were right, he-

* “If we did it in the house everyone would know”

* Huh?

* Noticing your confused expression he clarifies

* “Everyone would hear it happen, and everyone would know”

* Oh

* So all this times you’ve kissed-

* And that time in the car -

* Everyone knew?

* You groan covering your face in your hands, how will you ever be able to face Carlisle again?

* “Emmett would have bought us a cookie cake-“

* You raise an eyebrow and he falters

* “He would have bought me a cookie cake...it would say ‘bye bye virginity’ in pink icing” he whispers

* And you laugh

* “That’s so wasteful”

* No doubt Edward would be too embarrassed to let their humans friends eat it - which you don’t blame him for

* “Alright I’ll try to keep my dirty fantasies to a minimum” you laugh when he tugs you into his lap

* “Oh what kind of fantasies?” There’s that teasing boyish grin again

* “Please enlighten me”

* Well, it’s only right to tease him a little after all those hours you’ve spent mulling over what ‘I’m not waiting for marriage’ could mean

* “Well they all start off with a kiss, a good kiss, the kind that makes you feel like you’re just going to melt-“

* You rest your head against his shoulder, whispering into his ear

* “And then when it’s over, one of your hands is under my shirt,”

* you gently trace up his back and he shivers

* “and both of mine are under yours”

* “And then?” His voice is low, but he doesn’t dare to look at you

* You really shouldn’t tease him this much...

* but it’s so fun

* “We kiss again, my hands tracing over every inch of you, and when we stop I unbutton your shirt, trailing kisses down your neck”

* You trail a cold finger down the side of his neck

* He lets out a low sound, akin to a whine

* “And then I’ll suck here” your finger presses lightly into the hollow of his neck before repeating the process on his collarbone “and here”

* “You look so pretty with your neck marked up with hickeys, like poppy’s blooming in snow”

* You can tell he likes it by the shiver and whine

* So he likes that sensual shit huh

* You wonder what else he likes

* “And you look so pretty Edward, breathless, with that hungry needy look in your eyes just for me”

* Your hand trails down to his chest, and he trembles as your hand moves across his stomach. Resting on his lower abdomen

* His breath hitches, teeth digging into hi plush pink lip. He’s so needy, your finger trails in absentminded circles, and you swear he whimpers

* Aw so cute

* “And that’s about it” you say bluntly patting his stomach twice before moving to get off of him

* His eyes shoot open, a frown arching onto his mouth

* You hold back a laugh

* before you can fully get off of his lap he tugs you back to him

* “I see what you’re doing” he tried to pretend to be stern but you a smile twitching at the end of his lips

* “I don’t know what you mean. That’s just where the fantasy ends” you say as innocently as possible which only makes him grin

* “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been teasing you too much”

* “Hmm have you been?” You mock confusion and he laughs again, kissing the spot where your neck and shoulder meet

* “I’m sorry I got your hopes up”

* You scoff

* “My hopes weren’t up-“ Edward tilts your head towards him and you avert your eyes

* Okay they were a little high

* He pulls you into another kiss, soft and gentle

* “I promise I’ll make all your fantasies come true soon.”

* He already has, how many dreams that you never thought you would be able to have has he made come true?

* God, you adore this boy

* “But until then you’re going to have to leave”

* Scratch that

* “W-what?!”

* What did you do something to turn him off in the last .05 seconds?

* “It’s nothing personal-“

* You’re taking this very personally

* “I just need some time alone, and maybe a cold shower”

* Oh

* O H

* “R-right, well I’ll leave you to that” you mumble, clearing your throat as you move away from him, only briefly stopping on your way out

* “I’m going to take a few of these okay?” You say grabbing the other two Harry Potter movies

* You don’t wait for him to respond, leaving the room and heading to your own

* You run into Emmett who sends you a mischievous grin

* “Hey (Y/N), what were you-“

* “Nothing you would need to a buy a cookie cake for” you say, sliding into your room

* You look down at the DVD’s

* Why did you take these? You don’t even have a TV in your room

* Meanwhile Emmett’s still in the hallway

* “How did they know I was going to get him a cookie cake?”

* .

* ..

* ...

* You’re not sure where you are at first

* It’s foggy burst of green and brown

* And then you see him

* It’s Edward

* You breathe a sigh of relief moving towards him, as long as he’s here you’re okay

* “I’m sorry-“ you stop in your tracks

* there’s someone else there, clinging to his side

* “You were right- I do love her” He says and you’re confused

* The most faded and its Bella her wide brown eyes narrowed into a glare

* “Did you think you could just steal my future away from me?” She spats at you like her words are venom

* No- of course you never meant to take her place

* But you always hoped to- didn’t you?

* The intrusive voice causes a shiver to erupt down your spine

* You walk back, feet tangling into one another

* No that’s not right, Edward loves you- this isn’t right

* That’s when you bump into something hard- immovable

* You turn to see someone else entirely

* They’re wearing a black and red cloak

* Someone from the Volturi

* You gulp hard.

* So they’ve come for you have they

* The figure moves to remove the hood of their cloak, and you feel a gasp escape you.

* It’s you

* Only your face seems...sharper somehow, even more beautiful. But in an unnatural way, devoid of humanity

* Your eyes are as red as rubies

* You fall back, your foot getting caught in a tree root

* The Volturi-you sighs, crouching down so their impassive eyes can meet yours

* “You’ve really got to get over that whole timeline” their voice is different too, an air of disappointment ringing in every word. They sound bored

* You can’t manage to string together a single thought, let alone any words

* “Well don’t look so scared. I’m here to help you know” but their smile is cruel

* “Unless you can snap out of that lovesick dream of yours and finish what you started, this is the future that’s waiting for you”

* “That’s not true”

* Carlisle saved you, Eleazer took you in, Edward gave you a new future.

* You’re never going back to the Volturi

* But the you clad in the black and red robe’s smile only grows wider

* “It’s not true for now, but how many more years do you think you can handle until you get bored?”

* “Another 20? Let’s say 50 for good measure- then what?”

* You feel like a cold finger runs down your spine, your hair standing on end

* “I think you know exactly what” the cloaked you says, their eyes are serious now as they look at you

* “You need to finish what you started-“

* Finish what? What are they talking about? What did you start?

* Noticing your confusion they sigh

* “You need to stop focusing so much on what happened in the story, and start thinking about what happened after the story”

* After the story?

* Like after Edward and Bella had Their baby?

* “Now wake up”

* The words echo in your head until you fly upright, breathing hard as you take in the space around you

* For a second you’re not sure where you are

* This is your room, at the Cullen’s house in Forks

* You’re fine

* You’re safe

* You try to regulate your breathing, attempting to calm your mind with it

* It was just a nightmare. Not that you ever remember falling asleep to begin with

* “I didn’t think I could fall asleep anymore” you whisper

* You pretend to sleep, because it feels good. But you’ve never lost yourself like that before

* It felt so real

* “Finish what I started? And then after the story-“ You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end

* There was something- something you had tried a long, long time ago-

* Back when you still lived in Denali

* An idea you had come across once- after Edward told you how painful it was for him to turn

* But how would you even go about proving something like that?

* And what’s what might have happened after the book series got to do with any of this?

* You sigh, your head in your arms. It was just a dream wasn’t it? A nightmare from your insecurities?

* If you just whispered his name, Edward would be beside you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, erasing all your worries

* “ Unless you can snap out of that lovesick dream of yours and finish what you started, this is the future that’s waiting for you”

* You gulp

* You don’t need Edward to coddle you through every little nightmare, you decide

* Turning in your bed, closing you eyes and hoping to dream a more pleasant dream this time But you don’t dream at all, tossing and turning until light filters in through the blinds

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796 @moose-squirrel-asstiel @hotmessgoodness @jaimewho @corabmarie @what-am-i-doing10 @alluring-venus @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse @im-tired-not-sleepy @emmettcullenisahimbo @my-super-musical-life @smolvampiregirl @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252 @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz @reclusive-chicken-nugget @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow @bwbatta @bubblyabs @thatwaspossesion @helzerat @parascape @ xxxmuxxx @katrodriguez99 @leilanixx

#twilight #twilight imagines #twilight headcanon #twilight saga #twilight reader insert #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #Edward Cullen x you #midnight sun #superhero--imagines

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

#bnha 294 #mr. compress #...and actually that's pretty much it lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is up later than usual (and mostly unedited as well)#just one of those days

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captainimprobable · 3 years ago

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Here’s a very messy first draft of a fic I’m working on! There will be five parts, which I’ll post together on Ao3 once theyre all done. This is the first part!

I’ll edit this for ao3 but I was too excited about it and wanted to post it here first before I did RIP

There are many things Luz admits she doesn’t understand. She can’t figure out how cars work, and she’s not so sure about long division. But, she thinks, as she watches her girlfriend chop up vegetables in the fading light of the setting sun, some things she does understand.

“How did you get so good at this?” Luz asks, stepping closer to peer over Amity’s shoulder. Every cut is perfect, each individual piece almost exactly like the one before. It makes sense. It is so Amity.

“Don’t get excited,” Amity warns, tipping the vegetables into a pot of boiling water. “This is all I know how to cook. I had a chef growing up.” She blushes brightly, and Luz grins. Amity blushing has become one of her Top Five Favorite Things, right under Azura and above Hexside.

Amity herself, of course, is above them all.

“Sorry,” Amity says sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to sound spoiled or anything, it’s just- my parents don’t cook, and they don’t have time to-”

“Amity. It’s fine.” Luz laughs, and Amity’s blush intensifies. Luz is about to say something about it when Eda bursts into the room with all the subtlety of a hurricane. “Look what I foooound,” she sings, proudly presenting something extremely dusty and unidentifiable. Luz and Amity raise their eyebrows in unison.

“Uh, what is it?” Luz asks.

“It’s a human-” Eda pauses. “Okay, I’ll admit, I have absolutely no idea what it is. But it’s cool looking and I like it.” “Another human treasure? Lemme see!”

“Suit yourself,” Eda says, and hands it over.

The thing is heavier than Luz expected, and she grunts as she puts it down quickly on the kitchen table.

“Dang, Owl Lady, you’ve got strong arms,” she says.

“I work out,” Eda responds, flexing her muscles.

Amity and Luz look at each other, and then at Eda. They blink.

“Fine,” Eda says. “Buzzkills. I don’t work out. You caught me, congratulations.” She stalks out of the kitchen, muttering something about “dumb kids and their dumb honesty”.

Luz snorts and turns her attention back to the thing on the counter. “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” she says, and blows the dust off. Once the cloud clears, the thing begins to take shape, and Luz squeals. “A record player! With a record on it! This is amazing! My mom has one of these back home!”

“Record player?” Amity says. “What does it do?”

Luz grins, always happy to show off her human knowledge. “I’ll show you,” she says, and sets the pin on the groove of the record. It’s silent for a moment, but then a slow tune echoes through the room. There are no words in the song, and Luz has no idea who wrote it, but she’s in awe.

“Wow,” Amity says, echoing Luz’s thoughts. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Luz agrees, completely entranced by the melody. Once the song fades away and the next one starts, she gets an idea. She regards Amity out of the corner of her eye, gathers her courage, and says “Amity Blight, may I have this dance?”

Surprise flashes across Amity’s face, but she recovers impressively quickly.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

She reaches out her hand and Luz takes it, gently guiding Amity to the middle of the kitchen. Amity hesitantly puts her arm around Luz’s waist, pulling her closer, as Luz puts a hand on Amity’s shoulder. It feels familiar, and when they start swaying around the kitchen, Amity starts to laugh.

“What? What’s so funny? Did I do something?”

“No, no,” Amity says, tightening her hold around Luz’s waist. “It’s just...this is so different from our first dance together.”

“Our first...oh, you mean Grom!”

Amity takes a step backwards, and Luz follows, trying not to trip over her own feet.

“Yes I mean Grom!”

They dance in silence for a moment, moonlight shining through the window.

“Hey,” Luz starts, not sure if she wants the answer to the question she’s about to ask. “Who did you wanna take to Grom, anyway?”

Amity stares blankly at her for a few seconds, and for a moment Luz is worried she said something out of turn. But then she smiles softly, so softly that Luz’s heart does a funny thing in her chest, and she’s pretty sure that, for a second, she can’t breathe.

“It was you, Luz,” Amity says quietly. “It was always you.”

Luz stops dancing. She stops blinking. She stops breathing.

“Uh, Luz?” Amity says, sounding worried. “Are you okay?”

Luz blinks, comes back into herself, and says “YOU WERE GOING TO ASK ME TO GROM????”

“Yes? Why is that a surprise? You know I...like you.” Amity blushes again. They’re still not used to saying these things out loud to each other. It’s a process.

This time, Luz blushes too. “Yeah, but like..that long??? You’ve liked me since Grom???”

“Since before Grom, actually,” Amity admits, looking down at the floor. “It’s...it’s been a long time.”

Luz’s grip on Amity’s shoulder slackens, then tightens again.”Wow,” she says, breathless. “Me. You’ve liked me for months. You!!!”

Amity giggles. “Me,” she agrees.

Luz knows that the smile on her face is sappy, but she can’t help it. She just likes Amity so much it’s overwhelming sometimes.

They begin to sway again, and Luz feels like she’s in a trance. She can’t believe that one person can make her feel this happy. It’s like magic.

“So,” Amity says, cutting into Luz’s inner monologue, “When was it for you?”

“Huh?”

“When did you start to like me?”

Amity manages, with what looks like supreme willpower, not to blush this time. Luz does not manage the same.

“O-oh,” Luz says, thinking back to all the times she made a fool of herself in front of Amity before they’d started dating. “I don’t know? I mean, I realized it that time you saved my life, but I think I’ve probably liked you for a lot longer than that. Maybe even before Grom.”

“Which time?”

“What?”

“Which time? I save your life a lot,” Amity smirks. Luz rolls her eyes. “Okay, fair,” she says. “But I mean that time at your parents’ presentation. Right after you...when you called me “my Luz.”

“Oh, no, you heard that?” Amity looks extremely embarrassed as she leans forward and hides her face in Luz’s shoulder. Luz tries not to smell her hair. She fails.

“Of course I heard that!” She says when she’s done. “You practically screamed it out loud to a room full of strangers!”

“I did, didn’t I? Wow, I was so obvious!”

Luz rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. “I didn’t notice.”

“What??? How???” Amity asks, picking her head up to look Luz in the eye. “I was a complete mess in front of you for months! What did you think was happening?”

Luz shrugs. “I just thought you were cute, that’s all. In hindsight, though, maybe I should’ve picked up some context clues.”

Amity snorts. “It’s okay. You being oblivious saved me a ton of embarrassment. Until I kissed you on the cheek. That..uh….that was not planned.”

Luz can’t stop the smile that takes over her face. She remembers that day well. She was so focused on finding Phillip’s diary entries and also not making a fool of herself in front of Amity, that she was taken completely by surprise when Amity kissed her. She’s pretty sure she literally fell to the floor afterwards, overwhelmed with the fact that Amity had just kissed her and suddenly realizing that maybe, just maybe, her crush liked her too.

“Well I’m glad you did,” she says gently, twirling Amity around once, twice, three times. “I think it’s time for me to return the favor.”

“What do you-”

Before she can think about it long enough to stop herself, Luz leans in and kisses Amity on the cheek.

The world freezes.

Amity looks at her, and she looks at Amity, and Luz’s eyes are so wide, and Amity’s mouth is hanging slightly open, and suddenly Luz is completely, entirely unsure of herself. Her confidence is gone, and suddenly she can hear the ghost of laughter and “Ew, why would anyone want her?” And she realizes she’s made a horrible mistake.

“U-um sorry I-” She stutters, but can’t get a sentence out, until finally she manages “I’m gonna leave now.”

She backs up slowly until her back hits the door, and is about to turn the handle when Amity says “Luz, this is your house.”

“Drat,” Luz says, slapping a hand to her face. “You’re right.”

Amity giggles, hand covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. She’s bright red but so is Luz, and suddenly Luz is laughing too.

They laugh together for what seems like hours, until finally they manage to subdue themselves, tears in both their eyes.

“Hey,” Amity says softly, once the giggles have stopped. “Come here.”

Luz complies, stepping around the table and over Ghost, who has an unidentifiable animal in her mouth. When she finally reaches Amity, she finds herself pulled into a bone crushing hug. Startled but pleased, she squeezes back, marvelling at the fact that she has the most perfect girl in the world in her arms.

“Look,” Amity says, still wrapped up in the hug. “I know we’re both new at this, and it’s kind of scary, but you don’t have to run away every time you kiss me on the cheek or something. You have nothing to be afraid of, okay? You’re my girlfriend, and I’m not gonna stop liking you.”

Luz sniffles a little and squeezes harder. “You don’t...you don’t think I’m too much?”

“Luz,” Amity says. “I could never get enough of you.”

They stand there like that, swaying slightly in the single stripe of moonlight that comes through the window. When they part, it’s with a sigh, and a silent promise that they’ll come together again.

“Thanks,” Luz says, eyes rimmed red. “You’re a pretty awesome girlfriend.”

Amity smiles. “I know.”

Then she shrugs shyly. “And if you ever want to kiss me again...I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Noted,” Luz says weakly. She thinks her knees might give out, actually.

When it’s time for Amity to go, Luz walks her to the door, like the gentleman she is. “Goodnight,” she says, trying to ignore Hooty loudly digesting a mouse. She doesn’t want to think about where his stomach even is.

“Goodnight,” Amity says.

They smile dumbly at each other, neither wanting to be the first one to leave. But Amity needs to get home, and the night is moving quickly, so they reluctantly part ways. Amity turns to wave at Luz when she reaches the end of the Owl House’s property, and Luz waves back, stars in her eyes and a breathless wonder at the fact that this girl, this amazing, brilliant, perfect girl, is hers.

There are many things Luz doesn’t understand.

But this, what she and Amity have, the bond she feels growing stronger and stronger every day they spend together; this she does understand.

She closes the door. She doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, but she knows that as long as she has Amity by her side, everything will be okay.

#lumity #the owl house #writins

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bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

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Word Count: 1.4k

Warning/s: toxic relationship dynamics, dark!bucky x dark!reader, stalking, coercion and lying, manipulative tendencies, injuries and blood mention, food was mentioned for a bit

A/N: WE ARE GETTING THERE, BABES WHEW OKAY

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

A month had passed since your not-date date had happened. You tried to forget the rest of the day, only focusing on how he looked and talked to you that day. How he smiled, trying to play off the ‘cool guy’ narrative.

You suddenly grew cold, noticing how your conversations became sparse—dry in between. Fewer texts and long waits. It made you nervous, sad, and a little bit annoyed. You barely see him around the office too—has Bucky been avoiding you?

His office is a bit out of the way for you to accidentally stumble in, anyway; the days you’re in the office were unsynchronized. Would it count as a punishable offense if you mess up with your company-approved laptop?

Saying you missed Bucky is an understatement: the bottle of cologne that smells like him sits empty on your dresser. The pictures you took of him taped loosely on your corkboard. Bits and pieces of papers he gave you tacked on it haphazardly.

Can someone die from loneliness?

Is this what being in love feels like?

Suffocating, consuming, your chest feels heavy, and your stomach is in knots.

—

Another month, another throng of employees needing new passwords. There are literal posters around the floor reminding everyone to use a password manager. Bucky can’t believe that he has to work with idiots around him. When he took up computer science as a major in college, he imagined himself hacking into… government intel, or something. Not looking after dimwits that don't know how to install an update.

His text messages are red with notifications—bank updates, deliveries, and you.

For some reason, Bucky can’t bring himself up to return your messages. Hi’s, hey’s, and how are you’s littered his text chain. Is he a bad person for not replying back? He can always just make up an excuse, right?

When you told him that you liked him, kissed him like you meant it, his fondness dispersed into thin air. The easy is never worthy and the worthy is never easy, as his father told him.

A ding from his phone brought him forth, another text from you: coming up right now, can we talk?

Now, he can’t come up with an excuse.

—

Bucky heard you before you come in, knocking on his door like the first time you met.

He clears his throat, calling out a come in! before rolling back from his cluttered desk. Tickets were few and far in between, he knows he can spare you at least 20 minutes but he just doesn’t want to.

“Hey,” you said, your head poking into his office. You weren’t entirely sure why you came up here in the first place, you really, really, really just wanted to see him again.

Bucky chuckles, pulling the door open for you. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

You breathe out a little, shaking the feeling sinking deep inside your stomach, “yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.” Stepping into his office, you eye his desk. He’s been busy. Papers and files are piling up on the left side of his desk, half of his setup is covered with those post-it notes. Several mugs littered his small space.

Huh, “Sorry, I can come back some other time.”

Turning on your heel, you pivot a little to grab the door when Bucky grabs your upper arm, “don’t go—”

He realizes the implications if someone were to see the two of you and so he lets go, much to your discomfort. You face him, either way, you’re sure he’s not gonna let you go that easily.

“Sorry, it’s just- I missed you.”

And there it was. I missed you.

He was thinking about you.

“I was just gonna drop off some files… But,” you rake your brain for a coherent train of thought, “I missed you too.”

A smile of relief overcomes Bucky’s features, his eyes crinkling just the way you like. His steely blue eyes hidden beneath his lashes.

“I have uh, a thing later… Dinner with friends—do you wanna come?” You make a show of peering over his shoulder and onto his desk, “unless you’re busy?”

“I’d love to come.” He says, tucking his pointer finger underneath your chin, flicking it forward so you’d look at him, “what time is it?”

“Come by around seven. I’ll text you my address.”

Bucky doesn’t need your address. He already came a dozen times by your building, trying to build up the nerve to knock on your door and kiss you silly. Like in those movies you watch late at night.

But he’s conflicted, no?

Are you really as good as they come?

—

At six-thirty, you already sent the text: take the east street, beige apartment block. I’m on the third floor, second door to your right. :)

At six-fifty five, Bucky’s already there, his car idling on the sidewalk. He’s… nervous. Why is he nervous? It’s just dinner. A small get-together with friends. Speaking of friends, he didn’t see any unfamiliar cars parked on the block. Maybe it’s not work friends?

Letting out a sigh, Bucky fetches the small bouquet of flowers and wine he brought, just in case. He doesn’t wanna be the only one showing up empty-handed.

On the dot, Bucky knocks on your door. He plasters on his best smile as you open the way, revealing yourself.

God, you look gorgeous. Why did he stop hanging out with you in the first place?

Oh, right.

“Aw, flowers and wine? You’re too sweet!” You chirp out, stepping out of the way to let him into your apartment. Taking the gifts from his hands, you put them away while Bucky busies himself checking out your place.

It’s weird seeing your place in real life. Bucky noted the hint of lavender in the air, coupled with a smidge of coffee brewing. He’s so used to seeing parts of it but not everything-everything. He careens his neck to look down the hallway, catching a glimpse of your bedroom.

“If you’re lucky, you can see it tonight.” A peal of boisterous laughter comes out of you, lightly kicking his foot with yours, “I’m kidding. It’s off-limits for visitors, sorry.”

“Right…” Bucky looks around, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet up to his toes. “Am I too early? I can help you set the table.” The table is halfway finished and you’re stirring in cheese into a sauce. Roux, perhaps.

“No, it’s okay…” You trail off, lowering the heat before facing Bucky, “I lied.”

“What?”

“There’s no dinner—I mean, there is. Just not with friends.” You bite your lip, looking down on your shoes before tearing your gaze away from the floor to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“You lied? Why- why would you lie about that?” Annoyance and frustration all seep out near the surface. His jaw ticking as he gritted his teeth.

“Are you mad?”

“Are you mad?” Bucky asks back in a mocking tone, bringing his fist down the dinner, “you—you’re crazy. I knew it, I knew you’re crazy. Lying about dinner and what, trying to get me alone? Jesus, what--” He lets out a mirthless laugh, the one that sends chills down your spine.

You stood there, frozen at your spot. You’re hurt. He called you crazy. He called you crazy when he’s the one who spied on you for weeks on end.

When he’s the one who watches you at night.

When he’s the one who left those notes on your desk.

The one who sent those texts and left calls and voicemails.

“Fuck you.” Your words rang empty as Bucky walked out of the kitchen in long strides. The dinner long forgotten.

You calmly watch him turn the doorknob open, failing when the adjacent locks prevent him from opening the door. Two deadbolts and a chain lock. Never would you have thought that the threat would be coming inside your home.

“I’d think twice before leaving without dinner.”

—

Bucky stirs awake. The sound of cutlery on plates grating on his nerves. His head is throbbing. His right temple feels tight and tender, there’s something hard and crusty covering the right side of his face. He can suddenly feel the weight of his left arm, leaning over to compensate for the sudden pain.

He wasn’t aware that he had closed his eyes; the lights suddenly glaringly bright.

Right, the dinner.

The dinner?

Wasn’t he supposed to—

“Thank fuck. I thought you were dead.”

God, he hopes he is.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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