#This is a pro kiss the homies blog

[respectthepetty]

THIS IS A PRO KISS-THE-HOMIES BLOG!

preferably sober

KISS ALL YOUR HOMIES!

[jdmara]

this is a pro kissing the homies blog

[toosmallformyowngood]

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ ◅

<:3)~

(Updated Saturday, August 31st, 2024, 10:42 PM EST) - LoM

[Disclaimer: There are a few emojis below, though I've tried to keep them as minimal as possible, as well as liberal use of bold text on important words, to help people with dyslexia and other reading troubles navigate. There is also some censorship to avoid this post popping up when certain terms are searched. I've tried to censor them in the most screen reader friendly way possible, and censored words should only register as being read with a slight pause in-between syllables. There is also some coloured text, though it is restricted to only the bullet points at the beginning of each line. I hope this doesn't cause too much trouble, and if you need me to change anything please let me know!]

Hi there, I'm LoM! I use singular they/them or it/its pronouns but may grant permission to use other pronouns to people I am extremely close to. I speak English (🇺🇲/🇬🇧) and conversational French (🇫🇷), and am learning Welsh (🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿), so feel free to talk to me in any of those languages! Taken by my lovely girlfriend, so I'd prefer for people to avoid coming onto me, but I am okay with joking flirting (like "kissing the homies goodnight" or "marriage for tax benefits") as long as it's just for laughs! On principle I won't turn off anon asks ever but if you're a jerk I'll steal all of your left shoes and right socks. My agere sideblog is @thesmallestofall, and I have a fandom sideblog @smallandterriblyafraid (so I don't bombard my followers with my silly hyperfixations), so feel free to check those out too! That's all I can think of for now but I'll probably update some things later!

Also! Here's the specially coded comma that can go in the tags btw: ‚

(There's a link to the post that my old icon art (the bunny) was from and the post that my new icon art is from at the bottom is this post! Go check it out, the creators are both really talented!)

DNI list below! (In no particular order)

🚫 DNI if you: 🚫

- Are rac.ist, homo.phobic, trans.phobic, bi.phobic, pan.phobic, able.ist, aro/ace exclusionary, or any other form of xeno.phobic

- Think that poly.am people aren't part of the lgbtqia+ community (They are, die mad about it.)

- Are a N.S.F.T blog (Jokes and writing are okay, irl l.ewds are not. I have no problem with you I just don't want p.orn or your nu.des my dash or in my inbox, sorry fam) (art or artistic photography are okay too though.)

- Are a t.erf/rad.fem/etc (Tradwife stuff is fine so long as you aren't pushing it on anyone else. Everyone has a different vision for what they want their personal future to look like and yours is valid too, so long as you're not on "a woman's place" and all that bullshit.)

- Are a practicing M.AP (People with intrusive thoughts can stay, though. It's not your fault that your brain is giving you icky thoughts when all you want is for it to shut up; my only qualm is with people who either see no wrong in the action, or do and go through with it any way.)

- Support J.K. Row.ling and or her works

- Are anti-endo (Specifically believing endogenic systems aren't valid. If you have some trauma or whatnot I'll respect that but I won't tolerate invalidating other's identities and lived experience.)

- Are anti age.re/pet.re, etc

- Vilify mental illness

- Don't support neopronouns (Including emoji pronouns.)

- Are anti it/its pronouns

- Are a T.rump supporter, anti.masker, c.ovid denier, etc. Your conspiracy theories are not welcome here

- Are an Oni.sion stan (Kind of pedantic I know but the dude sucks to the nth degree, so-)

- Crosstag posts with both strictly N.S.F.T and sfw tags (Mistakes are fine as long as it's just a genuine slip up and you do your best to correct it. We're all human and sometimes accidents happen, but doing it on purpose or leaving it up after being told the issues is a no go.)

- Are anti.-choice/pro.-life

- Are anti free healthcare, food, water, etc

- Think autism and related quirks need a "cure" (I'm all for personal choice if the "cure" was a pill or shot but currently the "cure" is eug.enics which I am not about)

- Think DNI lists are bad or a waste of time

That's all I can think of for now. However, with that said...

✅ Do interact if you: ✅

- Are a roleplay/gimmick/character blog! I love talking to you guys! You're cool!

- Have OCs. Tell me about them! I love hearing about people's characters!

- Post oddcore, liminalcore, weirdcore, dreamcore, nostalgiacore, traumacore, etc. It may be triggering for some but I love to see it so long as it's properly tagged!

- Post kidcore, clowncore, rainbowcore, babycore, toddlercore, toycore, dollcore, cleancore, poolcore, webcore, internetcore, etc. These are a few more of my favourite -cores! If you post them or find some for me I'd love to see it!

- Like geology, paleontology, or history! These are some of my special interests and I could talk about them for hours!

That's all for now! See you later! <3

~ As promised, here's where I got my old icon art from! It was made by Rosu (I believe), a really great artist! Their bunny art is adorable!

~ Here's where I got my new icon art from!

[tteokdoroki]

𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒

— you’re an up and coming pro hero; fresh faced, roaring through your twenties with your highly successful U.A years far behind you. but when one little drunk slip up has you falling through the hero ranks, will a single pretty bird of prey help you soar back up? or will you end up falling for him?

⇝ pairing: keigo takami x fem!reader

⇝ status: COMPLETE.

⇝ updates: every monday, friday && sunday !

⇝ genre: social media!au, pro hero!au, fake dating!au, crack, fluff, angst, smut.

⇝ warning(s): swearing ( mostly bakugou ), suggestive, rated 17+, slight!age gap, eventual smut hoho, everyone is aged-up into their twenties since they’re pros now, todoroki siblings being a mess, um crazy exes and stupid boys? 

⇝ author’s note(s): this isn’t my first smau but it is my first one for my hero and on this blog ! i hope y’all keigo simps enjoy bc i had so much fun writing this and hope to write more smaus in the future <3 

TAGLIST  ✈️ CLOSED

🛫 yn squad intros | hawks squad intros 🛬

✈️ part one - my girl ( bonus )

✈️ part two - kill all men ( bonus )

✈️ part three - ok lol

✈️ part four - fly high kaminari

✈️ part five - dumb bitch ! you called? ( bonus )

✈️ part six - onlyfans

✈️ part seven - dick without complications

✈️ part eight - get well soon ami 💜

✈️ part nine - its the denial for me ✨ ( bonus )

✈️ part ten - homie side

✈️ part eleven - seek help

✈️ part twelve - [ chuckles ] i’m in danger

✈️ part thirteen - an asshole

✈️ part fourteen - friend & fanwars

✈️ part fifteen - my girl

✈️ part sixteen - i’ve got you

✈️ part seventeen - blindsight ( bonus )

✈️ part eighteen - keigo takami

✈️ part nineteen  - need you

✈️ part twenty - unidentifiable civillian 

✈️ part twenty one - kiss you

✈️ part twenty two - twitter for android

✈️ part twenty three - google

✈️ part twenty four - the rut

✈️ part twenty five - wholesome broments

✈️ part twenty six - manly family reunion

✈️ part twenty seven - wanna date bakubro?

✈️ part twenty eight - bitch got rude ( bonus )

✈️ part twenty nine - shitty bird ( bonus )

✈️ part thirty - never 

✈️ part thirty one - how shitty you are

✈️ part thirty two - love him more

✈️ part thirty three - but we move 👉👉

✈️ part thirty four - law & order

✈️ part thirty five - the limit

✈️ part thirty six - stupid feathers

✈️ part thirty seven - un poco loco

✈️ part thirty eight - mr & mrs takami | ✈️ bakugou route

✈️ character q&a - rules | tag

thank you for reading !!

[dirt-grub]

this blog is pro kissing the homies goodnight!!!! sometimes a bro just wanna be held ya feel!!!! 

[tuanyiems]

First Everything

First Everything Bambam x Fem Reader Genre: fluff, a little angst Words: 9.2k [Masterlist in blog description] Plot: Sequel to Muse (Arranged Marriage AU) Part of the Marriage Life AU series. A series of dates in which Bambam tries his hardest (poor boy) to convince you that he really, really wants to be with you. a/n – lol idunno how I feel about this but here you go~

-

When the door of the restaurant opens, Bambam’s eyes dart over to the bodies entering for the umpteenth time. When it’s not you, he sighs, rubbing sweaty palms over the deep purple suede of his pants. The designer material darkens under his touch, but he’s too nervous to fret over his outfit at the moment.

He’s beginning to regret not picking you up at your place. He should have been more insistent. But the choice was made and now he is here, leg shaking in his chair of the Michelin star restaurant that he’s not quite sure you’re even going to meet him at.

He gulps down his second glass of water, throat parched at just the thought of getting stood up. He eats at this place at least three times a month. How embarrassing would it be for everyone to witness this rejection?

The door opens again and Bambam jerks his head up like a meerkat. An elderly woman walks in, much to his disappointment. 

He sinks into the plush seat, tipping the glass to his lips again only to find it empty. A waitress promptly comes over to refill his glass, relieving him of the menacing view of the restaurant door for a fleeting moment. 

What’s wrong with him? Bambam hasn’t been this nervous since…well, high school.

-

“Kun…pi…mook uh Bu—”

Bambam rolls his eyes at the freshmen English teacher, Mr. Kim, butchering his name. “I just go by Bambam,” comes his automatic response.

Mr. Kim breaks into a sigh of relief, taking pen to clipboard, “Great, Bambam it is.”

But Bambam has already zoned out. 

Because right across from him is you—an unassuming girl in the back seat, smiling to yourself. Your lips move as you tilt your head down, but Bambam knows exactly what you’ve mouthed and his heart catches in his throat. Bambam.

His name makes your cheeks dimple. 

He doesn’t know why, but this little bit of knowledge makes his chest squeeze.

The next day and every day after, Bambam makes sure to sit next to you. Thus, began the beginning of your beautiful love story…

…is what he had hoped. 

But after the first day of high school, you don’t even spare him a glance. So instead, Bambam spends every hour of English period watching you from his peripheral. 

You are a quiet student and most days you spend the hour doodling in the margins of your notebook. Often, your doodles are centered around cute cartoons yelling at you to pay attention in class. Every once in a while, he’ll catch a funny caricature of one of your classmates.

Maybe you’ll draw him one day, he hopes to himself.

(You don’t.)

“Bambam and Y/N, please read the next passage,” Mr. Kim interrupts his daydreams one day, about a month into the new school year.

His eyes widen, fingers flipping through the pages of Romeo and Juliet.

“Page 46,” you whisper as you get up from your seat.

Bambam lets out a breath, thumbing to the right page as he stands from his seat beside yours. He squares his shoulders, attempting to stand tall though his shoulders only manage about an inch higher than yours, but every inch counts!

“If I profane,” you whisper when he doesn’t begin reading. 

Mr. Kim looks at Bambam pointedly.

“If I proFANE!” he starts loudly, cringing when his voice cracks. His classmates snicker, making his cheeks go red, but you don’t even flinch. Your eyes remain steady on the page of your own book, waiting for him to continue. He clears his throat, “If I p-profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my…lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch…with a tender k-kiss.”

Bambam swallows, wiping a sweaty palm on his khaki pants. He prays no one notices his stutter. If you do, you don’t let on, lowering the book as you speak.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

“Ha-”

“You guys,” Mr. Kim sighs, interrupting Bambam. He looks around the room with a scowl. “Can we not read this out like robots, please? This is young love! They’re talking about kissing! Be more excited!”

“Is that what they’re talking about?” you mutter under your breath, eyebrows arching as you scanned the page.

Bambam snorts before covering his mouth with his hand quickly. You catch the sound though, looking up at him with a smile. 

His heart catches in his throat. 

The playful glint in your eyes keeps him afloat for months after.

-

When the restaurant doors open again, Bambam chokes on his water. He coughs into the red linen napkin, his grey contact eyes watering. He can’t help chuckling despite it all though. 

You’re here. And fortunately for Bambam, your gaze is focused on the hostess. You’re asking her something, probably for directions to his table. You lean towards the hostess’ podium, the heels of your blush-colored flats rising to your tiptoes out of habit even though you are at least a foot clear of the podium. You have on your signature cream oversized knit cardigan which you pull tighter to your chest, covering the simple white dress beneath. 

It is so very you—even the stroke of blue paint at the bottom of your dress (which you probably aren’t aware of). On any other girl, Bambam would have scrutinized the stain, especially at a restaurant of this class. Yet, on you, the mark is somehow endearing. 

He wonders if the paint stain is fresh. Were you so absorbed in a painting that you came rushing straight here with no time to change? Or was this an old stain on a dress you loved so much you couldn’t bear to part ways with it? 

“Hey,” your hesitant voice breaks him out of his thoughts as you take a seat across from him.

“Hi,” he breathes. Underneath the table, he pinches his thigh. Nope, not a dream. 

“Sorry I kept you waiting, I had a hard time finding the entrance,” you chuckle to yourself. There’s a story behind that smile, there always seems to be a story behind every expression and gesture you make. He wonders if he’ll ever be part of that story. When he doesn’t respond, you tilt your head nervously. “Were…you waiting long?”

“Oh! Ha, no, not at all!” Bambam straightens in his seat.

You smile politely before turning away to admire the place. It’s a beautiful French restaurant that sits at the top of one of Seoul’s tallest hotels. The entire restaurant is surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, offering a spectacular view of the city. Your eyes linger on the glittering lights of Seoul’s Friday night skyline.

Bambam doesn’t bother to glance out the window. His eyes remain on you, the glow of the candle at the center of the table flickers like stardust on your skin.

When you finally look back, Bambam leans on the table, lifting a proud brow. “Like the view?”

“This place is breathtaking,” you admit, fingers rubbing absentmindedly at the ends of your sleeves.

“Right? It’s one of my favorite places in the city,” he smiles triumphantly. “Wait ‘til you try the food.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Yeah, Lisa introduced me to this place a year ago and I’ve been coming ever since.”

“L-Lisa? Like…from Blackpink?” you look at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that Lisa, she’s a homie.”

You blink at him. “Wow, okay…cool.”

He pauses, not quite sure how to read your tone. Before he can ask though, the waitress interrupts with the usual spiel on menus and dishes of the night. When you read through the menu, your eyes grow big.

“My card is still on file, right?” Bambam asks, quick to assuage your worries. His card has been on file for months now. 

“Yes, it should be, but I can check again for you,” the waitress smiles at him politely, knowing just as well that Bambam already knows this. He winks at her as she leaves before turning back to you.

Unlike his expectations though, the crease between your brow only deepens. He clears his throat, rubbing his palms against his thighs again.

“Anything catch your eye?”

You force out a smile, putting down your menu. “I can eat anything. Why don’t you decide?”

Bambam lifts a brow but nods in agreement. He wonders if French cuisine just isn’t your thing. He should have listened to Yugyeom and gone Japanese, huh? You can’t go wrong with omakase!

“Do you like wine?” he blurts, trying to get his best friend’s voice out of his head. 

“Oh,” your eyes dart to the clear glass cases at the center of the restaurant showcasing their selection. You sink into your seat a little. “Well, I’m not really an expert, but I can drink it. Do you like wine?”

“I’ll let you try my favorite bottle! It’ll go great with the usual course I order,” he smiles, quite pleased with his decision.

“Sounds good,” you nod curtly.

After Bambam puts in the order, an uncomfortable silence follows. Your eyes keep traveling around the room like you don’t want to look at him. And Bambam, who could easily entertain an entire party of people at any given moment, finds himself at a loss for words. There’s probably a stain on his thighs now from how often he keeps wiping his palms. He’s too afraid to check. 

“So,” he starts, extending the single word uneasily. He doesn’t manage to figure out the rest of his sentence though. 

But it’s then that you finally break into a smile. A real one.

“Bambam,” you let out, and his eyes dart to your cheek where the ghost of a familiar dimple lays. “Are you feeling as awkward as I am?”

“More like nervous,” he confesses, leaning back into his seat.

Your brows raise, “You? Nervous?”

“It happens when I’m with beautiful people.”

You roll your eyes, “Says the same guy who’s ‘homies’ with Blackpink’s Lisa.”

Bambam grins, “When you meet her, you’ll see, she’s a bro.”

You arch your brows, clearly not believing him. “If she’s a bro, I can’t imagine what I am.”

You’re frowning and his heart sinks. He hates that you actually mean it. He hates that he can’t even tell you honestly what you mean to him. It’s way too soon for that kind of confession. He’s sure you wouldn’t take him seriously anyways. After all, he barely managed to even get this date.

-

Yn_ig: The animes lied to me. High school sucks.

Bambam snorts loudly, muffling himself beneath his blue checkered duvet before his mom can hear and yell at him to go to sleep.

It’s midnight and tomorrow will be the first day of sophomore year. He really should be sleeping, but instead he’s smiling stupidly at his phone. Your scowling face lights up his screen. Your best friend smiles brightly beside you, poking your cheek with the end of a paintbrush. You had spent your break taking an art class.

Bambam knows this because he’s been stalking your Instagram, although he’s been too afraid to like any of your posts.

You’ve gotten a lot better in the span of a few weeks though. Or at least, that’s what it seems like from having spent all of freshmen year watching you doodle in the margins. He wonders if he’ll get to sit beside you this year too. His stomach flips at the thought.

When morning comes, Bambam yawns loudly, his eyes barely open as he rushes to the bus stop. He hadn’t meant to stay up so late, but one thing led to another and suddenly he was on Soundcloud, listening to an indie artist by the name of Defsoul, who you had commented about on your friend’s Instagram post fifteen weeks ago. 

He pulls out his phone, plugging in his earphones to continue listening. He steps into the bus, in the middle of bopping his head to a song when the sound escapes him and all he can hear is the thumping of his heart.

You’re sitting near the back, looking out the window. You have on headphones and a scowl that looks just like the picture you posted last night. 

Steadying his breath, he walks past you and slides into the row of seats right behind yours. He wonders if you’re listening to the same song.

Maybe you’ll share the same homeroom this year. The entire bus ride to school, Bambam daydreams about all the conversations you’d share every morning if that were the case. He’d talk to you about Defsoul and then you’d share your stories about break. He’d tell you his was alright, but it would’ve been better if you two hung out. You’d give him that look, the same one you gave when you read out loud together, and then he’d poke your cheek like he’s always wanted to, right where your cheeks dimpled.

His bubble bursts as soon as a guy takes a seat beside you. Bambam can’t remember his name, but his face is familiar. He’s a senior, and by the way you move your headphones to the nape of your neck and smile, it seems like you know him. Holding his breath, Bambam pauses his song.

“2A? That used to be my homeroom!”

Bambam clenches his fist. His homeroom is at the other end of the hall from yours. Frowning, he eyes the back of the guy’s head as he leans into you.

“So, have you thought about what I asked over break?”

You fold your arms across your chest and Bambam can’t help but wonder what he’s asked of you. Is it a date? The way he whispers seems like it would be that kind of thing, and Bambam doesn’t doubt a girl like you must have a lot of admirers. Is it making you uncomfortable? Should he interrupt you two? But then, you’d clearly know he had been eavesdropping. But if this guy was making you uncomfortable, that shouldn’t matter, right?

Thighs straining, Bambam almost stands from his seat when you laugh. It’s the loudest he’s ever heard you, at least in person anyways.

“I thought you’d forget by now,” you chuckle.

The guy feigns offense, holding a hand to his chest. “Me? Forget about you? I see you think very highly of me, Y/N.”

Bambam rolls his eyes.

“Sure you aren’t just trying to dump all your responsibilities on me?” you pout. Bambam melts inside.

“Ha, you caught me!” the senior laughs, making you laugh too. It’s such a pretty ring to his ears, Bambam already knows he’ll be thinking about it for the next couple of weeks. “But you know I wouldn’t give it up to just anyone. It’s practically my baby.”

“That’s true,” you admit, chuckling, and then quieter, “You think I can do it?”

He put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. Bambam squeezes his fist.

“Not just doing it. I know you’ll be a great president,” he tells you confidently. Your ears go red, and if Bambam weren’t so focused on the hand on your shoulder, he would’ve found it very endearing.

“I don’t know, I just…” you pause nervously.

“Yo,” Mingyu breaks Bambam’s concentration. “2D?”

Bambam breaks into a smile, highfiving his friend as he takes the seat next to him. “2D!”

“Sweet!” Mingyu cheers, shoulders bumping against his playfully. “Kook’s with us too. It’s gonna be a wild year!”

Bambam laughs, shaking his head. “You guys are gonna get us kicked back a year.”

His friend whistles. “Girls are into older guys, Bam, it’ll be like one of those harem animes Kook loves so much!”

Bambam laughs, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he glances back at the hand still on your shoulder. He hopes that’s not the case for you.

-

“It got cold,” Bambam musters as the two of you leave the restaurant.

You nod, looking up at the night sky. “Seems like winter doesn’t want to leave us yet.”

The two of you pause by the curb, in front of the valet. 

“Are you sure you had a good time, Y/N? You barely touched your food.”

You look up in surprise. “Oh, I really did have a nice time, Bambam.”

He looks at you skeptically.

“The uh, the…gourdine?”

“Bouchée à la périgourdine?”

“Yeah, that!” you chuckle awkwardly. “That was delicious.”

Bambam still doesn’t believe you but you look uncomfortable, so he lets it go. Actually, you’ve been looking uncomfortable ever since you laid eyes on the menu. Most of his dates took advantage of his generosity, especially at a place like this—ordering the most expensive dishes and trying out all the wine. You though? You insisted on being full after the first course. When he asked you what your thoughts were on his favorite bottle of wine, you mumbled something incoherent as you tipped the entire glass down your throat. You only had water after that.

It was like you couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Maybe he had read things wrong. He thought you were at least interested in him too. The night of Mark’s fashion launch, the two of you had shared so many things—secrets, confessions, old memories and what he thought had been chemistry.

He glances over your way. You’re turned away from him, eyes watching the valet workers instead. You had admitted to hating him in the past. His stomach sinks at the thought that maybe you still do. 

You shiver, pulling your cardigan closer to your chest. Bambam unwraps his scarf, holding out his hand for you to take it.

“Oh, I’m alright,”

He lets out a soft sigh before stepping in front of you.

“Do you maybe,” Bambam asks softly, placing his scarf gently around the nape of your neck. “I don’t know, it’s Friday, we could walk around or something or…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead biting on the tip of his tongue as he wraps the cashmere cloth securely around you.

Your fingers brush against his, just barely, but he feels it tenfold. “It’s getting late…”

Bambam tries not to look too hurt when he smiles back at you. “I’ll drive you home then.”

-

A week later, Bambam finds himself outside of your studio apartment. When you open the door, you’re wide-eyed and frozen like you’ve seen a ghost. In your defense though, Bambam doesn’t look like himself. He hasn’t ever since the night you left him at this exact spot last week.

Dark circles line his eyes and his newly dyed black hair only makes his complexion paler. 

“Is everything okay, Bambam?” you ask finally.

He sighs, squeezing at the bridge of his nose. His gold frames lift at the gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I probably should have called first.”

“Hey,” you place your palm gently on his arm. “Why don’t you come in first.”

Bambam lets you tug him inside like a lost puppy. His eyes travel around the room. Of course, he’s seen your place before in videos, but it’s different being here now. He doesn’t expect the smell of ginger and lemongrass to greet him. The longer he lingers, the more aware he becomes of the subtle scent of jasmine rice wafting in from the open kitchen. It’s comforting.

Your bedroom door is open, and he can see you’re working on a series of paintings. The canvases line your wooden floors in a haphazard row across the room. 

You sit him down on your couch, a worn out burgundy but the geometric pattern is intricate despite its faded color. He lets his finger trail over a line while you poor him a cup of water.

“Your hair is black,” you break the silence. 

“Oh,” he runs a hand through his hair like he is discovering this for the first time too. A faint pink colors his cheeks.

“I like it,” you smile softly. “It suits you.”

“Thanks,” he utters. His eyes trail down your hands. Your thumb smooths down your own cup of water repeatedly. Your fingers are speckled with green paint.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you chuckle softly to yourself. He looks at you in surprise.

“I like this new look,” you explain, eyes gesturing to his outfit. Today, Bambam is in a simple white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. Granted, the t-shirt is still Tom Ford, but you don’t know that. More noticeably though, is what he is not wearing, no sparkling diamonds around his neck, no Rolex on his wrist. Only a plain, silver ring adorns his right pinky. “So, why are you here, Bambam?”

He winces inwardly, reality setting in on him. Why is he here? Because the hair dye didn’t work? Because he agreed to too many projects in an attempt to keep busy but now he’s just tired and confused? Because Yugyeom pushed him out of the office and told him to figure things out?

Because no matter what he does, he keeps thinking about last week’s date and how you looked at him right before going inside—the mixture of disappointment and sadness in your eyes that felt like he had lost it all.

“Bambam?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

His question catches you off guard. “What? No, of course not.”

“You didn’t like the food,”

“The food was delicious.”

“Then it was me. I was boring.”

“Are you really Bambam? Where did all your confidence go?” you joke, lifting a brow.

His shoulders slouch. You make his confidence deplete like he is fourteen again. When he doesn’t say anything, you put your cup down onto the coffee table and look him in the eye.

“Hey, really, it had nothing to do with you Bambam, and everything to do with me.”

He chuckles dryly. “I don’t need a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ to soften the blow. You can give it to me straight.”

You look at him with a frown, lips threatening to jut into a pout and if Bambam weren’t about to get his heart crushed, he would’ve found your expression to be very adorable. Well, okay, that’s a lie, he still finds you very adorable right now.

“It’s really not you,” you purse your lips together, looking away. “I just…I was very out of place there, Bambam.”

“Wha-”

“I couldn’t pronounce half the menu,” you continue, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Or the wine.”

“But it tasted good?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, looking at him. “It was amazing, Bambam. But that one meal cost about half the month’s rent of this place!”

Bambam doesn’t mean to, but he laughs at your outburst. He is reminded of himself a few years ago when he first became friends with Jackson Wang, who gifted him a set of Cartier jewelry on his birthday.

When he sees your face, he immediately stops laughing. “Wait, I’m not laughing at you!”

“Yeah, sure,” you roll your eyes, but it’s a harmless gesture. Rising from your seat, you look at him, “Is that all you came here for?”

“Well, no.”

Your brows lift.

“There’s this event,” Bambam rushes, digging into the pocket of his jeans. “Actually, I was working on this mini documentary with this artist and he’s opening up a new exhibit this weekend.”

He raises the tickets tentatively towards you but freezes when your eyes bug out.

“Yoshitomo Nara?” You practically scream, falling back onto the couch right beside Bambam. You smell warm and sweet and the memory of the night you shared a few weeks ago flickers in the back of his mind. 

“Yoshitomo Nara,” he confirms softly.

You frown his way, though it quickly turns into a smile, “Well, that’s just not fair. You know how much he means to me.”

“I do,” he smiles quietly.

“So you came here to bribe me?”

He laughs, “More or less. Is that a yes?”

You smile, thumbs smoothing over the tickets repeatedly. 

“Jokes on you, Bambam. I would’ve said yes even without these tickets.”

Somehow, he doesn’t quite believe you, but you are giggling, and he has a date. 

And that is all that matters.

-

Bambam sits nervously on a stool of the art studio, his fingers twisting the lens of an old DSLR he’s still not confident about using. From the elevated windows above, the pink evening sky illuminates. Everything about this moment seems picturesque. If Bambam could use his camera properly, he would’ve known. 

But instead, the camera remains abandoned in his grasp as he stares in front of him where you stand in front of your easel mere meters away. It’s just the two of you. Everyone from both the photography and the painting club had gone home already. After seeing you continue to paint, Bambam had insisted on staying behind to practice with his camera more.

To be honest, he is hungry and could care less about photography, but he can’t find himself to go home.

“Hey,” you twist around and Bambam’s mind spins.

“H-hey,” he musters up, still unconvinced you’re talking to him.

He blinks owlishly at you, and then, his stomach growls. Loudly. His ears turn so red and he feels like he’s been set on fire, but you don’t even react.

“Mind if I play music?”

“Uh, yeah…that’s fine,” he answers you meekly, eyes diverting in embarrassment.

“Cool,” you reply nonchalantly, walking up to his side of the room where the speakers are. Plugging in your phone, the familiar tune of Defsoul’s music fills the studio. It takes Bambam a minute to get over his own mortification before the music reaches his ears and he perks up. But when he looks around the room, you are gone.

Alone now, Bambam finds the courage to get up from his seat and approaches your easel. The chair beside your easel is stacked with art books of Yoshitomo Nara. It seems you are doing a study. Just like the angry little girls on the cover of the art books, your easel holds a portrait of a little girl too. It is different though.

When he looks at the girl in your painting, he sees you. The little girl holds the ghost of a smirk beneath her scowl and her eyes glint with secrets of mischief, just like you. Without thinking, Bambam takes a step back and raises his camera. 

“Like it?”

Bambam jumps in surprise, the flash of the camera going off before it slips from his hands entirely. Flustered, he rushes to bring the camera back into his grasp, thanking god he had kept the old leather strap around his neck.

You giggle softly, standing beside him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“It’s alright, I was just spacing out,” he mumbles sheepishly, eyes averting to the screen of his camera. You lean in, filling his senses with faint notes of your strawberry vanilla shampoo. “I’m still learning how to use the camera.”

“I like it,” you smile, looking up at him. “Can you send it to me?”

“I-really?” he looks at you surprised. Your painting isn’t in focus and off centered. The photo is not good, even Bambam knows it.

“Yeah, gives me album cover vibes,” you chuckle. 

He snorts. “When is your mixtape dropping?”

You grin, raising a brow. “You never know what could happen in the future, Bambam.”

He shrugs, pretending not to melt at the sound of his name on your tongue. He didn’t think you’d remember him.

“Here,” you hand him a bag of cheese puffs before opening your own bag. “The vending machine popped out two.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Bambam walks back to his seat, gaze on your back again as you return to painting. He glances at the blurry photo on the screen of his camera and then slowly, he raises his camera once more, one eye squinting into the viewfinder. 

Maybe photography isn’t so bad after all.

He snaps another photo. Click!

-

“Wait, this is a formal thing? Should I change?”

Bambam watches with amusement as you bounce nervously in front of his car. You are dressed in a plain pink tank top and matching satin wrap skirt. Of course, your classic cream cardigan drapes over you, and to his pleasure, so does his scarf from your last date.

“You look beautiful,” he reassures you.

You bite at your lip, unconvinced. “But you’re in a suit.”

“Okay, but when am I not?”

Your pout reluctantly turns into a smile and you huff, walking through the door he’s holding open for you, into the passenger’s seat. When he gets into the driver’s seat, you turn to him.

“When you’re wearing your designer gym clothes,” you smirk.

“Stop, you aren’t allowed to make jokes while I’m driving,” he laughs, pulling the car out of the driveway. “Also, tracksuits are still suits.”

Your giggles ring throughout the car.

When the two of you get to the venue, the place is already busy. The exhibition is part of the new contemporary art wing in the museum, which has been closed for the night for an intimate opening with select guests. Many of these guests are artist friends of Yoshitomo Nara, but even more are the wealthy collectors who are more than eager to call first dibs on the latest works. The only reason Bambam has been invited is because his mini documentary of the artist is playing on loop in one of the screening rooms.

While he loves art, these type of art scenes are not his thing. They’re a bit too stuffy for his taste and exactly why he dropped out of art school in the first place. But when he sees the way you seem to shrink into your cardigan as soon as you step into the gallery, he squares his shoulders and grabs hold of your hand.

You look surprised by his touch, but thankfully, you don’t pull away.

“You have to get used to these kinds of events, Y/N. You’ll be hosting them soon.”

You chuckle, glancing away. “Well, if I’m lucky, you’ll be hosting them.”

It’s his turn to blush now, but he pretends to be cool, pointing to the first painting to the right. “Shall we start here?”

You only grin, gripping his hand tighter. You seemed to get a little too much joy out of making him feel shy. Bambam can only sigh, quietly relishing in the warmth of your palm against his.

When you finally turn your attention to the paintings, the two of you look on in silence. Naturally, Bambam’s gaze falls onto you. There is a glimmer in your eyes, emotions passing through your features like its own movie. There is a lift of revelation in your brow, a scrunch of displeasure in your nose, the twitch of amusement on your lips.

Bambam fights the urge to take out his phone and record you. Instead, he follows after you, committing your profile to memory.

“Why do you like this guy so much?” he blurts out after passing a few paintings. You peel your eyes away to look at him in surprise, cheeks rosy.

“I-I don’t know, I’ve just loved his works since high school.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for the question to come out harsh. I was just curious, I mean, his art is really nice.”

You squeeze his hand, calming him. “I know. I guess I was just drawn to his characters. They’re cute, but rebellious and real. It’s charming.”

Bambam smiles. That’s how he feels about you. 

“And it blurs the lines of what is fine art,” you go on, turning back to the painting in front of you. “Like right now, it is hanging in this museum, so it’s considered high end art, right? But this girl can easily be inside a children’s book, and his previous works have.”

You glance back at him, looking embarrassed after your spiel. “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t let you skirt over the topic though as he follows you to the next painting. “Is that why you dropped out of school?”

You sigh. “There were a lot of reasons. Maybe my skin wasn’t thick enough.”

“No, I get it,” he rubs his thumb across your skin. “I don’t like museums much, to be honest. I like the idea of them, but in reality, places like these only cater to the gatekeepers and the gatekeepers are just boring ass, tax-evading millionaires.”

You laugh, leaning into his chest as if that’ll rid you of the attention you’ve already gained around your corner of the room. Bambam ignores their stares, laughing along with you.

“Your art shouldn’t be jailed up in this stale room,” he adds, after your giggling subsides.

“But yours is,” you chuckle, making your way into the dark screening room.

Projected onto the wall is Yoshitomo Nara talking midsentence about his latest artworks. You take a seat on the bench before gesturing for Bambam to take a seat next to you.

“This is filmed beautifully,” you lean into him to whisper. The action makes him smile since you are the only two in this room, but if it’ll bring you closer, he doesn’t mind. “You’re really talented, Bambam.”

“I have a good team with me.”

“I always knew you’d make it big.”

He smiles quietly, watching as the glow of the video illuminated your face. You really did.

-

Yn_ig: This is amazing!

Bambam1a: Thx!

Bambam chucks his phone between his thighs before shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth to hide the smile spreading across his face. He pretends to laugh at something his brother said, though really, he’s twisting with glee because you just liked his latest post on Instagram. And you commented!

“Remember Bammie, this weekend you’re coming with me to…”

His phone dings and his mom’s voice fades into the background. Grabbing his phone, his stomach flips when he sees your handle name sending you a direct message. Ever since the beginning of junior year, he’s been talking to you over Instagram under the alias Muse_ig. It hadn’t been his intentions to deceive you. He was just nervous about talking to you online, but still wanted a way to support you. One comment on your art led to another and suddenly you were messaging him a thank you. Very quickly, that thank you turned into memes and inside jokes. Now, the two of you were talking to each other almost every night.

He clicks on the notification, nodding blankly to whatever his mom is saying.

Yn_ig: Hey! You said you liked photography, right? You should check him out. He’s my classmate. Really talented guy.

Bambam clutches his phone, trying to keep from jumping out of his seat when he sees you’ve sent his Instagram profile.

“Bammie, are you listening to me?” his mom looks at him pointedly.

He tries to school his expression, but joy floods his face anyways. And despite her tone, his mom smiles too.

“Whoever it is, she can wait. Put your phone away,” she teases, inciting laughter from all his siblings.

Bambam laughs it off goodheartedly, tucking his phone away. You think he’s really talented and nothing can diminish the high that this newfound knowledge brings him. 

Well, nothing except, of course, you.

You see, when Bambam agreed to tagging along with his mom to her new friend’s house so she could introduce their daughter to him, he was expecting to spend a few awkward hours with some strangers. Maybe bond with said daughter over the awkwardness, but then he would go home and play video games and that would be that.

What he doesn’t expect is to greet you first thing at your doorway. He doesn’t expect to sit across from you during dinner. And he definitely doesn’t expect the glare you send him between each bite.

“You really are the prettiest thing!” His mother coos from across the table. “She definitely takes after you.”

“Oh, stop it,” your mom blushes, waving her spoon. “To think our kids already knew each other. This must be fate!”

“Hardly,” you mumble under your breath, but Bambam hears it. His heart breaks.

He can’t even blame you for it though. This dinner hasn’t exactly been easy for you. He remembers your late-night texts a few months ago and now all those self-deprecating comments make sense. Those words you were repeating? The I’m not good enough and I should just give up—They were never yours. It was your parents’.

“Bambam told me she’s one of the smartest in her grade!” his mom continues to compliment. He nods eagerly. Your frown only deepens as you poke at the asparagus on your plate.

“What good are all those As when all she does is doodle?” her mom laments, chuckling weakly. “We put all this money into her education but all she wants to do is draw.”

“Paintings,” Bambam musters. Both his and your mom look at him, surprised. He wipes his palms against his pants. In his peripheral, he knows you’re looking at him too, but he’s too afraid to look at you. “She paints, and she’s really good.”

There’s a pause and Bambam’s entire face heats up.

And then your mom breaks into a laugh. “And I heard you’re doing photography!”

His chest deflates and he nods meekly. 

His mom laughs, hitting him on the back. “Unlike Y/N, Bammie here is terrible at studying. I really hope this hobby takes off.”

“Your mom showed me some of your photos, boy,” your father speaks up gruffly, pointing the steak knife his way. “Keep it up and you’ll earn yourself a free ticket to college.”

Bambam rubs at the nape of his neck, “I don’t know about that.”

“No really, there’s a scholarship, isn’t there, Y/N?” your father insists, looking at you.

You nod, putting down your fork. You look at your dad but it’s clear in your tone that you’re talking to him.

“It’s called the Artisan Award—a full scholarship to your art school of choice. It’s given to one graduating senior for their excellence in art across multiple disciplines—including photography. I’ll be applying to it next year.” You don’t even offer him a glance, focusing instead, on your glass of water.

“Well, you’ll be applying to a lot of scholarships,” your mom chuckles uneasily. “There’s still a year to think things through.”

“You should apply too,” your father adds, looking at him.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d be any good. Sounds competitive,” Bambam mumbles, glancing at you. You’re scowling down at your plate.

“Wouldn’t hurt to try though,” his mom cuts in, smiling at him. “What are the kids saying nowadays? Have to shoot your shot into the hoop?”

He smiles, pretending to grimace at his mom, making her laugh.

“While we’re at it, let’s apply to the athletic scholarships too,” she jokes.

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “First I have to make a shot into an actual hoop.”

His mom snorts, “It’s okay, if anything you can dropout and become a comedian! We’ve got options.”

The table breaks into laughter but when he glances your way, you are glaring at him.

-

“I still can’t believe you were Muse_ig this whole time. I dropped out because of you,” you giggle, a crumpled brown napkin in one hand while the other cradles a half-eaten slice of pizza. The two of you had stopped for a bite to eat next door to the museum.

“Hey, don’t blame me, I was just sending you encouraging messages. You made the decision,” Bambam whines, one cheek still stuffed full of pizza.

“Only because I had you feeding into my delusions!”

“You mean showing you your true worth?” he corrects.

You smile, leaning onto the table towards him. “Which ultimately pushed me to drop out.”

He sighs, “Okay, fine, you win. Please don’t tell your mom, though. She’ll hate me.”

“Impossible, she loves you.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way.”

You roll your eyes as Bambam finishes his last bite. Sitting in the pizzeria on a Saturday night amongst a crowd of college students from the local university, the two of you stand out like a sore thumb—Bambam, because of his tailored suit that’s probably the same price as some of these students’ tuition, and you, because, well, you’re you. 

In his eyes at least, you always stand out. However, tonight, this is especially so. Unlike your first date, you are laughing and joking together. Maybe he should get pizza with you more often.

“This was nice,” you breathe out as you both step out of the pizzeria. When the restaurant doors close, the loud chatter muffles and is replaced by the quiet night breeze. 

“So,” Bambam lets the word drawl sluggishly, not wanting the night to end, but he is reminded of the last date when you turned him down and hesitates to extend another offer.

“So,” you copy, voice soft as you start walking back towards the museum parking garage. “You never explained why you dropped out. Such a waste of a scholarship,” you tease.

“Ah, that…” Bambam stuffs his hands into the pockets of his pants.

You place a hesitant hand around the crook of his arm and his shoulders relax.

“If it’s a touchy subject, you don’t have to answer.”

He shakes his head, looking down at you. “No, it’s not.”

He opens the passenger door for you, helping you in before heading to his side.

“I guess I didn’t have tough skin either,” he chuckles softly, starting the car. “Some days it really did feel like being jailed inside an art museum. Photography didn’t feel the same without…”

His voice trails and his cheeks heat up. You look at him curiously but he’s too embarrassed to continue. Again, he is reminded by the fact that while you grew up together, the memories you share are quite different.

He glances at you and the way you smile at him is sweet. As if to say, it’s okay to not say anything more. But instead of being comforted, Bambam remembers the way you glared at him from across the dinner table as if it happened yesterday. 

“I liked taking photos of the people I care about. I liked capturing moments that mattered…Feelings that…Art school just made me feel empty. I didn’t know why I was doing it anymore,” he finishes off quickly, looking away from you.

“I get that,” you smile weakly. 

“But look at us now,” Bambam chuckles, lightening the mood. “We’re doing just fine on our own, aren’t we?”

You smile, glancing out the window. “Well, you are.”

“So are you! Aren’t you publishing a children’s book soon?” Bambam keeps his eyes on the road but her can see in his peripheral that you are looking at him in surprise.

“Did Mark…”

At the red light, he glances at you gently. “Your mom told mines. She brags about you when you aren’t around, you know.”

You frown, playing with the strap of the seatbelt.

“I know that’s her way of caring for me.” You finally say. “Sometimes, though, I wish she was more like your mom.”

“Well,” Bambam sends you a quick grin before turning back to the road. “If you marry me, my mom comes with the package too.”

You laugh. It rings throughout the car and sets his own heart at ease.

“You don’t have to bribe me with your mother, Bambam! If anything, I should be bribing you.”

“I’ll take it!”

“What?”

He chuckles. “Whatever the bribe is, I’ll take it. Think City Hall is still open?”

You shake your head, giggling softly. “I still don’t get you.”

“What’s there to get?”

You hum thoughtfully. “A young bachelor like you so eager to marry and me of all people? Who’s holding you against your will?”

At the next red light, Bambam steels himself and turns to you, eyes steady on yours. 

“I like you. A lot. For a while now.”

Despite the dimly lit night, he can see you flush. Your fingers clutch the ends of your cardigan sleeves, a nervous habit.

When you don’t say anything, he continues. “I know your parents kind of forced you into this, but that’s not the case for me. Maybe I’m coming on too strong, This marriage arrangement thing…I get that it’s unnatural. I wish I could’ve gone about this differently, but we’re here now and I’m ready. I know you’re probably not and that’s okay, I get it. But I’m interested, I want to date, I want to go through the whole process with you. Slowly, at our own pace, and if I’m not a good fit…then that’s okay too. But I want to at least try.”

The light turns green and reluctantly, he looks away. The rest of the drive to your place is quiet. When he parks outside your apartment, he smiles as if your silence isn’t eating him alive.

“I had a really nice time, Y/N. I’m glad you came with me tonight.”

“Me too,” you reply, almost a whisper.

When you don’t say anything more, he gets out of the car and walks to your side, helping you with the door. But you don’t get up from your seat.

Instead, you turn to him, eyes staring up at him nervously.

“I like you too.”

It is soft, but his whole chest shakes. Bambam breaks into a smile of joy and relief.

He takes hold of your hand, helping you out of the car. His fingers linger, brushing softly against the tips of yours, and you smile.

“Then, I’ll see you next week at your family dinner?” he asks quietly.

You nod tentatively. You purse your lips, cheeks dimpling shyly. His heart skips as you linger, eyes shimmering under the streetlamp.

And then you lean into him, fingers clutching his and you tiptoe.

It is a fleeting touch—light and feathery on his lips—and then he blinks and you’re stepping away again.

“Night, Bambam.”

“N-night!”

He stays for ten minutes longer, waiting for the light of your apartment to flicker on, his lips still buzzing from your kiss.

-

Bambam’s lips sting from how much he’s been nervously biting them, the high from last week’s date now a fleeting memory. He sits at your parents’ dinner table across from you and it feels like déjà vu. 

His mom laughs loudly next to him. Someone made a joke or something.

He doesn’t hear it. All he can see is the growing scowl on your face. Whatever feelings you had for him last week seem to be long gone if your expression is anything to go by.

Your mom swirls her glass of wine, leaning into his mom warmly. “When you told me you wanted my daughter to be your daughter-in-law—my daughter, for your Bambam!—I almost fainted!”

“What are you talking about? The minute I saw Y/N, I fell in love at first sight! I’m pretty sure it was the same for Bammie too.”

Bambam flushes, stuffing his cheeks with salad.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” his mom nudges him teasingly and he almost chokes but he nods adamantly towards you.

“You two are so humble,” your dad chuckles.

Your mom seems to nod in agreement. “I’m sure Bambam can find better options out there.”

“Y/N has one good trait though,” your dad adds, laughing. “She won’t cause any trouble as far as the love department goes.”

“Oh, don’t get me started, this girl is so stubborn!” your mom starts up again, waving her spoon accusingly at you. “Always work, work, work with my daughter. It’s all she cares about.”

“Oh, Bammie’s the same,” his mom cuts in, smiling amiably at you. “It’s the younger generation these days. Married to their work so to speak.”

“Bambam’s got a good head on him,” you father nods to him gruffly. “There’s a difference between working hard and working smart.”

“Unfortunately, she’s only good at working hard,” your mother sighs.

Bambam swallows thickly, gaze fixed on your expression. You’ve been chewing on the inside of your cheek since dinner started. He can see the tick in your jaw every time your parents say something mean your way.

At first, you managed to fake a few polite smiles, but now your head was fully down as you played with the rice on your plate.

“I like Y/N’s work ethic,” he finally speaks up. You finally look at him, eyes unreadable. “It’s hard work that brings talent to fruition and Y/N has both.”

Your gaze lingers on him.

“If we’re talking about talent though, we have to talk about your business!” Your mom breaks the air and the ghost of your smile completely vanishes from your face. You don’t look at him for the rest of dinner.

“Ready for dessert?” your mom asks after everyone was done eating.

You scoot your chair, rising from your seat. “Actually, I’m not feeling so well.”

“Oh, are you okay sweetheart?” his mother asks.

You smile apologetically, “So sorry to have to leave first.”

“Of course, honey! Bammie, why don’t you bring her home?”

“Oh no, that’s alright.”

“No, no, let me.” Bambam rises from his seat and takes hold of your hand. He gives you an encouraging squeeze. “Thank you for the meal! I’ll get her home safely.”

When you exit the house, you slip your hand from his. He pretends not to notice, leading you to his car quietly.

-

“Congratulations to our one and only Bambam for winning the Artisan Award, one of the most prestigious art scholarships in the nation.”

The morning announcement rings in his ears and his homeroom bursts in a parade of cheers and congratulations, but his heart lurches and he thinks of you.

He is reminded of the hours you spent afterschool every day in the art studio, working on pieces for your portfolio. He thinks of all the different art programs you attended during school holidays. He remembers your mother’s voice and the way you’d repeat those words during your late-night Instagram messages.

When he sees you at the bus stop immediately after school instead of in the studio, he almost turns the other way, but your eyes meet his and goes to stand next to you instead. You only give him a slight nod before returning to your phone.

It feels like a long time before the bus arrives.

You sit where you always do, near the back, beside the window. He takes the row of seats across from you.

His stomach twists with guilt when he watches your profile. You can probably feel his stare, but you continue to look straight ahead anyways. You’re probably trying hard to look unbothered, but he can see your disappointment clearly. There’s a slouch in your shoulders, a faint frown tilting the edges of your lips.

You are disappointed and probably dislike him right now.

He wonders if you’ll tell him about this over Instagram. He doesn’t know if Muse_ig will be able to console you this time around. He wishes he had the right words to say, but his throat constricts instead.

When your stop arrives, his eyes follow your back as you stand at the door and he beats himself up for having stayed quiet. And when the bus creeps to stop, you hesitate, before turning back to him.

“Congrats, by the way,” you offer him a small smile. “You deserved it.”

You step off the bus before he can say anything back.

You take a different route home for the rest of the school year.

-

At the red light, Bambam looks over at you. You continue looking straight ahead. There’s a sadness beneath your schooled expression, he can feel this in his gut, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“Y/N,” he starts hesitantly.

“The light’s green,” you interrupt.

He turns his attention back to the room. His gut clenches. 

“Cupcake!” he blurts, gripping the wheel.

Your head turns abruptly. “What?”

“C-Cupcake, my cat,” he continues, not quite sure where he’s going with this. “You met her last time.”

After a pause, you reply back, “Yeah, I did.”

“I gave her a haircut. A really bad one. She had a bald spot, so I had to bring her to the groomers to get it fixed,” he rambles. “They tried their best, but she looks really awful right now. It’s pretty funny actually.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Poor Cupcake.”

He glances at you briefly, his chest fluttering at the sight of your smile again. “You wanna go see my cats? I heard petting cats is therapeutic, although, not much to pet right now.”

Finally, you laugh. 

“Sure, why not.”

When you finally get to his place, he knows he said the right thing. You sit on his couch, surrounded by his cats and a soft smile on your face.

“Awful, isn’t it?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. King jumps into his lap and he scoots closer to you.

“Absolutely terrible,” you chuckle, petting Cupcake gently.

“But you’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

You let out a quiet sigh.

“Bambam,” you look at him and his heart drops. “Maybe we should just stop this.”

“Fourteen!”

Your brows arch. “You really need to stop saying things without context.”

He puts King aside and grabs hold of your hand like a lifeline.

“I was fourteen. You mouthed my name on the first day of school. That’s when I started liking you.”

You blink up at him in surprise.

“The painting and photography club had to share the same classroom and I knew you just became the president. I did my brother’s chores for three weeks just so I could borrow his old camera,” he looks at you nervously. “I wasn’t planning on falling for photography. You’re the reason I’m where I’m at today.”

“Y-you’re giving me too much credit.”

He holds your hands tighter, shaking his head.

“Your parents have a screwed-up way of measuring your worth, but I don’t care about your job or how famous you are. I care about the girl who mouthed my name and made me feel special. You’ve always been kind to me, taking me seriously when no one else in our grade did. You were the first person to like my photos and you’ve always encouraged me, even though it came at the cost of your own feelings.” He looks at you seriously, “But it shouldn’t. I don’t want to compete against you, Y/N. I want to be on your side.”

“On my side?” you repeat, looking at your intertwined fingers.

“On your side, by your side,” he whispers. “You’re my muse, my first love, first heartbreak. I’d like you to be my last everything too.”

There’s a pause and his chest aches from the silence.

But then he sees it.

Your dimpled cheek.

“So, you had a crush on me since high school?”

He huffs. “That’s what you got from all that?”

You answer with a giggle, dimpled cheeks and very soft lips on his. 

[kabira]

hii fhshdhd i always feel like great writers have great taste in writing, so do you maybe have any fics or blogs you’d reccomend? if not its totally okay lol :))

omg THANK YOU for asking this i always love the opportunity to hype up some amazing writers ✨ also as u did not specify it, i will include all and separate them by group !!

svt.

énoument (jeonghan) and ashes to ashes (minghao) by @chanhao-s are deadass two of the best fics i have EVER read. ive gone through their entire masterlist and nothing has been short of outstanding, i HIGHLY recommend them bc their writing is god-tier and their plots so imaginative and unique.

the sea is yours to take (jun) by @wavesmp3 is another gem! she’s rewritten it to further perfection on her sideblog as a non-fanfic and i was so immersed in the details i just. (pro tip: read it slowly for full effect)

sunny side up (jeonghan) and in the stars, in the river (the reality of everything) (minghao) by @dreaminghaos. i’m in awe of their writing, it’s mesmerizing,, like it arrests your attention somehow? beautiful.

the morning after (jeonghan) by @dinoshaur ! perfect blend of spice and fluff, it’s like my comfort fic lol

chicken run (jeonghan), drunk on youth (vernon) and the boy next door (vernon) by @hansolmates the first svt author i read on here i think,, and i will never regret that decision. i’d be lying if i said i haven’t at least gone through every vernon au in her masterlist fdhsjdfk

nct.

dead skin and ivory bones (taeyong) (all time favorite) and null memoriam duology (taeyong) by @taeyongtime !! apart from writing the best fics ever els is also an absolute sweetheart,, but not when it comes to breaking your heart bc damn ghoul!taeyong almost made me retreat into my room for an indefinite hiatus

once upon a time (yuta) by @hyuckworld! just like the writer this oneshot lives in my head rent free 🥰 jk no homo </3 this fic was so crisp and sweet like a fresh apple (yikes for that metaphor) and alice has a lot in store on @tyonfs as well so keep your eyes peeled

crossfaded (jaemin) by @caiuscassiuss. top tier angst, occupied my thoughts for days no cap

gold leaf (jaehyun) by@stormae . made me a jaehyun stan for like a week dshadsj

leap of faith (jaemin) and high hopes (jeno) by @jaeminlore,, the fluff is tooth-rotting but balanced perfectly with everything else, chef’s kiss to both of these.

sunnyside (haechan) and the way gravity works (taeyong) by @haikuna! also two of the first fics i read on here, but the impact,, all their work is amazing but these two in particular <3

misc.

two types of fireworks (hyunjin, skz) by @chanluster one of fia’s rare fluff pieces (👁) but her,, mature work is just as good so if you don’t read that too it’s on sight. best hyunjic fic ever btw so. remember that.

literally anything by @itsapapisongo but his marvel fics and svt george of the jungle fic in particular !! it’s my emotional support fic and his sense of humor is unmatched, so you will not regret reading.

paper masks (jungkook, bts) by @essantial in particular but her other fics,, i am looking respectfully,, haven’t gotten around to reading all of it but i know there’s a treasure in store for me. rue outdoes herself every single time.

other talented authors (bc i need to pee real quick): @chocosvt (IM PRETTY SURE I FORGOT TO REBLOG SOMETHING AMAZING FROM HER BUT I DONT REMEMBER WHAT) @johnysuh (for both svt and nct, mar has me hung up on the teaser for her jun fic), @by-moonflower (multi), @luvdsc (nct), @soobmint (txt - im waiting on your ******** au), @mjlkau (nct dream), @juyeonzz (tbz) and all my homies on @caratwritersclub !

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and Her Gunn (Part 115 2Xs2) "True Intentions"

@crystalbaby12 @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @5sosfam1dlover @rosefilledhearts-blog

"I've got different colored sticky tabs for the different spaces." Luna announces as she enters her storage unit.

Jackie and Sam are there with The Movers. Luna goes through picking out which pieces will go to The Brownstone, her Studio Apartment and the Recording Studio she just bought. She had signed the closing paperwork electronically with Monica and Ben earlier this week on the latter properties. The Apartment is ready but the Recording Studio needs a contractor for the equipment installation. Jackie being on top of that, they start the gutting process next week. Everything else is being moved out today.

"Whoah!!! Be carful with that!!" Sam cries out in concern as she watches The Movers roughly handle an original, stretched Mapplethorpe.

"What the FUUUUUCK." Luna groans as she rubs her forehead. "Why wasn't that crated?" She asks no one in particular as her phone rings. "Hello?" She sighs into the receiver.

It's Kylie. Luna's therapist. Calling because it's 2P on every other Thursday. Luna excuses herself, trusting Sam and Jackie while she finds an empty stairwell.

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"It's just conflicting, Ky... " Luna let's out with an annoyed sigh and a cloud of smoke from her pen while playing with Colson's padlock around her neck.

She's been on the phone with Kylie for the last 45mins talking about everything and anything. Colson, Justin, trust, feeling over exposed, setting up the lable. Her therapist advising her to breathe as always and to make a Pros and Cons list regarding marrying Colson. Knowing there is no option, Luna humors her with an Okay before they get off the phone.

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"How do we look?" Luna asks after coming back in from the stairwell.

"Good." Jackie begins to reassure her. "Everything you want is loaded into the two trucks. I'm gonna ride to The Brownstone and Sam to The Apartment... Uhm, Lee said you're good to go at Electric Lady Land around 7P... "

"And I talked to Mikey, he'll be there no problem." Sam chimes in.

"You guys are fucking AWESOME. Thank you." Luna pulls them in for a three way hug. "I gotta go meet Petey." She informs them once they release. "You guys good without me?" She asks.

Both women nod. Giving promises of phones calls if there's any problems as Luna heads back towards the stairwell; popping another XR and two 30s during her descent. It shouldn't be THAT hard... They're only responsible for moving half of her life.

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Colson gets in touch with The Boys and heads to Amsterdam Billiards for pool and beers. Popping his own handful of Adderall along the way. Stepping out of the cab, Mod greets him with an excited hug.

"What up, Kid!" He squeezes his unhappy friend. "Aww, come on... Don't be like that, you know Luna'll come around. She always does." Mod tells him with a slap on the back as they walk inside.

Benny, Baze, AJ, Rook and Slim have a table racked up. Mod grabs more beers as Colson joins them. They're all talking about the GMA performance. Agreeing it was killer. While Rook also can't stop talking about Jackie.

"Good luck with that, Rookie. I don't think Loons is doing any of us any favors right now." Colson sighs as he leans down to break.

"Shit. Speak for yourself, that's my homie, Dawg." Rook disagrees with him as he swigs his beer.

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Luna meets Pete on The Delancey's rooftop bar. He's already sat when she walks in. Noticing her, he stands for them to hug Hello. His normal excitement clearly missing as she orders a drink.

"I heard you and Colson got into it after I left." Luna cuts right to the core.

"Yeah. He wants to blame me for him running his mouth." Pete starts to complain to Luna's silence. "Like I started all this shit."

"You kinda did... I love you Petey but whether I cheated on Colson or Justin, like I told you last night, it's none of your business. My betrayal didn't land on you or even Colson so really the two of you are fighting over some shit that doesn't even concern you. It's that simple." Luna explains.

"So you did cheat on Beebs?" Pete asks her, ignoring everything else she had said.

"Yeah, Petey. I told you last night that I had an affair. I'm not proud of it but it happened." Luna shrugs as she fights back tears of guilt.

"Who was it?" He pries.

"What? No. You don't get to ask questions like that... Like, I don't understand why this feels like you're mad at me for some reason. I didn't do ANYTHING to you." Luna furrows her eyebrows at him as she takes a sip of her drink.

"Yeah but you did do something to my friend that he never did to you." Pete looks into his beer and then up at Luna.

"You didn't know Justin and I's relationship as well as you think you did. Just like you don't know nearly as much about me and Colson as you think you may. My turn? Your judgmental attitude towards me is really disappointing and if you're so worried about your FRIENDS than go make up with the one that's still in town. I'm outta here though." Luna swallows the rest of her Old Fashioned with two gulps. "Hit me up when you're done being a dick." She calls over her shoulder as she walks out of the bar.

---------------------------------------------------

Mike's sitting alone outside of Electric Lady Land when Luna arrives. Lighting a cigarette, he looks up. Green eyes taking her in as he stands to grab her guitar case from her.

"What's goin' on, Luna?" He asks as he sits back down and takes a drag from his Marlboro.

Luna fishes around in her bag for her joint box and flask. Finding them both, she takes a swig before offering it over to his acceptance. Lighting a joint, she sighs out a cloud of smoke as they sit in silence. Sometimes no talking is good.

After a while Sam shows up. The three of them head inside to meet up with Lee. Thanking him, he tells Luna no one was even booked as they begin to set up in Studio A.

Realizing they need producers, Luna calls Slim. Then Snaps Colson. Setting her bag on the table, she pulls out supplies. Weed, whiskey, cigarettes and more weed. Popping another few 30s before laying her guitar back onto her body.

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"Yeah! No problem, we'll be down there ASAP." Slim says into his phone. "That was LunaTic, she wants us to come produce the track." He says excitedly to Baze once he hangs up. "Dawg! We gonna make some music in Jimi Hendrix's fucking spot, Yo!!" He exclaims as they slap hands across the pool table.

Colson's just about to put his two sense in when his phone goes off. Digging in his pocket, it's not the message he was expecting. It's a Snap from Luna.

"If I want? What kind of fucking shit is that?" He scoffs in his mind. "Why's she so fucking hot even while she's being such a fucking a bitch." He finds himself becoming annoyed with how much he wants her and her resistance towards him. He shoves his phone back in his pocket without responding.

The Boys are getting ready to head to  Greenwich Village when Colson's phone goes off again. It's the message he's been waiting for. Telling The Boys he'll meet up with them later, he's out the door before they pay the tab.

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Luna's leaned towards Mike in the booth when Colson walks in. He can't hear them but he doesn't like that he can see him making her laugh. Mike's a little to comfortable in his interactions with Luna in Colson's personal opinion. Luna catches the back of his blonde hair and significant tattoo as she looks up, watching as he walks out of the room. He quickly heads down the hall towards the bathroom, promptly pulling out the quarter ounce of cocaine he'd grabbed from Nipple.

Colson walks back into the studio just as Luna, Sam and Mike begin recording. Sitting with Slim and Baze at the soundboard, he grabs a pair of headphones and slips them on. Listening and watching intently. Luna can feel his eyes burning straight into her soul.

Nailing it on the third full take, they leave it alone. Luna doesn't want it mixed. Layered, yes but not mixed. She's always preferred the gritty, garage rock sound over studio polish any day. Coming out of the booth, she approaches Colson as he stands up.

"You came." She purrs with a drunken slur to her sentence as she wraps her arms around his waist.

"I go where you go, Kitten. Always." He promises her before lifting her chin to kiss her deeply; enjoying their first real kiss of the day but opening his eyes half way through to stare down Mike from around the side of the top of her head.

Hanging out afterwards, they celebrate with beers and lines. Luna declining as everyone else partakes in Colson's party favor. Having done enough other drugs all day, she's still buzzing from earlier so she's solid without it. Preferring to burn and drink instead.

"What do you have recorded so far?" Mike asks Luna about her upcoming album.

"I think maybe three out of an ambitious twenty!" Luna laughs softly at herself.

"I'm down to help with anything you need." Mike offers as he passes her a joint.

"Thanks... I'm probably gonna take you up on that." Luna answers. "I don't really have a band right now and we... "

"That's why you got us." Rook interrupts her while plunking down on the couch beside her and tossing an arm around her shoulders; he doesn't like the way Mike has been hanging around Luna either.

"That I do." Luna giggles as she kisses his cheek.

"We backed her on Nightmare and I produced Outlaw." Rook declares proudly while studying to the musician.

"That's cool, Little Man." Mike responds unfazed by Rook as he stands up. "Luna, you got my number if you wanna use it for anything. I gotta run though." He smirks at Rook as he leans down to peck her cheek.

"You want me to walk you out?" She offers.

"Nah, I'm good... I'll catch you around though." Mike smiles at her before heading for the door.

Watching the entire interaction, Colson follows behind him. Calling out his name, he catches him in the hallway right at the front door. Mike turns around unamused.

"You know we're engaged, right?" Colson questions him with an irritated tone.

"Yeah... And?" Mike cuts back while cocking his lip.

"AND? And I don't like the way you fucking act around her so back the fuck up." Colson snaps at him.

"Gonna be kinda hard since it seems that SHE wants ME as her new bassists." Mike laughs at him while slapping him on the shoulder.

"Gonna be kinda hard to play ANYTHING when I snap your fucking fingers." Colson warns him as he shoves Mike up against the wall; Mike's 6'2 so there's not much of a height difference between them.

"Try it, My Man." Mike chuckles, unimpressed by Colson's threat.

"You know what, you're right... " Colson let's him off of the wall. "Maybe I overreacted." He says as he opens the door for Mike and he begins to walk through. "Or maybe I FUCKING didn't!" Colson growls as he grabs Mike's right hand and jerks him back.

Slamming it with the door, in between the frame. One. Two. Three. Four times. Most likely breaking it.

"YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT!" Mike screams as he grasps his mangled hand.

"You can walk away right now or you can crawl away with two broken legs also." Colson advises as he props the door open again.

"You're gonna FUCKING regret this." Mike snarls to Colson's emotionless stare as he holds his hand and turns to leave. "That was a bad fucking move, My Man." He calls out from the sidewalk.

"Maybe it was... Maybe it wasn't... But DAMN if it didn't feel good." Colson walks back to the studio with a pep in his step for the first time today; having released a majority of his stress. "I never liked that motherfucker anyway." He thinks as he opens the door, looking to locate only Luna. Knowing in the back of his mind that her and Sam are gonna probably fuck him up for what he just did but he doesn't care. Fuck that Dude, he doesn't want him around Luna regardless of the cost.

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"There's stuff!!" Rook exclaims pointing at the large, round arial rug, crates and boxes in The Living Room as they return to The Brownstone. Everyone but Luna is zooted, even Sam. "Yo!!" Check out these fucking chairs!" Rook continues to holler, now from The Study.

It's also stacked with boxes of Luna's books and vinyls. Having one wall with floor to ceiling bookshelves, she's looking forward to using them. Walking in, she finds Rook lounging on one of the two highback, purple velvet chairs she owns along with the exposed Mapplethorpe.

"What's up with that picture?" Rook asks as he accepts a beer from Luna.

"My grandfather shot it." She tells him proudly as they clink their beers together.

"It's really cool. Like the two flowers are reaching out for each other. Like death grasping for life." He says thoughtfully.

"I think that's what he was going for." Luna smiles to herself, admiring the exceptional piece.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Luna makes her way upstairs to the shower. Turning Fletcher on, she lights up a joint as she cuts up another two 30s and swallows two Xanax bars. It's been a long day, she hasn't been to sleep in almost 48hrs and she's incredibly shaky from all the Adderall. Wanting to simply wash everything away and knock the fuck out.

"Hey... " Colson's sitting on the bed when she comes out of the bathroom.

"Hi." She answers as she stops and looks at him with a sigh.

"Please come're, Luna." He asks for her as he reaches his arms out yet again.

This time she does. Sitting on his lap in her towel, she wraps her arms around him and nuzzles her head into her spot in the crook of his neck. Resting his chin on her head, Colson and Luna hold each other silently besides his constant sniffling.

"Loons, I'm sorry." Colson speaks first. "I shouldn't... "

"Please. I'm SO tired." Luna whines. "But, Colson, it's not the secret that you told. I would've told Justin had he cared to notice or ask. It's that you told A secret because I've got bigger ones than that. You have no idea." She sighs sadly.

"Like what, Kitty?" Colson pries with concern.

"Seriously, I am so fucking tired, Col. Can I please just sleep. I promise I'll tell you everything." She pleads with him as the Xanax begins to take over.

"Okay... " Colson agrees as he kisses her forehead. "Lay with you?" He asks.

"There's no way you can lay down right now... Just come to bed eventually, please." Luna requests.

"Yeah." He promises "I love you." He tells her before taking her face in his hands and kissing her passionately.

"I love you too." She kisses him lightly on the lips again once they release before crawling off of his lap.

Dropping her towel, Luna climbs into their bed. Wrapping herself in the warm, custom blanket, she snuggles into the pillow with heavy exhaustion. Colson leans down and kisses her cheek. Dropping another I love you into her ear as she mumbles the same. She's out before he closes the door.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Colson, Sam, Baze, Rook, AJ, Benny, Mod and Slim are downstairs for the next few hours. Jamming, talking uncontrollably and bouncing in and out off the front stoop to smoke cigarettes as they blow through the bag of coke. 

The house is still bare so they decide it's a good idea to start setting Luna's books up on the shelves. They're all high as fuck, doing whatever they want. Sam and Mod begin trying to organize her vast collection but are making no sense. Baze gets caught up in a hardback limited edition entitled The Great Big Book of Rock and Roll. Slim and Colson are in awe when they open a box of her records. Sitting on the floor, they start going through them like little kids in a candy store. Rook's really flying and gets bored quickly, heading into The Living Room to beat his energy out on his new drum kit. Benny and AJ are the only chill ones as always. Maxed out in the purple chairs, they continuesly puff on and pass blunts to the other wackos. Luna sleeping through it all.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sam and Colson find themselves out on the stoop alone. Their normal awkward silence is gone as cocaine fuels their conversation. Talking all things Luna. This is one of the reasons Sam barely hits the slopes, she talks too fucking much when she's on 'em.

"You can't be mad at Pete." She offers up her opinion. "Luna's like another little sister to him." She tries to explain.

"Yeah but he's supposed to be my bestfriend." Colson disagrees.

"I get that... So can't you understand the fucked up spot you put him in between the two of you?" Sam counters as she takes a drag off of her Camel.

"Yeah... I think he thought she cheated on me... " Colson trails.

"Look, he had a really hard time with Justin and Luna's relationship too. We both did. Justin would disappear and we'd be looking for him with Luna. Sometimes we'd find him sometimes we wouldn't. Sometimes he'd call Pete, me or Izak on his own. Pete and Izak would hide him... It was fucked up." Sam shakes get head in dismay as her own heart breaks. "Justin would get clean, be good for a minute but then relapse all over again and she'd be a fucking mess. If anyone tried to paint their relationship as picture perfect to you than they didn't truly know them. Luna and Justin had a lot of problems." Sam admits to one of the first people ever; Colson seeming to have that effect on people.

"She doesn't really talk about him... I mean a little but I can tell it's restrained." He sighs.

"There's my Sammy Bam Bam!" Baze interrupts them with a grin as he opens the door.

"Make up with Pete." Sam pats Colson on the shoulder as she stands up to head inside with her boyfriend.

The Cocaine Cowboys eventually round their night out. Sam following Baze to his room as Rook, AJ, Benny, and Slim head to theirs. Mod being super grateful for the spare bedroom he slept in last night. Colson making his way up to a still sleeping Luna.

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Stripping his clothes, Colson climbs into bed with Luna. Her body is warm as he slides himself around her. Firmly running his hand up her outer thigh, along her hip and ribcage before crawling around her breast. Feeling every inch of her once more as he runs his hand back down her slender body.

Luna moans as her hips begin to shift back and forth out of need and instinct. Colson grows harder against her back as he slips his fingers along her pussy lips. Feeling her juices spill out as he lightly dips his finger inside of her.

"Mmm... Fuck, I've missed her taste." He mentally moans, not being a able to resist sticking his fingers in his mouth as his tongue dances around her unique flavor.

"I wanna fuck you." Colson husks deeply into her ear while he grabs her tit.

"Mhm." Luna murmurs hazily as she perks her ass into him.

Getting the Go, Colson seperates her delicate lips with his fingers. Taking his time, he slowly guides himself into Luna. Feeling her body tense as she moans and pushes her ass deeper into him. Tangling their legs in each other's, Luna reaches behind and grabs the back of Colson's neck to pull him closer to her. Kissing every inch of her that he can reach, he fucks her sternly while she bounces lazily off of his cock. With her face and closed eyes still resting softly in her pillow; she moans and fucks Colson contently in her sleep and drug induced state.

There's something about a SleepFuck that's incredibly satisfying to Luna. Her walls clutch Colson's dick in pleasure, making he thrusts harder. Releasing himself as he feels her cum all over him.

"FUCK." He breathes into her bare neck.

"Mmm... " Is Luna's only response, she's already almost back asleep.

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Pete shows up on The Brownstone's stoop with two coffees. Colson meeting him with four blunts. The two friends take a seat. Colson firing up the first blunt after Pete hands him his coffee.

"Yo... I'm sorry, Dawg." Colson starts as he exhales. "I put you in some shit... "

"Nah, Homie." Pete cuts him off as he accepts the blunt. "Luna's business is her own. No matter who it's with." Pete sighs. "I just worry about her, Man. And you too. I've seen you both go through some fucked up shit and I don't want to see it again, I guess." Pete half shrugs as he takes a pull.

"Look, Sam ACTUALLY talked to me last night so I get it a little more than I did before." Colson tells him as he accepts the blunt.

"It was just hard... " Pete shakes his head at the memories.

"I don't want this to fuck us up." Colson bares his soul to one of his bestfriends.

"Me neither." Pete agrees as he reaches for the second blunt and fires it up.

Both friends look at each other. There's an understanding between men that can happen without words. This is one of those times. With a simple nod, Pete and Colson are good. Going on to enjoy their coffee, each other and the NYC morning as they get high and bust it up like nothing ever happened.

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Luna's extra miserable when Colson wakes her up for their flight back to LA. The lack of sleep, too many drugs and her gunshot wound have her aching in every sense of the word. She doesn't shower. Just throws on sunglasses, cuttoffs and an oversized Hotel Diablo hoodie.

They make it to JFK just in time for their 11A flight. Everyone is dragging, not only Luna. Proving that cocaine is a Motherfucker. Once seated in first class, everyone knocks back out. Luna curling up against Colson as his face lays on her head and arm rests upon her bare leg.

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It's just before 8P by time they make it back to The LA House. Everyone is tired. No one is happy. All dropping their luggage in The Living Room before heading to their beds. They're so mentally jacked, no one's even thought to check The Charts, let alone eat at all day.

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Luna and Colson sleep clean until the next morning until her alarm goes off. Colson groans as she shifts away from him. Climbing out of the bed, she reaches high to stretch. Colson watching her out of one slitted eye.

"Why are you up?" He asks flatly.

"So you can truly see me." Luna answers before disappearing into the bathroom.

It takes a shit ton of coaxing and drugs to get Colson moving after Luna's shower. Complaining the whole time as she hands him water and joints. Once in the shower he starts to feel slightly better after he jerks off. He's FINALLY fully functional after his Adderall and coffee kicks in.

Not getting as much sleep as Luna and doing way more drugs, he's really edgy. She hands him a football before they walk out of the bedroom. He's so pissy they leave the house quietly without his trademark WE OUT.

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"Can I have the keys?" Luna asks, she's dressed in an overall romper, white shirt, long socks and one of her leathers as they walk towards the Rover in the early Saturday sun.

"Why?" Colson asks back as he tosses them to her in his own ripped jeans and black T.

"I need to drive and you need to listen." She answers before sliding into the driver's seat.

"You're talking to me now?" He counters with a slight attitude as he buckles his seatbelt.

"Do you think this is a fucking game?" Luna whips her head towards him.

"No." He answers solemnly as he sparks a joint.

"You don't seem to fucking get it at all." Luna shakes her head as she pulls out of the driveway.

"Look Loons, I'm sorry I fucked up with the Tommy and Justin thing. I shouldn't have said shit no matter how I was feeling." He exhales his apology as he passes her the joint and finally pops the Xanax she gave him.

"You still don't get it, Colson. How many times do I have to tell you.. It's not the secret you told. It's that you TOLD a secret. Period. You don't seem to realize that I'm dirtier than a fucking affair... Fuck." Luna let's out an exasperated sigh. "Let's be honest. In the short time you've known me; I've committed coercion, shot a federal agent, am in the process of setting up an underground abortion clinic... Oh! And I was blackmailed into issuing a public apology for fucking up one person out of what? A fucking dozen? And that's only been in the last 3MNTHS... Seriously, I am a fucking criminal." Colson stares at her as everything begins to register. "Fuck, I've got things going on that you don't even know about yet." She continues to worry as she hits the joint a few times while staring ahead. "And now, I'm terrified to fucking tell you about them."

"Like what?" Colson asks her with a concerned, yet amused SideEye as he takes the joint.

"Why should I tell you? Every criminal who's been caught is usually taken down because of their irrational lover." She looks over at him with a light smirk and hazy blue eyes for the first time during their car ride.

"You really gonna play me like that?" He scoffs at her before inhaling a huge hit.

"I don't know. You wanna say don't call Jax but are your stupid ass, jealous comments gonna get me popped one day?" She bites back as she fumbles for her cigarettes.

"Are you fucking serious?" He spits out as he starts to get angry with her. "What the fuck do you think I would do to you and what the fuck else are you doin' that's worse than what I already know? And where the FUCK are we going?" He demands as they continue to drive.

Luna's quiet for a long moment as she smokes her Newport. She's trying to keep herself calm and figure out exactly how to tell Colson about what things. Already having made her decision long before they got into the SUV to give up her biggest secret.

"Tell me, Luna." Colson asserts as he lights another joint.

"All in?" She asks him firmly as she looks over at him and holds his stare while he grabs her hand to reassure her. "I told you... I'm dirtier than you think. I own properties that clean money and stash shit for one of the biggest distributors on The East Coast." Luna admits in a hushed voice.

"It's for Tommy, isn't it?" Colson immediately snaps as his mind flashes back to his conversation with Benny.

"OH MY FUCKING GAWD!!" Luna can't help but scream. "You are so fucking hung up on other dudes that it's insane and probably what's gonna get me caught!" Luna stops. "How can you not see that I tell you more about myself WILLINGLY than any other human being on This Earth? That you know more about me than Justin ever did." Luna's lip trembles as tears escape from her eyes. "So, yeah... It started with Tommy but I have bigger associates now... " Luna shakes her head. "That's only a blip though. There is so much more at stake for me than that!" Luna slams her palms against the steering wheel in frustration as she begins to sob. "You have no fucking idea." She shakes her head again as her voice breaks.

"Then what is it, Luna?" Colson softens his tone with her.

Coming to a stop light, Luna turns her head and looks Colson dead in the eyes. Her hands are clutching the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles are white. There's a look on her face he's never seen before. It's a mixture of sadness, pain and determination. Taking a shuddered sigh, Luna flicks her cigarette out the window. She finds herself begging The Universe that he won't betray her this time as she's about to tell only Colson her true intentions. Lighting her own joint, she inhales deeply and holds the hit in. Looking over at Colson, she studies him. He stares back, waiting for her words.

"I'm gonna kill Smurf." She states icily before turning away, releasing the brake and focusing on what's ahead. "Still wanna marry me now?" She asks, puffing on the joint without taking her eyes off of the road.

---------------------------------------------------

Part 2 of 2

To be continued...

[honeycandied]

how do u feel about........ commune. i must know. full thoughts including pros and cons. thank u

chloe did you look up this blog cause i just told you it existed

anyway i personally like people and crowds a lot so i would only vibe with a commune if i could like dip out pretty frequently to go elsewhere BUT the concept of hanging out mostly separate from capitalism just growing shit with the homies... chefs kiss

[koseligcanuck]

Hei! Hi! Salut!

Welcome to my blog! This morning, I accepted my nomination to go on exchange in the University of Oslo, in Norway, from January to June in 2020! While the main focus of this blog will be on exchange, this will also be a blog where I could hopefully share other travel experiences, share what it’s like being Canadian (and Albertan/Quebecer), share my cultures, share my thoughts, and share who I am.

For the time being, I am going to limit my updates to travel, the process of going on exchange to Norway (and I really hope it’s not going to be difficult or bureaucratic) and from time to time, what I do in my daily life.

For now the name of the blog will be koseligcanuck (koselig, which is a Norwegian term closely linked to the Danish hyggelig and our Canadian homy/hominess; and Canuck, since I am Canadian!) By the way, I chose Tumblr because it seems one of the easiest platforms to use (and one that I’m most familiar with) but who knows, it might change in the future since I do see myself travelling the world and going places one day...

Yesterday, was the first snow day since 2007 and the second since 1998 and instead of being productive on my school work, I made banana bread with cookies and cream kisses (which was delicious but I think I overcooked a bit) and tried to plan and decide where I was going to go and for how long I wanted to stay in that destination. I weighed the pros and cons and a bunch of factors cost of living, length/start and end dates of semesters, languages of instruction, and others such as the following:

Norway has an agreement on healthcare with Québec and residents of both places are entitled to coverage in case they study, work, or temporarily live in the other jurisdiction.

I already speak English and French so I crossed-off some countries entirely while in others, full fluency of the language of instruction was a requirement and I had to cross-off a bunch of German and Swiss universities since I wasn’t fluent in German (YET).

While most of my classes will be in English in Norway, at least there’s another language to be learned (namely Norsk). And Norwegian seems easy for us Anglophones to learn.

I also considered that if I decide to do a full year abroad, it would mean that I have to do an extra semester and graduate in 2021 instead of 2020. (Mark my words, the university experience is nice and all, but at some point, it gets exhausting and one just can’t wait to move on to the next step.)

Other things such as proximity to other countries, opportunities to do part-time work, climate/weather, outdoor or nature activities, how good-looking the locals are, and work-life balance.

And so University of Oslo it is. It was actually the nomination assigned to me at first (it was one of my top choices actually) but when I was told there were spots opened for other universities, I prolonged the acceptance of nomination to decide on it...but hey, at least I’ve finally come to a conclusion.

Below is a picture of campus, a few minutes after my class ended. Thankfully there’s no construction happening (yet) but hey, McGill won’t be McGill without it! Ciao~

[queergentalemensclub]

Live blogging another life

Episode 1

SPOLIERS

There’s so much to unpack wtf. Firstly the acting is sooooo subpar but I already strapped in for the long haul cause Kat is my girl, loved her in longmire.

Pros:

A damn fine premise as a syfy buff myself it’s really cool to see what they have to offer for the vistor/ thing from another world angle.

The cast is so good so far but there’s so qualms I have about the acting.

They just jumped right in and I love a hit the ground running type of show so yay.

There new-ish sci-fi terms and I’m hear for it love so healthy changes to classics.

The mutiny was so left field but it’s a plus for drama

Zyan is so one I want to get to know.

Niko is a total mom from the get go, she like I don’t have time for you guys shit I here to save the earth and go home.

William is a total hottie with his fine ass.

Nikos a total savage and just iced Ian can he’s a sociopath like one more mutiny and he’d but a full psychopath for sure. He was coming for Nikos neck.

Cons:

Did you notice my pros where pretty lame, well fucking guess what these cons are overwhelming.

Firstly, everyone are literally that weird cult of 6 year olds at daycare that won’t play with you cause your new and they’ve got no real power structure just this asinine pack mentally.

The engineer is like literally a child.

The conflict is just high school bullying but in a super specific way. Like really specific. Custom bullshit.

Ian “when have i ever been rash” Yerxa can kiss my ass. They say that and totally drove home that homies literally permenant ezcema. Niko tried to break the ice and Ill say it, she is like 100 years old but like bruh she’s a seasoned veteran (I think that’s what they were trying to say) and she trying to keep these kids alive.

How old are you people. Ian’s like 30 or older maybe but the rest are like 20 something and I think the Latina (forgive me I didn’t here her name) said like 27 or younger cause again the engineers like 10. She sounds like my 4 year old.

Where this show going

Okay so like Ian’s a little bitch why corner this woman and basically turn her into a vegetable cause she said not his dumb ass plan. Ive watch sci-fi my whole life and hearing him say he has a this shortcut plan in episode one of all times is just a cluster fuck of deaths waiting to happen.

There’s just....Niko royally iced this man like....

Ian was bodied.

Like no cut cards bro was a total problem but Niko why you gotta be so...savage...

He deserved it but how’s she going to explain this shit.

Sorry.

I’m still watch this show.

[cleancutpage]

Takeaways – The Changing Blue Print of Las Vegas

This post originally appeared on MDL Group's Blog and is republished with permission. Find out how to syndicate your content with theBrokerList.

One of the things I am committed to this year is capturing my Takeaways from the various events that I attend throughout the year and sharing them. Click here for Previous Takeaways.

December brings with it two types of events. Holiday parties and year-end recaps!! This year is somewhat different for me with the year-end recaps. Because I’ve started blogging in January – sharing my Takeaways from the various events that I attended throughout the year – I get to reconcile what I’ve captured against what the experts think and say.

December 7, 2017 The Changing Blue Print of Las Vegas. That was the title of the Fair, Anderson & Langerman (FAL) seminar. This was their 13th annual. I attended last year where Steve Hill spoke. This year the speaker was County Commissioner Larry Brown. What is this seminar anyway?

Every December, FAL holds a seminar at Cili (which is like, a the most fantastic venue for everything). The seminar is presented in 2 parts. Part 1 is a speaker that gives a local overview. Part 2 is an update on the tax environment.

***FAL is an accounting firm. Full disclosure: they are my accounting firm. Fuller disclosure: Curt Anderson, the CEO and co-founder of FAL, is also a co-founder and one of my partners at MDL Group.

Still, they wouldn’t let him open the show. Ronnie Sloan did that. But they did let Curt speak during the event. So that was nice. I am mostly discussing the local overview below. But a word on the tax part of the presentation. I mean, it is relevant with 2 versions of tax reform floating around.

After Curt and Larry spoke, and Curt spoke again, Bernadette Mashas of FAL masterfully took us through what we can expect with the proposed tax reform. I say masterfully because in 10 minutes she covered the current law, House bill version and Senate bill version. She kept it interesting and swift. Remember Bernadette spoke after Larry. But Larry didn’t run off when he was done. He sat down, right in front, and was focused on Bernadette’s presentation. It was that good! Now, back to the beginning…

True to FAL’s persona we dug right in. In Curt’s introduction of Commissioner Brown he explained that they both moved to Las Vegas in the early 80’s. Brown arrived as a pro baseball player with the Las Vegas Stars. Curt as a CPA ret-to-set the town a blaze! Curt then painted a picture which I think is important for perspective.

It was only 30 years ago that paved streets in Las Vegas ended at Rainbow and Sahara. Think about that for a moment. Look around and think about the prosperous run Las Vegas has had, aside from the Great Recession, over the last 30 years.

Curt’s prediction for the future…? Another 20 to 25 year run of opportunity for family and business!

What does Commish Larry Brown have to say…?

Where are seeing a dynamic that we haven’t seen even in the boom.

Oooooooh that got me excited! What is this dynamic that we haven’t seen in the boom? I’ll get to that in one second. Let me rif a bit about what he said that the community has going on. This is also the part where I get to reconcile previous Takeaways where I went more in depth on the inventory of greatness occurring in Las Vegas.

The two BIGS: You can read more about them here.

Raiders Stadium Convention Center

Continuance and expansion of existing projects:

MGM Park  Caesar’s Linq Resorts World  Fountainbleu Wynn’s Lagoon Palm’s Hotel

Sports town (what what what?!):

You know what he didn’t talk about at all…? Pot. I thought that was interesting. For it or against, it is now legal, and a source of positive economic impact.

So there you have it. Here is the list that I am calling “the inventory of greatness!” Its not the even the full list. But its a lot!

The dynamic that Larry mentioned that exists now and didn’t exist in the boom is INFRASTRUCTURE. That seemingly unimportant and incredibly boring thing you might remember voting for, called Fuel Revenue Indexing or Question 5, apparently is super important. I wrote about it in March when my homie Tina Q. spoke at a NAIOP breakfast.

For the first time, southern Nevada is fully funded for the infrastructure needs for a decade. We are ready for brand new growth and it’s going to be a different blue print.

He added that the gaming industry dynamics have changed. Millenials are different (more on them here). They don’t want to sit in one place. The resort economy has expanded beyond gaming into dining, shopping and entertainment. The convention center is positioned to remain competitive. Larry reminded us that as a community we cannot afford to give up even half-a-percent of our convention business. I like that aggressiveness!!!!

The Commissioner ended with one thought and three wishes.

All roads lead back to local government. Government has 3 fundamental responsibilities and should stick to them.

Public Safety

Infrastructure

Social services

If you open the yellow pages and see a business or industry represented by the private sector government should not be in that business or industry.

Wish #1 focus on getting the government out of private businesses.

Wish #2 get more aggressive on getting the government to partner more with the private sector.

Wish #3 to have the community get more involved with local government.

Southern Nevada is facing some of the best challenges and opportunities of the last 30 years. Larry’s call upon us (the business community) is to be engaged. And if we’re not engaged, well then, we will get the results that we deserve!

Here is a link to boards, committees, and councils to consider.

Here is a link to find the County Commissioner in your district. You can contact their offices about being involved.

Ok – I have a few wishes for you as well!!!

Wish #1 if you are enjoying my Takeaways please encourage your network to subscribe here. I appreciated it!

Wish #2 tune in to my new podcast (in development). When it comes out I will email you on how to find it!

Wish #3 kiss your loved ones, be kind to strangers, and be safe this holiday season!

  Photography courtesy of: Daniel McCullough

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