#I'm not good at romance but I'm trying to figure it out

[yunhohattyu]

𝐹𝒶𝓉𝑒'𝓈 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁 {pt1}

pairing:idol!yunho x fem.reader

genre: romance, strangers to lovers, fate`s call, maybe there will be smut?

SUMMARY: Yunho noticed that Y/N often came to ateez fan meetings, and you asked him a lot of interesting and funny questions. He also got to know you well at every fan meeting. And one day, he gradually began to have other feelings for you… He felt butterflies flutter in his stomach at the sight of you! but he was still an idol, but.. It didn't work with you.He was falling in love with you.He fell in love with an innocent sweet girl<3

★ ПРИМЕЧАНИЕ АВТОРА  | : Это будет мой первый фанфик, и я думаю, что я благополучно допишу его до конца! и если будут какие-то ошибки, пожалуйста, имейте в виду, что английский не мой родной язык, и это мой первый фанфик? или можно сказать 2! Надеюсь, вам понравится и вы подарите ему много любви :) Я также обещаю, что будет 2,3 части ! Я скоро выпущу часть 2, ждите обновления! И если вы хотите, чтобы я вас отметила, дайте мне знать, напишите в кометах . Я думаю, вам понравилось. Спасибо всем, если вы дочитали до этого момента! :) я люблю вас<33

He saw you in the queue again. Your eyes shone every time you spoke. his heart started beating faster when you approached.He tried to stay calm, but he could feel his cheeks turning a barely noticeable pink. You talk to him about everything! He got to know you well, and you got to know him.They rarely saw you in the store, and I thought you lived nearby...

When it was your turn, he squeezed the marker a little harder when he signed the poster. "Hi," he said, trying to keep his voice level, but his look said, "are you an owl here?"

-"Yes," you smiled, slightly embarrassed, but you remained confident. - you know that I will always come if there is an opportunity.

It kept happening, he always greeted you with a sweet smile, and he got a little upset when it time comes to an end.but one day he couldn't anymore, whenever he saw you in a crowd, or anywhere else, butterflies would soar in his stomach.But he was still an idol!

-"you said you moved here. Are you used to it already?" You nodded.

-"Yes, but sometimes it can be difficult. especially when you're away from your family.." His gaze became a little serious. "you're strong. I can see that. But…It's hard to live alone"

You felt his fingers lightly touch your arm. It was so wrong for fanmitting, you thought. He held your hand for longer than he should have, and his eyes said things he couldn't say. "You know… after fan meeting ," he began slowly, as if weighing every word, "I'd like to talk to you. but… so that no one else knows"

His voice became a little quieter, almost a whisper -"Can you wait for me at the entrance? fanmeeting is almost over.."

Ты кивнула в замешательстве, не совсем понимая, что происходит. После этого ты встала и пересела на другой стул рядом с Минги. Ты была в замешательстве, ты не разговаривала с ним гладко, твой мозг все еще не мог отфильтровать слова Юнхо. Затем ты вышла из здания в 6:42, ты думала, что он выйдет в то же время, но там было много фанатов. и ты пошла в кафе, которое было неподалёку, чтобы перекусить. Ты думала о его словах там, он был серьезен? почему? Почему? Почему? ПОЧЕМУ Я??

late evening

You're standing on the street.

The cold wind ruffles your hair slightly, and you're already starting to wonder if you've understood it correctly. But then a tall figure in a mask and a warm jacket steps out of the shadows . "Did you come?" -Yunho asked in a low but confident voice -"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting a long time.. here… cold. And there are too many people"

He looked at you and then at the people around you. "We…Can we go to your place? If you don't mind, of course! If you don't mind!"he waved his hands because there was no other way out, because any passerby could recognize him if he wanted to go to a cafe or restaurant . You blinked in surprise. To you? Home? now? At night? At this hour of the day? TO YOUR HOUSE? aha very good!

"Oh, of course…" -you began, feeling your tongue slur, -"I'm… just surprised that you're asking for this. Is everything okay?" His eyes looked into yours. "It's okay. simply….It'll be easier this way"

The drive home was quiet until you said -"Um..understand..it's so weird..And, we're going to my house now… Why did you say to wait for you at the entrance anyway?" - you asked, trying to stay calm he smiled slightly, did not answer right away

-"I'll explain when we get there," his words only increased your excitement -"and I'm sorry if I confused you.."

"ah, it`s okay! dont worry!" -You said nervously

At your house

You close the door while he takes off his shoes. his movements are a little nervous, but he tries to look calm. and he makes a mental note that your house is not far from KQ. And at that time you were thinking, "I've brought an idol home now.. And we're here, and I'm not sure what he wants from me! what a beautiful and understandable life I have" and u smiled. "Do you want some water?" - you suggested, feeling your voice sound a little louder than usual. "Yes, please," you nodded, and told him to sit on the couch. Your house wasn't big, there was a hotel, a kitchen, and a bedroom and bathrooms.

he was sitting looking around the house and the decors, and then when you brought the water, he took it, saying "thank you." He was sitting staring at one point, his fingers tapping the glass slightly nervously. "So…everything okay? What did you want to tell me?" you were sitting next to him on the couch.But you kept your distance. He froze. "i`m..- He swallowed, trying to collect his thoughts - do you remember our first fan meeting? when you asked me that funny question about the key," you nodded and smiled "I thought at the time that you were just another sweet fan. But then…. I started to notice that I always liked talking to you, I felt like every time you came, I had…- He covered his face with his hand, embarrassed- I'm happy, as if butterflies start to fly in my stomach at the sight of you"

You looked at him in surprise. "I tried to remind myself that I'm an idol, and that it's wrong. but…It doesn't work with you," -and he continued- "there were a lot of attractive fans, but I always reminded myself that I'm an idol, I can't do that. And when I saw you, I said that too, but…But it doesn't work, I… I can't."

He took your hands, his fingers were warm, slightly trembling. "you… Somehow, you've become more than just a fan for me. I can't ignore it. I can't ignore my feelings. I think…-he added almost in a whisper:- "I'm falling in love with you."

he froze, looking at you carefully, trying to understand your reaction. at that moment, your brain ceased to exist… What did he just say? Have you fallen in love? Into whom? Into you? how? ME? can not be

"I am…I don't understand, it's so sudden -you look at his hands holding yours- "and you really are an idol. and.. I don't understand how quickly you fell in love with me… I haven't had a relationship before…and in general"

You blush, and of course he notices. His hands were still holding yours, though his fingers were shaking slightly. He froze for a second, and then, hearing your words, he only blushed deeper. His gaze became confused, but gentle. "me..I know it sounds sudden," he began softly. "I'm an idol. I shouldn't do that…to feel and fall in love. You have no idea how hard it is to hold back," he loosened his grip a little, as if he was afraid he might scare you, but immediately covered your palm with his hand. "it didn't happen fast, trust me. I do not know when it started. Maybe at the third fan meeting, when you asked me that question, what's my favorite song?Or when you said that you dreamed of becoming a dancer, and I saw how your eyes were burning?" He paused, smiling nervously He exhaled, and started to turn it down a little "I know it might be weird for you. especially if you haven't been in a relationship before. And you know… I didn't expect you to feel the same way. but if at least some of what I said resonates with you, I want to give it a chance… If you want to, of course. I don't want to put pressure on you. it's simple… -Smiling shyly, he says,- "That's all I can say right now"

you look at him with obvious shock, you don't respond because your brain has ceased to exist! Your brain still can't filter out what he just said. But Yunho couldn't help himself and said - "If you keep quiet, I'll stop breathing now." He said, still looking at you with tenderness

Then you answered

-"Yunho..I know, it's just that it's really weird…But I've always liked you, I've always liked you so much, and now too, I never thought that I could become more than just a fan for you.. if your intentions are serious, then… Can I say yes?" Approaching, you smiled playfully

He quickly replied, "If that's what you want too, I'll be glad to hear yes, but it's more important to me that you want it too."

Then you'll say, "What do you want next?"

and he answers thoughtfully, -"I am..I want to be the person you can always rely on. And I promise that I will give you the greatest happiness. And I will always love you. Do you think you want to go on a date with me on Sunday? Are we going to have dinner, or are we going to the park?"turns over playfully

"I'm ready! but you will go out in public with me, and everyone can recognize you.. And it's not a good idea, I don't want you to get into trouble because of me… So what do you think about having dinner at home? I'll cook you a meal."

he looks and smiles as if after all these years he could pick up a bright star in his arms, his eyes sparkled, and he smiled softly at you. And he said, "y/n come closer."

and you sit a little close to him and he holds you by the back of the head and bends over slowly and says "can i.." you nod and he kisses you so softly, as if you were breaking down, he kisses you softly, gently. and he pulls back and blushes quickly, saying, "I'm sorry… I didn't want to..I just…"

But when you say "no, it's okay. it was good" and he understands that he wants something, but he doesn't want to rush it, then you offer him an idea.

Part 2 will be coming soon!

thank you for reading to the end, like and repost! <33!!!!

[needfantasticstories]

Zelink post-BotW Fluff: Swimming Lesson

TW: none

Link loved the squelch of saltwater sand between his toes. He couldn’t believe Zelda hated it so much, but he didn’t mind carrying her into the water as she laughed and yelled at him to put her down, to the delight of her students. 

Every day he learned more about the princess. Like him, she wasn’t the same person who began a century long pause on life. Yet while he rested and healed in safety, she battled to hold back the full might of Gannon to save what remained of their beloved land.

And he’d never let her forget her strength. He had faith in her.

Link saw her smile and ignored her halfhearted protests. He ran into the cool wave, turning her back towards the spray so it would not splash her eyes. 

She gasped and laughed along with the gang of children running beside them, giggling and diving into the waves. 

They shouted instructions to her, deftly swapping roles of teacher and student, “Pinch your nose, or breathe out! In one, two, three!” they instructed her. 

She held her nose tightly in one hand and held Link’s shoulder in the other.

Link plunged down into the wave. Beyond the thin, swirling veil of white foam shone sunlight spears piercing a world of sapphire blue. 

They came up, and she gasped for air. She struggled to catch her breath as Link moved her to his back.  He walked just beyond the shallow waves near the shore, then followed the shoreline in the calm, gently pulsing water. 

Zelda laughed as she memorized the shape and color of each coral from above, whispering their Sheikah names to herself, connecting them to her texts, Link guessed. 

The water-sure children paddled and dove nearby, and led the pair further into the calm bay.

Zelda nervously wiped dripping water from her eyes.

“You’ll get used to it!” one child shouted, “Now you’ve gotta learn how to kick your legs!”

She froze, but Link pulled her down carefully. 

“This will be easy. Probably easier than your riding lessons,” he assured her quietly.

“But I broke my ankle…” she said, turning white.

“Oh," He cursed his memory loss again, "Well, easier than shield surfing then…”

“You used three fairies the first day!” She glared playfully at him.

“But you didn’t. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

That seemed to satisfy her.

The children watched as their teacher, Miss Zelda, floated nervously on her stomach, arms forward and legs straining to stay flat, supported by Link’s left arm, and gripping his right arm for dear life.

“I'm not sure I should have agreed to this,” she laughed, but her smile showed both fear and excitement. 

“He’s got you! It’s okay, Miss Princess!” Kinov called as he blocked splashes from his little brother, Zuta. 

Zelda smiled at Link. He smiled back at her and offered a quick, encouraging nod. 

She kicked her legs, as hard as she could, as the students cheered. 

It had been her deal to them: if they’d spend a week learning to read Zora script, she’d let them teach her to swim. It meant a great deal more when they realized how much she did not enjoy sand.

The children laughed and cheered at her kicks as she grew more confident in the peaceful water. 

“Now swim!” they shouted, and splashed her. 

“Stop! The fish!” A girl shouted. 

Zelda slowed her kicks. She was getting the hang of the water’s buoyancy, its resistance to her movement and the flowing echoes of her motion, its wide, gentle breaths in and out. 

The kids watched the water quietly as they tread or stood in the rocking mass.  Slowly, they watched schools of fish return. 

“They’re back,” one said with a grin.

“Yay! Fishies!”  A young girl whispered.

“Are you ready?” Link asked.

Zelda wiped her eyes, smiled nervously, and gasped, “Just let me catch my breath for a moment. This water is just so… so endless…so bright…” the children did not wait for her, and dove while she scanned the silver horizon, lost in a contemplative trance. 

He hoisted her onto his shoulders to see the horizon better. It was all still new to her, this endless sea. 

Link recalled his first time seeing it. He didn’t understand who he was back then, or where he’d come from, except what the old man and old woman told him, before he really understood his history with King Rhoam and Chief Impa. 

He was just trying to stay alive long enough to recover his scattered memories, standing near the cliffs above the village. He had finished a battle for his life against a gang of blue bokoblins with a rusty soldier’s sword, a long stick, and a few carefully timed bombs as he battled high on a cliff near a shrine. 

He recalled struggling to catch his breath after the battle, still shaking from adrenaline, ears ringing. A rare fury had surged in him: the world he’d so abruptly awoken to harbored so much evil, and all because of his failure; one he couldn't even remember. 

Then, he’d turned around. Beyond the cliffs near his feet, Link saw the impossible: another world, shimmering like a mirror and made entirely of water. Only a few tiny islands, like small bowls floating precariously, darkened the giant mirror’s surface. The world’s end, he’d thought. 

Ocean, came the taste, the smell of a memory. 

He’d glided down to look closer at the mirror's cracking edge, white waves, and soon discovered a village with kind people; it was a place of healing, peace, and rest. He slept to the heartbeat of the sea. 

For the first time since he awoke, he knew he could find good in the world beyond the Calamity. 

He often returned between adventures, especially whenever he discovered a new memory. Here, he’d prayed final goodbyes to sweet Mipha, fatherly Daruk, wise Urbosa, and even the proud, lonely Revali before they faced Gannon together. 

“Wow, you’re strong, mister!” one boy said as he looked up at Zelda, the taller princess easily supported on his shoulders. The child dispelled Link’s reflections as they splashed. 

“Come see the fish!” The children begged, bored with the pair’s long gaze at the midday horizon. 

Link walked closer to them as Zelda slowly returned to the present. He wondered what she thought. Did it change her too? 

The children led them a little deeper into the water. Link guided Zelda to his arms and helped her float, as before, so she could look down into the water. He stepped carefully around the coral as swells brushed up to his shoulders. He felt a little unprepared without his Zora armor. I should get used to not relying on specialized equipment so much, he thought. 

“Come see!” The children said, and they dove below. 

“I’m ready,” Zelda confirmed before he asked. 

“Open your eyes,” he said, winking just before he dropped under the surface with her.

Schools of fish swam over the giant purple and pink gardens of coral. Kelp forests swayed in the mouth of the bay, giant fish swimming in and out. Tiny red fish darted all around them. 

Zelda made a sound of surprise, bubbles billowing, and he rushed her back to the surface. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Oh my goodness! Yes, I’m fine. Just so surprised! I didn’t see most of them from up here! I recognize the eels from my texts! Do they get very big?” She asked, looking a little nervous.

“Let’s find out,” he answered and rose up in warning before diving again. 

Tiny, ribbon-like eels of turquoise swam nearby. A yellow fish swam by, and Zelda reached a hand out to it. It puffed up like an octo balloon, and wiggled awkwardly away. 

The feel of Zelda’s soft hand gently returning to his shoulder made him feel strange: a mixture of peaceful and tense. It was oddly similar to the feeling before a fight, that queasiness, yet his body felt slower, seeking to match her gentleness. He shook it off and intentionally tensed up as he spied a new fish. He mustn’t ever be off his guard.

A child swam over and pointed toward shore. 

“Princess, I have a message for you!” Called a male voice as they surfaced. 

Link carried Zelda to shore. She wiggled down and, though she winced ever so slightly as her feet touched the warm sand, she still walked with the grace of a queen, in spite of her soaked clothes. 

“Who sent it?” Zelda asked, taking the scroll from the Hylian traveler. 

“It’s from Lady Riju. She has a request you visit at sunrise tomorrow,” the messenger read, and showed the note to Zelda.

“Very well. Can you confirm to her that we’ll be there?” Zelda said, taking the blanket Link offered and wrapping it on him with a grin. He grinned back and got another one from the children, who had followed them ashore. As the messenger left, they took Zelda’s blanket back, yelled, and chased her with it yelling “Like-like! Zelda’s a shield!” 

She ran, and for once, Link did not rush to defend her.

“Caught you!” a little boy squealed behind him and caught Link’s leg. Link recognized him as Zuta, Kinov’s little brother. The poor boy always seemed one step, one instruction behind. He must have misunderstood the others, Link realized. 

Link laughed, and tousled his hair, “You did! Clever! Now, let’s catch the teacher!” he said, and picked up the pace to chase the others, Zuta still holding his leg.

TBD (1578 words) by SkipBreaker Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Impa & Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Characters: Link (Legend of Zelda), Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Impa (Legend of Zelda) Summary: Who is Zelda, without a Kingdom or Calamity? Who is Link without the Champions and a clear mission?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The squad of all time has arrived on scene.

[clowningaroundmars]

Hobie1610 pt. 4

after so many months of waiting, the wait... is finally over.

here is the fourth and final part of this little au idea i had brewing in my head for some time now. i hope you guys enjoy?

and thanks so much to everyone leaving encouraging and kind comments on the previous parts as well! really appreciate y'all :)

hope this ending is a satisfying one :)

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 3 here<

MJ: We’re going to hang tomorrow after my shoot, right?

It was a text that Miles looked at and looked at and looked at all day ever since it arrived into his messages that very morning. It literally came out of nowhere.

But how long ago was it that he and Hobie Jones ran into each other at Central Park? It had to have been like a week ago, he was pretty sure...

He thinks.

“Maybe the guy’s pushy or somethin’, he just really likes you for some reason,” Ganke had offered by way of explanation as they sat together at lunch for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Miles wasn’t entirely sure when he and Ganke ever got to chill like this together in the cafeteria area... but as luck would have had it, Ganke’s mom forgot to send over some money for the week, forcing him to buy from the cheaper menu that the school had to offer rather than ordering off of the many food delivery apps he had on lock in his phone.

They sat a ways away from the hustle and bustle of the main area, near a big window that looked outwards into the typical scene of the congested New York City streets, and Miles would have been perfectly content with this arrangement had it not been for The Text.

He jiggled his leg and rubbed at his jaw in between bites of his own cheap meal-- something he got even though he didn’t really want it, but what was he gonna do, let Ganke wait in line by himself?-- gazing at his cell phone sitting right by his elbow. The text message was gazing right back at him.

“I… dunno. I-- man, I wish I told you more about my patrols so you can remind me how long ago Central Park was. I swear it was only like… last week? Right?”

Ganke chomped on his own slice of pepperoni pizza and shrugged. “I think that was a while ago. Either way, he wants to go on this date with you. So you might as well.”`

Miles groaned. “It’s not a date, Ganks. We’re just… chillin’, hangin’ out a little,” he gestured with his hands, which was not convincing Ganke at all. “Y’know?”

Ganke leaned forward a little bit, glasses slipping down his nose as he grinned mischievously. “Did he figure out it was you, Mi? Is that why you’re so nervous about it?”

“Whaaat are you talking about? No… no, he didn’t! I just. Uh, I saved him from those scary gang members and then I swung him home and that was that. No one else knows but you and my parents, Ganke, promise.” Miles’ smile was even less convincing.

“Miles,” Ganke deadpanned, “have you ever thought about what would happen if some Flickstagram-famous model learns about your thing you got goin’ on? He could be pushing this because he knows already, dude. Or at least he thinks he does. You’re a weird kid after all, and it wouldn't take too long to put two and two together... no offense.”

Miles shoved a fist under his chin and chewed a french fry pensively, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't give him away.

The thing is, Hobie did know.

Miles still couldn’t shake off the memories of his warm fingertips hooking under his mask and slowly lifting it off of his face, the way his entire visage seemed so positively radiant with that dazzling smile once they met eyes. He remembered Hobie’s wiry arms clutching onto him for dear life as they flew across the stadium towards the exit, the easy banter they had going back and forth after the action finally died down and they were safely heading back to the outer gates of the park.

So Hobie definitely knew. That wasn’t really the problem... although, Ganke might be right. It could be in the future, if Miles didn’t play his cards right.

Hobie is a solid guy no matter what dimension Miles found him in. Even as the Prowler on earth-616, that Hobie Brown was as an upstanding citizen as any crook could be. But flashes of earth-42 kept sparking up right behind his eyes every time doubt popped up about a new player in his life here on earth-1610, and one can never just assume anyways.

And now Miles is sitting at his lunch table with his best friend— who, until now was the only living person on this planet who knew about his secret identity— ruminating on whether or not Ganke might end up being a damn seer after all. Ganke doesn’t know that Hobie knows, but he really just might be right anyhow. That would really be Miles' luck.

Goddamnit.

Is Hobie planning on blackmailing him somehow? His involvement with those thugs stealing a prominent museum’s precious security info seemed a bit off to him, the more he thought about it.

They joked about it many a time over text, but Miles would be lying if he said he hadn’t turned a couple of facts over and over on more than one sleepless night. Hobie mentioned having connections, a camera, and seemed almost too recklessly opportunistic when it came to the chance at nabbing that flash drive...

Doubt was sinking back in. Miles drummed his fingers on the table and shot Ganke a look. “... Whaddya think I should do if he does, then?”

“What, if he finds out?”

“Yeah.”

Ganke shrugs again, popping a pepperoni slice into his mouth and thinking while he chewed. “Web him up to a lamppost,” he said after a bit.

Miles snorted with laughter. “Ganke, be for real right now. You’ve got great coding and social media knowledge, dude. Could you hack his tech if asked you to? Like, just in case?”

Ganke waggled his head, making a show of really, really thinking it through. “Mmmmn, yeah maybe.”

Miles sighs. “What do I have to do?” He asks because he knows his best friend by now.

“Fifty bucks and you also have to do my laundry for a week. What?” Ganke exclaims upon suddenly being on the receiving end of Miles’ glare, “If I get caught, it could mean like federal level charges on my head, dude. Take it up with the law, not me!”

Miles sighs and returns back to his plate of cold fries. “Yeah, yeah. You got a point,”

“But you gotta meet up with him first, figure out what we're dealing with. Just stop putting it off, bro. Avoiding him'll make you look more suspicious. Might as well get it done and over with,”

Miles swallows his fries along with his anxiety, picks up his phone, and starts drafting his answer to Hobie’s sudden proposal.

He doesn't know why there's a pit of dread in his stomach, but he opts to ignore it this time.

He hopes Ganke is wrong.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

The next day, MJ's cell phone vibrates on the portable vanity set up at the studio where his current shoot is taking place.

He’s busy, trying not to get too lost in the flurry of hands prepping him, the flashing of the cameras, the shouts of directions from the camera guy as he hits pose after pose with the props on set.

It’s when he’s changing into his last outfit for the shoot that he finally has some time to sip his water bottle and mindlessly scroll through dozens of notifications, finally coming across the one notif he waited to get the entire day: Miles. His name appeared at the very bottom.

... Meaning he received the message hours ago. Shit.

With his shoot almost over, MJ punched in a quick message and hit send, excitedly returning back to the set and finishing his work day up as quickly as humanly possible.

MJ's absentmindedly agreeing that every picture the director shows him is truly amazing, yes, amazing indeed, all while trying not to vibrate out of his mind-numbingly expensive designer outfit he’s been forced into. The only person he can think about as he dumbly nods along to whatever the crew is saying to him is Miles. Miles, Miles, Miles.

Miles has agreed to finally-- finally, after all of these weeks-- meet up with him and make good on his promise. Of course, MJ's slightly miffed that it had to be him to initiate the lunch date in the end, but whatever.

Closed mouths don’t get fed, after all. And Miles was technically not breaking his promise.

So now MJ is floating back down the hallway to the makeup room, gently pushing past all of the other models and swatting away at his mother’s hands while he makes his way over to his duffle bag.

“MJ, darling. Look at me,” his mother says as she hooks a finger under his chin and examines his makeup. “Do you wanna be wearing this when you go hang out with your little friend today?”

Your little friend, MJ almost scoffs out loud, but manages to school his expression into one of pure professionalism. “Yes, mom. Nothin' wrong with it,” he answers breezily.

She hovers. "I mean, it might make your friend think that... uhm, well. You know, it might give the wrong impression. He'll think you two are on a date! You're not allowed to date."

"Sure, mom. Except he knows I'm a model. The whole city does at this point." His tone drips with teenage attitude.

She lets him go.

Then, he’s unbuttoning his shirt and untying a sparkly scarf doubling as a belt to hold up the comically baggy jeans he was assigned to wear today, impatient to shrug himself out of those clothes and jump into his own so he can finally, finally, finally run down to the little cafe he told Miles to meet him at.

His mother was busy on a tablet typing away at something, chatting with MJ's agent once he found his way over to them, and even when neither of them noticed much about MJ on any other day, it seemed they were paying special attention to the way he was throwing his clothes back on with obvious glee now.

MJ had never smiled this much around them, and they sure took note of it now.

“Heard you’re getting ready to meet with a friend, MJ,” his agent told him once he turned his attention back to his client.

“Yyyep,” MJ answered noncommittally. He threw on a coat and started to reach for his messenger bag, stopping when a hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.

“We’re gonna keep in touch with the team, and keep updating you on the status of the shoot, but we gotta make sure you’ve got your phone on, right?” His agent looked him directly in the eye. “It’s great that you’re making friends again, Em, but you have to keep your head in the game.”

Yeah, of course. “Don’t let anything distract you from helping me make money” is what you mean, MJ thought ruefully, blinking back innocently.

He nodded and offered his agent a casual smile. “I mean yeah. He’s just a friend, I’m not gonna let that get in the way of my job. Don’t worry,” he adds, “I got my phone on. Hit me up when something cool happens.”

His agent and his mother exchange glances, but agree to release him anyways.

“I mean, he’s still a kid,” he hears his mother say as he quickly exits the room and finds his way towards the elevators. “I let him have a little fun every once in a while! The real work doesn’t start until he’s older right? Might as well let him have this for now..."

MJ rubs his thumb up and down along the edge of his phone case, feeling the bumps of the volume keys over and over.

He steps into the elevator when the doors slide open. He punches the button for the main lobby and stares down at his messages with Miles.

Yes, he thinks a bit vindictively, the real work doesn’t start until he’s older.

She definitely isn’t wrong about that.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

"You ever think about running away at all?" Hobie asked Miles rather suddenly after they got their usual greetings done and over with.

The cafe Hobie picked was cute, quaint, and very small. A nice little reprieve from the noisy halls of their school and the bustling city streets, since the business didn't seem to have any other patrons at this hour aside from the two boys.

They picked their seats right next to the window and opted to people-watch for a bit as they scrolled through the cafe's stylized menu on their phones. The lighting of the late-afternoon day illuminated Hobie in such gorgeous warm light that Miles was almost suspicious; did he pick this place specifically because the late sun's rays would bounce off of nearby skyscrapers and cast them both in the best mood lighting New York City had to offer? It sure seemed like it.

Hobie leaned back in his seat and gave Miles the most charming smile he's seen on a guy yet, erasing his suspicions from his brain entirely. And... well, anything else as well.

"Uhhh," Miles offered intelligently.

Hobie huffed a laugh in response. "It's okay, I know it's a weird question. Forget I said it."

Miles shook his head. "Wait, no. Sorry, what'd you say again? I'm, uhm. Sorry, I think I'm just a little tired. Kind of out of it,"

Hobie nodded sagely, setting his phone aside for the time being. "Hmm, late night homework, right? Essays maybe?"

They chuckled and grinned at each other cheesily, the knowledge that they shared a big secret between them settling comfortably and cozily like a fat cat curling up near a fireplace. It was nice, kinda. To be in on something that not many other people were, like an inside joke or a long-running bit between old friends.

But then Miles' earlier conversation with Ganke at the school cafeteria floated back up in his mind again and he had to bite his lip to keep from frowning suddenly. He looked down, a bit ashamed.

"Hobie--" he started.

"MJ," Hobie interrupted, chin in his hand now.

Miles looked up. "MJ. Oh, yeah. Right, sorry."

"I don't really like my given name, so no one calls me that. Just call me MJ. Or Em, even. That's what my agent calls me."

"Agent. Geez. So you didn't really answer my question earlier, back when we first met," here, Miles folded his arms on the table in front of him. "How famous are you, really?"

MJ grinned like a mischievous cat, chin still in one hand. "You've been on my Flicksta page this entire time since you found it. How famous do you think I am? Not that hard to do research nowadays, right?"

Miles felt his face heating up. "H-how'd you know about that?"

"You liked a post of mine that I made like... last year, dude. I saw."

Miles silently cursed himself out as he shut his eyes in embarrassment and winced. "Yikes. Alright, I guess you caught me. That was my bad for sure!"

MJ's grin was crooked. "Yeah, I'm... pretty well-known. Not supermodel status yet obviously, but I've been on a couple billboards. Posters, some ads. I'm training to walk some shows. Whatever." He leaned back in his seat again and messed with his sweater's sleeves a little as he spoke. Distantly, Miles noticed how expensive MJ's clothing really looked, how plush the knit of his sweater was, and the tailoring of his coat.

"Whatever," Miles echoed inquisitively. "Do you hate it? Is that why you wanna run away?"

They met eyes.

"I thought I told you to forget that question, Morales," MJ replies coolly. "It was a weird one. I dunno why I even said it,"

Miles, sensing something in the air between them, wondered if he should have changed the subject. Too bad his mouth had a less-than-stellar track record of listening to his brain.

Instead, he opened it and quietly said: "If we're gonna be friends, and if you want me to not web you up to a pole somewhere in Manhattan, I gotta know your deal."

"Mn, my deal," MJ repeated warily.

"Yeah," Miles sighed, already resigning himself to just getting this over and done with already. No time like the present, right? "You mentioned... you mentioned having a camera and connections. And you're just... weird, man. Like, no offense but you being in Central Park when you were that one time? Running away from those gang members who looked like they were gonna strangle you for takin' their flash drive away from 'em? That was super risky. Something's up."

MJ nodded, still looking apprehensive but also like he wanted to give in. "Right, I've got your big secret. Now you wanna have one of mine. Fair, I guess."

Miles shrugged helplessly. "If we're gonna be friends... I mean, it is fair, right?"

MJ glanced around at the empty seats around them, grateful that even the cashier seems to have gone to the back so that they were both totally alone together. Good spot to pick after all, he thought to himself. He kept his voice down just in case anyways.

He licked his lips and leaned his elbows on the table. "Yeah. I get it. It's a big thing you're doing for the city, y'know... doin' what you do. So here it is: I hate being a model."

Miles blinked at him, waiting for more. MJ didn't immediately being speaking again so he made a go on kind of motion with a hand.

MJ laughed a bit, shaking his head. "This is gonna be stupid. It's gonna sound so stupid! God," he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckle and looked outside at a small stream of people walking past, all in a hurry to get on with whatever it was that occupied their lives.

"... About as stupid as some kid from Brooklyn putting on a costume to go out and fight crime?" Miles smiled patiently.

"Well, kinda. It was because of some punk kid from Brooklyn putting on that costume to go fight crime that I finally had the courage to like, go out there and get into my little hobby of breaking and entering, snooping around places I shouldn't, trying to help people..." MJ stopped when he saw the look on his friend's face.

"You...?" Miles started, his lips forming the shape of the words he wanted to say but not quite letting them out into the open just yet.

Did he hear that right?

As if reading his thoughts, MJ nodded. "When you took up the mantle of Spiderman after our first guy died, I took it as a sign. To like... finally just do it, right? I guess all that was left was just taking the leap, y'know what I mean?"

Miles suppressed a shudder as he nodded along, pushing Peter B's lectures out of his mind for the moment.

"I hate being a model," MJ continued, a single loc falling into his determined face, "because I wanna be a journalist. Like... an investigative journalist. But I also like science stuff as well. I guess I dunno what I really wanna be when I'm older. All I know is... I have got to get away from my overbearing mom."

"Or else," Miles finishes for him, tilting his head as if to say remember our conversation at the park?

MJ grimly confirmed it. "Or else," he replied.

Miles blew out a breath and leaned all the way back in his own seat, folding his arms over his chest. "Wow."

"Yeah, heavy stuff. I know," MJ tossed his locs back over his shoulders and glanced up at the posted menu hanging high above the register. The cashier returned from the back, placing several different pastries from a baking tray into the cafe's clean little glass display at the counter.

"Wanna...?" MJ pointed his chin at them, already pushing his chair out to get up.

"Oh, yeah. Food! Duh," Miles answered and got up to follow suit. How could he possibly forget?

The rest of their hangout goes over wonderfully after the grim conversation, all things considered. They opt to chat amicably about surface-level stuff mostly; family dynamics, friends, schoolwork and more about MJ's day job as a model.

"My mom acts like she's my agent most days, too." MJ is recounting this in between sips of his black coffee, long fingers nursing the ceramic cup he was given. "She's the one who got me into these modeling gigs in the first place. She said I had 'the look'... whatever that means. I like bein' behind the camera, though. Not in front of it," he lamented.

Miles spears some lettuce that fell out of his sandwich with the toothpick his side of pickle came with, waving it around as he talks. "Your mom sounds like the type of parent that pushes their kids around a lot. I guess I would know what that's like,"

Sensing a chance to commiserate in their shared dilemma, MJ leans forward a bit and smiles. "Your folks sounded nice when you described them. What's up?"

"I love them, and they sure do love me, but," Miles shakes his head and picks the lettuce off of his toothpick. "I dunno. They want the best for me and... sometimes it feels like nothing else matters but that."

MJ has the lower half of his face carefully hidden behind his mug when he asks: "Have you told them?"

Miles sighed, long and loud. "Yep. Yeah. They know. They do. That was... a very long story but. Anyways, yeah, after all the stuff that went down this spring, I finally had to fess up. No one else knows but you guys, though, I swear."

Miles silently patted himself on the back for managing to completely omit Ganke from the conversation. Can't give up his ace up his sleeve so soon, now can he?

MJ nods sympathetically. "I wasn't kidding, you know. Back when I told you that your secret was safe with me. You've got one of mine, so. No one else but us,"

Miles raises a pinkie over their plates and makes eye contact with him. "Pinkie promise?"

MJ's eyes flash at him.

"Duh. I never break promises," he replies, hooking pinkies together and smiling. "I'm not really in the business of ruining the life of a pretty great hero right now."

"Until it benefits you, you mean," Miles says, really only half-joking.

MJ doesn't take the bait. Instead, he deflects the best way he knows how. "Oh yeah, absolutely. If someone's out there putting a billion-dollar bounty on your head someday, you already know I'm goin' for it. What? It's a billion dollars, dude!"

They laugh together as Miles throws a piece of tomato in his direction and MJ threatens to pour the rest of his coffee onto his lap.

It felt good, felt natural. Their banter was smooth and seamless which Miles thought was a relief because very few people he encountered in life wanted to keep up with his constant sarcasm and nerdy jokes. No one else seemed to share his sense of humor except for MJ, and it made him feel a bit of warmth in his chest.

Even if they only stayed friends, he seemed to be a great companion to have nonetheless. And Miles had Ganke as backup in case anything went wrong between them. It was a daunting thing to come to terms with, the fact that such a cool guy like Hobie M. Jones had the ability to stab him behind his back at any moment's notice, or accidentally let Miles' secret double life as the crime-fighting webslinger out at the most inopportune time.

But... it wouldn't be the first time a friend has double-crossed him.

Miles wasn't stupid. He knew that letting more and more people in on his secret identity was a huge gamble, especially when it came to keeping a secret as big as this was. The risk was too high, the rewards might not even be worth it.

Worst of all, his friends could be legit and then get hurt if they ever found themselves somehow caught in the crosshairs of his other life.

... But Miles didn't want to think about that right now. That was a problem for future him. Right now, they were both too busy being what neither of their own families seemed to want them to be: a pair of carefree kids.

In this moment, MJ didn't have to worry about stifling and busy schedules arranged for him without his consent. He didn't have to worry about itchy fabrics or ill-fitting designer clothes or loud and bright cameras capturing his every move. With Miles, he could finally let loose.

And in this moment, Miles didn't have to worry about crime-fighting (for now), juggling mountains of schoolwork to please his parents, or keeping up appearances so he didn't arouse suspicions as to where he always was when he managed to slip away. With MJ, he could relax a little and enjoy the small things that always escaped his notice as he rushed this way and that, desperately trying to keep up with the chaos of his everyday life. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously when they were together.

They finished up their meal and exited the cafe, thanking the cashier and pulling on their coats to hopefully battle the frigid winter air of the city. They made their way up and down blocks, past shops and restaurants, weaving in and out of passing crowds on the sidewalk.

As they wandered aimlessly, unable to escape each other's gravitational pull for even one second, they talked some more.

They talked about Miles' art, MJ's secret science experiments in his room and how he fought his mom to get into Visions in the first place, about Miles' parents and his daily workload he usually juggles. They tried talking about Miles' start as Spiderman, but they didn't get too far along that topic before realizing there were only so many code words they could use to say what they wanted to say out loud before devolving into a fit of giggles.

They chatted about their plans after they graduate, how Miles still wants to go to Princeton and how MJ is planning on funding his own college education once he saves up enough money to leave his station in life and go wherever the wind takes him.

Miles seemed a bit sad at the thought that their friendship looked to have an eventual expiration date in the future, but there didn't seem to be anything changing MJ's mind anytime soon. After all, he didn't even know if he was going to keep in touch with Ganke once they stopped being roommates. And they ended up being pretty tight, against all odds.

So as they kept their casual pace through the city, Miles made a mental note to remember and cherish days like these as much as he could. He checked his phone for the time... this blissful moment of normalcy would have to end soon.

"So," Miles said once their long conversation eventually wound down. Their feet had taken them to a nearby subway station, the gum-covered concrete steps already beckoning them both to bid each other adieu.

"So..." MJ glanced at him, stopping them both by the railing and smiling down at his friend.

The day was drawing to a close, the sun had fully set about half an hour ago and they both needed to get out of the streets and back to their regular everyday lives. For Miles, this meant he had to get at least an hour of patrolling in before swinging back to his dorm room and getting started on his studies for their chem test on Monday.

For MJ, it meant returning back to Manhattan and steeling himself in preparation for the eventual lecture he knew he was going to get, about not staying out so late without supervision and how he didn't respond in time to his agent's texts. The usual.

"I hate to say it, but it's lookin' like we might have to say goodbye for now," Miles shrugged, hanging his head for comical effect.

MJ laughed brightly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound like you don't even wanna leave."

"You might be right about that. Wish me luck tonight, I gotta... y'know," Miles leaned casually as he could manage against the railing, shrugging a shoulder.

"Right. Do your extracurriculars,"

Miles groaned. "Yuck. Let's not call it that, please! You sound like my dad. Let's just call it my weird hobby instead."

"Okay, so I guess I gotta let you go to do your weird hobby instead, then."

"Which just so happens to be graffiti, by the way," Miles' lips quirk up mischievously, giving MJ a look as he slowly slides against the railing and places a foot on the first step. "I like to spray paint around the city every now and then... in case anyone wants to know. In case they ask."

MJ bobs his head in response, following Miles' movements. "Ah, right. Spray painting! Super cool. Anyone asks where you are, I got your back, man."

Miles' smile is as dazzling as it is endearing as he places a hand on the metal railing and lowers himself some more, unable to bring himself to cut the invisible rope anchoring him and MJ together, holding them there in that one space as a constant stream of New Yorkers climb up and down the steps beside them.

Thank you New York City, Miles finds himself thinking.

No one glanced in their direction, they were completely surrounded by people, but still alone. The lights of nearby shop signs and street lamps gave MJ a bit of a halo around his hair, and from the angle he was standing at, Miles looked up at it and believed that it made him just glow.

They gazed deeply into each other's eyes, the usual noise of the city falling easily into the background. It was just the two of them.

"... Yeah." Miles says a bit awkwardly, unable to pull away. "Yeah, that sounds... good. Great. Thanks man! You're a real one,"

MJ smiles knowingly above him. "So you might wanna head on down now. Don't wanna keep you from catching your train."

Miles grins back. "Right. My train."

"Go get 'em, Tiger." MJ responds, offering him a little salute with his fingers and finally turning away to disappear into the thick crowds that flowed up and down the city sidewalks like water.

After a little bit, Miles felt like he could breathe normally again.

He descended down.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Miles' life went right back to normal, with a new element added in.

He still rushed through his days of back-breaking homework and tests, still tried to keep up with the crime-fighting and his family back home who kept pestering him with exclamations about how he was always late to events and get-togethers, especially as the holidays rolled around.

(His mother pulled him aside for a quick little chat on how he needs to get better at communicating where he was so that she and Jeff could make up excuses for him ahead of time)

He still gamed mindlessly with Ganke on most weekends after their school break ended and the students all traveled back to their dorms, he still texted his extra-dimensional friends whenever he was free and had a minute to spare.

But now he made some space for another special person in his life: Hobie M. Jones.

They passed notes back and forth in the classes they shared like a pair of friends back in elementary school (to avoid leaving a trail of evidence on their phones, Miles argued when he brought it up to MJ, who just laughed) and walked each other to their classes whenever they could.

But it was risky business keeping someone like MJ so close, especially if it could arouse suspicion when Spiderman happened to swoop in and save him out of the blue. Both Miles and Spiderman hovering around MJ's vicinity day in and day out could be a possible liability to contend with indeed, so Miles still tried keeping his distance whenever possible.

For what it was worth, MJ seemed to understand. He was also occasionally followed by cameras from online fans in the real world or opportunistic reporters looking to try and pry precious info of a new marketing campaign MJ happened to be a part of, so this kind of life wasn't new to him either.

Thankfully, he agreed it was best to only get together in private.

As the months flew by, exams and assignments came and went, but their friendship only flourished.

Miles found himself admitting some surprising things to MJ on late-night text conversations when he couldn't sleep and needed to hop out of his dorm window to burn some energy. He found himself doodling his friend in his sketchbook often, unable to scrub the images of his flawless modeling photos from his brain.

He found himself... doodling their names together on hastily discarded sticky notes and coming up with illegible graffiti so he can mash their names together on stickers and shamelessly slap them up onto signs, onto walls, onto bathroom stalls and stairwells and notebooks and poles and bus stops and--

Miles startled out of a reverie as he was balancing himself on a random window ledge somewhere in the city, fully suited up, sketchbook in hand as he doodled little hearts around a profile study of MJ. Tucked under the page he was working on was an embarrassing amount of stickers with his and MJ's last names on them.

God. The humiliation he would face if MJ ever got his hands on this book. His mind flashes back to the sheer embarrassment he felt back when Gwen suddenly dropped down into his room from a portal and began to leaf through his old sketchbook, finding one too many drawings of her own face in the pages.

The memories snapped him out of his weird love-induced haze and forced him to shamefully fold over the corner of the page and hide those little hearts.

First, you ran away from him after you figured out he was an MJ, now you're obsessed with him. ¿Quién te puedes entender?

The sound of Miles' conscience was taking the harsh shape of his mother's voice. Not good.

He sighed and shut his sketchbook, shoving it into his backpack that was webbed onto the wall right next to him. Crime never slept, but it did have its ebbs and flows that Miles found himself in tune with as the months went by. This hour on a Thursday evening happened to be one of the slower hours for crime fighting, it seemed.

Regardless, he yanked his bag from its sticky confines and brushed the webs off, straightening himself up from his position and mindlessly checking his phone for any pressing updates.

Finding none, and with nothing much else to do... he sent MJ a quick text.

Miles: Busy rn?

He knocked himself on the forehead for it, knowing he might regret what he was about to propose but... he couldn't get the guy out of his head. He was dreaming about MJ on the regular now, which was never a good sign. Might as well see if he was up to doing any crazy last-minute stunts since the heart seemed to want what it wanted.

The reply came almost immediately after.

MJ: Nope, just surrounded by a pile of annoying hw, why do you ask?

Miles grinned as he typed a quick reply, hit send, and shot a web up to climb to the roof of the building.

Miles: I'm thinking I'm like... about a 15 mins walk away from your place. Wanna hang? I can swing by

He can almost taste the eye roll in MJ's replies, which made him smile beneath his mask.

MJ: You're corny as hell and that's exactly why you're my friend

MJ: Just give me a few to get ready

Miles sends back an affirmative, and tucks his phone right into his bag's side pocket which he then throws over a shoulder. He turns towards the general direction that MJ's penthouse apartment is located, right over the Brooklyn Bridge.

On his way there, he rehearses all of the coolest lines he could think of, not quite hoping to impress his friend or anything, but hoping that maybe MJ won't see him for the weird dork everyone else treats him as. And... to also keep him from suspecting anything or whatever.

They've hung out together countless times before, after their initial meetup. And not once did flawless-fashionable-cool-model MJ make him feel like he was ever uncool or off-putting. Maybe that was why Miles was so infatuated with him, when it came down to it. Still a good idea to play it safe, just in case.

It would have served Miles much better if he gave this friendship an even wider berth, retained his mysterious reputation... but there was something so arresting about MJ's eyes, his mannerisms and gentleness that contrasted so sharply with his quick wit, surprising bravery and intelligence.

Miles can shoot off the wittiest lines on the planet, but at the end of the day, he was still a boy with a crush. Alas.

In the time that he vaulted around NYC as Earth-1610's Spiderman, Miles developed a knack for snappy one-liners that MJ seemed to find endearing. Whenever they were together, they often fell into good-natured jabs and quips at each other, and he was so enamoured by it.

And it seemed like they just... naturally fell into the gravity of each other's orbit often anyways. Miles would look up into a crowd anywhere at Visions and immediately be able to find MJ. Like he developed an MJ-sense alongside his own spidery ones.

Two twin stars locked in orbit, a binary system forever hurtling through space together.

God, he really needed to get it together. That was super cheesy even for him, and he watched Titanic on his laptop damn near a hundred times at this point.

The thought had him yanking on his webs much harder and flying through the late evening air just to burn off the heat that built up in his gut.

He had to quickly remind himself that regardless of whatever happened between them, he promised that he would forever cherish it all. Miles wasn't an idiot, he knew that being Spiderman put a dampener on a lot of his relationships in life. It was a constant tug-of-war between him and his parents, and Ganke often reminds him of how absent he is at school, even when he's present.

Whatever happens between him and MJ in the future is whatever happens. Miles has already made peace with the inevitability of reality, like he so often needed to in this life. No need to get his hopes up.

Sobering up, Spiderman does several somersaults in the air before attaching a web onto the corner of MJ's swanky high-rise located not too far from the bridge. He sticks to the reflective glass and lets gravity do all the work for him as he drops down a few stories, hoping he was just a quick black blur that could be chalked up to just being a bird of some kind in case anyone happened to glance out their windows.

He hasn't been over to MJ's apartment at all, but knows the building from the outside very well thanks to the two friends' prior escapades. MJ's mom was strict according to him, and after sneaking them both out of the window to go to a mall or hang out at a park, swing around the city a bit and then drop MJ off back home, Spiderman was well acquainted with his bedroom window as a result.

He finds it again effortlessly and hangs upside down by a web, slowly lowering himself into view.

MJ's eyes light up immediately upon seeing him. He perks up, gets up from his computer chair to carefully lock the bedroom door and moves right back to his window.

"Well hello there, Spiderman! Glad you could make it." MJ smiles warmly, keeping his voice down. "Sorry, mom and the team are in the living room and I just told her I'm lockin' myself in here to study as hard as I can. Finals coming up and all... but we don't have too much time."

"Which is why you're only stepping out for a bit of air, right? Real quick, I promise." Spiderman replies good-naturedly. "It'll help clear your head."

MJ huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Where would I be without you?"

"It's Spiderman's job to help all of the citizens of New York... and you look like you could use it, so,"

MJ slides his window open even wider, already throwing a leg over the sill. "My hero."

Together, they drop down a few stories, just free-falling and enjoying the chill of the late evening for a few seconds, shrouded by the dusk's descent that was already darkening the vast sky above them.

MJ gasps breathlessly when Spiderman shoots out a web and sends them sailing over congested streets filled to the brim with cars and trucks, over tall street lamps and past bright digital billboards advertising all kinds of products.

They zoom past more buildings, arcing gracefully around corners. At one point, MJ dares to loosen a grip on Spiderman's shoulders and splay his fingers out against the wind.

They fly together like birds for a minute more, soaring through the air and then rounding right back on the path they carved into it so Spiderman could deposit his friend right back home.

MJ said they didn't have much time, right? And Miles was satisfied with their short little hangout anyhow. He got his hands on his crush, had him clinging onto his arms and his neck the entire time they were airborne. It was getting late and he had to head back to Visions himself as well.

"Take me up to the roof real quick," MJ pants into his ear. Miles tries very hard not to think too much about that as he wordlessly follows orders and makes a beeline for the roof access.

Together, they land near the edge, overlooking the concrete jungle that was Manhattan, surrounded on all sides by tall buildings that seemed to reach up to heavens, still much taller than MJ's own building.

It was a miracle they weren't seen together, but that might've been because of the glitter and glitz of the city night all around them. New Yorkers never really looked up anyways.

Below them, the traffic and the bustle of the city continued at its usual pace; a constant thrum of vibrations, sounds and lights as they flowed up and down the streets like blood cells traveling through veins.

Both boys leaned their elbows onto the roof's raised edge and peered all around them, enjoying their temporary peace, catching their breath.

"I'm real glad I met you, you know?" MJ says, uncharacteristically sincere. His face was an open door now, but he was still unable to meet Spiderman's eyes.

Miles thought it might be appropriate to keep his mask on for now.

"Man, I only swung us around for like a few minutes. You don't need to confess your love for me, I'll take a thanks as payment. That's all." He joked but still tried to keep the sarcasm light. Didn't want to ruin the moment, after all.

MJ offered a crooked smirk at that, but then sobered up again. "Nah, really, man. I mean it. I'm not sure where I'd be right now if I hadn't transferred over to Visions and literally bumped into you. Crazy how life works like that, huh?"

"Right, especially since you were my biggest fan before that," Miles reminds him. "Serendipity or whatever."

MJ nods slowly. "Serendipity. Yeah... exactly. Sorry. What did you just say?"

Caught off guard, Miles hesitates for a bit. Play dumb, Morales!

"Uhh, what did I just say?"

MJ laughs, punching Miles on the arm before folding his own arms over his chest. "I was a fan of the old Spiderman before you came along. When he died..." he averts his eyes, studying his shoes. "Yeah, that sucked. But then you came along out of the blue... anyways. I just took it as a sign, that's all."

Miles dramatically wilts against the side of the roof. "Daaamnn, bro. I just swung you around the city for a bit! I gave you a free ride, and I don't even get to be your favorite? I see how it is."

MJ bursts out laughing. "Don't worry, Spiderman," he says, holding up his hands placatingly. "You're on your way to replacing him soon enough! Keep giving me those free rides. And uh... thanks," he finishes lamely, raising his hand to shoot his friend a salute. "Yeah. Thanks. For this."

They smile sheepishly at each other for a few seconds and Miles swears he's going to start roasting alive in his suit pretty soon from the way the warmth in his chest was radiating outward towards every limb.

Butterflies were swirling inside of his gut and he swears he can hear the sappy music from a romance movie Miles watched recently playing somewhere near them. Maybe now was the time to... stop avoiding his feelings? Take that leap of faith, right?

He's done it many times before. This time was probably no different than any other time where he's been thrown way out of his comfort zone only to be kinda glad it happened, in retrospect.

He opened his mouth and started to speak at the same time MJ did.

"So, Em--"

"Uh, so--"

They jumped in unison, wide eyes meeting wide lenses. MJ dipped his head.

"Oh, sorry I was--" Miles chuckled, bopping his forehead with a hand. "S-sorry, what were you gonna say?"

He winced at the jarring awkwardness of it all. The sappy music went silent, the mood thoroughly ruined.

"Oh, well, uh--" MJ looked just as flustered as Miles felt. "N-nah, sorry, I was just gonna say that... that it's been a little while now. So I should probably be heading back," he gestured awkwardly over his shoulder towards the side of the building, trailing off.

"Riiiight, right. Yeah, duh. Of course. Just, uh," Miles turns so his back is facing his friend, gesturing at it as if to say hop on. "Lost track of time, I guess. My bad,"

"What were you gonna say?" MJ asks, right next to Miles' ear as always.

Silently, Miles tucks that part of himself away again for later.

He was really 100% willing to risk it all and go for it, just fully display all of that for a measly chance at getting to date the most popular kid at school right now, and one of the coolest people that he's ever met. He would kick himself if he weren't carrying him right there on his back.

What a stupid idea, Miles. Real dumb, even for you.

In a fraction of a second, he stuffs his emotions right back down in him. Time and place. Not the time, not the place, he reasons. They'd just met a few months ago, and they got off on a pretty rocky start. It just wasn't the time to be making such rash decisions. Yeah, that was it.

"Nah, forget it. I think I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come with me and Ganke to our favorite comic shop this weekend, but that's a dumb question--"

MJ suddenly squeezed his hands tighter around Miles' shoulders. "Duh! It's a dumb question because the answer is obviously yes, of course."

"You like comic books!? Since when?" Miles exclaimed in shock.

"I'm beating you as the top student in chem class right now. You are not nerdier than me. Stop playin' with me." MJ grumbles grumpily. He digs his chin vindictively into Miles' shoulder.

Miles' loud bark of laughter echoed off the rooftop as he takes a running leap towards the ledge, hops on it and promptly sends them plummeting several stories down.

MJ's cry echoed around them even louder.

After about a minute or so, MJ's back inside of his room and they're both trying very hard to suppress laughter so hard that their cheeks hurt and they're crying tears.

Thankfully, outside of the bedroom door, MJ's family never heard a thing.

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[theshadowrealmitself]

Keep thinking sad thoughts and sad scenarios and spiraling a bit, so this is my attempt to take a tragic scenario and pivot it since trying to avoid flat out of thinking of tragedy isn’t working, so tw for mentions of attempted suicide:

Person (A) who tries to kill themself a few times but sets it up to seem like complete accidents so no one figures out what they were trying to do, and it doesn’t work

So they think that’s the end of it, everyone else thinks they just had a close, completely accidental, brush with death, and they’re gonna be made to go to counseling for it anyways, so they start mentally preparing themselves to take counseling seriously and actually work on their mental health, use this as an opportunity to turn their life around

But someone they know (B) went investigating, and they found all the other set ups to lead to “accidents” against A and come to the conclusion that someone’s trying to murder A

And A of course knows that’s bullshit, but they don’t wanna explain that they were trying to kill themself, so they keep trying to pass it off as bad luck and B’s just seeing patterns that aren’t there

Until A’s car explodes, almost killing them, and they realize that someone was trying to kill them while they were trying to kill themself, and, unlike A, they didn’t come to the conclusion to stop

(I don’t actually know what B should be in this situation, so they’re detective-esque, maybe they aren’t an actual detective but they put themself on the case and they’re gonna assure A’s safety if it’s the last thing they do)

(but it won’t be)

(because this isn’t gonna end in tragedy, not this time)

[adinafay]

Will my current Durge continue their path of "my brain is horrifying mush please just tell me what to do and I'll do it" and give in to Astarion's ascension only to inevitably break up with him because he's terrible now?

Or will they grow as a person and finally stand up to Astarion for his own good so they can try to heal together?

[elizabeth-mitchells]

if you guys have watched the new hunger games movie can you help me figure out something pretty please

[leofrith]

🫵🏻 KARLACH KISSER

[thelaurenshippen]

Welcome to the clown car! 😂 Hope you'll enjoy your time here!

hahaha thank you!! I've been enjoying my time here immensely - I started watching the show...gosh, fall of 2021 I guess? Mid-season 5 is when I started watching the episodes as they came out. I'd been aware of the show for a little while (bc I use tumblr duh) but I had no idea that there were so many DISASTERS and that the found family vibes were SO STRONG!! I'm so well fed!

but anyway, I've only really started tentatively using this more front-facing tumblr to go insane about my blorbos, so I'm glad that others can relate. few shows reliably make me cry, like, 9/10 times!

[plutotheplum]

Felt Good About You

akaashi keiji x fem!reader

summary: delivering a revised manuscript to your editor turns into something more.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, post-time skip, oral sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, handjob, p in v

wc: 4.8k

a/n: i'm afraid i have the fattest crush on akaashi

also on ao3!

“The romance isn’t working.”

You groan when your editor pushes your manuscript for this week’s chapter towards you. You didn’t need any more bumps in the road, not when you were already running behind on deadlines, with the publishing company breathing down your neck to get the next volume out.

“The romance is fine, Akaashi” you mumble, flicking through the pages of the manuscript to skim through his notes.

“If it was fine, I wouldn’t be here,” he replies dryly.

Akaashi was as blunt as ever. Most of the time you appreciated his honesty, he was the reason for such success with your manga after all, but sometimes he managed to get on your nerves.

“It’s an unnecessary subplot,” he continues, flipping through a couple of pages to show you a few of the panels you had drawn, “there’s just no plausible progression between the two, no chemistry.”

You glare at him. He was really starting to get on your nerves. Akaashi rolls his eyes when he sees your glare, reaching out to flick your forehead.

“You’re already behind on the scheduled publishing date,” he reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest, “and I get the short end of the stick because I’m your editor.”

“The higher-ups love you,” you retort.

You stare pointedly at the small stash of awards that were tucked onto a shelf in his office, the small trophies and plaques a clear display of the company’s commendation for his work. 

“Not enough to let me work in the literature department,” he mutters bitterly.

“I’m right here!” you protest, an exasperated expression spreading across your face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Akaashi murmurs. 

He taps your manuscript a few more times before giving you a stern look.

“Get me the revised version by tonight, otherwise you’ll miss out on this week’s issue.”

You curse him under your breath, giving him one final glare as you gather the pages of your manuscript into your hands. You had come into his office thinking he’d been fine with the story, but now you had somehow ended up with more work than before, and an even tighter deadline.

- 

A few hours later, you end up finding yourself outside Akaashi’s apartment. Guilt had won out in the end, and you figured that it wasn’t fair to let him take the blame for your tardiness. Revised manuscript clutched against your chest, you ring his doorbell.

You can feel your throat dry when he opens up the door. His hair is damp, towel slung around the back of his neck. He’s wearing an old volleyball shirt with sweatpants, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to him looking so domestic. 

Akaashi stares at you blankly, clearly not expecting you. Usually you would’ve just emailed the revised manuscript over to him, not show up outside his door.

“I felt guilty,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing at the awkwardness in the air, “and- and I ordered gyoza so it should be here in a few minutes.”

“Right,” he says after a moment, “you didn’t have to.”

You stare at each other for a moment longer until he sighs, opening the door wider to let you in.

“You’re just as bad as Bokuto,” he informs you.

The mention of the pro-volleyball player makes a smile spread across your face. You had met Akaashi’s volleyball friends a few times when they had enlisted your help in throwing Akaashi a surprise birthday party - which had maybe ended up in a disaster - as well as when you had wound up to a few of their games.

“He’s a sweet guy,” you reply, handing him your manuscript.

Akaashi only hums in response, walking over to his desk. He hangs his towel on the back of his chair before sitting down. You watch as he slips his glasses on, examining the pages of your now edited work.

“I thought you’d try and fight me about the romance,” he murmurs, his pen making a few adjustments here and there. 

“Figured it wasn’t worth it,” you sigh, slumping on the couch in his living room, “you were right, as always.”

He peers over at you, his eyes narrowing as he watches the sulky look on your face. Despite your random bouts of laziness, even Akaashi had to agree that you were a good mangaka whose popularity had built up a loyal reader base. 

“Look,” Akaashi says, setting his pen down, “if you’re that hung up about cutting those scenes, start drafting it now.”

Your gaze shoots up to meet his eyes.

“Seriously?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. 

Akaashi was dedicated, sure, but he wasn’t exactly one to take on extra work. Sometimes  you felt as though he would’ve been right at home in the literature department, editing novels instead of volumes of manga. It was like he worked with you out of obligation, not enjoyment, despite the friendship you had built up over the years.

“Yeah,” he says, pushing his glasses up a bit further to sit better on the slope of his nose, “I’m serious.”

You don’t get to dwell any longer on your editor’s change in mind, the sound of the doorbell piercing through your conversation. Akaashi waves you away when you move towards the door, grabbing the delivered containers of gyoza himself. 

He sits down beside you on the couch, handing you one container whilst he takes the other. For some reason, you’re feeling more on edge than usual. The brush of his arm against yours has heat rising to your cheeks, body growing taut with the way your stomach is swirling with nervousness.

It was no secret that Akaashi was one of the most handsome men in the office, and you had maybe developed a tiny crush on the man, which was now inflating into something that was not so tiny, and much, much harder to control the more time you spent with him. 

“You okay?” Akaashi asks, peering over you.

You don’t trust yourself enough to reply which is why you stuff a gyoza into your mouth and nod rapidly.

Silence lapses over you both as you eat, but you can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. You pretend not to notice, trying to engross yourself in the taste of the gyoza and the tang of soy sauce.

Akaashi slouches slightly, his body relaxing as time passes. You can see it in the way his shoulders drop, his thighs spreading as he gets more comfortable.

“Instead of adding romance as a subplot, why don’t you make it into another story altogether?”

You blink over at him, surprised. 

“I don’t have time to write another manga,” you say, shaking your head, “I’d have to find another publisher if I wanted to write something that was purely romance.”

“Shonen manga in the romance genre exist,” he replies, running his hand through his hair, “or you could just self-publish.”

You’d been hoping to avoid the topic of self-publishing. Sure, you knew of it, participated in it even. It’d been used as a creative outlet, to get out some ideas that you couldn’t work on when your success as a mangaka had grown. Besides, it wasn’t like you could tell Akaashi that you had drawn up stories that were, well, inappropriate. 

“But that would be too much work,” you sigh, trying to stop his train of thought.

Akaashi stares at you thoughtfully. The more you spend time with him, the more you begin to regret your choice to come here. Emailing the manuscript to him would’ve been the smarter choice, but you just had to feel sorry for the guy.

“I did read one the other day that had a similar art style to yours.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can feel your composure slipping. There was no way he could know that you self-published stories that were practically panel after panel of porn. Maybe he enjoyed it? One thought leads to another and you find yourself imagining Akaashi with his hand wrapped around his cock, his head tipped back as he strokes himself.

“What was it about?” you manage to grit out, trying to see through the haze of your indecent thoughts.

“About a couple,” he says simply, “they ended up fucking.”

You can feel the hope swirling in your mind fade. Akaashi definitely knew. 

“Didn’t know you read that sort of thing.”

“I’m a man, aren’t I? Sometimes porn just doesn’t cut it. The story was pretty great too.”

He thought the story was great? You can’t help yourself from perking up, the compliment making you feel warm. 

“I just find it so strange,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you.

You swallow harshly, mustering up a smile with your trembling lips, “why’s that?”

“The author’s note,” Akaashi says, “the little bunny avatar was the same as yours.”

So, you had messed up. You spy the front door from the corner of your eyes. If you walked, you’d get there in about ten steps, but if you ran, you’d get there in about three - maybe two - strides. Sure, you wouldn’t ever be able to face Akaashi again, but you think you’d be fine with it. Report filed to the higher ups stating creative differences and you’d be able to find a new editor, no problem.

“It’s all probably just a coincidence,” you say nonchalantly, “plenty of people like bunnies.”

“Some of the dialogue was similar to yours, distinct writing and all that.”

You grit your teeth. The man didn’t know when to let go.

“Like I said, coincidence.”

“Right,” he says, nodding along, “a coincidence. Was it also a coincidence that the couple that had sex was a mangaka and her editor?”

You scramble to your feet when he says that. Letting out an awkward laugh, your cheeks heated with embarrassment, you decide that this is the best time to take your leave.

“Have- have a good night!” you say, voice pitching.

Determination has Akaashi’s eyes gleaming and now you’re bolting, feet nearly tripping over each other as you dart towards his apartment door. It seems as though fate isn’t in your favor tonight, Akaashi’s hand curling around your wrist as he catches onto you before you can open the door. You squeak when he slams his hand against the wall, right next to your head as he pushes you up against the door.

“Classic scene,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your meek expression, “you always use it.”

“Fuck off, Akaashi!” you snap, pushing at his chest.

It’s a struggle, but you reach back behind you, hand grabbing blindly for the door handle. He doesn’t let you reach it, catching your wrist and pinning it against the door.

“You sure?” Akaashi asks, his eyes darkened, “or maybe you want me to fuck you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, mouth opening before closing again. There’s nothing left in you, no retorts, no words to get yourself out of this situation. He lets out a sigh when he feels your body relax, his hand on your wrist loosening as he lets go. You stare up at him, biting your lip nervously.

“You should’ve said something,” he says quietly, adjusting his glasses.

“And embarrass myself?” you mutter, picking at the wool of your sweater.

Akaashi doesn’t say anything, his hand smoothing up your hip and settling on your waist. Your eyes widen, arousal shooting through your body as he presses himself closer, his other hand finding your waist. Akaashi squeezes gently and you bite back a whine, eyes drooping slightly as he just squeezes and pets at your sides.

“It was good,” he says hoarsely, “the story, the details, the sex… came to it a couple of times.”

“You- you liked it?” you whisper, voice airy.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, his eyes meeting yours, “liked it… like you.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your cheek, your heart thudding in your chest. You never dreamt it’d come down to this, but you find yourself grateful for Akaashi’s observational nature.

He takes his glasses off, placing them into his pocket. Akaashi’s lips drag across your cheek, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He kisses the corner of your mouth, lips brushing against yours gently. 

“Kiss me, Akaashi” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yeah,” Akaashi says softly, “yeah, I’ll kiss you, baby.”

A contented sigh escapes you as he slots his lips over yours, kissing you gently. The heat between you begins to grow, his hands slipping under your sweater to feel your bare skin. You gasp into his mouth, his hands surprisingly warm.

Akaashi smiles against your lips, his hand running up your back as his kisses turn hungrier, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You let him lick into your mouth, tugging at his hair desperately. Rocking up onto the tips of your toes, you deepen the kiss, pulling him impossibly closer. 

He wraps his arms around your waist, groaning when your nails scratch his scalp fleetingly. You bite your kiss-swollen lip as he drags his lips down your neck, landing heated kisses to your skin.

Akaashi kisses the pulse of your throat, his lips finding their way back to yours. Soft pants fill the air, his smile hazy as he peers down at you. You smile back, head tilting to the side to let him kiss your cheek again.

“You’re such a dork,” he whispers, his eyes twinkling.

“Shut up,” you whine, pushing at his chest.

He grins, his hands grasping yours. Akaashi pulls you away from the door, his arms wrapping around the backs of your thighs as he picks you up. You laugh, legs wrapping around his waist, lips pressing against his as he carries you to his bed.

Akaashi lays you down on his bed and you watch with half-lidded eyes as he pulls his shirt off. He might not have played as competitively like he did in highschool, but you had been there when he had played with his friends. It’d been entrancing to watch the way he had set the ball for his friends, the ball curving through the air cleanly for the spiker to hit.

“‘s not fair how good you look,” you grumble, pouting.

He rolls his eyes, crawling onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

“You look pretty good yourself,” Akaashi says, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater.

You lift your arms for him, letting him pull it off of you. His gaze fixes on the swell of your breasts and you flush, looking away.

“You’re shy now?” He murmurs, a soft laugh escaping him as he kisses your jaw.

“You’re such a jerk,” you huff out.

Akaashi smiles and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to be truly angry with him. He’s patient more than anything, caring and always honest. You’ve never met a man like him, never met someone who could quell your worries the way he could. It makes you want to never let go.

His body settles between your thighs, his nimble fingers pulling your bra free. Your nipples pebble in the cold air and Akaashi leans forward, his hot, wet mouth enveloping a hard bud into his mouth.

You whine brokenly, back arching slightly as he sucks your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud. He groans as you run your fingers through his hair, his mouth suctioning around your breast for a few moments before he pulls off with a pop.

His mouth finds your other breast, kissing the side of it, mouthing at your skin. You can feel his tongue caress the underside of it, laving across your breast before he bites gently at your flesh, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours. 

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” he whispers against your breast.

You shake your head, mewling when his hand slides up, his fingers pitching at your spit-coated nipples. He rests his head between your breasts, watching you contentedly as you writhe under the onslaught of his touches. 

“A- Akaashi,” you whimper, hips bucking, “want- want more, please.”

“So polite, baby” he coos, his hands groping at your breasts. 

He pulls away from you and you whine, lifting your hips for him when he peels your pants off. There’s a moment of silence and you’re anticipating the feel of his mouth on your body, only for him to let out a low laugh. 

“Bunnies til the end, huh?” Akaashi asks, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.

Your brows furrow, not quite sure what he’s talking about until you prop yourself on your elbows and see that you’re wearing a pair of bunny-patterned panties.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, slumping back down onto the bed and slinging your arm over your eyes.

“They’re cute,” he smiles, prying your arm away from your face, “just like you, baby.”

Akaashi grasps one of your legs, bringing it to his mouth as he runs his hand along the length of it, kissing the sole of your foot and then your ankle. A soft hum leaves you, watching as he kisses up your leg, his kisses feather-light.

You run your fingers through his hair as he kisses the little bow on your panties, his nose pressing between your clothed folds to breathe you in.

“Pussy’s soaked through,” Akaashi murmurs, pulling back to look at your dampened panties.

“‘s your fault,” you slur, trying to push his face back to where you want it.

“All my fault,” he agrees, his tongue licking up over your panties, “guess I’ll have to take care of you then.”

You nod, trying to stop the little twitches that shoot through your body. Akaashi lets his mouth latch onto you, trying to suck the slick that’s soaked through the fabric of your panties.

“A- ah!” you pant, fingers fisting his hair as he squeezes your hips, his face nuzzling deeper between your thighs.

Akaashi’s lithe fingers pull at your panties, dragging them down your thighs. You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.

“Always so pretty, baby” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds to expose your pussy.

He moans when he sees the translucent strings of arousal that cling to your folds, his tongue darting out to lick up the little strings. You whimper when he kisses your clit gently, watching as he rubs the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit. Thighs twitching, you shift, trying to tilt your hips a little higher so you can feel his mouth on you.

“Ask for it,” Akaashi says, his cheek pressing against your thigh as he stares up at you.

“‘m not- ‘m not asking for it,” you retort, glaring at him.

“Bet it’d feel good,” he whispers, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

You whine when he just keeps his tongue there, saliva dripping from the tip of it and onto your pussy. He makes an obscene noise, gathering some more saliva, spitting on your cunt.

“All you gotta do is ask,” he coaxes, his arms wrapping around your thighs, “clit looks so achy… makes me wanna kiss it better.”

“P- please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” Akaashi smiles up at you, his eyes twinkling.

You’ll have to get him back for his teasing later, but right now you can’t wait.

“Please lick my pussy!”

You squeal when he latches his mouth onto you again, his tongue lapping over your wet pussy. He groans and you tug at his hair, thighs squeezing around his head as he laves his tongue over you greedily, letting his tongue dip into your hole before he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Legs kicking out, you let out a strangled noise as he flicks his tongue over your clit. Akaashi lands the filthiest kisses to your clit, alternating between sucking and little pecks, while he’s sunk two fingers inside of you. They curl up inside of you, grazing your sensitive spot perfectly. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, your wanton noises filling his bedroom.

Akaashi presses his face deeper, his fingers crooking. The feeling of his mouth in tandem with his fingers has you whimpering and whining, airy noises spilling from your lips at his ministrations. You might not ever be able to go without him ever again.

He holds you in place as you thrash, the overwhelming feeling inside of you building and building. Akaashi slips his fingers out of you in favor of devouring your cunt again, licking through your velvety folds, his tongue swirling before he presses it inside of you. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls. 

You blink down at him dazedly. There’s a light flush covering his cheeks, his mouth glistening with your wetness. He opens his mouth to say something else but you ignore him, pushing his head so that his lips are flush against your cunt. Akaashi lets out a muffled laugh against your pussy, his tongue licking over you again.

Hand squeezing at your breast, you bite your lip, losing yourself in the caress of his tongue. He laps over you, again and again, pressing sloppy kisses to your clit. 

“Gonna come,” you whisper, feeling the softness of his hair under your palm, “gonna come, ‘kaashi.”

He tilts your hips a little more, rising up onto his knees with your legs slung over his shoulders. You squeal again when he shakes his head, tongue dragging from side to side before he plunges it inside of you, his thumb pressing against your clit at the same time.

Your thighs squeeze tightly around his head as you come, loosening after a while when twitches rack through your body. Akaashi squeezes your thighs, lets your legs slip from his shoulders as he kisses your trembling thighs. 

“Good girl,” he whispers.

Akaashi kisses your cheek and wipes the stray curls of your hair away from your face. A soft sheen of sweat covers your body and he hums, smoothing his thumbs over the underside of your breasts.

He lays down beside you and you curl up beside him, eyes catching on the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Need some help?” you murmur, fingers dragging down his chest.

“If you don’t mind,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him.

You smile, kissing his jaw gently as your hand slides past his navel, disappearing into his sweatpants. The weight of his cock is heavy and hot and Akaashi moans softly when your hand curls around his length.

“Ask for it, ‘kaashi,” you whisper, voice lilting.

“You’re such a brat,” he mutters.

“Use your manners, Keiji.”

His eyes widen when you use his name and you grin, landing a soft kiss to his cheek as your breasts squish up against his bicep. You squeeze around his cock and he lets out a soft whine, his hips bucking.

“Fuck- fuck hah-,” Akaashi grits out, “stroke my cock, baby, hm? Please?”

You hum softly, beginning to move your hand. His thick cock twitches as you stroke him, your wrist rotating.

He pants softly, his head turning to meet yours. You smile, running your fingers through his hair, brushing the soft strands out of his eyes. Affection bursts inside of you, heart fluttering as the flush on his cheeks deepens.

His brows have drawn together and you smooth your thumb over them, peppering soft kisses over his face, leg slinging over his as you pull down his sweatpants to free his cock completely. Akaashi’s cock has filled out, pre-cum smearing across his abdomen. You caress the head of it, giggling when he lets out a broken moan as you rub your thumb against the tip.

“You look so handsome,” you say, stroking his cock a little faster.

Akaashi smiles and you dip your head, kissing him. He groans, his hips chasing after the feeling of your hand around him as you kiss. Your hand tightens a little, squeezing at the tip of his cock. Pre-cum wets your hand, soft gasps escaping Akaashi as you let your tongue slip into his mouth.

“Keiji,” you whisper, lips brushing over his, “Keiji, will you fuck me?”

You squeak in surprise when he manages to grab onto your waist, lifting you up and placing you on his lap. His cock is snug between your folds and you whine, dragging your hips along the length of it, biting your lip as more pre-cum leaks from him.

“Sit on my cock, baby” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your thighs.

You nod, shifting a little so that you’re up on your knees. Akaashi watches as you grip the base of his cock, moaning when you rub his cock against your pussy, letting it catch on your clit. Akaashi’s head tips back as you sink down, whimpery, little noises leaving you as your pussy swallows up his cock.

It’s so thick inside of you, fitting so snugly that you clench around him. Akaashi wraps an arm around your waist, bringing your front flush against him. He lets you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, his arms tightening around your waist. You can feel him move, his feet flat against the bed as he bends his knees.

“K- Keiji!” you wail when he begins to fuck up into you.

Akaashi grunts, holding you against him as he moves his hips, rutting up into you. His hands grope at your ass, gripping your ass tightly as he moves a little more forcefully. You bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck, pressing sloppy kisses against his skin as you smooth your hand over his hair. 

“Is this- fuck,” Akaashi grits out, “is this what you imagined when you drew up those panels?”

You nod, too far gone to cling onto the remnants of your stubbornness. 

“Yeah?” he whispers, “imagined me fucking up into you, huh?”

“Y- yes!” you cry out, body squirming when he lands a heavy spank to your ass.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls.

A soft mewl leaves you at the praise, your hips swaying back lazily to meet his thrusts. The sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoes through his room, your wetness leaking around his cock and coating his balls.

Your body rocks against his, your hand gripping at the sheets beside his head when he adjusts his grip on you, planting his feet a bit firmer against his mattress to thrust into you harder. You gasp at the sensation, sinking your teeth into his shoulder when his cock hits deep inside of you.

Akaashi hisses at the feeling of your teeth, spanking your ass again before you clench around him with a scream, body shuddering on top of his as you come. 

“Baby, baby, you gotta let go,” he rasps.

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing your hips down so that it swallows his cock all the way to the base.

“Inside, Keiji.”

He groans, his hands kneading at your hips roughly. You can feel the twitch of his cock, a satisfied coo leaving your lips when he comes, spurts of his hot cum filling you up. Akaashi’s hips stutter, thrusting into you unevenly as his cock jerks, more cum flooding your pussy.

You both pant, chests heaving. Akaashi rubs his hand along your back and you emerge from the crook of his neck, a drunken smile on your face.

He laughs hoarsely at your expression, cupping your cheek to guide you into another kiss while his cock softens inside of you. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you don’t mind, losing yourself in the heat of his body as cum leaks from your pussy.

“How long have you known?” you ask, tracing the slope of his nose.

“About a month,” he murmurs.

“A month?” you scoff, hitting his chest, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Akaashi grins, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss across your knuckles.

“That would ruin the fun.”

You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “it was hardly fun, Keiji.”

“But you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he whispers.

You laugh when he flips you onto your back, moaning softly when you feel his cock beginning to harden again inside of you.

“Put- put your glasses on,” you whisper, head tipping back as he rolls his hips into you.

Akaashi reaches over to dig his glasses out from the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, pushing them up to sit comfortably on his nose.

You clench around him at the sight, biting your lip as you give him a pleased smile.

“Knew you had a thing for ‘em.”

He grabs at your legs, moving them so that they’re pressed against his chest, your ankles resting on his shoulders.

“Use this as inspiration, baby,” Akaashi smirks, “I’ll even edit it for you.”

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I'm always interested in analyses that portray a romanced Solas as a predatory hee hee trickster god manipulating a young and impressionable Lavellan into falling for him and if that's your world state go ahead and live your truth b/c it's frankly none of my business, but I sincerely think there are those who forget that for a lot of people, a romanced Lavellan is (with all due respect to my own Solasmancing Inquisitor Rielle Lavelllan) batshit crazy. Having her boyfriend turn out to be a wolf god is honestly the least of her problems but oh boy is she unafraid to become one to fix this mess.

This is a woman who woke up in a dungeon with a glowing hand, figured out she could fix the world, and thought "fuck it, it's not like I'll have anything else better to do if Corypheus sticks around. Also. Everyone here kind of looks like they want to kill me, so maybe I'll stick with the protective powers that be for a minute." And then all of five seconds later she gets her hand snatched by a sketchy elven apostate who knows exactly what to do with her shiny new powers and cannot stop himself from having a Mr. Darcy level hand-flex after he lets it go (in my heart and soul this happens just out of the camera's gaze) and goes "hmm maybe there's something to be said for this world saving thing."

This is a woman who brought an entire fucking avalanche down on herself and three of her closest friends (and I do mean closest as in physical proximity, she doesn't know these people who are looking at her like she's Thedas' Next Top Idol) because even if it killed her it was the proper middle finger to send to the wannabe god bringing his army tap-dancing down the mountain pass towards her on the one night she had scheduled off to celebrate finally taking a W.

This is a woman going Take 2 Electric Boogaloo on waking up with no idea where she is and learning she was successful in spite-dragging herself up a different fucking mountain in a blizzard. Except now everyone is fighting wait nope now they're Kumbaya-ing a song Andraste's Herald should really probably be familiar with whoops, oh thank God, time for a side convo with the same apostate who's been trying to turn her entire life into a history class only for her to dive in headfirst (much to his initial abject horror) and get that good good discourse she needs since she can't go around arguing with everyone else like she wants to. "The orb is ours." You know what? Of course it is. But if they need the world saved from an elven oopsie, who better to right things than an elf? Fuck it, we ball.

This is a woman who misses being close to nature and goes positively feral at Skyhold, yeeting herself over balconies and banisters and turning the ancient fortress into her personal parkour playground because she's got energy to work off and shit to do, and if the path of least resistance to hunt down everyone she needs to talk to is coincidentally the same path that will absolutely wreck her knees by the time she's sixty, that's just how it has to be.

This is a woman who finds herself back at Haven with a man she's found it possible to be unfetteringly unabashedly herself with and thinks, "hey, maybe there could be more than the flirations we've exchanged over heated discussions and philosophical deep-dives, maybe I can have just one smooch as a treat." And when she feels her slowly unfurling passion reciprocated only to be shut down? She resolves herself to fight for this fledgling love and all the fade tongue that comes with it. This is a woman who gets the tiniest glimpse of what a retirement plan might look like after this whole saving the mortal world thing and buys all the way in.

This is a woman who has Grey Wardens to save from themselves, an empire trying to self-cannibalize, and still finds the time to go rescue a spirit because she, as a fellow comrade caught up in this mess, knows damn well that no innocent deserves to suffer if she can help it while she's got this insane amount of power she never asked for. And if that happens to lead to the man she feels safe enough to nap on the library couches with confessing at last the feelings she knows he's been smothering beneath his all-too-collected surface? Yeah, she'll take that W.

This is a woman who gets absolutely blasted head-over-ass into the fade and goes "honestly things were going a little TOO well." This is a woman who sneaks a peak at the closest fears of the companions she's come to know and love and goes "not on my fucking watch." This is a woman who sees that the man she forces herself to learn the old language for, her vhenan, fears being alone more than anything in the entire knowing world and resolves herself to ensuring it never comes to pass.

This is a woman who gets the opportunity to shape the government of a straight up country and runs around collecting wooden fucking halla in a palace full of elven servants with no time to dwell on that particularly cruel irony because out here it's scheme or be schemed. This a woman who collapses against a balcony railing after putting out some of the sickest literal and metaphorical dance moves The Game has ever seen, resigned to bear her ever-increasing burdens alone, only to find her heart and his horrible horrible hat extending a hand, promising her that if he is not alone, then neither is she.

Like, do you feel me here?

And then he dares to think something as sudden and damning as the truth is enough to keep her away? The queen of tough conversations and tougher choices? No, no, dear readers who have made it this far into my descent into madness.

Inquisitor Lavellan is a master-class in encouraging the odds against her to fuck around and find out. She is a rift-mending false-god-bashing politcally savvy terror upon all of Thedas. Solas (and all of the living breathing world) is lucky she took time out of her busy schedule to notice the way his smile softens when talking about spirits or appreciate the fluidity of his form when they're obliterating venatori out in the field. This man cradled her cheeks in his shaking hands, looked into weary and wide eyes and called her beautiful, and had the audacity to steal her heart before trying to peace out and take it with him.

If she's got to track down a real god this time and frog march him into the fade to reclaim both her heart and the future she fought for because all he wants to do is launch himself like a meteor towards achieving his greatest fear, if she has to spend hours lecturing him on the sheer audacity of his ass while spirits float by and realize they're grateful they never had the chance to take on a body and subject themselves to a verbal lashing this brutal, if she has to do cartwheels around him while dropping all sorts of sweet nothings in the language she is now quite proficient in until he gets it through his luminous gleaming skull that when she said "var lath vir suledin" my girl meant it? Then that's what she's going to do.

"I wish it could, vhenan."

Oh it's going to, buddy. Buckle up to get wrecked, to get absolutely loved and cherished you fool, because Inquisitor Lavellan is not the Dread Wolf's prey, she's his hunter.

[ltleflrt]

Figuring out I'm on the ace spectrum was so difficult because I have always been a horny bitch. I knew what sex was at a fairly young age, because I'd asked my mom and she's one of those good parents who'll answer questions like those, and as I grew older and would ask more complex questions, her answers would evolve along with my curiosity and understanding of the world. And I remember having fantasies as young as 9 or 10 years old, even if they were hella vague and nothing close to what sex actually is lol

So as I became a teenager, and all my friends' focus turned from playing with dolls to flirting with boys, I automatically thought I was attracted to boys. And I paid more attention to Cute Boys than I did to Cute Girls, because girls were just nice to look at while boys were People To Have Crushes On. Because of heteronormativity. Looking back on it now, I know there were girls I liked to stare at just as intently as boys, although less often because I wasn't trying to pay attention. And I certainly didn't fantasize about girls because I started reading romance novels in 5th grade, so I was fantasizing about male romantic partners because that was the fiction I was consuming. I didn't even realize fantasizing about girls was possible until I was 17, and I had a few "am I a lesbian" internal crises for years because of it.

So when I did start having sex, I had A LOT OF IT with SO MANY different guys, and eventually a couple of women once I started accepting that bisexuality was real. But it was never really fulfilling. Not like my fantasies were. Not like my books were. I was slutty because sex was fun, I was horny, there were plenty of options so I kept searching for that satisfaction I was craving.

Getting married was a relief (even though it turns out I'm aro-spec too lol) because I was tired of hunting, and even if sex with my husband was meh, at least I had someone around to scratch that itch if I had it, and he didn't mind if I occasionally took care of things on my own because I'd read an especially hot scene in a romance.

I learned about asexuality in my early 20s, but I brushed it off. Couldn't be me, I'm far too horny for that. But I think that comes from the fact that everything you hear about Aces is attached to sex-repulsion or sex-indifference. I wasn't either of those things. I was horny all the dang time. I was fantasizing about sex all the dang time. I figured actual sex was meh because my imagination was so vivid that real life could never match up. Which could be true to an extent, but I think not as much as popular opinion would have us believe. If fantasy was really that much better for everyone, then I think we'd have less incels and unplanned pregnancies than we do.

In my 30s I finally saw people talking about The Spectrum, and I started examining my past, and I figured out I wasn't really attracted to anyone I had sex with. I do occasionally find someone attractive; there are men and women and enbies who make my skin feel tight and give me a little wave of lightheadedness lol... but it's always always the fantasy that gets me really going. If given the opportunity I wouldn't have sex with any of those people. Thank you, but no thank you, I'd rather just imagine it than physically participate in the act with them.

(Ok I might go down on them, but that's less about wanting sex, and more about being able to add them to my Tally. Hell yeah I want to brag about making *insert hot person* have an orgasm. There's PRIDE in that kind of accomplishment lol)

I have a lot of respect for aces that are not horny. I understand it even if I don't share the sentiment. And I feel like most of them understand me even if they don't share the sentiment. There's a solidarity between us.

Until I go into a fandom tag for a character that the aces have glommed onto because they're canonically ace or headcanoned as ace. Good lord, the non-horny aces can turn into downright vicious bastards if a horny ace sexualizes their blorbo.

This post is for them.

Horny aces exist. Please look up "autochorissexual, lithosexual, and aegosexual."

Refer to those definitions in regards to romantic attraction as well as sexual attraction.

Some aces may not fall into one of those definitions, because asexuality is a spectrum, but they may still be horny.

Horny aces are not disrespecting you by enjoying being horny on main. We promise we'll wash the stickiness off our hands before we hold your hands in queer solidarity.

And most importantly: Your blorbo is fictional and does not need to be defended from icky sexuality. They exist in an infinite multiverse, so your blorbo and my blorbo are not the same, even if they appear to be on the surface.

AND:

This post is also for the people who are confused about themselves because they're horny but don't actually feel attraction. You're not crazy, you're not wishy washy, you're not "waiting for the right person to come along" (unless you are, in which case I hope you find them). You're just a thin strip of color on a massive rainbow that holds more unique shades than anyone can perceive at a glance.

You're valid. You're one of us too.

And don't be mean to the non-horny aces. Tag your smut so they can avoid it. (But actually so I can find it lol)

[reshinless]

Hiii, it's me again, I'm here to ask abt kinich- anyways, Reader is kind of insecure and self conscious and she's dating kinich, and she sees how good mualani is to kinich and starts to ask herself if she should actually be with him (+I would appreciate it you somehow turn this into smut because I'm a dog for him🤭)

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD UTC.

you knew kinich was close with her too, but you couldn't help but feel like you weren't as good as she was.

you saw the way she looked at him, what were you supposed to do? you knew she'd never pursue someone in a relationship but she always asked about your relationship with kinich.. was she hoping you'd break up?

well i'll be glad to answer that no she does not! but ill explain more later.

you continued to feel like you weren't a good partner, therefore distancing yourself from the man you fell in love with.

maybe he was better off with her. or at least so you thought. you see, mualanj was giving him advice on how to treat you, she always smiled whenever her and kinich spoke about it.. because.. well.. it was funny to her how he doesn't know how to talk to you.

you have barely had your first kiss with him, and he's never had anyone else like you before.. so he had to ask a professional (mualani plus her 0 relationship experience advice)

"just remember to make them feel at home! you notice if they've been sad or anything recently?" mualani puts up her surfboard up on a tree, sitting on the soft grains of sand on the beach.

"i.. feel like they've been running away from me.. did i do anything wrong?"

mualani realized immediately why you'd distance yourself; you were jealous. kinich has a dense sense for romance, so he wouldn't notice immediately unless.. well professional couplw therapist mualani ensures it doesn't happen again!

once kinich realizes what he's done, he goes to find you as soon as possible. not even hearing out more of mualani's words. she was sure you both would figure it out anyway.

but trust me kinich is quick on his feet to tell you how you're everything to him.

when you tell him you didn't believe him.. well i guess he just had to show you.

kinich who learned a few things from the books mualani threw at him, she didn't realize one of them was basically sex in a book, as he read on, he wanted to try out a specific scene.

laid out in front of him, taking his gloves off carefully tossing them to the side. prepping your hole for him to treat you good. your wetness already all over his fingers as he added another digit progressively.

he who hums into your ear, hearing how well you whimpered, and whined out his name. he could only praise you for how good you took him.

your cunt sucked him inside so well, the sounds of pleasure echoed throughout the hallway in the gap of the unlocked door.

your walls started to tighten around his cock, but that wouldn't stop him from penetrating you. he'd make sure by tonight that no one other than you could make him cum.

kinich who likes to put you into a mating press, your legs held high above your head, he slaps the soft skin of your ass, before laying a kiss onto your wet cunt, mixed with cum of your own and his.

kinich will make sure you know that he loves you more than anyone else. and he wants you to do the same (not that you weren't already doing that.)

but when its all over, his words are sweet, learning a thing or two from whatever mualani discussed with him. clearing the air on why he had been talking to mualani more recently.

he just meant to ask her about advice on what to get you for your next anniversary 🩵

[ariestrxsh]

🍕 content warning: smut, oral (m! & f!receiving), praise, edging, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, small age gap (both characters are adults), pizzaboy!chris, servicesub!chris, dom!reader, low-key the reader exchanges money for sex

🍕 summary: your delivery boy, chris, is used to getting away with everything due to his dashing good looks, but it does him no good when he tries to resist your magnetic charm. when he arrives with your meat lovers earlier than expected, you're hungry for more than just the pizza.

(if it's cheesy, it's because i wanted it to be. 🧀 may this fic make you cum whilst you laugh at my stupid wordplay.)

pizza guy

It was a cool, late-autumn evening, the wind rustling through the falling dead leaves and the temperature slowly dropping with every day that winter neared. You were at home, lounging in a silk pajama set on your couch, curled up with a book and a glass of wine while you were waiting for the pizza you'd ordered to arrive.

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke your attention away from the page and brought you back to the present moment. You glanced over at the clock. Surely, that couldn't have been the pizza. You weren't expecting it for another half-hour.

You pulled open the door to reveal a cute blue-eyed brunette in his work uniform who greeted you with a sweet smile. He was a few inches taller than you but looked to be a few years younger than you, and he had this innocent demeanor about him that immediately sparked your interest.

You wet your lips as your gaze scanned the delivery boy's features. You were drawn to his captivating eyes, his pink cheeks, and his pouty lips. "Hello, ma'am. I have your meat lovers pizza with extra Italian sausage," he said, double-checking the box he held in his hands.

"You're gonna hate me. I left my wallet upstairs," you stuck your bottom lip out at him in a little frown. "Oh, that's fine, ma'am. I can wait here," he kindly responded, the corners of his mouth turning up again. "Aren't you gonna get cold out here?" You asked, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'll be alright," he shrugged, his eyes dancing over your attractive features.

"I can't make you wait out in this weather, sweet boy. Why don't you come inside?" You replied in a nurturing tone as you crossed your arms, pushing up your breasts and revealing your hardening nipples that were straining against the soft fabric of your silk button-down.

"I don't think I should," he softly answered even though he was contemplating it, his eyes drawn towards your chest. "I'm not even standing out there, and I'm freezing. What if you catch a cold because of me? I couldn't live with myself," you said in an endearing voice as you ran your fingertips along your arm, trying to warm up.

He knew it was against store policy to enter a customer's home, but he figured he could bend the rules just this once. After all, the only thing providing his hands warmth was the pizza box he was holding, and the tip of his nose was growing red from the biting chill. He nibbled on his lip and nodded, accepting your generous offer and hesitantly stepping into your home.

"Make yourself comfortable," you told him, letting him in. You turned around to retrieve your wallet from upstairs, and Chris' stare migrated to the way your ass jiggled in your silk bottoms as you hurried up the steps. He couldn't help himself. You were just so hot. He glanced at the fancy bottle of red wine you had sitting on your coffee table along with the romance novel that laid beside it.

He wondered what a gorgeous woman like you was doing on a Saturday night, drinking alone and reading a book about love instead of making it.

You trotted back down the steps with your wallet in hand, sights fixed on the boy standing in your cozy living room who immediately noticed you'd undone the top two buttons of your shirt while you were upstairs. He knew exactly what you were doing, but he couldn't entertain it. It was a weekend, and he knew there would be plenty of pizzas to deliver and a lot of money to make.

"What's your name, baby?" You wondered as you reached into your wallet to count your bills. "Chris," he replied, loving the pet names you called him. "Alright, Chris. How much do I owe you, sweetie?" You asked, peering into his gorgeous blue eyes. "Um, $19.69," he blushed, clearing his throat and looking down at the price on your receipt he had pinned between his thumb and the box.

You smirked at him, pulling two $20 bills out of your wallet. "Here's for being so patient with me," you leaned in and whispered into his ear as you hooked two of your fingers into Chris' front pocket and slowly slid the cash in. While your were leaned in so closely, you could feel the heat radiating from his body and you picked up on the scent of pepperoni and hint of weed that lingered on his clothing.

"Thank you, ma'am. That's so generous. I don't know if I can accept that much," he replied, feeling all the blood rush to the tip of his cock as you flirted with the idea of breaking the touch barrier but not doing so just yet. "Sure, you can. You deserve it." You took the pizza box from him and placed it gently on your coffee table.

"You should stay a little longer. I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate, and you can warm up a little before you have to go back out into the cold," you offered, licking your lips while you examined his softening expression. "I should really get back to the shop," Chris said, breaking eye contact and trying to exercise self-control.

"Oh, come on. Stay for one cup of hot cocoa, sweet boy. You can just tell your boss you had trouble finding my house. Do you like it made with milk or water?" You asked, not giving him another chance to decline your proposition.

His gaze flickered back up at yours. He had your money. He could have easily excused himself and gone back to work, but he was secretly hoping for an excuse to stall and spend a little more time with you.

"Milk," he softly responded, completely in a trance with your caring nature. "You want whipped cream on top, baby? And marshmallows?" You cooed. "Yes, ma'am. Both please," he nodded, accepting your kind gesture. "Have a seat, Chris. Have a piece of pizza," you motioned towards the couch as you stepped into the kitchen to warm up some milk.

"How long have you been a delivery boy?" You asked, lighting the front left burner of your stove. "About a year," Chris replied, plopping down onto the sofa and reaching into the box to grab a slice. "Yeah? You make good money?" You inquired, fillling up a pot with milk. "Yeah, about $150 a night," he told you with his mouth full of pizza.

"Wow. That's a lot of money for this area. It must be because you're so timely and polite. And so handsome," you casually added, peeking up at him. He blushed and gave you a shy smile. "Oh, I don't know about that," he humbly replied. "Sure you are. You're cute, and you know it, too," you smirked at him. He took another big bite of pizza.

"So, do you always come quick?" You asked him. "Excuse me?" he politely answered you, nearly choking on his food and raising his eyebrows, unsure if he heard the question correctly. "I mean, when you're delivering pizza. Do you always arrive so quickly? I wasn't expecting you for another thirty minutes," you said, your eyes shifting between the boy on your couch and the clock on the wall. "I drive fast," he smiled.

"You really care about pleasing the customer, don't you?" You insinuated, bringing over the cup of hot chocolate. Your fingertips gently grazed his as you passed him the warm, ceramic mug. "Yes ma'am. I do. I live for it," he said in a submissive tone, glancing up at you.

"You ever get pulled over because you were driving too fast?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him and taking a seat on the couch beside him. "A handful of times, but it's always by the same officer in the same area I drive through. She always gives me shit, runs my license, registration, and insurance, and the whole bit, but she always lets me off with a warning," Chris replied before taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

"Mmmm, this is good," Chris said, licking the whipped topping off his lip. "Oh, baby. You missed a spot," you chuckled, moving a bit closer and gently running the pad of your thumb against the smudge and cleaning it off his upper lip while you stared deep into his eyes. You slowly licked the sugary cream from your thumb and grinned at him. He secretly liked the way you babied him and how in touch you were with your maternal instincts.

He took a few more sips of his chocolatey drink, savoring the warmth and sweetness it provided. "How much longer is your shift?" You wondered, studying his jawline and his full lips. "I close tonight, so at least another six hours," he gave a disappointed half-smile. "Awh. I can't believe they're making you work late on a Saturday night," you gave him a little frown. "It's alright. It's good money," he replied, drinking more of his hot cocoa.

"You know, I really appreciate the tip, the slice of pizza, and the hot chocolate, but I really should get going," Chris replied, setting the nearly empty mug on the coffee table. "Oh, sweet boy. Look at your pants. They're a mess," you chuckled, brushing crumbs off of his lap and gently grazing his cock that twitched in response to your light touch.

"Ma'am, you're making this very hard for me right now," Chris said in a serious tone, grabbing your wrist and looking into your eyes. "What am I making hard for you, baby?" You cooed. "I know what you're doing," Chris looked at you with his submissive eyes.

"Then why don't you let me keep doing it? I'll take good care of you, darling," you placed a hand on his cheek, cradling his face and searching for the answers in his expression to get him to stay. "It wouldn't be right.." he started to say, but his voice trailed off and he loosened his grip on your wrist as you leaned in, closing the distance between his lips and yours. You pulled him into a trance with your deep, passionate kiss, swirling your tongue around in his mouth.

"Says who? Isn't the customer always right? Don't you wanna leave me satisfied, baby?" You asked him, nudging his chin up with your nose, exposing his throat, and planting a soft kiss on the side of his neck. Chris was such a sucker for neck kisses and pleasing the customer. He couldn't stop you now. He wanted you too badly and so desperately craved to satisfy you.

"What would I even say?" Chris wondered out loud, racking his brain for an excuse to get out of the rest of his shift but getting distracted by your luscious lips. "I'm sure you'll think of something," you mumbled, pressing your tongue against a sensitive spot on his neck and giving him another passionate kiss.

"I can't think about anything except how amazing your mouth feels," Chris whimpered, giving into the sensation. "Give me your cellphone," you said, pulling away and holding out your hand. "What for?" He asked you, hesitantly reaching into his pocket and placing it in your palm. You handed Chris back his phone after dialing the number to his work and tapping the speaker button.

"Just tell your boss you got a flat tire or something, and that you can't come back to work for the rest of the night. I'll make it worth your while," you seductively suggested, whispering as you gently nibbled on his ear. He let out a soft moan as your teeth grazed his earlobe. "Hey, Chris. What's up? You've been gone a while. You find the delivery address?" A man answered the phone, recognizing Chris' caller ID.

"I got kind of lost on the way there, but I eventually found it. Um, I actually called because someone slashed my tires when I stopped to take a leak. Could you put a manager on so I can explain the situation?" He asked, trying to keep his composure as your lips traveled back to his neck, sinking your teeth into his sensitive flesh. He bit down on his lip to suppress another moan.

"Of course. Give me a sec. I'm gonna put you on hold," the guy on the other end of the line replied. You grabbed the hem of Chris' work shirt, pulling it up and off over his head, disheveling his hair while you did so. "I can't believe you have me doing this right now," he whispered as you fell to your knees in front of him. You smirked up at him, your hands reaching for his belt.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, looking down at his lap wide-eyed, the sound of the metal clanking against itself as you unbuckled it. "You just get so many nice tips, I thought maybe you could spare one," you chuckled. "While I'm on the phone with my boss?" He peered down at you in disbelief. "Let's see how well you can hold it together," you smirked.

"Oh my god. I don't usually mix business and pleasure in this manner, ma'am," he innocently whispered as you reached into his underwear. "You can save the I don't usually do this talk for someone else, because guess what? You're already doing it," you giggled. He sharply inhaled as you pulled out his half-erect cock.

"Wow, it's so big, and it's not even all the way hard yet," you gasped, taking it into your hand and slowly beginning to stroke his shaft.

It was long and veiny, and the head was pink, smooth, and already beginning to swell with arousal. He was so flattered by the way you lovingly looked at it, gently petting it and causing more blood to flow to it. He peered down at you with hungry eyes and a lustful expression.

"Chris? Someone slashed your tires?" A woman spoke into the phone as you slowly licked from the base of his length, stopping right where the heads meets his staff. Chris' jaw dropped and his breath hitched in his throat as he watched the way you teased him. His cock, that had now grown to its full size, twitched at the sensation of your heavenly tongue, and a bit of pre-cum gushed from his slit.

"Chris?" The woman said again, sounding agitated. "Yes ma'am," Chris said in a strangled voice as you began spiraling slow licks around the tip, cleaning up the clear fluid. "Chris, are you stoned right now? You know, we've talked about this. If it were anyone else, I would've fired them on the spot after the first time. You're just such a hard worker and get such good reviews-" his boss started to scold him.

"No, no. Nothing like that, ma'am. I'm just shaken up. That's all," Chris cut her off, trying to keep his composure while he stared down at the way you flickered your tongue over his slit. Her tone immediately changed. "Awh, Chris. I'm so sorry I accused you of being high on the job. Do you need a ride home, sweetie?" She tenderly asked him.

"No, ma'am. I appreciate it. I already got one. I just wanted to call to let you know I can't get new tires until tomorrow, so I won't be able to finish my shift," Chris managed to get out before a small sigh escaped his lips and his head fell back as you worked your magical tongue on him. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything, Chris," his manager relayed in a tone you swore was almost seductive. "Anything at all," she emphasized, the desperation in her voice coming through.

He was so mesmerized by the way you sheathed his marble-smooth, pink head between your soft lips that he nearly forgot he was on the phone. "Chris?" His manager broke him out of his trance. "Yes. Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that," Chris responded, staring down and nodding at you as you started to move your lips down his length, taking more of him into your mouth, massaging the backside of his dick with your tongue.

"Good night, Chris. Do whatever you need to do to relax," she said, definitely picturing him masturbating. "Good night, ma'am," Chris replied before concluding the call just in time for a guttural moan to pass through his lips and fill the room. You paused for a moment, taking Chris' dick out of your mouth with a faint pop, creating a wonderful suction for his nerve endings.

"Are you fucking her?" You narrowed your eyes at him and gave him a smirk. "My boss?" He asked with a surprised inflection, raising his eyebrows. You nodded at him. "No, ma'am. I swear I'm not," he quickly shook his head. "Well, she wants you to," you smiled. "Anything at all," you mockingly exaggerated her desperation. "I know. She's so obvious about it," Chris smirked down at you as you made his cock disappear behind your lips again.

He could finally enjoy the way you gently suckled on it, rolling your tongue around on his tip, and he didn't have to hold back his delighted noises anymore. Whimpers escaped his lips, one cascading after the other, filling the room with the sweet sound of his pleasure. He started to comb through your hair with his fingers as he sank further into the couch and further into his desire to fill your mouth with his seed.

"You work so hard, always taking care of everyone, but at the end of the day, who takes good care of you, hmm?" You cooed, stroking his length. He moaned loudly at your words. "Good boy. Enjoy it. You deserve it," you whispered before teasing the head with your tongue again.

"Ma'am, I don't know how much more I can take," he looked down at you lustfully, studying how you encircled the head with your licks. His dick involuntarily jerked again, a reflex to the way you intuitively knew what he liked. "I know you can take it, and you're going to," you whispered seductively. "Yes, ma'am," he whimpered as you took more of him into your mouth, sliding your lips all the way down until his tip hit the back of throat.

You loved how respectful he was even when he was on the brink of orgasm.

He clawed at the seat cushion underneath him, a desperate attempt to keep himself from finishing too soon. He thoughtfully watched your every move, thoroughly enjoying every subtlety of your technique that was becoming sloppier and messier. "Please, I need to cum," he whined, furrowing his brow, wetting his lips, and looking down at you with carnal desire in his eyes.

But you couldn't give into him just yet. You wanted to hear the desperation seeping into his tone of voice and see the neediness carved into his expression before you even thought about letting him finish.

"You don't understand how bad I need it," his luscious voice poured into the room. You carried on, ignoring his pleas to cum and fervently bobbing your head up and down on his cock some more. His moans became more strained as you continued to make him hold out, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes.

"Look at me, baby," you ordered him before you resumed manipulating all his tender nerve-endings. He loved the way you bossed him around, obediently following your directions. He did as he was told, peering back down at you and your tongue that was dancing around his tip, relentlessly teasing him.

"Please, ma'am. I've been such a good boy," he urgently begged, becoming teary-eyed. That's it, you thought to yourself. That was the kind of desperation you'd been patiently waiting for. You nodded at him, giving him silently permission as a tear rolled down his cheek. He let out a few loud, guttural moans, his voice cracking and his breath getting caught in his throat again.

You felt his dick pulse between your lips while you hummed against it, pressing the flat part of your tongue against his tip and causing his sweet and salty substance to spray off into different streams into your mouth, intensifying his orgasm. A few more primal sounds poured from his lips while you drained his throbbing member of his tasty seed.

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you," he graciously praised you as you collected every last bit onto your tongue before swallowing it, making sure not to waste a single drop. He stared down at you breathlessly with his bedroom eyes, his flushed cheeks, and his slightly parted lips, his heart beating out of his chest.

"You're so good with your mouth, ma'am. How can I ever repay you?" Chris wondered, wiping away his tears of satisfaction and slipping his cock back into his pants. "Not necessary. It was my pleasure," you whispered, winking at him. "Ma'am. I insist. Please let me show you how good I can make you feel," he said in a soft, subservient voice, giving you puppy dog eyes.

You nibbled on your lip as you stood up in front of Chris. You reached down and picked up your glass of wine, taking a long sip before you started to unbutton your silk shirt. He watched as you slowly opened your blouse, exposing your breasts to him as you peered into his blue eyes.

"You'd do that for me, sweet boy?" You cooed, brushing your thumb against his cheek while you tilted your head down at him and held eye-contact. "I'd do anything to please you," he whispered, tipping his chin up at you. "Be a good boy and get on your knees for me," you said in a soft and sweet but domineering manner. He nodded before he dropped to his knees in front of you.

He curled his fingers into your waistband and slowly stripped your bottoms off of you. You stepped out of them, one leg at a time, Chris' eyes fixed on the treasure between your thighs. Chris bent your knee and slung your leg over his shoulder, so you could rest your foot on the edge of the couch while he nestled into your warmth. His tongue gently flickered over your clit, sending a lovely sensation through you.

Despite having just finished, the act of eating your pussy had him all worked up and needy again, his hand slithering below his waist as it found its way into his the waistband of his boxers. He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and started pumping back and forth. He clamped his lips down on your sensitive bud, moaning against it.

"Good boy," you whimpered, running your digits through his hair and brushing it out of his pretty face. He was so gentle and tender, taking his time with his licks, but they were perfectly sensual and effective nonetheless. You gasped as he suckled on your most delicate nerve-endings, and the sound of him hungrily lapping up your wetness filled the room.

You let go, allowing yourself to be swept up in the delightful feeling his tongue brought you as it expertly prodded around your glistening folds. "That's it, baby. You're doing such a good job," you commended him. You smiled down at him, whimpering and licking your lips.

"Ma'am, you taste so sweet," Chris softly replied right before taking his hand out of his pants and placing his middle finger at your entrance. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he smirked up at you, sinking his digit into your hole.

He noted how tight you felt wrapped around just one finger. He couldn't keep himself from fantasizing about how your pussy would feel encasing his cock.

He went back to delicately licking your clit while he worked his curled finger into your heat, pulling it almost all the way out and pushing it back in again. You loved the way it felt, but it left your core aching for more.

"Chris.. I need something else from you, sweetie," you responded, looking down lovingly at the obvious bulge in his jeans. "What do you need from me?" He sweetly asked, resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh and peering up at you, eager to serve you in any way he could.

You loved his subordinate nature, his obedient tone, and his enthusiasm about doing anything for you that you wanted him to. "Let me ride you, sweet boy," you requested, playing with his hair. "Oh, yes, ma'am. I thought you'd never ask," he softly whined, hypnotizing you with his desperate eyes.

You unhooked your leg from the boy's shoulder, and when he stood up, you placed your pointer finger on his chest and lightly pushed him back. He bent to your will, allowing your gentle shove to subdue him onto your sofa. He sunk into the furniture and pulled his dick out of his waistband once more, presenting it to you in all its glory. It was still incredibly hard.

You straddled him, sticking your breasts in his face, and he eagerly took one of your nipples into his mouth. You grabbed onto his cock, holding it in place, so you could lower yourself onto it. You gasped as you enveloped the tip, and you let out a delighted sigh as you sat all the way down on it. Chris moaned against your breast, relishing in the sensation of having your heat wrapped around him.

He placed his hands on your waist so he could feel every intricacy in the way you rolled your hips forward, grinding on him as you rode him. You slid up and down on his rod with ease, becoming increasingly wet. "You're so big," you complimented him, feeling the way his dimensions filled you snugly, and he blushed at your praise.

You reached between your legs and started drawing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves while you maintained your stamina. "Ma'am, this is the best tip I've ever received," Chris whimpered, breathlessly. "I'd have to say the same," you smirked down at him. A few subtle whimpers escaped the boy's lips as you sped up your pace.

Chris' eyes started to roll back, but you gently tugged onto his ear, and whispered, "Look at me while you cum, sweet boy." He weakly nodded at you, his expression drenched in sheer lust and his facial features making it apparent to you how good you were making him feel.

"I'm so lucky I got you as my pizza delivery boy," you moaned, looking into his eyes. "Respectfully, ma'am, I think I'm the lucky one," he whimpered, furrowing his brow and digging into your sides with his fingertips.

"You've been such a good boy. Why don't you cum for me, sweetie?" You cooed, recognizing how close he was and how badly he needed this. "Inside?" He politely clarified. "Yes, Chris. Fill me up," you responded, nodding at him. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, letting all his muscles relax as his orgasm washed over him like a rising tide.

His climax ebbed and flowed through him. His cock twitched inside of you, pumping you full of his seed until it started leaking down his length and making a mess on his jeans. He was incredibly sensitive, but he waited patiently until your orgasm followed shortly after.

"Oh, Chris," you called out in a sultry moan as you clenched around him, finishing onto his rod and adding to the mess of fluids that were leaking onto his lap. The pace of your fingers on your clit slowed down as well as the movement of your hips until you finally came to a halt. You smiled down at Chris, pulling him into one more intense kiss and overwhelming his tastebuds with notes of red wine.

You climbed off of him, and started to slip back into your clothes. He admired your body one last time as you covered back up, taking a few moments to recover from the powerful sensation. His chest rose and fell as his breathing began to regulate itself, and he tucked himself back into his jeans, pulling his zipper closed, buttoning them back up, and buckling his belt.

You reached into your wallet again, pulling out $150, the amount Chris told you he would've made had he worked the rest of his shift, and you tucked it into his pocket. "Ma'am. Do you think I'm some kind of hooker or something? I can't accept money for sex," he smiled at you, pulling his work shirt back on over his head.

"You were on the job. I'm only paying you for your valuable time. We just so happened to have sex," you shrugged, winking at him while you did up the buttons on your silky pajama top. He shook his head, ready to decline your money offer.

"Come on, if you had trouble making rent this month because I got greedy and wouldn't let you leave, I'd feel just awful," you seductively said, tilting his chin up with your finger. "Even if you just spend it on weed," you winked at him. He chuckled and rolled his eyes in response.

"I can't wait to leave you a good review. Let everyone in town know how filling the Italian sausage is."

🍕 click for part two

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[senipsenipsenip]

Eventually, the scrapbook ended. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon hours ago, and some nagging part of Stan's brain was telling him kids shouldn't be up this late. Unless they're breaking into a mini golf course. He jerked his head back, furrowing his brow. That was...oddly specific.

"Grunkle Stan?" a little voice - Mabel - questioned. He looked down at his knee to see where his great-niece was sitting, eyeing him with no small degree of concern. "Are you okay?"

He ruffled her hair. "'Course, Pumpkin. Just trying to shake some of those memories back in the right place, huh?" He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, smacking the side like he was trying to get water out his ears. "Got a straggler! Hup! There we go," he grinned, lowering his hand. "Good as new!"

Whatever he said must have been the right thing, because Mabel's eyes had lit up like he'd told her he was turning the Mystery Shack into a cotton candy emporium and Dipper had a sudden death grip on his other leg.

"Geez kid, you're clawing through my pants here," he grumbled, making no move to take away his nephew's hand. "Haven't you chewed your nails off by now? How're they so sharp?"

"You called me Pumpkin," Mabel whispered.

"You remembered I chew my nails," Dipper said in awe. Then he frowned. "Hey, how come Mabel gets a nice one and I get a gross one."

Stan shrugged. "'Cause she's nice, and you're gross."

"Ha! Zoom!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air before collapsing back into Stan's lap in a fit of giggles. Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he settled back against Stan's other side. Ford stayed perched on the arm of the chair, smiling fondly, but eyebrows still drawn together.

"What's the matter, Sixer?" Stan frowned as Ford grimaced at the nickname. "What?"

Ford waved off Stan's concern. "It's nothing. It's..." Ford sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not nothing. I just don't want to..." He pursed his lips.

"Don't leave us hanging." There was a shake in Stan's voice, and Mabel shifted closer to her Grunkle.

"I'm glad this has been helpful to you," Ford muttered. "But...you don't remember everything. Not really."

"Whaddya mean?" Stan asked. "I remember you, the kids, Soos. The freeloading jerk who steals my sandwiches." Stan glared at Waddles who simply oinked and started trying to eat his shoelace. Whatever. Free pass for jump starting his memories. He better not get used to it.

Dipper sat up. "Yeah, what do you mean, Great Uncle Ford?"

Ford frowned. "I just... Hm." He seemed to be weighing something in his mind before turning to Stan with some resolve.

"Stanley," he began slowly. "I hope you appreciate what I'm about to do for you."

"That's not terrifyingly ominous," Stan muttered, glancing around at the available exits.

"Do you remember my - " Ford cleared his throat. "My first kiss?"

Stan froze. "What?"

"My first kiss, do you remember it?"

"I was there?"

"Yes. Unfortunately a lot of people were."

Mabel squealed beside Stan. "Ooo! Romance memories! How old were you? Was it high school? Was it a high school romance? Was it star-crossed love between the nerd and the cheerleader?"

"Mabel, I think Grunkle Stan is supposed to figure that stuff out."

Mabel sat up and stared at Stan expectantly. "Come on Grunkle Stan! I need details!"

Stan shook his head, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled something rotting. "How should I know? Who asks their brother that sort of thing?"

"Precisely." Ford spoke with the same air of professionalism he adopted when explaining his theories, despite the alarming shade of red his face was becoming. "So far it seems that your memories are returning based on external stimuli, whether that be Mabel's scrapbook or our own prompting."

"So, wait, you're saying I won't get all my memories back?"

"No! No that's not what I'm saying," Ford held up his hands. "What I'm saying is we can't expect them all to come back at once. And at the risk of turning the Shack into the set of the Johnny Carson show, we'll keep asking you questions."

Stan frowned. "What if I don't wanna remember my brother smooching some babe?"

Ford turned redder. "You do."

"I do? Geez, I was a perv."

"In the meantime," Ford pressed. "It's important to take note of any stimulus you experience that makes you remember something. Even if it doesn't paint the whole picture for you, we can fill in the blanks. Or prompt you to remember more details."

Dipper grinned. "And then we get to learn more about the secrets you've been hiding, old man."

Stan lifted his hand to give Dipper a well-earned noogie, but paused before he could make contact. "Old man...did you...did you tell me to shut up one time and then punched me?"

Dipper balked. "What? No I - "

"YEAH no WAY that'd be CRAZY!" Mabel interjected a bit too loudly. "Anyway let's get back to that kissing story, huh?"

"Actually Mabel, I don't know if I want to hear about Great Uncle Ford kissing anybody either."

"Oh come on, Dipper. Are you jealous that The Author got someone to kiss him and you didn't?"

"What? No!"

"Some girls like nerds."

"Mabel I don't want to think about anybody in this room kissing anybody."

"You could learn from him Dipper! Figure out how to wield your nerdish charms. Soon you'll be like a kissing machine!"

"MABEL -"

The twins were silenced by a sudden gasp from Stan. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his jaw hanging open as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"Holy - " he choked out softly.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper sat up fully. "Are you okay?"

Stan didn't acknowledge him, eyes darting around minutely.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked softly. "Did you remember something?" Moisture had begun to gather in the corners of Stan's eyes, one of his hands covering his mouth as he began to shake.

"Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper turned to Ford, worry stitching his brows together. But Ford didn't look worried. If anything, he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor. His face was an alarming shade of red, nearly identical to his sweater. Stan let out another choked sound.

"Are you..." Mabel trailed off. "Grunkle Stan are you laughing?" He was quaking now, his hand falling from his mouth to reveal a wide, open-mouthed smile. He began slapping the arm rest with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down his cheeks. Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Sure, they'd seen Stan laugh before, but it was usually a loud guffawing thing. They'd never seen him like this. They shared a tentative smile. Either this was the hardest they'd seen him laugh, or he had really snapped.

Ford seemed to pick up on their worry. "He's fine," Ford offered. "He's just...remembering my first kiss." At Ford's words, Stan let out a loud cackle, burying his face in his hands.

Mabel cocked her head. "But what's so funny about -"

"You children must be exhausted," Ford blurted out, standing abruptly. "Come now, go wash up then head to bed!"

"Oh no you don't!" Stan shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes, still smiling. "You're not getting out of this one, pal!"

"Stanley, this conversation is hardly appropriate for children -"

"You brought it up!"

"And now I'm putting a stop to it."

Stan grabbed his head. "Ooooo ow," he gave an exaggerated groan. "My poor head. The mean man won't let me share my memories so they're all going away!"

"Stanley, please don't joke about that."

"I'm fading away - "

"Stanley."

Stan crossed his arms. "You know, you really know how to take the fun out of amnesia."

"Yeah! Come on Grunkle Ford," Mabel pouted. "You can't just leave us hanging!"

"Yeah!" Dipper joined in. "If it's a funny story I want to hear it."

Ford spluttered, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater and looking around for an exit.

"Come on, Sixer," Stan chimed in. His eyes had gone soft around the edges. "I think the kids deserve a funny story."

After today went unspoken. Ford met Stanley's gaze, already feeling his resolve melting before he even turned to his grand-niece and nephew's inquisitive smiles.

"Alright," Ford conceded. "But to maintain the integrity of the exercise, Stanley will be the one to tell it. Whatever he doesn't remember, I can fill in."

Stan rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy, this'll be good."

"I regret this already."

"It's alright Great Uncle Ford," Dipper patted his shoulder. "We have a whole summer's worth of stuff we get to make fun of Grunkle Stan for. This just gives us stuff to use against you now. Levels the playing field."

Ford frowned. "Is that meant to be comforting?"

Dipper shrugged.

"Alright you two, enough yapping." Stan grinned, leaning forward in his seat and spreading his hands out in front of him. It was the same way he started his campfire tales. Mabel and Dipper met each other's eyes and smiled.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Kiss-Bot..."