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rainylana · 8 months ago

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“I don’t like dresses, Eddie.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: some sweet fluff at the trailer with eddie. reader is six months pregnant, so much fluff it may actually kill you, so sweet and precious, smut, vaginal fingering, decrophylia, mentions of max’s death and the battle with vecna, eddie’s self doubt of being a good provider, maybe some language, eddie and reader purposely call their baby by different genders it’s not an error lmao. enjoy!! requests always open just have a lot of works in progress i’m trying to get out there!! also! please let me know if the “read more” tag is working!!

My feet are huge, Eddie.” You said matter of factly, staring at your bare, swollen feet. “I can barely fit into shoes anymore.”

Eddie chuckled, stirring the instant ramen as he put it back in the microwave. “I’ll buy you a size up.”

“But they’re so…so big! I’m so big!” You exclaim, hugging your pregnant belly. “I’m so fat!”

“Y/n,” Eddie said, giving you a pointed look. “What I tell you about that? Stop being so negative about the way you look. It’s not good for you. You’re hot.”

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, fiddling with your fingers. “You have to admit it though.” You argued. “My feet are huge.”

He rolled his eyes, sticking out his socked foot dramatically. “Well, what about mine! They’re twice the size of yours!”

You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. “I guess so. You’ve got man feet.”

He scoffed. “I am a man, baby.” The thirty second timer of his soup went off, but he paid no mind, making his way over to you. He got on his knees in front of you, grabbing your foot and kissing your freshly painted, hot pink, big toe. “I love you and your big feet, baby.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at the sweet gesture.

“And,” He pointed at your belly. “I love this baby, too.” He kissed your six month pregnant stomach, patting it lightly. “Hi, baby Munson! Can you hear me? It’s daddy! Daddy’s here!”

You watched him caress your belly, tapping it, humming a new song he was working on, telling it about his work day. You could watch it all day long. You couldn’t wait to meet your baby. You and Eddie had decided to wait to see what the gender was, but it was getting to be harder than what you anticipated.

“God, I’m so excited.” Eddie sighed happily, resting his cheek on your thigh. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Him. Eddie was sure it was a boy.

You? You didn’t care which, as long as she was happy and healthy.

“I know.” You said quietly, your hand over his that laid above your navel. “Only three more months.”

He practically squealed, gathering himself off the ground to sit beside you. He grabbed you by the shoulders softly, turning you around so your back was to him. You sighed happily when he began massaging your shoulders, his thumbs working circles into your sore muscles.

“Oh, god.” You moaned, eyes closed in relief.

“Careful, darlin’.” He smirked, leaning into your ear. “Last time you said that you got pregnant.”

You hadn’t meant to get knocked up. That was the last thing you both had wanted, at the time, anyways. Now, it was the only thing you wanted more than anything in the entire universe. The two year mark of vecna was approaching, and after two years of the trauma you both endured, healed injuries and broken souls, the loss of your dear friend, Max, you both could finally say that you were traveling down hill now. You missed Max. You knew she’d be so happy to hear about the both of you becoming parents.

You remembered the day you had taken the pregnancy test. All 14 of them. You’d blown half of your paycheck on them, needing to be sure. You’d cried on the bathroom floor where he had found you that evening. You didn’t need to say anything, yet you did, watching as he stared at the positive pregnancy tests on the counter. “I’m pregnant.” You had spoken over a tearful whisper.

It was one of his most shameful moments, but Eddie had left you that night on your own, not able to process the idea of becoming a father. Wayne had smacked him upside the head when he showed up to his trailer, confessing the news. “Boy, get your ass outta my house and back you yer’ girl.” His uncle had said.

“Feel good, baby?” Eddie said, kissing your clothed shoulder as he rubbed up and down your spine, going back up to the base of your neck.

“Mmm.” You hummed in response. “Me and baby are happy.”

He smirked, eyes starting to droop with tiredness from his long work day. “I hope so.”

You opened your eyes then, noticing the self doubt in his voice that you came to recognize early on in your relationship. Next month will be four years. You craned your neck to try and see him. “I am, Eddie.” You lifted your hand up to grab his, resting them against your shoulder. “So will the baby.”

He squeezed your fingers. “I should get you a better house. We need a safer neighborhood for him.”

“We’ll protect her.” You didn’t let go of his hand, spinning yourself against the leather cushion to face him. “And I love this house. It’s our home.”

“I could buy you pretty dresses.” He frowned, pulling at the string of your pajama pants.

“I don’t like dresses, Eddie.” You laughed, gathering his face in your hands and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “God, you’re so cute. You’re so good to me.”

His cheeks flushed red under your touch, placing his hand on your fuzzy pj’s. “You’re good to me, baby. My two babies. I love you both so much.” The heat of the precious moment took him over and he found his lips on yours in seconds. Hot, plump and pink and all over each other’s, his thick palm coming up to hold your cheek.

He kissed you like you were the only woman left in the world, a hunger behind each swipe of his tongue that begged to be fed. You opened your mouth and accepted, teeth scrapping teeth in a make out session that was just plain dirty. He was always so paranoid about having sex at first, wondering if it would hurt the baby. You were too, until your doctor assured you there was no danger at risk.

“Let me feel you, baby.” He said hotly against your wet mouth, hand traveling down your cheek to your shoulder, down your arm and to your hip. “Let me make my girl feel good.”

You whined when his hand cupped your mound with a full palm, breaking apart the kiss in surprise. He rubbed you over your pajama’s, your body leaning into him, rocking against his hand to gain some more friction that just wasn’t doing the job.

You grabbed his hand, pulling down your pants to your knees, placing him back down to your bare pussy. You found his mouth again, his fingers running up your slick with a full swipe, collecting your wetness that made his hand sticky.

“You want me to touch you, honey?” He gently gathered you close, leaning you back to you could lay on the leather sofa. “Tell me what you want, pretty baby.”

The teasing made you hot and lightheaded, the throbbing between your legs created a burning sensation that ached to be cooled. “Please, Eddie,” You arched into his hand. “Touch me. Fuck me with your fingers.”

He practically groaned, the strain in his boxers rubbing against your thigh. He leaned down and placed a full, deep kiss on your lips, entering two fingers into your cunt. He plunged them deep inside, curling them in one go, before pulling out and repeating the movement.

The sudden sensation had you crying out, back arched and mouth ajar. Eddie hovered over your stomach, one hand inside you, the other holding himself up so he didn’t put pressure on your belly. He lifted his chin at you, eyes dark and sparking with a mischievous glare. “Yeah?”

You sobbed, writhing underneath as he finger fucked your pussy, a third ring finger now plunging in and out of you. The sound of your squelching arousal filled his ears, his pre cum darkening a patch of his jeans. It wasn’t the first time he’d cum in his pants just from fingering you.

“Oh, God,” Your legs were split apart, cunt on full display for him. He looked down, watching as his fingers disappeared in and out of you. Your face was best red, sweat fell down your cheeks and tears fell down your sticky skin.

“I’m so close, Eddie.” You shook underneath him.

“Mhmm.” He nodded, his thumb lazily swiping at your clit, not enough to make the coil in your belly snap. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? You want me to make you cum all over my fingers?”

“Yes, yes!” You reeled your head back and pleaded to him, to god.

Eddie leaned down, spit on your puffy, red and swollen clit, and wrapped his plump lips around your sexual nerve, puckering and sucking like his life depending on it. It wasn’t long then, and you were squeezing his fingers and shaking, convulsing underneath him.

He fingered you through your orgasm, admiring your beauty as laid there and cried.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #lana’s shit post #eddie munson x y/n #eddie smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson one shot

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coupsie-daisies · 6 months ago

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Kinktober '23: Pegging | Seo Changbin

Pairing: Seo Changbin x Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), established relationship

Summary: You'd do anything to help your boyfriend relax after a long day, and he knows just what to ask of you.

WC: 2.7k

Warnings: Pegging, anal fingering, Reader is called ma'am, Changbin is wearing lingerie, nipple play, praise, cockwarming mentioned at the end

A/N: On god I'm gonna finish my kinktober. Maybe not by this October, but surely by the end of the year. I enjoy them too much to give up

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha / @ferrethyun // @moonchild0325 // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

Your relationship with Changbin was something to be admired, which you chalked up to him being an absolutely amazing person with the kindest heart and sweetest soul of anyone you'd ever met. He was a dream, and he'd say the same thing about you. Your entire relationship was based on reciprocation. Despite having different love languages. You accepted his words of affirmation and gave them right back to him, and he made time in his hectic schedule for the quality one on one time that you craved. You prioritized yourselves and your relationships. Balance.

That balance carried through every aspect of your lives. Chores, date planning, and maybe most importantly your sex life. It wasn't something that anyone would expect from the two of you and your picture perfect relationship, but the two of you liked to experiment with your play. After all, if there was something that you could be doing better, you'd want to find out. Your only goal in the bedroom was to make each other feel safe, loved, and as good as possible.

So it was really just another day when Changbin got home from the studio and found you tidying up the kitchen even though it was getting late. He knew then that you'd stayed up to wait for him, you always tried to no matter how often he told you that it wasn't necessary. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a few soft kisses to your shoulder.

"Missed you," He muttered, and you smiled, drying your hands off and turning in his arms. You tipped his chin towards you so you could press a chaste kiss to his lips. He melted a little closer to you, breathing you in and letting himself feel you. He was always clingy after a long day, all of his usual energy melting away and leaving just your precious boyfriend, tired and quiet and sweet.

"Missed you too." You tried not to giggle at the ticklish sensation of his lips against your neck, his breath caressing your skin. "There's food in the microwave, did you eat?"

"Not hungry," He said. You could already feel the way he was growing needy for your touch, his teeth dragging over your weak spot and earning him a quiet chuckle, more sigh than laugh. "Wanted you all day, need to feel you so bad."

"Bin," You tried to argue, but his hands were on your waist, sliding under the shirt you were wearing. His fingers were calloused, but so gentle as they stroked your body, working you up slowly but surely. His kisses continued, body caging you against the counter. Up your neck, along your jaw, across your cheek until he finally met your lips. The kiss washed over you, slow but so wholeheartedly desperate. You let his tongue dip into your mouth, savoring the taste of him and his longing.

Your hand wound its way into his hair, tugging lightly until he pulled away, lips already turning pink from working over yours.

"Tell me what you need, Binnie." You said. You watched the tension loosening in his shoulders, the way his eyes seemed to darken even more, going soft as he looks at you. He buried his face in your neck, pressing impossible closer to you until every inch of your front was squished into his.

"Need you to fuck me. Wanna feel good," He muttered, and you hummed, stroking his hair as you held him close.

"Alright baby, I can do that. Go get undressed, I'll be in there in a minute. Just gotta put the food away, okay?" You told him, nudging him away. He whined, pulling you closer. Still, you stayed firm. "Bin, I promise I won't be long. You can pick which strap you wanna take, yeah? Get everything out for me?"

He gave in then, slowly slipping away from you and heading for the bedroom like you said, his exhaustion and reluctance so clear in the way that he carried himself that you almost felt bad sending him away. But it didn't matter, you knew your job was to do what was best for him, and what was best was making sure he had food for later before you fucked him to sleep. So you made quick work of putting it up before you went to find him.

When you reached the bedroom, Changbin was stripped down to just the pretty undergarments that he liked to wear for you, perched on the bed with a few items laid carefully in front of him. You smiled proudly, taking off your pants and joining him on the bed.

"Look at you, such a good listener." You told him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and running your thumb over the softness of his cheek. "Still want to play?"

He nodded eagerly, looking up at you with the sweetest eyes.

"Good boy." Your hand ran lower, tracing the pretty baby blue strap of the bra he had on, down to where his tits were peeking over the delicate cups. "Did you wear this all day or did you put it on just for me?"

"Had it all day, but I put it on for you," He answered, hands coming to your waist to pull you closer to him, always so needy for the contact. "Wanted to look pretty when I got home."

You swallowed down a groan at his words. So fucking pretty for you, always was like this. You kissed him again, long and messy, before guiding him to lay down.

"My pretty baby. Gonna take such good care of you, just relax." You told him, dipping down to mouth at his collar bone, dragging your tongue along it before moving lower down to the dip between his pecs. He whined, squirming a little before seemingly reminding himself that you'd want him to keep still. He was always so eager to please, to give you exactly what you wanted so you'd give it back in return.

You slid one of the straps off his shoulder, then the other, then you slid a hand under him to unclasp it and slide it off all together, almost regretting the loss of the sight in front of you. But if he wanted you to top him, you knew you'd need him nice and pliant for you, putty in your hands. And there was no better way than this.

You wrapped your mouth around one of his nipples, listening to the way he whimpered. His hands reached for you, scrambling to find a place to touch you. You continued to suckle on the sensitive nub, your tongue tracing circles around it before finally pulling off and switching to the other side. Changbin's breath was coming out shaky. His tits were so much more sensitive than he'd known before meeting you, and you were just as addicted to playing with them as he was to having them toyed with.

"Ma'am, please." He whined. You pulled away from his abused nipple with a soft pop, looking up at him.

"What, sweet boy? What's the matter? Thought you wanted me to take care of you." You said, your hands trailing down the soft muscle of his stomach, feeling the way he tensed and relaxed under your touch and admiring the hard work that he put into his physique. He pouted, eyes growing wet with tears that tugged at your heartstrings.

"Need you inside. Please,"

It was so hard to deny him when he asked so nicely, and after all he dealt with on a daily basis, you couldn't find it in you to deny him. So you nodded, pecking his lips before sitting back.

"Alright baby, let's get you opened up, okay? Gotta be patient with me," You told him. You traced your fingers along the waistband of the pretty pair of panties he'd put on, the same pretty blue lace as the bra. Really it was a shame to take them off when they were fighting to hold his cock in so cutely, but you gave it to him anyway, tugging them down his plush thighs until you could take them off his ankles.

Changbin quickly turned over without even being told to, presenting his ass for you and squishing his cheek against the pillow. It was the easiest for him like this, didn't have to put as much effort into spreading himself open for you to play with him. You kissed his hip before reaching behind you for the bottle of lube he'd gotten out. You used one hand to pop the cap open, the other coming to knead one of his asscheeks, spreading them open and watching the way his hole clenched and unclenched. You dripped a generous amount of lube over the tight hole, earning a tiny gasp from Changbin at the temperature change. Your fingers followed after, spreading the lube and coating your fingers in it before dripping a little more onto them and testing one of your fingertips against his rim.

As always, Changbin was tense, but the feeling of your finger trying to breach his most sensitive spot made his entire body visibly relax, trying to make it a little easier for you. Once your finger started sliding in, it was easier to get him to open up. You worked it in slow, pumping it in and out to the first knuckle, then the second, carefully pressing against his rim to urge his hole wider until you could easily fuck one of your fingers into him.

He wasn't generally very loud, not this early on, but you were left with the pretty sound of his breath hitching, and the rhythmic hums that he let out each time you filled him up. Then you were adding a second and he was keening so pretty that you almost wanted to tease him again. You could see his cock jump, surely leaking the prettiest beads of precum already.

"Feel good, Binnie?" You asked, your free hand running over his hip. He nodded, breathless and pressing back onto your fingers as you scissored them open. You pulled them out, ignoring his huff and the tantalizing wiggle of his ass to add a little more lube. Then you were splitting him open with three fingers and just like that you'd pushed him into a new level of desperation.

"Please, ma'am, need you. Can take it, I promise. 'M open now, please. Fuck me, please." You were so helpless to him when he begged like that. You pulled your hand away, wiping your fingers on a tissue before leaning down to kiss his lower back, nudging him to lay back down, which he did eagerly.

You climbed off the bed, taking your sweet time while situating the strap to your body, feeling his gaze weighing heavily on you. Once it was on, you held your hand out and Changbin obediently leaned forward, lips pursed as he spit into your palm. You murmured gentle praise before stroking the silicon toy and smearing his spit on it, more for show than anything. As you settled between his thick thighs, Changbin spread himself open wide for you, pulling his thighs back and putting himself on display.

You uncapped the lube again, letting it spill onto the toy, some of it dripping onto Changbin's own rock hard dick, making him whine and squirm. He reached down to stroke himself, seeking some level of release, but you knocked his hand away, lining up the toy with his desperate hole.

"Color?" You asked, eyes flickering back up to his face. Getting pegged was always vulnerable for him, especially after a long day, and you weren't going to disregard that easily.

"Green. Just fuck me." He demanded, though it was so whiny that you had a hard time taking him seriously.

You pressed your hips forward, letting the head of the toy press into him and watching the way he tensed, then relaxed, melting into the bed beneath him. Once you saw that wave wash over him, you pressed in deeper, giving slow, shallow thrusts until you were buried inside of him entirely. His face was overtaken with lust, lips parted with the bliss of being full. Your hand wrapped around him, pushing his thigh closer to his stomach and hooking over the top of it to keep him in place. The other wrapped around his weeping cock, smearing the mix of lube and his precum up his length a few times while he adjusted.

Once you were sure that he was ready for you, you pulled out again, then plunged back in, finding your rhythm in slow, steady thrusts until you brushed just right against his prostate. He arched, a pretty whimper slipping out of him, and you were determined to hear it again. You shifted, finding your power in fucking the absolute demigod of a man beneath you absolutely brainless.

Your thrusts got harder, and with each of them the steady stream of desperate praise falling out of his lips jumped and hitched and broke until he was barely coherent. You could tell you were hitting right where he liked it by the way his cock twitched between the two of you, dripping and leaving a pretty puddle against his soft tummy.

"Look how good you're taking me, so perfect wrapped around my dick. You're so perfect, aren't you Changbinnie?" You asked, hand coming between you again to stroke him in time with your thrusts. He nodded, dark waves a mess against the pillow and eyes screwed shut as he tried to cling to his sanity.

"Yes, ma'am. So perfect for you. Good boy, right? Your good boy." He babbled. You leaned down, your lips slotting over his and your tongue dipping into his mouth to taste the saccharine words on his tongue. The new angle has him falling apart, fingers digging against your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. With the way you were pressed, your movement was turning into barely there grinds, digging the tip of your cock against his prostate and trying to messily stroke his dick in time. But despite the awkward position, it was absolutely giving Changbin everything that he needed.

"Close," He warned you, breathless and skin shining with the sheen of sweat he'd worked up. You latched your mouth over his nipple again, giving you a little more room to work. It was another three thrusts, a few tugs of his cock, and a particularly harsh suck before he was sent over the edge, cum leaking out of him down onto your hand. His eyes were shut tight against the tears threatening to fall, face scrunched up as he panted and whined out thanks under you. He always came a lot, even more so when you fucked him through it like this, milking every last drop out of him until it was running down your hand, pooling on his pelvis and dripping along the crook of his thigh.

"That's my good boy, good job." You hummed, bringing your messy hand up for him to lap at until it was all clean, smearing a bit of his cum against his cheek as you did, but he couldn't mind in the least. No, Changbin was on cloud nine, and you were thriving on the steady thrum of pride that came with getting him there.

"Thank you," He murmured against your skin, still suckling at your fingers. You reached up with your free hand, stroking against his cheek. He was so sweet when he got like this, fuzzy and warm from an orgasm and high on the feeling of not having to think.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" You moved to pull out of him, but his muscular thighs instantly closed around your hips, keeping you close to him as he looked up at you with the sweetest eyes.

"Stay inside. Just a little longer." He asked. You knew that if you did he'd be hard again in no time and begging you to fuck another one out of him. But he was looking at you with the sweetest eyes, and you really weren't capable of saying no to him like that. So you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips, then another.

"Alright, sweet prince. I'll stay. But we gotta get you cleaned up before you fall asleep. Promise?"

"Promise,"

You smiled, stroking his sides and pressing close to him with no regards to the mess between you. After all, a mess could be cleaned up, but you'd only have one lifetime with Seo Changbin in your arms.

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verdemoun · 4 months ago

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Pspspsps! Just food for thought about pets inspired by your wonderful precious amazing incredible Micah art piece 🤭💕

In the modern au, I was imagining Baylock would be a dog, even though I can honestly see Micah being a cat guy because they’re so independent. Maybe he’s a pittie? Or some other “tough” breed that Micah gets to look badass, but Baylock is the sweetest puppy around. Micah tries to hose him outside to get him mean and “wake up his fighting spirit” but Baylock just gargles the water and does that pitbull lip flappy chomp on the hose

I think the Count would be a white Persian cat that Dutch constantly takes to shows. He takes priority over his actual human sons even though the Count would turn Dutch in to the cops for a piece of kibble

Bonus African Gray Parrot Silver Dollar that Hosea somehow inherited and adores nontheless

Thank you for all your amazing posts!!! You’re an inspiration mwah

If I'm an inspiration you're awe-inspiring poppet.

Micah has a doggo called Baymax! Pets don't get reincarnated though a lot of the gang named their pets after their horses (rip only Arthur has a horse). Baymax is a massive white bulldog mutt Micah got as a 6month puppy from a shelter 1. thinking puppy was his adult size and 2. because the name Baymax reminded him of Baylock. Baymax was clearly neglected and has many scars from either other dog attacks or abuse and was the most cowardly dog Micah could've picked up. Despite growing to a very respectable 110 lbs and absolutely striking fear into the hearts of parents of small children everywhere with his looks Baymax is the biggest sook. Micah claims he is a guard dog only for Baymax to cower behind him at the slightest hint of confrontation (another dog tried to sniff his butt). Micah is not afraid to babytalk his dog in front of the gang. Everyone knows what little mental stability Micah has is linked to that dog. Of course Micah will also pretend he has no emotional attachments to Baymax and call him a dirty mutt at gathering, to which Baymax happily bounces over because it's pretty much the nickname Micah uses when he's dropped food for his living vacuum to clean up. Micah only learned to use a stove so he could cook steak and hamburgers for his dog while he lives on take out and frozen microwave meals. Baymax loves the hose but also when Micah took him to the beach he had to teach his dog to swim. The only doggy life vest in store in Baymax's size was baby girl pink and Micah still insists Baymax looks terrifying in it.

Dutch is the bird man! He has an albino canary called the Countess that is his favorite. Yes he would probably blow off actually leaving the psych ward to see the gang if he was too busy fussing over his birds. He has every color of canary you can imagine because Dutch can only form emotional attachments to thing he can keep in a cage.

Hosea doesn't need a pet he has Kieran and Javier to look after. Similar to owning cats he needs to remind them when to eat, deal with 'i won't drink out of that glass i don't know how long the water was sitting there' 'how did you survive as an outlaw', and keeps a spray bottle on hand to stop them making out on the couch. Kieran however has chickens and Hosea has walked into the living room to find out Kieran snuck the chickens inside because it was raining. In Kieran's defense they're very domesticated chickens who will just sit on his lap while he's watching his shows.

#rdr2 timewarp au #timewarp pets #tw dog

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toournextadventure · 10 months ago

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do you have any Sam x prof headcanons?

OH BOY DO I

Their favourite thing to do together is watch cheesy, B-list rom-coms. The ones that you find on, like, Romance Hub and Hallmark. Sam usually wants to pick them apart and laugh at them, but Prof is always like "no listen, it's sweet, I can prove it."

They have required "date nights" once a week. These aren't always extravagant dates, but more like a single night dedicated to doing something for them both to relax. Going out to dinner, staying in to watch a movie, playing a card game, walking around the park, anything relaxing.

On Wednesdays they wear pink. Because Prof is a Mean Girls fan.

Sam has practically placed a "No Cooking Unsupervised" rule on Prof. She knows they can't cook. She doesn't want to have everyone mad at her again because they set off the fire alarm. Who knew microwave mac n cheese could be such a difficult meal?

When Sam is stressed, Prof sets up an entire spa experience in their apartment (never Sam's because Tara and J don't know boundaries). Massages, bath bombs, candles, nail polish, the whole 9 yards.

They help each other study. All the time. It's basically a study date at this point, and Sam thinks it's precious to watch Prof info-dump about whatever she's studying at the moment.

#sam answers

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fromyanderewithlove · 1 year ago

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YANDERE SIMULATOR VOICE OVER SCRIPT: Info-Chan= All Recorded Lines as of 9/27/2023

Transcribed by Yours Truly <3

GAME INTRO- CONTENT WARNING:

Info-Chan-

"Warning: this game contains bullying, kidnapping, torture,

murder, suicide, graphic violence, partial nudity, kittens,

raw sewage, cooked sewage, microwave-ready sewage,

true nightmares, eldritch monstrosities, bald assassins,

DK mode, fake tans, Titans,

murderous ice fairies, impossibly strong punches, genocide,

Crusades, spooky scary skeletons,

(SUNG)"standing on the edge!"(SUNG)

zombies, vampires, succubi,

lewd manga,

busty pink-haired schoolgirls,

game-breaking bugs,

an overworked programmer,

and much worse."

{END WARNING}

[AYANO MEETS INFO-CHAN (CLASSIC SCRIPT)]

Info-Chan-

"Hey.'

Ayano-

"Do I know you?"

Info-Chan-

"I saw you stalking an upperclassman today."

Ayano-

"Do you have a problem with that?"

Info-Chan-

"No, I wanted to give you some information about the girl he was with. Her name is Osana Najimi. She has a crush on him. She believes in the myth about the cherry tree behind the school.

Ayano-

"The myth that if you confess your love to someone underneath that tree on a Friday, they are guaranteed to accept your confession?"

Info-Chan-

"Correct. She's planning to confess to him next Friday."

Ayano-

"Why are you telling me this?"

Info-Chan-

"I would be happy if something bad happened to Osana Najimi. I think you might be the right person to give her what she deserves."

Ayano-

"Who are you?"

Info-Chan-

"I'm the person nicknamed Info-chan at school.

Ayano-

"I've heard rumors about you.

You blackmail girls and sell panty shots to boys.

Nobody knows your real name."

Info-Chan-

"The rumors are true.

If you ever need a favor,

text me a panty shot,

and I'll give you whatever support I can.

If you want to know personal information about anyone at our school,

just send me a photograph of their face,

and I'll tell you everything I know about them."

Ayano-

"You're disgusting.

Info-Chan-

"You're a stalker."

"If you want my help, text me.

If you don't care, ignore me."

You have one week until your precious senpai belongs to Osana Najimi.

I hope you make her suffer."

{END SCENE}

[CAUGHT TRYING TO SPY ON INFO-CHAN]

Info-Chan-

"I know you're there."

"Run along now."

"There's nothing for you to see here."

{END SCENE}

[INFO-CHAN REMOTE ACCESS TAKE OVER]

Info-Chan-

"Trying to Look up my information?

"Don't bother."

"There's nothing you need to know about me."

"You're a client."

"And I'm a provider."

"That's all we need to know about each other while doing business with you."

{END SCENE}

[UI ACTION LINES- INFO-CHAN]

CONCLUSIVE RESPONSE:

Info-Chan-

"Pleasure doing business with you."

PANTY SHOTS:

Info-Chan-

"you don't have enough panty shots to afford this."

2. INTERACTION RESPONSE:

Info-Chan-

What do you need?"

3.REWARD RESPONSE:

Info-Chan-

"This one's free. Don't get used to it."

[END SCRIPT]

Thanks for reading. Please Share. and like! <3

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pixeldistractions · 9 months ago

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At least he didn’t make it very high before he fell. 😂

To my approximately seven dear precious readers following this story: 1st: I LOVE YOU! ❤️

And 2nd: Boxes and Squares will return in April after a short hiatus. It’s spring break next week and I need to go have a little adventure of my own. Chapter book 4 (in a prologue and six parts 😵) is a small novella in itself, so I don’t want to break up the momentum by beginning it and then running off. But it will be ready to start soon after I get back.

If you’re not caught up with the story, now is the perfect time to dig in! Or catch up on earlier stories that you might have missed! There are links and tags both on Blogger and Tumblr to help you out!

If you are caught up and need more to read, these books will be right up your alley.

For now, I’ll leave you with a little teaser of what we’ll dig into when I get back:

Flashback to 2079. 19-year-old Jordan with his dad. They were best friends.

And a little texty excerpt.

Colette came over to drop the boys off with Jordan at his dad’s place. Jordan stared at the babies like they were alien creatures. They were still small and pink and curled up like raisins. “Their formula is in the bag,” Colette said. “It’s already mixed, but it needs to go in the fridge. That’s important, did you hear? In the fridge. But they like it warm, just don’t microwave it. Tell me you’re listening?” “Don’t microwave it,” Jordan repeated. “But warm?” “In a bowl of warm water for about five minutes. Not hot water. They eat every three hours. That’s twice while you have them. Each. Okay? They need tummy time, you can’t just leave them in their carriers. And Milo spits up, so don’t rile him up too much after he eats. Ugh, can you even tell them apart?” “Uh, yeah, totally,” Jordan said unsurely, looking terrified. He 100% couldn’t tell them apart. He wondered if it was a terrible idea to write their initials on their backs with a marker?

See y’all in a couple weeks! 😘

#ts4 #sims 4 #this is why i've got nothing #jordan #mick

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corvidcrowned · 2 years ago

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Summing up yttd character’s genders in a few words(or more sorry)

sara: samurai boy who’s the final girl who’s the son of god who’s the top of her school who’s the jou: the color combo of yellow and blue :] nao: PINK THING mishima: if a librarian was a biker was an abstract painting keiji: shitty dad joke. Also an old sock gin: IF A KITTY WAS AN OUPPY<3 reko: GLAM METAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! alice: if a tiger was kind of lame sorry..tattoos. Blue. kai: lookin at you with those big ol eyes . Body horror also q-taro: GAY COWBOY!!!!!!!!!!!!somethin’ queer out there kanna: a very lovely little flower :) something young and precious that wilts as quickly as it begins to thrive. Appreciate your loved ones while they last, spend your life loving. Stop to smell the roses. I promise you things will get better eventually, you just have to keep going now. Also bucket :] shin: TRANSMASC HATSUNE MIKU floormasters miley: TEE HEE HEE =) silly fondue woman safalin: mad scientist who made her own dubious HRT . Green ranger: AAA BATTERY IN YOUR MICROWAVE!!!! gashu: like if classical music the music teacher made you listen to in grade school was a man. Also the color beige. Crabstache midori: FREAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! maple: silly sweet femme :] sweet tea and cookies. Spider<3

Dummies Anzu: IF A HUMMINGBIRD WAS A CLOWNGIRL WAS THE SUN!!!! hayasaka: office worker :( kurumada: LIGHTNING BOLTS NEON COLORS PERCUSSION AND PINK AND BLUE AND YEEEAAAAAHHHHHH mai: bread hat pastry hat muffin hat crossiant hat ranmaru: ough . Deadboy. Skeleton thang hinako: if a goth girl was doomed by the narrative . Hot cocoa :>

#Yttd #not tagging everyone #oughh take my thoughts oaky #chicken scratch

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thelonecalzone · 2 years ago

Note

weird questions for writers: 3, 10, 17?

Hi, tysm for asking!

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

The process might not be cursed, but the space is SO cursed. That quote about the two wolves? That’s my home office. One side is very work-oriented and reserved for my day job: clean desk, desktop computer with only a few tabs open, minimal additional adornment, a single precious potted plant. The other side? A horrible, uneven surface made of warped spare lumber and various boxes that act as table legs. Laptop from the dawn of time with 3500 tabs open. Cork board. Second Cork board. White board. Skeins of red yarn. Thumbtacks, sticky notes, it’s a real murder-she-wrote. Every day I perch my coffee mug precariously on a stack of books covered in those sticky tabs that mark out all the quotes I want to burden other people with, and get to work. I cross bits off my printed outline as I go, throwing everything into a single Google Doc where I use highlighted paragraphs to mark out the beginning and end of each chapter I’m currently working on. Yellow for the start of the chapter, green for the end. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out how to create a linked index. (Experts, feel free to weigh in if you find this too disgusting to bear). The Cmnd+find function no longer works once I’ve reached a certain character limit, so I make sticky notes for myself (like a little Rennaisance-era scribe) of anything I want to call back to or bring up later in the story. Do I know that I can search straight in AO3 for terms/phrases/quotes? Yes. Do I do this? Of course not. I have one brain cell, and I use it to imagine gay things. This also means that I need absolute silence to write, not even a lo-fi study playlist in the background. I’m a cave-dwelling beasty and I require dim lighting, silence, and 3-5 cups of coffee to most deliciously enjoy my writing, which I spend around four hours a day doing, in hour-long chunks. I am a blight :)

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Yes! I am constantly haunted by writing, and in particular the writing of Shirley Jackson, Denusha Laméris, and Mary Oliver, to name a few. It’s usually poetry that sticks in my brain and follows me around, rather than bits from novels (though this has exceptions). Philip’s Birthday by Mary Oliver is one that I’ve currently been microwaving in my brain, and a poem by Kait Rokowski, (which I’m not sure has a name, so I’ll type it out below, it's short)—

I do not keep meat in my home

Because cooking soft flesh feels like

I am betraying my girlhood

I do not want to watch something so pink

Become appetizing

-Kait Rokowski

I think of haunting like “being followed”, or reminded of something at inappropriate times (while in a meeting, during a conversation about literally anything else, etc.), so writing that haunts me is often stuff that ends up walking around with me for years and years, even after I think I’ve forgotten about it. My own writing though? Nah, not really. I don’t think about my writing usually, unless I’m actively doing it, or trying to solve a problem in a story.

(Also, I’ve gotten another request for this answer, so I’ll save a few haunts for that reply too).

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

Hi, I’m here with the spicy, spicy cuts of TBSCM :) I’ve already spilled so much tea in the comments of the fic re: the various lit inspirations, so instead I will leave you a chunk of writing that will never make it into the fic because it was cut for time. It was one of the little pseudo-dates that would have happened when Patty came to visit Allison in Gorham. To set the stage: Allison convinces Patty that it's a good idea to go fishing at dusk in Moose Brook Park (with some equipment she’s borrowed from Irene’s late husband’s collection)—

Flickering blips of yellow light glint off the calm surface of the water as fireflies wander lazily over the lake. Allison sits next to Patty on the bank, growing more and more dismayed as she flips through the pages of The Complete Book of Fishing Knots, Leaders, and Lines by Lindsey Philpott. She’s searching for something that will hold a worm in place without her having to press the hook through its soft, red flesh. She looks down at the unhelpful index and sighs.

“What’s wrong?” Patty asks, taking a sip of wine from the flask Allison had stuffed into her purse before they left the apartment on this ridiculous fool's errand.

“I don’t…” She doesn’t have to finish the sentence for Patty to know what the problem is.

Patty dead-eyes her, groaning. “Seriously?”

“What!”

“This is so stupid,” Patty says, snatching the worm from her and stabbing the sharp end of the hook into it. The outer layer of skin breaks the way a grapeskin might—popping, oozing with its guts, a red smear dripping down Patty’s thumb as she rolls the worm up the shank as easily as she might do with a lifeless macaroni noodle.

Allison grimaces… but she doesn’t look away. Something about watching Patty’s fingers deftly thread the worm’s body along the glinting metal transfixes her.

Patty catches her watching, and she isn’t sure why it makes her own face burn with embarrassment.

“Why do you know how to do that?” Allison asks, her eyes still glued to the wriggling worm, its blood oozing out onto Patty’s fingers.

Patty just shrugs, letting go of the hook abruptly so that it dangles there on the line between them, the worm wriggling helplessly, struggling. Patty wipes her fingers on the grass, then on her pants, gesturing for Allison to cast the line into the water.

Allison looks away, but does as she’s told.

“What are you gonna do when there’s a fish on there?” Patty asks her.

Allison swallows hard. “I’m…”

Patty isn’t sure if it happens on purpose, but she feels the gentle pressure of Allison’s shoulder leaning against hers as they listen to the distant croak of the summer frogs bellyaching for each other in the weeds. Without another word, Allison reels in the line. She pries the worm from the end of the hook and lets Patty toss it away into the grass. She doesn't know what she would do if she actually caught something... but she's afraid she might discover that some twisted, buried part of her likes it too much. Better not to know, Allison thinks to herself. Better not to find out.

#asks and replies #tbscm #pattison

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maisonfleurant · 15 days ago

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: VINTAGE ENGLISH COUNTRYSIDE DP100 BY MIKASA.

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world-through-a-kaleidoscope · 28 days ago

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The Barter Cat

At the dawning age, when I first learned to brush my teeth independently, I dreamt a dream so wondrously surreal I truly believe I encountered this cunning individual. It was late at night, the sky was fuchsia, and I was polishing my collection of unusual trinkets. An eye-shaped marble, a collection of teeth and a miniature porcelain tea set, approximately the size of a thumb. My favourite trinket was the sugar bowl engraved with pink ribbons that would clink and clank when you closed its lid. With the world asleep, the streets were undisturbed until a faint jingle of an ice cream truck swelled closer to my humble abode. An ice cream truck at this hour? Peculiar, there isn't possibly a customer awake, I assured. In disbelief, I peeked through my blinds and spotted a parked truck in front of my porch, it had pink wheels and an ice cream propped onto its lid. Oddly, the truck’s size was more like a microwave on wheels. Curious, I trekked quietly down the stairs to investigate. As suspected, no one was around, but only the luminance of tonight's super moon showered its moonlight, enchanting me towards it. “Hello? Is anyone in there?” I asked hesitantly, crouching down to its eye level. To my surprise, the small window slid open to reveal a black cat, wearing a chic headscarf. The cat was chewing on a dried piece of squid as it asked impatiently, “What would you like child? I don't have all night.” “Uh- alright, can I have one of those Powerpuff Girl popsicles with those gumball eyes?” I asked. The cat’s whiskers stood up, her pupils widening as if I requested something bizarre. “Popsicles? Do I look like some ice cream man to you? Tch, this is why I don't barter with children, they don't understand our culture at all. ” she whined. “Then what do you sell?” I questioned. “Miaow! Must I correct everything? I don't sell, I barter. Today, I have dental floss. But not ordinary floss, these are pink, taste like rainbows and can offer you luck. Your teeth are perfectly yellow and gross. Would you like them?” she smirked deviously. “Those do look cool. It's my favourite colour too, but sorry I don't have anything to offer.” I revealed. “Please, everyone always has something special to offer. Hmm…ooh! Like the pretty object you have hidden in your grip of yours.” she said as she pointed at my fist. As I redirect my focus, I feel a hard object between my palm. What? I don't remember bringing anything. As I release my grip, the polished porcelain sugar bowl lies flat, glimmering in the reflection of the moon. When did I- “Sold! Gimme gimme-please!” The cat gasped at the sight of the item, yearning as she propped her head out of the truck, itching to grab the trinket out of my grasp. Surprised by her determination, I unconsciously handed her the trinket. “Score! In exchange, one pristine dental floss as promised. Thank you for your wonderful patronage! It's been real.” she giggles, revealing her pearl fangs as she shuts her window and drives off into oblivion. Dazed at what had occurred, I opened up the dental floss and took a lick, for it to only taste bitter and of regret. Wait, I don’t even floss. I gasped as I realized I had been swindled by a Concat. My precious sugar bowl was stolen, and I have been ripped off of my eight-year-old pride.

#whimsical #Dream #memory #magical cat

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purplewood4 · 8 months ago

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Mother gift boxed mug, Candle, and Precious Moments Bell.

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sanghvisons · 2 years ago

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Natural or Lab-Grown? Which One Is Right for You?

Diamonds are one of the most beloved and cherished gemstones in the world. However, there are two different ways to obtain diamonds: natural and lab-grown. Natural diamonds are created by nature over millions of years, while lab-grown diamonds are created in a laboratory setting. Both types of diamonds have their unique characteristics, benefits, and drawbacks, making them a popular choice for consumers worldwide.

In this discussion, we will explore the differences between natural and lab-grown diamonds, and how they compare in terms of cost, quality, environment and sustainability. So whether you're in the market for a diamond engagement ring or just curious about these sparkling gems, read on to learn more about the world of diamonds!

How are diamonds made?

Both natural and lab-grown diamonds are made of carbon atoms arranged in a crystal lattice structure, but the processes for creating them are different.

Natural diamonds are made deep within the Earth's mantle, under high pressure and temperature. It's like baking a cake, but instead of using an oven, the Earth uses pressure and heat to bake diamonds over millions of years. These diamonds are then brought to the Earth's surface by volcanic eruptions.

Lab-grown diamonds, on the other hand, are created by scientists in a lab. It's like making a cake in a microwave. Scientists use machines to mimic the Earth's high pressure and temperature conditions to make diamonds grow from tiny seeds. It's much faster than waiting for millions of years like natural diamonds, and it's also more eco-friendly.

Both natural and lab-grown diamonds are made of carbon atoms, so they look and feel the same. However, lab-made diamonds are often more affordable than natural ones because they don't take as long to make, and they are a more sustainable option.

What are diamonds made of?

Diamonds are made of just one element: carbon! Yes, the same carbon that's in pencils, coal, and even our bodies. But the carbon atoms in diamonds are arranged in a unique way that gives them their incredible hardness and sparkle.

In nature, diamonds are formed deep beneath the Earth's surface, where the pressure and temperature are extremely high. Under these conditions, carbon atoms bond together in a crystal lattice structure to form a diamond. This process takes millions of years and requires just the right conditions, which is why diamonds are so rare and valuable. In a lab, scientists can replicate these conditions to create lab-grown diamonds. By exposing carbon to high pressure and high temperature or a carbon-rich gas, they can grow diamond crystals in just a few weeks or months.

So the next time you admire a diamond's beauty, remember that it's made of something as simple as carbon, but arranged in a way that makes it one of the most precious and coveted materials in the world.

Natural diamonds can also come in a range of colors, including colorless or white, yellow, brown, and even pink or blue. These colors are caused by the presence of trace elements or structural defects within the crystal lattice. Natural colored diamonds are rarer and more valuable than colorless diamonds.

Natural v/s Lab Grown Diamonds Price

Natural diamond prices and lab-made diamonds can vary significantly, depending on a variety of factors, including size, quality, and market demand. In general, lab-grown diamonds are typically less expensive than natural diamonds of similar quality and size. One of the main reasons for this price difference is that natural diamonds are rare and difficult to mine, which drives up their cost. The natural diamond price is also affected by market demand, with certain sizes and qualities being more in demand than others. This can lead to significant price fluctuations over time.

In contrast, lab-grown diamonds can be produced in a controlled environment, which reduces the costs associated with mining and processing Lab-grown diamond prices are largely determined by the cost of production, which is influenced by factors such as the type of technology used, the quality of the equipment, and the availability of resources such as energy and water.

Overall, lab-grown diamonds are typically less expensive than natural loose diamonds, but the price difference can vary depending on the specific characteristics of the diamonds and market conditions. Consumers should carefully consider their budget and priorities when deciding between natural and lab-grown diamonds.

See more: Online Diamond Shopping: How to Do it? What Is the Buying Process?

Natural diamonds vs lab-grown diamonds: which is better?

The answer to the question of which is better, natural diamonds or lab-grown diamonds, depends on a variety of factors, including personal preferences, budget, and intended use.

Natural diamonds are rare and have been highly valued for centuries, making them a symbol of luxury and prestige. However, natural loose diamonds are also associated with ethical and environmental concerns, including labour exploitation, environmental damage, and conflict financing. Additionally, natural diamonds can be more expensive due to their rarity and the costs associated with mining and processing

Lab-grown diamonds offer a more sustainable and ethical alternative to natural diamonds. They are created in a controlled environment, using less energy and water than mining and processing natural diamonds. Lab-grown diamonds are also typically less expensive than natural diamonds, making them more accessible to consumers.

However, man-made diamonds are not without their drawbacks. They may lack the sentimental value and historical significance associated with natural colored diamonds. Additionally, some consumers may prefer the natural beauty and unique characteristics of natural diamonds over the uniformity of lab-grown diamonds.

If you are looking for natural loose diamonds, visit Sanghvi & Son's website, we have been securely providing top-notch quality for the past 30 years all over the world. We are the best diamond exporter in India to deliver the perfect gems to celebrate your every occasion.

Read : How to Become a Diamond Merchant in India

Top 7 Reasons to Buy Natural Diamonds

Loose Diamonds: Everything You Need To Know [2023]

#natural diamonds #lab grown diamonds #Natural Loose Diamonds #Best Diamond Exporter In India

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blorbologist · 2 years ago

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Cat’s Cradle - Chapter 5

Ch 1 … Ch 4

[AN: Changing up the weights of the kittens, I realized I made them a bit too big for neonates, especially from a small momma cat! Will go back and edit the weighing chapter accordingly.]

Vex needs her sleep.

He doesn’t need his.

It’s that thought that gets him up the third time of the night. Stars, stragglers slow to escape dawn, blink back at him as he stares out the window. There’s an awful crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch, dog hair sneaking into his mouth time again. Coffee, soon. Once Vex wakes - the machine screams and gurgles in his experience, and he’d rather not bother her with that.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Percy doesn’t bother to get his glasses until the bottle of formula is warming in the microwave.

It’s not long at all until he’s peeking into the basket. All the kittens are sound asleep, piled loosely together. With none clamoring for breakfast he chooses the one on top - one of the grey tabbies - to avoid disturbing them.

To no avail - two little heads jerk up with whimpers, searching for warmth, and a third cries, wiggling into the space vacated by its stolen sibling.

“Morning, darlings,” says Percy, for his benefit more than theirs. The bundle of fur in hand answers with a mewl - mostly because it has protested with every exhale.

Exhausted as he is, Percy cracks a smile. It’s hard not to, the little creature is so opinionated. “Really, now? I’ll take it under advisement. Your usual, sir?”

The bottlefeeding thing is pretty easy, after some practice. Potty, feed, weigh. It’s incredibly satisfying to watch the numbers tick up, even compared to those first ones scrawled not even a day ago.

One is inconsistent, however - nigh a twin to the first to feed, its gains have been slower than its siblings. It does not latch quite right, either - after a minute of futile suckling he gently lifts it up. That little mouth is plastered with milk, opening pink in a wail.

“You’re troublesome,” he mutters, dabbing at the mess. It jerks its head away, offended. “Hold still-”

“Percy? You could have woken me.”

Years of practice working on delicate projects with noisy siblings around the bend keep him from jabbing the washcloth into the kitten’s face. He fishes for the last of the milk on its face before angling his head back to see - Vex is haloed by an ancient yellow lamp, clothes for the day slung over one arm. If he were more religious a man he’d call her an angel in sweatpants. Or maybe not - it sounds stupid and unbefitting of her. Gods, he’s tired.

“You’re up early,” he murmurs, resting the kitten on the towel-laden scale. His hands hover, just in case, as it settles. “I thought your shift started at eight?”

Vex cracks a grin. “I take Trinket for a-” she mouths walk, reminding Percy the dog is likely still sleeping on her bed “- before starting the day. Unlike some people, I don’t groan and grumble about early mornings like a teenager. How did you make it through the night?”

He yawns, smothering it against the back of his hand. 114.2 grams, better. As he notes it down, Vex’s hands appear, scooping up the day-old scrap of fur. She indulges in a nuzzle before returning it to the nest.

“Take a nap, darling. A longer one - it’s three, three and a half hours before I’m due to leave. I’ll cover their last feed before I go.”

Percy is not one to argue. “If those are your orders. They’ll be at the shelter once their doors are open - I will keep you” - another yawn, one she echoes this time - “informed of their verdict.”

Still kneeling beside the basket of kittens, she watches him stretch. He thinks he catches the hint of a frown before she rewrites it to be a smirk. “You can steal Vax’s bed - I won’t tattle, darling.” A wink accentuates her point.

“You’re a blessing, Vex’ahlia.”

“Oh, aren’t you precious,” coos the vet, pulling back the blanket to unveil the kittens. “They certainly are fresh, aren’t they?”

“Roughly twenty-four hours by this point. They still have their umbilicals attached,” Percy points out. “I thought that made it obvious?”

Tabby in hand, the woman - older, with pale hair in a lazy bun and some fish-patterned shirt beneath her labcoat - shakes her head. “Takes just under a week for them to lose it. They look pretty good, though.”

Percy nods and settles back against the wall, letting her and her tech give the kittens their checkup. Resisting the urge to hover is surprisingly difficult, so he looks at the pet obesity diagrams instead.

There’s no one available to take the kittens.

He had expected as much, given their correspondence the night before. Emails to other shelters nearby, even some rescue groups, likewise either received no response or a similar answer.

Apparently keeping the litter alive overnight is grounds for them to remain under Percy’s care. At least the shelter is kind enough to give them a once-over, a carrier and another bag of formula.

Vex is the only person he knows with experience raising small animals and she’s working two jobs to make ends meet. His own schedule has more leeway - mostly coasting off his past machine learning breakthroughs and his inheritance, Percy makes sure to keep busy to maintain a steady income. It also allows him to set his own schedule - the engineering projects can be put off for a few weeks if needed.

He could just sit, code and tend to the kittens on coffee breaks. Haul them to the workshop when he needs a change of scenery and poke away at simple mechanisms. Though the drive would be too long to make often, he could manage without tinkering. It would be perfectly doable.

Could he, though?

“Hm,” says the vet tech. He hums, again, deeper, and Percy looks up.

They’re crowded around the pale kitten, watching her wobble in gloved hands with interest. The vet catches Percy’s eye and waves him over. ”How is the point’s motor control? Compared to her siblings.”

“Point?”

She clicks her tongue. “Oh, like a Siamese. White for now, but the extremities will get dark.”

Delicately, she puts the kitten on the cold metal of the exam table. It - she - squeaks in protest, head rocking around in an attempt to keep upright. She tries to crawl away, her claw-prickled paws wiggling.

The vet puts another kitten down to demonstrate - this one, the loud grey one, is able to drag itself a fair ways before the vet stops it with a hand. Its sister has made no progress, almost falling over multiple times.

“That’s not normal, is it?” Percy asks. When she lets out a particularly heart-wrenching wail he scoops her up, one hand pressing gently into her fur. Her fussing dies down to whines.

“She might have some neurological issues,” says the vet. “Cerebellar Hypoplasia, potentially. Nothing life-threatening, thankfully, but she will be special needs.”

They’re still going over the details when Percy’s phone buzzes. He unlocks the screen to spy three texts from Keyleth (asking for pictures and names and how are things with -), one from Grog (how do you send a video over text). This newest was from Vex, a short and sweet any updates?

Many. Call me when on break?

“It’s not that complicated,” Vex says over the phone.

Percy scoffs, affectionately. One of the shelter volunteers glances at him - not heading out until he’s ready to drive, so the kittens remain warm as long as possible. The live trap is already loaded into the bed of his truck. “How is any of this not complicated, Vex?”

“Simple: you and the litter stay with me.”

#critical role #critical role fic #critical role fanfiction #perc'ahlia #percahlia #cat's cradle au #percy de rolo #percival de rolo #cr percy #my writing

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dokifluffs · 4 years ago

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Lookie | Bokuto Kōtarō

Pairing: Bokuto X Reader (female) ft. Kuroo, Kenma, and Akaashi

Genre: fluffyyy, surprise domestic

Author’s Note: I WANNA BE Y/N

gif from @rivaillerose

“Kenma, you gotta hurry or else you’re gonna get blown away,” Kuroo called as he paused, the bitter frozen winter wind blowing right into his face

He tightened his grip around the bag in his hand while Kenma shuffled through the inches high snow, not a single big of his face showing as he hid himself in his bundled layers to keep warm

The two walked through the blizzard with Kuroo walking behind Kenma, walking toward the house

With a brief knock on the door, the door opened to Akaashi as he stood there

“Where’s Kenma?” He asked

“Here,” Kuroo raised his arm, revealing Kenma at his side, facing into Kuroo’s body to stay as warm as possible

The two entered and stripped their layers and boots, letting the warmth envelope the two of them completely

“Thanks for bringing chips,” Akaashi said as he took the bag from Kuroo

“No problem. Are Bokuto and Y/N running late again?” Kuroo asked as he noted the silence in the house

“Actually no, they got here a few hours ago. They’re on the couch.”

And with that, the three of them made their way to the living room of Akaashi’s house, for the occasional movie night and sleepover

The three walked in on Bokuto as comfy in his regular spot on the couch, a warm blanket nu, smiley as ever but quieter than normal and with his face looking down into his sweater

“What’re you doing?”

“And where’s Y/N?” Kenma spoke as he quite enjoyed your company yet you were nowhere to be found

“Shhh,” Bokuto shushed them almost louder than the two cats spoke

He was giddy and he seemed like he was about to explode from excitement or something but he couldn’t

“Lookie!” He happily waved the two over as he pulled his collar

“Huh?” Kuroo confused as ever

The two hesitated as they just looked to Akaashi

“Just trust him,” Akaashi commented from the side, smiling himself at his best friends

The two leaned forward and their questions had been answered

There you were, fast asleep against Bokuto’s bare chest inside his sweater, cuddled close beneath the blanket too

It was like there were stars forming in Bokuto’s eyes as he adorned you in the position you were in

“She looks so comfy,” Kenma said quietly, a tinge of envy in his voice as he was still freezing cold from the journey here

“She actually has a bit of a fever-“

“But she can’t go home in his weather or she’ll get even worse and I didn’t want her to be alone while we were all watching a movie, so she’s here with me,” Bokuto cut off Akaashi but spoke every word with his chest as he squeezed you closer to him

“Alright then,” Kuroo said quietly, only for Bokuto to dramatically shush him once again

“Don’t wake my little bean,” the ace practically whisper yelled to Kuroo

“I didn’t even- fine,” he gave up as he grabbed a blanket and found his seat

For the rest of the night, Bokuto could hardly focus on the movie

His heart did flips every time he looked into his shirt and there you were, your cheek squished against his warm skin, your lips jutted out just a bit so it looked like you were pouting

Your hair and breath tickled his chest and stomach but he didn’t mind it a single bit

The others could hear and feel the bubbliness emanating from his persona throughout the entire movies

The little laugh he would give when you moved a little or when he played with your hair or booped your face

His occasional movement, that you had gotten used to sleeping on him, to reposition himself

But also how quiet he was whenever a jump scare popped up

He was always the first one to yell or leave the room but not tonight

He couldn’t focus

How could he when you were right there and you were fast asleep on him

You were his precious little bean and he wanted to make sure you got all the rest you needed to make a speedy recovery

But oh all the times he had to refrain himself with smothering you with his kisses

He just wanted you to shower you with all the love in his big heart for you

He wrapped his arms and legs around you, not wanting to let you go even for a millisecond tonight

Domestic bonus:

The popcorn popped in the microwave as the paper brown bag expanded and expanded, always making you nervous that one day you would open it and it would just explode into your face

but you just watched as the bag expanded

you could hear subtle noises coming from the living room but before you could look, the final beep of the microwave sounded off in the kitchen

“Hot, hot, hot.” You barely held onto the hot bag with your fingertips as you juggled it to prevent burning yourself

You poured the bag into a large bowl, bringing it to your living room

and that’s when your heart melted

“Peek-a-boo!” your husband lifted the collar of his shirt, his face disappearing as he called, the living room erupting with laughter from your daughter as she giggled contently

“Where’d she go?” He “closed” the collar of his baggy tank top, teasing her as your little girl hid herself under his shirt, hiding her face into his chest

“Here she is!” he opened his collar again, more laughter ans squeals erupting from both of them as he pulled her out, sitting her in his lap, playing with her, giving her butterfly kisses as her small hands reached out to cup his face

“She’s swo cwute,” he turned to you, his cheeks being squished by his daughter. “Ooh! Popcown!”

Both their eyes lit up as they turned to you, Kotaro lifting his baby girl in his arms as he made his way over to your side

Though only you and Kotaro ate the popcorn while your baby girl played with his clean hand, the occasional giggle coming from her as he tickled her

but to be honest, the two of you could barely pay attention to the tv when you two had your little girl

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @makeusfreefromthisfandom @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan @turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya @wisepandaslimeland @killuaking @kattykurr @bbymilkbread @tsumtsumland @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @amandahh626 @nabisonyeo94 @wntrmn @dai-tsukki-desu @peteunderoos @ohyoumakemelive @aka-a-shii @shinhiromi @wompwomphq @lollypop-lam @isentsworld @blue-melody @u-wakatoshii @moondriplets @lovinnoya @yuueisteria @humanitysbiggestsimp @cjphoenix135 @inarizaki-captain @closetfurrytsukishima @chibichab @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @kuroosbixh @lavearchives @sweet-sour-devil-ish @daichis-kitty @creepyproxies @itsmarziapei @skyh20 @yehetstudies @that-chick212 @proherotheflamehashira @celestair @katiea03 @omg-haikyuu @chesirekittycat @ilovecheese08

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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.

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