#and getting disappointed when i accidentally look in a mirror because ew

[applealchemist]

there's probably something wrong with me since i subconsciously convince myself into thinking i look like whatever character my pfp is... BUT right now it's aventurine guys i'm him i'm literally him i'm gonna win those stellar jades guys trust me i'm gonna win i'm gonna do it guys one of these winners is gonna be me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PLEASE I NEED THOSE STELLER JADES TO GET LINGSHA AND THEN SAVE IT ALL FOR AVENTURINE AND DR RATIO RERUN SHAKING THE BARS OF MY F2P CAGE PLEASE PLEASE PLEADE PLEASE PLEAEE PLEASE-

[its-me-im-coraline]

NSFW Alphabet // Ethan Torchio

words // 2383

warnings // smut, clearly its nsfw headcannons

pairing // Ethan Torchio x GN!Reader (might be mentions that seem like they are for f reamer but comeon theres lingerie for every body 👁️👄👁️)

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. an apology to the people on my tag list i think i accidentally have not been tagging you this whole time i am so so so sorry omg

request // yes, it was a reblog i cant find it right now

summary // self explanatory

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Regarding you, Ethan is the king of after care. As rough as he can be in bed, that’s just how sweet he can be once you're done with it. Goes full on dad mode (don’t know how else to explain this). He will have water, painkillers if you’re now in pain, a washcloth to clean you up, new clothes, and of course the cuddles.

“I’m alright, Ethan. I can do it on my own,” you say as Ethan walks to you with the wet cloth ready to clean the mess he made on your body.

“I know you can, amore. I just want to take care of you,” he says as he leaves a kiss on your lips.

I can also see him being the one to make a big fat breakfast the morning after, or at least get up early to pick something up.

Now I also feel that he is in need of some aftercare. It depends on the day really, if he’s had a pretty rough day and all I feel like he’d ask for some backrubs after. In this case he’d fall asleep so quickly like omg. But on the biggest part I see him feeling the need to reassure you that the things he said (i think we already established that this man would call you a slut) are not how he feels about you and will be asking if you feel the same.

“Do you love me?”

“Wha- of course I do, Ethan! Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know… I guess - I guess I am worried that you don’t after what I said.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

When it comes to himself I feel like he really likes his chest and arms. Like I don’t know but I see him really getting off with you pretty much mastubating on his chest. Ya know what I mean? (i think you do you little sluts). He pretty much enjoys anything you do on his chest. I can imagine him looking at the mirror after you two had sex, seeing the cum on his chest along with the marks you have left and just smiling.

“What are you looking at, love?” You ask, seeing as the man is standing in front of the bathroom mirror from your spot on the hotel bed.

“Nothing, just the mess you made.”

“Mhm, and I bet you like it, huh?”

“You have no idea… Hey, are you sure you got tired? Cause I think I can do another round.”

As for his arms, as I said, he simply really enjoys that he can man handle you anytime, get you in any position he likes and feel you scratching them from the pleasure.

When it comes to you, Ethan is an ass guy. Say what you want but the man is an ass guy, end of discussion. He loves anything that involves your but. It does not explicitly have to be something like anal. He simply enjoys seeing your butt and holding it in his hand. It does not matter if it’s big or not, if it has stretch marks or whatever. Wear lingerie that he likes or that itty bitty teeny weeny bikini if you wear them or even some tight pants that make your butt just poìp and he can not contain himself.

I think I have said that to someone here (i think I had sent an ask to zodi @ icouldbeyourputtet) before but I feel like this man is very into spanking, like not even the rough malicious way. but this very wholesome chill way.

You had been talking about it all day, not having had a minute alone with each other for days, you could only dream what you could do that night after everyone left.

A playlist was playing in the background and a cigarette was burning on the ashtray next to your legs, you assuming a similar position, as said cigarette, bent over Ethan’s lap as he caressed your ass cheeks and back, playing around with the lingerie set he had gifted you a while back. (Did I just go to search my fave porn vid, lol exposing myself, and get disappointed because I can’t find it and translate it into fanfiction? yes yes i did, so bare with what i can remember)

“It’s okay, baby, you can take a little more, come on,” he praised, leaving a spank and yet another soft rub on the very red cheek.

He continued, going with the music, a very nice pattern, not very rough spanks but just enough to cause pain, pleasure and redness all over. Accidentally the man landed a few very rough ones causing a gasp and a series of giggles as you practically fell off his lap.

“Ethan, what the hell?” You laughed getting up from the floor and this time sitting on the man’s lap, sharing kisses with him.

“What,” he copied your action and laughed, “it was not intentional. I got carried away by how nice your butt is.”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He is and is not messy. He will not want the cum to be in every surface possible you know, he will be careful but at the same time this man just loves to see his cum on you, whether it’s your back or your stomach, or in you if you’re ok with it. I bet he has a teeny weeny breeding kink but not necessarily because of the idea of breeding you but rather because he looooves seeing his cum run out of you… I'm not sure if this falls in the breeding kink category but alright

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to fuck you while watching porn.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like he is pretty experienced. From what they band has said in interviews and stuff, he seems to be getting some pretty often (no one, NO ONE, is surprised at that). He is not acting arrogant tho (not unless that’s the dynamic of the night), he is willing to learn what works for you and you specifically

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As I said this man is an ass guy so I’d say anything that involves having the view of your ass. Humor me but i think he’d really like 69 with a female/afab partner (don’t know if this works very well with two dick-baring people lol). It has it all, eating you out,

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think it can be both with him. He will not exactly try to make jokes but if something like the previously mentioned spanking incident happens it’s def welcome.

Now as a general rule I see him being pretty serious. I will be honest, I’m getting brat tamer vibes from this man so it’s all pretty serious when you really get into it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Considering he’s an Italian man and if you look at a lot of photos of him he def fit the ‘mediterenean’ man type. I see him just barely grooming. I don’t see him really shaving or whatever but he also wouldn’t want you to choke on pupic hair, he much rathers you choke on his dick

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It all depends, really. He can be quite intimate with you but it all depends on the moment. There are different occasions for everything. For example, and this is a paradox that I hope I’m explaining well enough to understand, he is not very rough (will not be very aggressive and stuff, like to the extreme those tik tok boys want to pretend they are with their * growling * ew) but he will be rough. intimidating looks, spanking just enough to make you feel pain and redden up your ass cheeks. He’s like that mostly when you are being bratty.

Most of the times, like we’re talkin kind of lazy sex moments, it more wholesome ig, like very intimate and just comfortable and almost comforting. Ok, but like why do i see him having sex and having casual conversation (not the most common, i see this as like lazy day off, having nothing else to do and not being like super horny but being more like h o r n y … am i making sense?)

Setting the scene, you two are at home, both have a day off but it’s kind of raining so any of your plans are ruined. At this point it’s at around 10 am, not early, not late. You have missed each other and both have made it obvious but you are both in a very tired state so you opt for something not too much.

Plain and simple missionary is what goes around this time, Ethan on top just holding your legs around his waist,, going at a pretty medium pace.

“It’s a pity the weather is bad today,” says Ethan staring out the window.

“I know, we were going to go to the beach… I’m bummed about it,” you say, short of breath as the man continues his pace fucking you.

“Mhm, true. But this is better, amore, no? I’ve missed you so much,” he breaths out the last part, moans interrupting his words.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does that pretty often, especially if you are not around to help. Sometimes it’s because of you that he needs to. I would def see him exchanging naked pics with you and at first he does that to tease you but he ends up teased when he sees a video you sent of you masturbating.

Bets that he’d be taking photos and vids of you fucking on occasion so he goes to these when he misses you on tour.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As I mentioned previously I see Ethan to be a brat tamer. That I see to be the main kink that kind of works around everything else.

“Can you stop this, slut? It has gotten exhausting. I told you no noise but here you are,” he ordered, looking down at you trembling below his finger tips.

His face was quite stoic, voice never wavering from the strict and cold tone he tended to have when scolding you on the daily. Most times it was leaving a cup out of the sink but this time the scolding came from misbehaving. As if it was not enough that he was punishing you for being a brat and riling him up all morning, now you had to disobey orders. It was getting to him for sure.

“I’m sorry daddy,” you whisper, Ethan seeming satisfied with the response.

“Aw, why so tame puppy, now you decide to be nice?” His tone stayed the same, his words imitating a joke but the whole ordeal was not even close to it.

Now as for other kinks (did I open a site because I could not think? yes, shut up), as a result of being a brat tamer dom there are some few more kinks accompanying specifically that. He is def into bondage, both tying you up but also being tied up on occasion.

“Puppy, I have told you that is not a way to treat me. Untie me,” he says calmly, wrists tied on the headboard of the bed, eyes fixated to you.

“Well, why not? You do it all the time,” you whine, placed on all fours, facing Ethan as you lean towards him on your hands, “I want in on the fun.”

If only he was not tied… Ethan’s mind was already going places, figuring out exactly how he would punish you after you untie him -or after he escapes the restrains, whatever comes first. You knew that, very well - in all honestly that was the plan, that is always the plan.

“Amore, let me go. Let me go and your punishment will be tame,” he voiced looking at you, now positioned on top of his lap, touching yourself right then and there.

“I sense you want to be punished puppy, don't you?” You simply nod your head, eyes closed in pleasure.

“You see, the problem is you will not enjoy what I am thinking.”

“Mhmn.”

“Well, get yourself off now that you can, cause after I get my hands on you… You’re not getting to cum for days, amore.”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Honestly, anywhere. I can see him having a preference to the luxury of either of your houses or a hotel room but if you push his buttons just right, some restaurant’s bathroom it is.

why can i imagine him having sex at a weeding venue’s bathroom….. omg…..

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Honestly, both. I feel like he would be extremely good at giving it, but would never opposed to receiving

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s ok with them but he doesn’t love them, ya know?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

Is surely try to do new things but it will always depends on what it is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Come on. This goes without saying. He is a drummer for a living. He can surely go on for long…

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I def feel like he has a fair amount of toys. Some for himself, some for you… He looooves using them to punish you.

(small mention to my last fic little puppet)

“Beautiful, puppy! You have been doing so good for us, taking your punishment so well, but we are not done yet.” A buzz sound is what concerned the girl, eyes widening at the toy.

It was a small remote virator, imitating sucking on the clit. The drummer placed the girl over his knees, stuffing the toy between his leg and her clit, shocking the sensitive bud. “I think you can take a few more spanks,” said the man, landing one at the expanse of her thigh, the skin giggling at the contact.

“Damiano, count,” ordered the assertive man, seeing his friend kneel in front of Y/N, kissing her and then doing as he was told.

“I think we were left on twenty-three. Twenty four,” he began, counting all the way to forty before the ordeal was over.

The whole time Y/N was shaking, just about to fall off the edge, asking for permission to cum but her wishes were not granted just yet. She was exhausted, overstimulated, frustrated, and now unable to move on her own. But, oh man did she need more. The two men were more than willing to assist her.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A ton! It’s his specialty. Maybe one of his most common punishments is edging and teasing. He can drag it on for days

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is not very loud but is surely encouraging you to be.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost

[its-a-can-of-peaches-siir]

Chuck Grant

This one is a little 18 +, just a heads up

Even after two years after the war Chuck found himself still in awe of you, he still got the goosebumps on his arms when you looked at him a certain way, and he still got chills when you touched any part of him. He still found you the most beautiful women in the whole world, and couldn't believe you had picked him of all people.

Despite the fact that for the first year at Toccoa the two of you hadn't been able to stand being in each other's presence for more then ten minutes- he still acknowledged the fact that he still found you quite attractive. If anything that awareness only added to his resentment of you and anything to do with you.

You were to easy on the eyes to be as annoying as he found you. It just wasn't fair, to be so attractive but to be annoying at the same time.

To chucks disappointment he'd made an absolutely ass of himself during your first interaction- he'd been too drunk and too confident in his abilities to sweet talk women and too hyped up on his mates encouragement that he'd decided to make a move on you.

Chuck couldn't quite remember what exactly happened that night but he does remember putting his hand on your ass and getting a back hand to the face for it, And, because he was young and cocky, he'd immediately labeled you as a prude and made it his mission to hate your guts. Even though he knew that he was in the wrong. Because that's just how he was back then.

Had anyone asked Chuck back then if he'd be willing to share a home with you, let alone share a bed, he would of probably punched them in the face and he imagines that would of been your response as well.

Since then you both had come very far indeed.Chuck leaned on the doorframe of your bedroom door while crossing his arms over his chest and smiled at the sight of you.As much as you hated how open he was when admiring you, he just couldn't curb the bad habit.The vision of you so at ease was a sight to be-hold, especially after seeing you so On edge for so long.

Right now you were sprawled out on your stomach with your legs up in the air behind you, you were dressed in one of chucks old t-shirts that had stretched over time and you had black underwear on underneath and he could only just see, with woollen socks on your feet.

You had the window open letting in a gentle breeze from the spring ocean. All the lights in the bedroom were off and the sun setting outside was the only thing that lit up the room for him to see you.Your head was propped up on your hand as you took a drag from your cigarette, and tapped the ash onto a small plate beside you, the smoke leaving your lips floating above you forming a halo cloud above your head. Chuck cursed himself in his head knowing he was the reason you started smoking in the first place, you hadn't smoked before meeting him but after your second jump he offered you one and you took it without thinking, so he blames himself for even asking you.Now though he was the one not smoking and you were the one smoking."Are you going to stand there like a creep all night darling?" As Chuck refocuses he realises you can see him in the reflection in the dressing table mirror and he can hear the teasing smile On your voice.Putting your cigarette out on the plate he watches you push yourself up onto your elbows and turn to face him over your shoulder. He bites back a smile of his own as he hits the switch off for the hall way light and closes the bedroom door and makes his way over to you while kicking his shoes off."Sorry baby" he says using the terrible pet name he'd first used when he first meet you. "Was just enjoying the view" You snort a laugh while turning back to look out the open window shacking your head. "Careful buddy- my mans got a mean right hook" He rolls his eyes despite the fact that you can't see it, Stripping down to just his boxes he joins you."I don't know sweetheart" he grumbles "I've heard you've got a nasty backhand." Using his hands to map out where your legs are, he carefully fits himself behind you like a familiar and comforting puzzle piece. While the side effects of his head injury were relatively minor compared to the severity of the wound, he still wasn't always able to trust his eyes when it came to their depth perception. You didn't seem to mind his way of accommodating this certain handicap. You weren't shy to admit you enjoyed his hands on you.  With ease that only comes from years of routine, you turn your head at just the right time for him to pluck a kiss from your lips, the taste of chocolate and smoke on your lips. Chuck lets his legs tangle with yours as he rests on his elbow beside you, bringing his other hand up to cup the back of your head and keep your lips on his for a few moments longer. When you hum happily, he can't help but smile into the skin of your lips.Pulling back he rans his fingers down from your neck, down your spine and then his hand rests just above your bum, chuckling warmly when he hears a moan of relief leave your lips.

"Hello Darling" he whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps all over you skin."Hey handsome" you say with a sigh. Turning to look into his eyes you see him smile. "I missed you today" you whispered Chuck knew what you meant. After living together day in and day out for so long, coming home and establishing lives and routines of your own had initially been difficult. He always feels bad In the mornings when leaving you all alone in the  house."Such a sap for me huh" he chuckled into the skin of your neck.Rolling your eyes you turn back to the window making a sound of annoyance."Of all the idiots who propositioned me, I had to go and pick the most obnoxious—" Chuck freezes at that, furrowing his brow in surprise and using the hand resting on your back to gently fist a handful of your hair and turn you back to face him. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Your eyes scan his face and a smile breaks out on your lips. "Charles Grant is that jealousy I'm sensing?" Your voice had taken on a teasing tone, one that he loved but hated at the same time.He frowns at that, hating how you can still read him even are all this time.When he doesn't reply right away, you purposefully lift your backside and press it against him. God, you knew how to irritate him- you could be such a brat sometimes. Luckily he had learned a long time ago how to curb your teasing.Tightening his grip on your hair infinitesimally, you let him crane your head back and hiss quietly at the sweet sting of it."Darling if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were trying to make me jealous."Smirking you wet your lips before rolling your hips back up against him."Me? I'm just being honest- you can't really think you were the only one to make a move- shoot your shot if you will" Chuck feels heat curl in his stomach, shaking his head at your insinuation. When he angles your head to bite at the lobe of your ear, you tremble beneath him with excitement- your antagonizing behavior had become a strange turn on somewhere between Normandy and Bastogne. "Who?"  You didn't answer your breath hitching in your throat as you feel the press of him against your backside. You knew how much he hated when you did that- knew how frustrated your silence made him.At your silence chuck pulled away which made a whine float out your mouth at the loss of contact.Hearing him chuckle made you groan into the mattress, you felt his hands slide up your bare legs and land on your bum.Sighing as he squeezed your bum he lowered himself back down so he was hovering over your back.You felt his lips graze your ear and his breath skin the hairs on your neck."How about this Sweetheart?" He asks innocently using his hands to pull down your underwear. "I'll give you a name and you tell me if they were stupid enough to try something with you, hm?" Your groan is muffled by the mattress as your faces down into it, it's unclear to him what you said until he looks down and sees you nodding to his question.Using his index and ring finger he holds open your sex and begins to play with your clit. "Skinny?" Even with your face hidden in the mattress he can still make out the scoff of a 'no'. Good he thought, he hadn't thought Skinny would try anyway. "Shifty?"One of your hands come round to swat at his leg as you turn your face around so he can hear you more clearly."Charles you were there when shifty accidentally walked in on us having sex- what do you think?" Chuck chuckled at the memory of shifty walking in with you on top of Chuck, the poor boy almost had a heart attack. When you go to say something, Chuck smacks your ass playfully and your words were long gone in surprise. "Chuck-" "Bull?" "No. Obviously no, geez" Chuck ends up going through the whole easy company roster, he started by getting all the obvious ones out the way: Winters, Sink, Strayer, Sobel- ew, Blithe, Welsh, Lipton, Speirs.With each negative answer he lets you roll yourself down against ha hand.

The first 'yes' that Chuck got was for Talbert, which earned you a bite on your neck despite the fact that Chuck had already figured as much. Same went for Luz- which he already knew because him and George bonded over the fact that you'd rejected both of them. Then came the first surprise of the evening- Nixon.

"What!? Are you Serious Lewis Nixon?" Smirking as you could hear the jealousy melting through. "Does that piss you off baby?" Your tone is teasing but there's a hint of Curiosity in your voice that catches him off Guard.

It did in fact piss him off- Chuck didn't want to think to hard about why though.Not when you'd started this little game.Chucks hand smacking onto your backside again made you gasp and grip the duvet you were laying on. Pressing himself up against you he looks down at you rolling your hips back into him.The idea of you with someone like Nixon inspired rage and pride in his chest- anger at the fact a married man and your CO was looking at you in such manner, and pride because you picked him despite Nixon's trying with you.

"Chuck"

When he looks at your face he sees you've turned your head to look over your shoulder, your face flushed with arousal

"I want you please.- don't make me wait any longer" Well how could he say no to that, he was never very good and telling you No. The sound you make when he slips inside of you almost has him bursting right then and there- the sound so broken and full of want and lewd promise that it almost hurts him to hold himself back. Your hand has reached up and behind your head to grip his hair, pulling him down and over you in a haunting pantomime of how he'd covered you from enemy fire in the hellish woods outside of Foy. You chanting his name like a prayer, babbling as you slip into a state of carnal bliss. When he kisses you it's desperate and messy All jealousy takes a back seat to the feeling of this- your skin under his hands and your breath on his lips and the squeeze of you around him. It doesn't matter, none of those other men and their understandable attraction to you matters because you are undeniably his. You chose him- you chose him when he was the picture of health and when he was nearly dead on an operating table. You'd held his hand as he healed and you'd taken him as your husband in a shelled out Austrian church. You were his, and that was all because you wanted to be. Chuck didn't need anything more then that in life, he was happy and content.

[nanasarea]

III

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵: In a world where soulmates can visit each other in their dreams and can only remember the dreams once they found each other, what happens when you’re disappointed at the man of your dreams?

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: angst and fluff

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: reader x ?

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.5k

𝘢/𝘯: and so, the soulmate is revealed! Also Happy first day of Christmas!!!

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵  𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵  𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Tag list: @keiboo​

I  II  III  IV  V  VI

“I’m guessing no FBI then?” Renjun pouted as both me and Haechan said that we need to get some work done, Haechan studying for the test and me having an assignment to do.

“Next time?” I asked, feeling slightly guilty, but knowing I had to get the assignment done. I walked outside to get into my car and drove to my favourite cafe near the campus, where I ordered a cold brew and sat in the corner, with my computer plugged into the outlet on the wall next to me and started working on the assignment.

After an hour or two, I had already asked for 3 refills, ate 2 blueberry muffins and had most of my assignment done, so I decided to pack my things, put my bag over my shoulder and grabbed the hoodie I had with me and went to the counter, where I placed the muffin trays and cup before ordering a double-espresso shot to go. While waiting for the coffee, I felt a cold substance dripping down my left shoulder, causing me to turn to my left in shock.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ “Don’t worry, it’s fine.” I quickly cut him off as I placed my bag and hoodie on the table next to us, which he followed with his own bag and hoodie before grabbing some napkins and handing them to me.

“Thanks.” I giggled, trying to soak up the iced coffee, which had no use at this point, as my shirt  had already been soaked. At this point, I looked up and noticed the guilt on his face. 

“Let me make it up to you somehow, please.” He said, holding his arms together as to plead.

“How would you make it up, if you had to?” I asked, trying not to fawn over his cuteness, which reminded me of a golden retriever, if I’m being honest.

“Um, maybe I could pay for your coffee,…or I could invite you to this party that my friend is throwing. It’s at Tealwater, on campus and it’s a costume party!” He answered after a minute of thinking.

“You mean Felix’s party? I thought everyone was invited to that.” I said, giggling. “Oh, so you go to Tealwater?” He asked excitedly, to which I nodded.

“Oh, that’s so cool, I didn’t know that. I just started attending here after doing my freshman year online, but if I knew there were people as cute as you on campus, I would choose lectures instead of online courses. I’m Jeno by the way.” He blushed.

“Yn and thanks. So um, since I’m already going and I already payed for my coffee, how about you make it up to me by buying me a coffee some other time? Monday maybe?” I asked, trying to hide my blush.

“My lectures start at 11am, yours?” “10am.” “See you here at 8?” He asked, picking up his bag, which I copied by picking mine up as well.

“I’d like that.” I quickly said before taking my hoodie and to-go cup and making my way towards my car.  In my car, I quickly out my hoodie on to hide the coffee stain on my shoulder, which is when I realised it didn’t smell like my hoodie.

A flashback of his hoodie snapped into my brain, making me realise I must have took his hoodie, which was the same shade as mine. I sighed, looking outside and seeing him long gone, which means I’ll have to return it to him on Monday.

I then put my car keys in and turned the car on, which is when my car door was quickly opened and before I knew it, a stranger was sitting in my passenger seat and telling me to drive. Out of fear, I did as he said and started driving.

“Are you being chased?” I asked, finally realising what was happening and hearing a laugh escape the man’s mouth. “Yeah, by the cops.”

“The cops? Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re a serial killer.” I said, not realising I said the last part out loud.

“No, not yet.” His response made me scuff. “Planning?” I asked “No, but you never know.” “You’re unbelievable.” I sighed and turned my car around so I was heading towards campus again.

“Unbelievably attractive you mean.” He chuckled, making me steal a glance at him, which he followed when he felt my gaze on him.

“What? You’re gonna deny-“ As his expression quickly changed from cocky to shocked and slightly confused, he cut himself off and asked “Have we met before?”

“Nope, not that I know of, I think.” I said, unsure and looking back at the rode.

“I’m Jaemin.” He said, sticking his hand out for me to shake, which I didn’t take, as I needed to keep both hands on the steering wheel.

“Yn, wish I could say it’s a pleasure to meet you but I feel like helping you run from cops isn’t exactly the best first impression.” I said.

“Figured, you’re not gonna ask me why I’m running away from them?” “Would you answer if I did?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“I was caught buying alcohol.” He said, making me give him a confused look “With a fake ID. Oh, where are my manners, want some?” He asked, offering the bottle of Jack, to which I only shook my head and rolled my eyes. 

“What? You never drank underaged?” He asked “At least I was smart enough to not get caught.” I said, rolling my eyes, making him chuckle.

“Where we headed, darling?” He asked, leaning back into the seat. 

“Tealwater campus, darling. When we get there, I’m going back to my dorms so I wouldn’t exactly tell you to get lost, but get lost.” I answered, mocking the way he said darling, which caused him to chuckle.

“Sounds good to me, I’m a student there too, y’know?” He said “Oo, are you going to Felix’s party? I heard it’s gonna be a blast.” He added, turning to face me. “I am, actually.”

“What you going as?” He asked “I don’t know yet.” I answered.

“Not gonna ask me?” He asked, after putting his hand on his chest and dramatically gasping. “Don’t care.” I answered, parking the car and turning it off.

“As I said earlier-“ “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get lost, darling. Thanks for the ride, I owe you one.” He cut me off before getting out of the car, which I soon followed after getting my stuff.

“See ya later.” He smiled, before walking towards me, stopping and chuckling. “By the way, you have something here.” He added, picking the leaf that had just fallen into my hair, his fingers brushing my hair behind my ear and tossing the leaf away.  

I rolled my eyes before walking to my dorms, where I was met with Renjun, who greeted me as I put my stuff down.

“You would not believe the day I had.” I sighed, sitting down next to her on the floor and resting my head on his shoulder, which I usually did when I ranted about stuff.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it.” he giggled and continued drawing in his sketchbook.

“Well, first I met this guy, who spilled his coffee on my good top-“ “Rude” “-I know, right? But it’s fine, he was cute, like he seems like one of those golden retriever boys but he was dressed like an eboy-“ “Ooo, cute, we love that.” “-Right? Then he told me that he’d make it up to me by paying for my coffee or inviting me to this party-“ “Awww” “-right? and I said I’m already going since I go to this school and stuff and guess what, he goes here too-“ “No way-“ “Yes way.” “So then I told him he could buy me coffee some other time, which is when we kinda agreed on a date on Monday-“ “Exciting.” “-right?!” I sighed happily, laying down on the floor.

“I accidentally took his hoodie, since we have the same one, but I didn’t catch him so I’m returning it to him on Monday- “Exciting-“ “but till then, I shall not remove it, because it smells so good, it smells a bit like him-“ “Love that.” “-right? But then this lunatic got in my car and told me to drive, which obviously gave me a scare-“ “Obviously” “-And so I found out he was being chased by cops for buying alcohol with a fake ID-“ “Wow.” “-right? and let me tell you, he was so annoying but he also goes here so there’s that-“ “Ew.” “-right? So yeah, I kinda had to give him a ride.” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh and the golden retriever boy? His name’s Jeno, he’s like the man of my dreams and I’m like 99% sure he’s my soulmate, we go to the same school, we have the same hoodie.” I got up and smiled, going to take my computer out of my bag. “Is that why your soulmate mark has faded?” Renjun asked, chuckling.

“My what now?” I asked shocked, taking the hand mirror into my hand and looking at my ear, seeing only the outline of the mark.  

“Why aren’t you happy? I thought Jeno was the man of your dreams, I mean, I guess he really is.” Renjun laughed.

“Renjun…Jeno didn’t touch me, the lunatic did.” I said, remembering how he removed the leaf from my hair

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #308

“you don’t need treats, and you don’t need tricks, and you don’t need me.”

Middle name? Marie. Or Marie Catherine, if we're technical, but as someone who loooong left Catholicism and never even agreed with many aspects of it in the first place, I don't like to include it. If you're confused, there's a ceremony called Confirmation, and while I honestly don't even remember the details of it, you adopt the name of a saint you want to stand for, kinda. I chose Catherine just because I liked the name outta my other options. Democrat/republican/other? I classify myself as Independent because I really don't relate well enough to either, but I do know I'm becoming more and more liberal with time. Do you dress according to your mood? My mood? No. I dress with what I feel like wearing at that time, but my actual mood has nothing to do with it. Are you good at doing hair/make up? No. Are you always worried or stressed about something? 24/7, my friend. Can you swim? Yeah. Are you afraid of needles? I don't like them, but I'm not afraid of them. How many kids do you want? Zero. Long/short nails? I keep mine short. Do you like wearing hats? No. Does mall Santa Clauses or Easter bunnies freak you out? Nah, I loved seeing Santa as a kid. :') Would you consider yourself clumsy? I am RIDICULOUSLY clumsy. Do you like when a guy picks you up in his arms? In concept, but I ain't easy to pick up anymore lmao. Do you like hairless cats? I do!! Females, anyway, for... obvious reasons lol. Not having fur makes some things waaay too ~obvious~ otherwise. I would love a sphynx. Do you like the color yellow? No; it's actually one of my most disliked colors. Have you ever seen a cat have a hairball? Yeah. Have you ever had a tooth pulled? Not by a dentist, no, just by myself as a kid when I was losing my baby teeth. When someone says don’t look do you look? It depends on why they're telling me to not look. Have you ever played spin the bottle? No. If you had to name three important details about you, what would you say? I'm a very emotional person, I need a lot of "me" time, and to be aware of my social anxiety so not every interaction I have is perceived as just a dumpster fire. What are your three biggest insecurities? My creativity, my goddamn body, and my lack of social skills. If you could write anonymous letters to three people, who would you send it to and what would you say? Ummm. I can only think of people I miss and don't WANT to be anonymous... Favorite photo of yourself? A senior prom picture I don't have anymore. I looked so, so happy and fuck my low self-esteem, gorgeous. Who are you disappointed with right now? I'm like, permanently disappointed in myself lol. Would you date an 18-year-old at the age you are now? No. My minimum is 21. What question do you hate to answer? "Are you a virgin?" because it's just a confusing answer. It doesn't sound like one at all, but trust me on this. The subject of sex just makes me uncomfortable anyway, so even if I was confident in the answer, I wouldn't want to talk about it. What’s your most listened to song? I don't have a way of actually finding that out, but I'd say I've been listening to "ULTRAnumb" by Blue Stahli quite a lot lately. If you were a performing artist, what would you title your first album? I mean, I don't know. It would depend on what was going on in my life and head at the time. If someone told you you could give one person a present and your budget was unlimited–what present would you get and for whom? A nice car for Mom. She's had the same shitty car for yeeeeeaaaaarrrrrssssss now because she just can't afford a new one; hell, this one was free. A dance friend hit a deer, so the front of the car is messed up, and she bought a new one, but because the car itself was still functional, she gave it to my mom. Mom is so loved at the studio. The car just has various issues by this point, like trouble starting, accelerating, it's bumpy, etc., so it's way past time for a new one. Do you like licorice? NOOOOOOOOOO that's a big 'ole "ew." Have you ever visited your country’s capital city? No, but I've seen it from a distance when riding up to NY. When was the last time you were outdoors for over an hour? WOW. I couldn't even try to guess. What is the shortest amount of time you’ve lived somewhere? The house I was born into. I actually don't know how long Mom and Dad lived there, but I was only in that house as a very little baby. I have zero memories of it. What’s your favorite kind of mint? (Peppermint/wintergreen/spearmint/etc.) ... There's a difference? lol I guess peppermint? What was the last thing to frustrate you? I wanted to draw yesterday, but I didn't know what to draw to even get started. Have you ever been to a bachelor or bachelorette party? No. Did any of your family members serve in WWII? I don't believe so? Well... maybe my grampa did? I don't remember. What’s your favorite kind of salad? Gimme an Olive Garden salad and I will deadass eat the whole bowl. Are you more realistic or idealistic? I'd say I'm more realistic with most things. Are you currently borrowing something from someone? No. Is anyone currently borrowing anything from you? No. What is your last name’s heritage/country of origin? Ireland. When did you last buy a new pair of shoes? What kind? I got new flipflops a year or so back because my old Rainbows were so worn out and blackened my feet. Have you ever experienced culture shock while traveling? If so, where? No. Are you able to see the stars at night where you live? I actually haven't checked since moving here. We're in the suburbs though, so it's questionable. Do you include your middle initial in your signature? Not unless it's required, usually. I think. When's the last time I physically signed anything, anyway? What brand of computer do you have? It's an Acer Nitro. What operating system does that computer run? Windows 10. What’s the oldest piece of clothing that you still own and wear? I don't really know, given how much my weight has fluctuated. Went drastically up, went down, now it's back up. .-. I still own a handful of shirts I want to "shrink back into" from late HS and early college times, but yeah, I don't know if I'll actually achieve that. Is the area in which you live flat, hilly, or mountainous? Flat as my ass. What is your significant other or best friend’s ring tone? No one on my phone has a "special" ringtone. Where do you keep your hair brush? There's a comb I use in a drawer in the bathroom. Which pair of shoes have you owned the longest? Multiple pairs of Converse, also from high school. When’s the last time you were sick at the same time as someone else? I'm very happy to say I don't even recall the last time I was sick. My immune system is the fuckin GOAT. What did you have for breakfast this morning? A pb&j. We've got very little rn, but thankfully Mom's picking up our Wal-Mart order today. Last time you were in pain? If I'm standing, you can bet my legs hurt, so. What color is your mom’s hair? It's growing back totally gray now. Is that also your hair color? Well, no, I'm only 25. Do you watch any daily vloggers on YouTube? Who? No. I watch people who vlog occasionally, but not regularly. It's gotta be people I'm very into to really be interested in vlogs. What room of your house do you usually do your surveys in? Sigh, I'm always in my bedroom. Really hoping Mom and I muster up the motivation to clean up the extra room soon to turn it into my "dayroom" or "office," if you will. What do you put on your tacos? I hate tacos. What is your favorite stuffed animal and where did you get it? I have a bittersweet connection to the adorable plush meerkat Jason gave me for Valentine's our first year together; I always slept with it when we were together by apart, and for a year or so after the breakup. It was a source of comfort for me, so I'm really fond of it. Fella's fur is so worn out and matted down with age and lots of love. He's on my dresser now, towards the front of all my plushies. Last thing you hung up on your wall? My Illidan poster, I believe. Do you have a full length mirror? Yeah, on the back of my door. Is it currently raining? No, finally. It's been raining for like a fuckin week, it seems like. It's finally a clear day. It's nice to hear birds outside. Does anyone you live with talk in their sleep? Does this happen often? I'M the one doing the talking/screaming in my sleep. Thanks, nightmares. When was the last time you cried, or felt tearful? I'm not positive, but I know I had a pretty rough PTSD night not too long ago where I teared up. Did you wake up with a song stuck in your head today? What was it? Ohhh yes; I've been listening to Mother Mother's "Ghosting" on repeat because it's jammed up there. When was the last time you used moisturiser or lotion of some kind? Not too long ago on my hands. They get dry this time of year, and besides, I wash my hands a lot nowadays especially. What was the last thing you owned, that was accidentally broken or damaged? Were you able to get it fixed? My laptop, and yes. Tell me about the last dream you recall having. Was it weird, amusing, etc. So this is pretty wild. I know I had a nightmare last night, but I don't remember it; the night before, however, I had a nightmare about a possibly rabid and ginormous rat (I mean like, smaller dog sized) in the house and trying to bite me. It was SUPER weird, because I was actually afraid of it, yet I absolutely adore rats in real life. What was the last video you watched on YouTube? I've really gotten into John Wolfe (a let's player) lately, and I'm going through his The Evil Within playthrough. Do your parents use any social media at all? My mom has a Facebook, and hilariously, Dad has a Snapchat to talk with my sister Nicole. He has no clue what he's doing with it and it's adorable, haha. Mom also has a Twitter, but she doesn't use it. Is there anyone in your life who regularly asks how your day has been? Regularly, no. I've always been that person, especially in the WoW guild I'm in. I'm very close and comfortable with them and ask how everyone's doing any time I log on. Lovely people who give me some social interaction every day. Tell me something positive about the day you've had. It's still early, but once again, it's pretty and bright outside. Why do you prefer Facebook over MySpace, because I know you do? Ha, you'd be incorrect. MySpace was more personal, so I actually preferred it. But it's obviously long-dead, so I just settle with Facebook. Have you read the Pretty Little Liars series? No. My sister looooves it, though. What product do you use to moisturize your lips? I don't remember, actually... It's in my purse somewhere. When did you start using Xanga? I never have. Be honest, do you judge people on their appearance? Judge, I don't think so. I can make assumptions like everyone else, but I'm not gonna think someone is beneath me just by their attire. Do you know anyone who does not like The Beatles? Me. At least, most songs. "Hey Jude" is good, but everyone agrees with that, haha. Did you have a friend in middle school that you’re now enemies with in high school? I'm long since out of HS. I had a middle school friend who I disconnected with following a fight in high school, but we weren't "enemies," and we reunited our senior year anyway. Aaaaand we're not friends anymore once again lmao. What is one thing you hope your children don’t inherit from you? If I hypothetically wanted kids, God knows I'd hope they wouldn't have my psychological issues. Do you think you’ll be married in 10 years? It'd be nice, anyway. What type of foundation do you wear? None. Who’s the most controlling person you know? Someone I'm no longer friends with, partially because of this. Do males look good in skinny jeans? Yep. Are you for or against guyliner? Ugggghhhhh guyliner makes me weak in the knees. How many jobs have you had? Where do you currently work? Three; nowhere. Who did you last hit? Um, nobody??? What way of self-care do you enjoy the most and what feels more like an obligation? I enjoy my alone time on the computer as the best self-care, especially after being social all day; I don't, however, enjoy the act of performing hygiene care. I still do it, it's just not fun. The feeling afterwards is great, though. Have you ever tried specific diet plans or fads? What made you do it and how did it turn out for you? I was briefly using NutriSystem, which didn't work for me. I hated too much of the food. More recently I stuck with flexible dieting and calorie counting for a while, but I drifted from it when I still lost no fucking weight in like a month. I want to get back to it, though... oh, and intermittent fasting. I don't think it really worked for me yet again, even though I did it correctly, but that and the aforementioned flexible dieting is all I feel like I can handle. I guess I just have to give it longer. Do you know anyone who has been directly affected by COVID-19 e.g. testing positive, losing a loved one, or their job due to the pandemic? Too many people I know have had it or had someone they loved die because of it. Take this shit seriously. Is there a kind of music you only prefer listening to during specific type of activities that you otherwise wouldn’t enjoy under normal circumstances (e.g. EDM while doing sports or instrumental music while studying, etc.)? No; I have to actually enjoy the music. If you had to start a YouTube channel and motivations/skills/resources/any other inhibiting factors weren’t an issue, what would it be about? Either animal (preferrably reptiles) education or let's plays, ig. Has anything ever happened to you that if you told someone about, they would think you’re making it up? I don't believe so. What travel destination or popular spot have you been to that you found overrated? What about a lesser known place that you thought was a hidden gem? I really don't know; I haven't traveled nearly enough for this.

[okaynicolette]

Lunch Between Friends - Liam x Jacob

Jacob pulled up to the lunch restaurant, unsure if he had the right place or not. It seemed rather crowded and also rather pink. After he found parking, which was not an easy task due to the Saturday brunch crowd of locals and tourists alike, he checked his messages from Liam again. Yep, this was indeed the right place. Jacob sighed, why couldn’t Liam be happy with just meeting up at a more adult restaurant, rather than something he read about in some food blog, he thought rather discontentedly. Walking to the front of the restaurant, which had bright pink umbrellas shading the sidewalk tables, he saw Liam leaning up against the gold and black painted wall (which was no doubt intended to be a tourist photo op). Jacob gave a light wave to his friend as he walked up, hoping that Liam was actually looking at him behind the dark aviator sunglasses he donned.

Liam arrived early to put his name down, knowing that this restaurant would be crowded at this time of day. It was a popular brunch and burger spot in Venice Beach and it was constantly full of trendy LA millennials– so of course, Liam loved it. Though it was a Saturday, he couldn’t help but check his work email while he waited for Jacob to arrive. He didn’t become one of the most sought after CFPs at his firm by taking weekends off, after all. Just as he sent one final email, he looked up and noticed Jacob walking towards him. Liam gave a head nod of greetings and said, “I put our name in with the host about 20 minutes ago, should be any time now.”

Jacob was thankful that Liam arrived early to put their name in– neither of them were very patient people, but Liam tended to be the more proactive one. Jacob would likely just suffer and complain. The two of them were roommates at USC for the last two years of school, so they knew each other very well. Nowadays, they tried to hang out as often as they could, but things got difficult since Jacob got his girlfriend pregnant right after his graduation. Liam was finishing school then climbing the corporate ladder at his job, while Jacob was learning how to be a father. Liam did his best to be a good uncle though, and Jacob was glad for that as an only child himself– his son, Isaiah, loved his Uncle Liam. From the time Isaiah was born until he was around six, Jacob and Isaiah’s mom, Aidy, lived together and had a fairly normal life. That was until about a year ago. Out of the blue, Aidy decided that she was disappointed she missed out on so much of her life and needed to “experience more”, which was apparently code for “sleep with other people”. They did their best, tried counseling for a few months, but eventually decided to go their separate ways. Jacob originally thought it would be easy because they weren’t married, but they both wanted full custody of Isaiah. The custody battle dragged on for months, when finally, in January, the court decided that they would have joint custody, with Isaiah going back and forth every two weeks. Jacob wasn’t taking it very well, though he tried to put on a good face for his son. He was grateful when Liam called to invite him on a spur of the moment trip, because it felt a little bit like old times.

Moments later, the host called to seat them and they headed into the restaurant. The inside carried the same millennial aesthetic as the outside with mismatched colorful vintage furniture and gold mirrors and picture frames lining the walls.  Jacob found quiet solace in the fact that Liam had good taste in food, which meant this whole Instagram-trap might be worth it. Once they were seated, Liam asked, “So did you book your flights?” He rarely beat around the bush, especially when he was nervous or eager. Something in his tone told Jacob that it was a bit of both.

“Yeah, I got them for the dates you told me and let Aidy know– not that she cared very much since it doesn’t affect her or Isaiah,” Jacob replied, unintentionally sounding bitter at the end of the statement. He was bitter, but he didn’t like showing it, even if it was just to Liam. “So, are we wedding crashing?” He asked before picking up the menu to try and find a decent lunch.

Liam laughed, idly skimming the offerings, even though he had already checked and double checked the menu before even deciding that this was the place they would be eating at. “I don’t know yet. I told you, it’s going to be a surprise for Nik– she doesn’t know I’m coming at all,” he replied, with a facade of excitement. Inside, he was beginning to worry about whether or not this was a good idea. Hoping that Jacob would have good advice, he asked, “Do you think I should tell her? I mean, I’m trying to be romantic and all that.”

Jacob was trying to read through the very long burger menu and make a decision about lunch, but everything sounded amazing since he accidentally skipped breakfast. “I mean if you want to be romantic, then showing up to surprise her at her best friend’s wedding is definitely that. It sounds like a fucking rom-com, for god’s sake,” he said, barely looking up. In all honesty, Jacob felt like the last person who should be giving advice on that sort of thing. He had been with one woman seriously for the last seven years and she had all but shattered his heart.

Liam sighed, setting down his menu. It was rare for him to let his guard down, but Jacob had seen him at his worst, so there was no image to uphold. “My friend from work, Riley, said that Maids of Honor usually have a lot of responsibilities. Do you think I’ll just be distracting her? Oh, and also the bride thinks I’m a dick, so that’s not great either,” he said, rather frustratedly.

Jacob decided on his food and set down his menu to face his friend. “Well I don’t know very much about weddings,” he began, again subtly playing the sad-heartbroken card, “but, like I said– it sounds like a rom-com. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the grand gesture and it’ll be fine. Also, you didn’t tell me Nikki’s best friend doesn’t like you!” He laughed a little bit, giving Liam a hard time. His attitude did rub people the wrong way sometimes, but that usually just meant they hadn’t taken the time to get to know him well.

Liam rolled his eyes as the waitress arrived to take their orders. Once she took their menus and left, he began, “She thinks I’m too showy or something. I get it, but like– she hated me from the jump, so what am I supposed to do?” He shrugged.

Jacob smirked, “Lease a Subaru, move to Arcadia, and become a high school guidance counselor, obviously.” The sarcastic response elicited a genuine laugh from both men. “Kidding, but who knows– This trip might show her friend that you’re serious about the relationship and she’ll get off your back,” he nodded, optimistically as the waitress dropped off their drinks.

“Damn, I never even thought of that,” said Liam pensively, realizing that Jacob had made a very good point. He was now somewhat reassured in his plan to go on the trip. “So how are you doing, man? I know these past few months have been shit,” he said somberly, genuinely feeling for his friend. Though Liam didn’t have any desires to be a father in the near future, he did love Isaiah like a real nephew, and was really disappointed to see how things turned out. He had even helped Jacob get a lawyer through his parents, but it was no use.

Jacob raised his eyebrows and sighed before responding. “It’s fucking lonely, dude. Like how do people our age even meet other people? I’ve gone out a few times with people from work, but bars and clubs… I’m just so not used to that scene anymore,” he shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

“Have you tried dating apps?” Liam asked, unsure of what to say to his grieving friend. Emotions weren’t his strong suit, but he was trying his best.

“If one more person asks me that, I think I’ll explode on the spot.” Liam said sharply. Just that morning, his mother had asked the same thing over the phone. Apparently it was time for him to get back out there again, or something.

Liam raised his hands up in mock defeat. “Alright, so no dating apps,” he resigned. “Well, weddings are a great place to meet people. Who knows– maybe we do score some invites and you meet someone there!” He said, trying to cheer his friend up. Just then, the waitress brought by their meals and topped up their drinks. “And if you don’t meet anyone, then I can always take you out. If you want to, that is,” he nodded, unfolding his napkin and setting it on his lap.

“I don’t feel a particular need to meet anyone, has anyone ever considered that?” Jacob muttered, following Liam’s lead and placing his napkin on his lap.

“You just said you were lonely, J. Even if it’s just a friend you meet, that would help! I know you have me, but it would be nice to have other people you can lean on right now and whenever, you know?” Liam explained before beginning to eat.

“I have friends!” Jacob said incredulously. “I have… Aidy?” He offered sheepishly, realizing that his social circle had been pretty nonexistent these days.

“Your baby-mama who you just got out of a five-month-long custody battle with? That’s your other friend? You might need this trip more than me, dude.” He chuckled and shook his head as he took another bite.

“Ew, God. Don’t call her that.” Jacob rolled his eyes, “But fine. I guess I do need to get out more. This trip will be good for that. And even if Nikki is super busy, the two of us can still go out and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, of course! It’ll be like a revival of the good old days– an Apartment 121 Renaissance!” Liam said excitedly, lifting his glass as if making a toast. Jacob laughed and lifted his glass to touch his friend’s. Their glasses clinked and Jacob felt slightly less hopeless than he had while he was driving in.

[leigh-kelly]

104 please

A continuation of this.

After Santana had been so upset the week before, Brittany is more anxious than ever to get to Lima. She knows how much she hates being home, and how much of an outcast she feels in her town, so she’ll be glad to just get there and be with her, even if it’s only for a long weekend. It’s only been a few weeks that they’ve been apart, but it honestly feels like forever for Brittany. She’s been going crazy doing mostly nothing but laying by the pool and working on some math stuff, and she needs some time with her girlfriend more than anything.

She leaves later than she’d wanted, and as a result, she ends up sitting in nearly two hours of traffic. She has no idea how there’s so much traffic in Ohio, but apparently there was some kind of accident, so she screams to herself in the car, thinking of how every single minute she’s stuck there is a minute less that she’ll have with Santana. It’s only the first weekend of July, and already she’s wishing it was August. She’s not thrilled about being back in classes, and constantly worrying that she’s going to fail, but she wants to be back with Santana full time. She hates distance, and this really, really sucks.

When she finally arrives in Lima, it’s after lunchtime, and she’s glad she’d thought to pack a sandwich for herself in the car. She’s always aware of these things, thinking of the obsessive schedules she makes surrounding food. She’d be lying if she said it still wasn’t a struggle every day, and that food didn’t control her life in a lot of ways, but she’s much better than she was, and at least now she knows that she absolutely has to eat, no matter how obsessive she can sometimes get about the act that surrounds it.

“Honey, I’m here!” Brittany calls out, knocking on the door to Santana’s mom’s house and waiting patiently for her girlfriend to come downstairs. 

“Hey.” Santana grins, opening the door and standing there in cotton shorts and a grey tank top. “You finally made it.”

“Please, what a nightmare. If I was going anywhere else but here, I would have turned around and gone back.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t.” Santana pulls Brittany into the air conditioned house, and immediately kisses her. “I would have been majorly disappointed.”

“I’d never do that to you, you know. If I say I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it.”

“I know, and that’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

“Where’s your mom? The only reason I was goofy and called out to you like that was that I saw her car was gone.”

“She went into the office. Normally I’d really fight her about working on a Saturday, but...you know.”

“Avoiding the separate bedroom policy?”

“I really worked on her about it. I thought I might actually win, but...she was raised by my grandmother, I know she has certain rules for propriety, and apparently until I’m married, she doesn’t want me sharing a bed in her house.”

“I think it’s sweet. Shitty, but sweet.”

“I mean, I’m cursed with my stupid period this week anyway, so, I guess it only matters half as much as it would otherwise.”

“Well, I did bring you chocolate, and also it’s cold in here, so we can cuddle on the couch for as long as you want.”

“I don’t want to trap you inside all day because my uterus is the actual devil. The fair starts tonight, but we could go to the park or something, if you wanted.”

“Totally your call.” Brittany smiles, kissing her again. “I’m just glad I’m here, I don’t care what we do.”

Brittany knows Santana is really bummed about having her period when they still haven’t even figured out when they’re going to see each other again before school starts, so she tries to make her feel better. She knows sex is absolutely off the table, and Santana would probably die of embarrassment if Brittany even suggested it, so they end up making out on the couch for an extended period of time. Though they’re only a year removed from high school, they both feel so grown up, and Brittany can’t help but laugh a little that they’re making out on Santana’s mom’s couch. But still, she doesn’t let it ruin the moment, and she takes the opportunity for some good old fashioned first base action, massaging Santana’s breasts under her t-shirt. She leaves a mark just below her neckline that’ll remind Santana of the fact that she managed to make her come without even undoing her pants every time she sees it in the mirror.

Santana’s mother comes home from work not long after the separate on the couch—it’s almost as if Santana has some kind of sixth sense about it, Brittany thinks—and they have a late lunch with her. Maribel apparently has her own date to the fair, and Santana tries to pry information out of her, while Brittany grins and what a good mother and daughter pair they make. After the kitchen is clean, Santana grabs sweatshirts and a blanket from her bedroom, and she packs up the car with water bottles and snacks for later. Brittany thinks it’s cute how prepared she is, since she usually flies by the seat of her pants, and when Santana begins driving to the fairgrounds, Brittany grabs her hand on the center console and squeezes it tightly.

“So what’s there to do at this fair?” Brittany asks, though she’s pretty sure she can figure it out.

“The usual, I guess. Except the fireworks show is the best. Mom and I haven’t missed a year my whole life.”

“Am I cramping your style, stealing you away from your mom tonight?”

“Oh...no. I mean, I talked to her about it, and she was the one who wanted me to invite you out for the fair. It’s kind of the one place every single person in town takes a date. I’m glad I finally get to be one of them.”

“Well I’m honored to be your first date to the fireworks.” Brittany feigns a bow, despite being seated, and Santana laughs. 

Santana pays to park the car, and hand in hand, they walk through the grassy lot and up to the gate of the fair. Brittany laughs as Santana swats her hand away to pay for sheets of red tickets, and she takes in the sights and smells of the carnival. Her parents aren’t big into things like this, her dad gets too distracted and her mom’s shoes would sink into the mud, so she thinks this is exciting for her as it is for Santana. It’s the kind of date like she’d see in the movies, and the whole idea of it is so cute that she kind of wants to dance around. 

“You okay, Britt?” Santana bumps her side with her shoulder.

“Yeah, totally. Just really excited. Can we go on the Ferris wheel?”

“I was hoping you’d want to.” She looks down at her feet, a small smile spreading across her face.

“Obviously. I’m glad I don’t have to pull a scene from The Notebook and scale the thing to get to you.”

“That’s another one I haven’t seen.” Santana shakes her head. “But yeah, I’d prefer if you didn’t climb it, I’d probably have a heart attack.”

“Don’t have to. I’ve already won you over.”

“In spite of me.”

“And don’t be alarmed if I fall—“ Brittany sings. “Head over feet.”

“I love your voice.”

“It’s nothing compared to yours. Seriously, if you weren’t so set on your English thing, you could be a singer.”

“Britt, stop. I’m just a shower singer.”

“Still, you’re really good.” She squeezes Santana’s hand. “Alright, let’s do this Ferris wheel thing. But I’m totally kissing you at the top.”

“You’d better.”

Brittany is giggly while they wait in line for the Ferris wheel, mostly because Santana’s grin is so wide. She loves that she gets to have all of these big firsts with such an amazing girl, and she loves even more seeing how happy it makes her. When it’s finally their turn, Brittany steps back to let Santana get in the car first, and she slides in beside her, pulling the lap bar down over them. She doesn’t hesitate to grab her hand again, and as they rise up, Santana lays her head on Brittany’s shoulder. 

As promised, they kiss at the top, with the view of all of Lima beneath them. Brittany thinks it’s kind of sweet, seeing Santana’s whole hometown while she gets to kiss her. She knows this place has been rough on Santana, but it’s also where she came from, and Brittany is so glad that she gets to be part of this. When the ride is over, Brittany knows she should eat something for dinner, and she nudges Santana toward the circle of food stalls. While Santana picks out cheese curds, Brittany gets a corn dog, slathering it with ketchup and mustard, and taking a big bite out of it.

“Want some?” Brittany holds it out to Santana, who pulls a face.

“Ew, get that thing away from me. You know I hate ketchup.”

“Oops, I forgot.” She licks the ketchup off the side of her mouth and takes another bite. “‘S good.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Want some of these?” Santana offers up her paper tray of fried cheese to Brittany, who pops one in her mouth. “We’ll share a funnel cake later for the fireworks.”

“A few years ago I would have died at those words.” Brittany murmurs, savoring her corn dog in a way that still surprises her that she can. “But that sounds really good.”

“Can I try to win you a prize?” 

“Really? You have to ask? Of course you can.”

Santana leads Brittany to the games, and she finds a balloon dart stand. Considering Santana always says she has no coordination, Brittany is wholly impressed by the way she nails a balloon with each of her five darts. When the carnie gives her a giant stuffed whale, she proudly presents it to Brittany, who beams, and wishes she could kiss her right there. Then, clearly not satisfied with the stuffed animal, Santana steps up to a stall with little plastic bowls of fish, and she takes her bucket of balls, failing on the whole first attempt, and then buying another bucket, because she’s clearly become intent upon winning a fish for Brittany. When she’s finally successful, Brittany cheers, and Santana proudly takes the fish in the plastic bag, bowing a little as she hands it off to Brittany.

“Now we’ll have a pet in our room!” Brittany grins. “If I don’t accidentally kill it first.”

“Haven’t even moved in with you yet, and you’re already sneaking contraband into our room.”

“Oh, c’mon, the no pets rule is dumb, especially for a fish. My cousin in New Mexico snuck a rabbit into her dorm room, I don’t think the fish’ll be a big deal at all. We can just hide it behind your big stacks of books when the RA does room inspections.”

“I’m only saying yes because I agree that the rule is dumb, and also because it’s cute that you’re already planning a pet for us.”

“Duh, you won it for me, you should get to be part of its life.”

“Fair enough.” Santana laughs. “We should probably go get the blankets and sweatshirts out of the car and find our firework spot. It’s getting dark.”

Brittany follows Santana back out to the car, and she sort of stands idly as Santana organizes the things and lifts the bag containing them out of the trunk. She tries to take it, but Santana is insistent upon carrying it, and Brittany doesn’t argue. Instead, she takes her free hand and follows her to the grassy area where other people are already setting up. Santana spreads the blanket out on the lawn, and she offers Brittany a sweatshirt to combat the evening chill, combined with the feeling of too much sun throughout the day. Then, once they’re settled into sweatshirts and have their shoes off, they lay back on the blanket, heads touching and hands entwined.

“This is really nice.” Brittany tells Santana. “Even before the fireworks have started.”

“I know it’s going to sound so lame, but I seriously dreamed about doing this since I was fifteen and realized it wasn’t going to be a boy I wanted to lay with.”

“I don’t think it’s lame. I mean, you haven’t even seen all the cheesy movies, and this is pretty much the kind of stuff everyone does in them. It just feels way better when it’s real, and not someone you fell in love with an hour after meeting them.”

“Unrealistic. I love you a lot, but an hour after meeting you, I’m pretty sure I was just thrilled I had someone to have ice cream with. I wasn’t thinking love...yet.”“Ice cream doesn’t make you fall in love, coffee does, obviously.”

“You’re going to tease me about that until the end of time, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much, because it’s my favorite. Most romantic way to tell someone you love them is when they’re exhausted and they bring you coffee.”

“Best way to show someone you love them back is to bring them coffee when they’re exhausted.”

“You work so hard, Santana. I’m constantly in awe of you.”

“Britt...”

“I am. It amazes me, the effort you put in. I can’t even imagine it, because as hard as I work, it doesn’t even compare. And you love every second of it.”

“I do, as much as it drains me sometimes, I know what I want from my life.”

“I wish I did. My dreams involved working at a chicken factory, so this is all new for me.”

“I know.” Santana squeezes Brittany’s hand and snuggles closer. “But I know you’ll figure it out. That’s what college is all about, right?”

“I guess so. I mean, I guess I’ll crack this hypothesis thing someday, so that’ll give me something to go with. It’s just a question of whether or not I want to do math for the rest of my life.”

“Because you love to dance?”

“I do. A lot. And I know I’d be wasting my brain, but maybe I want to do that.”

“You asked me awhile ago to take a dance class with you. Is that still something you want?”

“I don’t know...maybe?”

“I will, for you.”

“But you hate dancing in front of people.” Brittany protests a little. 

“I know, but if it gives you the opportunity to do something you love, I’m willing to do that.”

“Really?”

“Really. You always support all my dreams, I want to support yours too.”

“Even though I’m not sure what my dreams are?” She asks, as the fireworks begin overhead. 

“Especially because you’re not.”

[gripefroot]

London Beckons

I. Before

“Ricky Coates,” Tony Stark says, and a picture flashes on the projection in the middle of the table. Through the glowing lights, Bucky can see the reflection of your lovely eyes. Distracted. Just like he is. He grins. 

“We don’t have all the details on what sort of mischief Coates has been getting into,” Tony continues. “But it’s not good. We have traces of proof that he’s been funding an underground terrorist cell in London. Suspicions, really.” 

“So, you’ve got nothing,” Natasha clarifies. 

“Slightly more than nothing,” Tony says, miffed. “But we’re gonna rattle up enough to put him and his goonies in prison the rest of their lives. No guy, no matter how rich, should get away with this.” 

“Obviously,” Sam mutters.  

“Which is why I’m sending Steve and Natasha to Marrakech. He has a summer home there, and we have camera footage of goods being smuggled out by night. Shut down those operations, get intel, and get out. They have some ugly guns there,” the picture on the screen switches to a villa by the seaside. “Knock-offs of my stuff. Those jerks.” 

“Is this a vendetta against knock offs?” Clint asks. 

“No, this is getting a man arrested that ignores patents and uses weapons to kill people. Remember the Tube bombing last month? Traced to him, but a sudden influx of cash to the police shut that investigation down.” 

“Typical,” Natasha sighs.  

“Barton is going to Edinburgh,” Tony continues. “His job will be to weed out any corruption in the Scotland Yard.” 

“Do I have to wear one of those dumb hats?”  

“Yes.” 

Clint groans.  

“And for the fun job,” Stark presses another button, and the picture changes to a fancy looking townhome, and several pictures of unknown people pop up. “I got Barnes an interview to join Coates’s security team in London. And Coates, as is typical for a wealthy terrorist, has a taste for, ah, the finer things.” Tony pauses. “You think he’s cute, 28?” 

You jolt slightly. Bucky grins to himself as you tear your eyes away from him. “Huh?” 

“Coates, do you think he’s cute?” 

“Um…yeah. I love pasty.” 

Natasha snickers, and Bucky rolls his eyes. But Stark nods.  

“Good enough. He has a new model on his arm every week. Next week is your week. Pepper has prepared a portfolio and an extensive resume - and we’ve been messaging him for you back and forth on Tinder. He’s, um, excited to meet you.” 

“Ew,” says Nat. 

“Yuck,” says Sam. 

Bucky just clenches his jaw, humor gone.  

“I can do model,” you tell Tony. “Done it before.” But Bucky sees the little twist of your lips into a frown. Reservations or no, you’ll do your job. You’re good at that. It’s one of the reasons he loves you so much. 

“Excellent. There are some pre-mission readings for you guys to do in your inboxes…” Stark swipes a few things on his phone. “...Now. Have fun, kids. Flights leave tomorrow morning.” 

Not much time to pack. Pretty typical of Tony to spring things on the team that way, though.  

Bucky cracks this exact joke to you that night, long after midnight in your darkened room, while simultaneously ignoring the voice in his brain telling him to get home and sleep before the flight. Because your giggles are worth losing some sleep. Even all of it.  

“Aren’t you getting used to it by now?” you tease, your eyes glittering up at Bucky as he traces the soft skin of your back. He’s lying on side, the perfect vantage point to admire that post-loving glow around you.  

“Fair point,” he grins, tangling his fingers in your hair. “Doesn’t get less annoying though.” 

“Also fair.” 

“Think it’ll be a tough one?” 

You gnaw on your lip a moment, eyes still fastened on Bucky’s. He could drown there, really. “I don’t think it’ll be too bad,” you tell him. “I’ve done this sort of thing before. And you?” 

“Yeah. I’ll miss you, though. It’ll be tough seeing ya walking around on some prick’s arm, all dolled up and looking like a million bucks.” 

“Just one Buck for me,” you whisper, and scootch forward to kiss Bucky senseless.  

He’s still in a bit of a haze as he climbs aboard the private jet in the morning. He’d only snatched an hour of sleep (he can catch up when he’s dead), and with a bag haphazardly packed, Bucky is maybe looking forward to a continuation of the night before. A six hour flight to London, just you and him? More like a vacation than a mission.  

You’re already sitting primly in a seat, and glance up when Bucky ducks inside. Immediately he grins (you have that effect on him), and as he’s stowing his bags, you say lightly, 

“Got your coffee. Thought you might need it after last night.” 

“Mmm. Thanks, babe.” And Bucky plants himself right across from you, maybe knocking his knee into yours accidentally. Your brow lifts, and he winks.  

“You look a little tired,” you tease, and Bucky shrugs, taking a sip of his drink.  

“My girl has a lot of energy in her.” 

Your lips twitch into a smile. “Too tired, Bucky? I mean, you can nap during the flight…” 

“Not too tired not to make good on this little vacation Stark is sending us on,” Bucky murmurs, and your smile broadens.  

“I like the sound of that.” 

“Whoa, almost missed it!” A running and a shuffling and a clanging draw Bucky’s attention around, and he glances back to see - with some horror - Clint stumbling onto the plane as the door shuts behind him. His bags fall to the ground, and he hurries to pick them up as an overhead voice announces preparation for departure. Bucky turns back to you, his stomach knotting with disappointment. There’s a little sigh from you, a shake of the head, and you drag over a magazine lying at your elbow.  

“It would’ve waited for you, Barton,” you say, flipping open the pages. “Stark’s not that cruel.” 

“Phew. I wouldn’t put it past him to book me a boat to Scotland.” Clint collapses across the aisle in his own seat, pushing sunglasses atop his head. “I get seasick.” 

“Airsick?” Bucky asks, not wanting to know the answer. 

“Sometimes.” 

Lovely. So much for a private flight.  

Clint stays awake the entire duration, too - so there’s no sneaking off to the bathroom. Bucky has to content himself with merely meeting your eyes every so often, when he gets bored of looking out the window at the endless expanse of sky. Eventually he nods off, wondering why Clint had to be talking to some relative or another on his phone when he could be anywhere else.  

London is misty and grey; as soon as the plane descends from the clouds prickles of rain dot the windows. Good thing he packed a jacket - which Bucky takes the time to put on after the plane is parked, and you’re grabbing your things, and a jacket, too.  

“Good luck in Edinburgh,” you tell Clint, remarkably cheery. 

“Yeah - sorry you got the creep. Um, the Coates guy. Well, him too.” And with a horrible grin, Clint nods at Bucky. Bucky rolls his eyes, grunting as he heaves up your bags with his to carry off the plane.  

“A creep wouldn’t carry my bags,” you tell Clint primly. Bucky can sense as you follow him down the steps, where a car is parked and a driver waiting outside. 

So no nonsense in the car, either.  

“What a mean thing to say,” you mention to Bucky, falling beside him as the plane prepares to go on to Scotland.  

“Not the worst I’ve heard,” Bucky replies, a little stonily as he loads the bags in the trunk.  

“Fine. If you want to be a creep, you can be my creep.” And with a wink, you duck through the opened door into the backseat. Bucky smiles, and slides in behind you. Bad humor gone. 

“Sweet of you,” he murmurs, daring to lace his fingers over yours atop the leather seat. The driver climbs into the front seat, glancing back in the mirror. Bucky jerks his hand away.  

“I’m taking you to the Stark’s safe house,” the man announces. “He sent me an updated schedule - Agent 28, you have a dinner appointment with the target in an hour, and Sergeant Barnes is to report to the head of security for the target’s team tomorrow morning at 8 a.m.” 

“Thank you, I was wondering when I’d head over,” you say. 

No thanks, Bucky thinks to himself. An hour? Only an hour and he wouldn’t see you again for who knows how long? Slouching in his seat with those miserable thoughts, Bucky watches London speed by. So much for a fun mission. 

The townhouse is in a quiet part of town, but clearly very wealthy. Marble-fronted apartments, with iron-grated fences, unnaturally vibrant grass and flowers. Bucky steps out of the car, holding the door open for you as he gazes around. He can’t hear or see anything out of place, which is good. That would negate the purpose of a safe house. The driver informs them he’ll be waiting to take 28 to dinner. Bucky fetches the bags as you punch a code to get into the front door.  

Stark had left a video message, which you’re already playing by the time Bucky barges through and kicks the door shut behind him. Swanky place.  

“Your resume is over here,” you call to him, and Bucky drops the bags. At a bar counter looking into the kitchen, you’re looking through your own materials - Bucky only gives his a cursory glance. He can peruse it more thoroughly later.  

“I’m so glad Stark didn’t give me an accent this time,” you say with a sigh, closing your folder. “Unnecessary difficulty. Like only having a half hour to get ready for a date.” 

“Fake date,” Bucky reminds you. 

“Very fake.” You smile back. “You’d better not botch your interview tomorrow, Barnes. I need you around. And not just because I like your bum.” 

“I know. You like my pecs, too,” he teases, and you laugh.  

Bucky relents to unpacking his things while you take a quick shower. Even though the townhouse has upwards of seven bedrooms - why use more than one? It’s nice to watch you wandering around in a towel as you fetch a fancy dress and accessories, anyway.  

Time’s ticking.  

With a sigh he plops himself on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his fingers laced behind his head as you strap on a pair of heels that look like they might break your ankles. But Bucky bites his tongue. Well, on that topic at least.  

“Try to get the information from this guy fast, yeah?” Bucky asks, smiling tightly. You glance over with mischief sparkling in your eyes.  

“But not too fast. Maybe I wanna enjoy living at the height of society. Being spoiled. Privileged.” 

He snorts. “If you wanted that, you could’ve snookered me into it a long time ago. You know that, right?”

You laugh, brushing down your skirt as you stand. “I know.” 

“How’re you gonna do it?” Bucky asks next, his voice a little hoarse as you slide a small pistol into the lace holster adorning your thigh.  

“Make him talk?” you quirk a brow. “Oh, you know. The usual.” 

“I feel like I should warn the schmuck,” he sighs. “Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming.” 

“That would compromise the mission, you goof.” The red silky folds of your skirt hide the holster, and your legs. Bucky sighs.  

“Oh, right. Here I thought we were just doing this for fun.” 

You cast him a wink as you scoop up a golden clutch. “This is fun. It would be more fun if I didn’t have to stay at the target’s residence until the mission is complete.” 

Did you? Bucky groans. “Stark didn’t tell me that,” he grumbles.

“Nor I, until we got here,” you say with a little sigh. “Walk me to the door?”

Bucky leaps up from the bed, giving a low, sort of frivolous bow and you laugh. “Madam.” 

The snatched kiss before he nudges you out the door is going to have to last for a long time. Sighing, Bucky leans against the doorframe as Stark’s driver opens the car door for you, and your brightness is cut off with a slam. Even though the windows are tinted, he wiggles his fingers in farewell, hoping that you can see him, at least. The rev of the engine soon breaks through the soft city noises, and he watches as the car disappears through the mist. 

It’s going to be a very long mission.

II. During 

It’s a very long mission.  

Four days into his new ‘job,’ and Bucky has seen you exactly twice. The first time Coates was leading you out the front door to another dinner date. Bucky, being briefed by the head of security for the night shift, lets his eyes stray to you. Another flowy dress. The target’s hand on your back, possessively.  

Bucky had suppressed a growl.  

The second time was more lucky - passing by each other in the underground garage, you’d met his eyes for the briefest of moments and the slightest of nods. You had something. Information, probably. So when you were inside Coates’s house, being indulged at a flirty little private supper that made Bucky want to barf, he staged a conversation with a busboy near your seat to get a rendezvous set up.  

“There’s a spill in the northwest toilet,” Bucky mutters. Standing at the wall with orders only to look threatening (it’s not a tough gig, that’s for sure), his eyes fasten on the tilt of your head. You’d heard.  

Fifteen minutes you excuse yourself from Coates’s extravagant flattery and poorly disguised dominance. Perfect timing. Eight o’clock on the dot, and time for a shift change. An identical goonie in a black suit steps in from the hallway, and Bucky steps out, yanking the laughably old com device from his ear as he takes off in long strides.  

He passes beneath a security camera - there’s no shortage of those - just as the red light flickers and turns green. Damn, you were good. Bucky yanks the tie from his throat as he shoulders open the bathroom door. A quick glance down the hallway - all clear. And then your hands are on the lapel of his jacket, and he stumbles through the rest of the way.  

“Bucky,” your voice is a little whimper, your hands all over his chest and into his hair, ruining the neat knot he’d put in that morning. Bucky doesn’t care. He’s on break. And that dress is fine on you.  

“What’s the report, babe?” he forces himself to ask, feeling out just how silky the fabric is on your curves.  

“Charity gala next Saturday. Something big’s going down.” You pull away slightly, and Bucky swallows thickly - he’s forgotten how potent your gaze is. He could drown.  

“Coates has all his security working that night,” Bucky says. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. He’s taking me shopping tomorrow for a new dress to wear.” You don’t quite roll your eyes - but the sentiment is there. Bucky grins.  

“Maybe I’ll be on duty for that. Would ya like that?” 

“Way better.” Your lips twist into a wry smile. “Have I ever told you how much I adore you? Because spending time with that leech is driving me mad. I miss you.”

“I’m glad,” Bucky teases, swaying your hips just so against his. “You - um - he hasn’t - ?” 

Thankfully, you laugh. “Nope. This guy - loves beautiful women, but just for appearances.” You lean close, your voice lowering as Bucky stares at your lips, riveted. “He can’t get it up.”

A stunned moment, and then Bucky laughs aloud. Your hand quickly covers his mouth, and he sobers up fast - cameras might be out, but they could still be heard by someone passing. Time is ticking. Just like that stupid clock in that stupid bedroom he’s been sleeping in in Stark’s safe house when off-duty. Bucky tugs your hand away, gently, and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. An unfamiliar perfume - he wrinkles his nose.  

“Sorry. Coates bought it.” 

“When this is over, we can throw it out.”

You giggle. “Bossy, aren’t you?” 

“Isn’t that what you like? A man to buy you expensive clothes and insist you look a certain part so he can fill the void left by his sexual inabilities and wanton murder of innocent people?” 

“Don’t even joke about it, Bucky,” you say severely, but you’re smiling as you poke his chest. “Kiss me quick - I have to get back.” 

Gladly. Bucky lowers his head, lips already parted to devour as much of you as he can in such a short amount of time - but a knock sounds on the door, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.  

“I’ll be out in a moment,” you call out playfully. Then, frowning, you smooth down the lapels you’d grabbed so eagerly. “Sorry, Bucky. It’ll be over soon. Saturday night.” 

“I’ll report to Stark,” Bucky says with a sigh.  

“And I’ll give you thirty seconds after I leave until I fix the cameras. Can you manage?” 

He grins. “Always.” 

When Saturday night finally rolls around, Bucky’s about ready to combust. Whether it was cruel fate or some impressive manipulation by Stark from afar, he seemed to be scheduled and positioned within Coates’ household to always be around you.  

Including the rooftop pool. 

Watching you lounge on a beach chair in a very skimpy bathing suit while Coates fed you grapes (yes, for real), and paparazzi snapped photos from the next building over - was enough reason to throw Coates off the roof without any regard to the mission. Did Coates set up the paparazzi? Bucky guessed so. He does allow himself one smile - they’ll be surprised when SHIELD wipes the photos. It’s his single consolation. 

The charity gala takes place at a ballroom halfway across London. Bucky wasn’t in the car with you and Coates - but the one behind. But he wastes no time to rush forward calmly and open your door for you. The gold dress is not particularly tasteful - but it is attractive. The little smile you shoot him - more so.  

From his position at the southeast exit, Bucky scans the crowd for suspicious patterns. None yet. The other security guards have been whispering quite a bit amongst themselves, though. That’s not good. And you? 

Sitting at a table beside Coates and some other rich people. Laughing as if you were born to live in this sort of opulence - and maybe you were. Not surprisingly, you’re gaining a lot of attention from those nearest you. How could they not? Bucky tightens his fists, clenched in front of him.  

“Hey man.”  

Bucky jolts, surprised to see one of Coates’ men beside him.  

“You can go home if you like. We’ve got this covered.” 

Since this schmuck isn’t Bucky’s ‘boss,’ and even if he were, there’s no chance he’s leaving you alone - he gives a curt shake of the head. “Staying ‘till my shift is over,” he mutters. 

“Fine, man. It’s on your head.” And the man takes up a position beside Bucky. Probably trying to threaten him. What’s that phrase Sam tried to teach him a few months ago? As if.  

Bucky continues to scan the ballroom.  

A light flashes in his eyes. He blinks. Someone needs to turn their watch the other way. Then it flashes again. And again. A pattern. His heart skips a beat.  

His gaze is drawn immediately to you - bingo. A gaudy ring on your finger, reflecting light from one of the numerous chandeliers above. On top of the ring, you’re tapping a finger. In a pattern. Completely nonchalant, you appear to be telling an anecdote to the riveted table.  

Morse code. Bucky suppresses the wild urge to laugh - that joke months ago is paying off, apparently. But he sobers quickly - eyes riveted on your ring as he translates the message.  

North boiler room. Boom. North boiler room. Boom.  

Boom.  

Doesn’t leave much to question, does it.  

“Bathroom break,” Bucky mumbles to his companion, and twists to shoulder through the exit.  

Boom.  

He breaks into a run. Out of the northwest door, you practically fall through, yanking off the heels from your feet as soon as you’re through. Bucky stutters to a stop, grasping a hold of your elbow as you toss the shoes away.  

“Do you know how long it took me to get that stupid flash right in your eyeballs?” you say, clearly peeved as you jog alongside him.  

“Sorry. Didn’t realize.” 

“‘Course you didn’t.” There’s a smile from you - he’s missed that smile - and Bucky nearly tumbles down a staircase. Shoot. His heart is racing.  

“Left here,” you say, dragging him onwards. “Third door. Stark sent the blueprints of the building last night.” 

“I know,” Bucky says - he tries the door, but it’s locked. Of course. And the handle could possibly be tied up to trigger the boom - so maybe he shouldn’t have tried it.  

“Got it,” you say breathlessly, pulling your phone from your clutch. Is there anything your phone can’t do? Bucky steps aside, allowing you to to hold your phone to the door, letting it scan for any triggers. “It’s clean,” you tell him. “Just locked. Got a finger?” 

“For you? Always, babe.”  

The party isn’t so loud out here - far away from the main corridors. Far enough away to have a private space to plant a boom, near enough to decimate everyone there. Or to injure enough to make a statement.  

“How’d you find out?” Bucky asks briskly, shaking his metal arm out of its glove. Pinky for non-electronic locks. It whirrs for a moment, and he shoves it in the door handle.  

“Finally cracked the code to Coates’ phone,” you tell him. “He nearly has as much security as Stark’s phone does.” 

“You’ve hacked Tony’s phone?” 

“Well - yeah. Haven’t you?” 

Bucky glances over at you, blinking as amusement twists his lips into a grin. “Nope.” The door swings open. Quickly he slides through, you right behind him. He closes it. “Does Tony know?” he dares to ask, turning to scan the room. Rows of metal shelving, going deep into the heart of the building. Piles of crates in the center. There’s a distant ticking in his ear - the boom is nearby. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say, similarly distracted, craning your neck as you wander forward. “He told me it was a better recommendation to hire me than anything Director Fury said. Here - ” You point forward. Behind some crates - Bucky rushes forward as you snake around. 

“Well, damn.” Bucky crouches on the ground, squinting at the metal box and the flashing red letters. “This guy steals Stark’s tech, didn’t he say?”

“Yep.” 

“This is ridiculous. I’ve seen better bombs made from potatoes.” 

“Don’t you bring that up again,” you say severely. “He must be trying to pin it on someone or some organization with poor tech. Know how to stop it?” 

“Sure. Cut the blue wire first, then the green. No more than ten seconds apart or it booms flat out.” 

From your clutch, you produce wire cutters. Of course. Because that’s what all the women he knows take with them on dates. With steady hands you do as Bucky suggested. His flesh hand is sweaty - though he’s not particularly nervous, it’s tense enough in the boiler room that he can hear his own disjointed breathing.  

Snip. Snip. 

The numbers continue to tick down. 

“Alright, bomb squad. Let’s try again,” you say, quirking your brow up at Bucky. “Any other ideas?” 

“Um, nope.” 

You pull out your phone again, scanning it over the box. Bucky doesn’t understand the squiggles and colors on the screen, but you seem to. Biting your lip, you reach inside to wiggle out a metal cover. Beneath - an exposed circuit board.  

“Wish I had a soldering iron,” you mutter.  

“How about a lighter?” Bucky flips open his thumb with a winning smile. Which you return, glancing up at him. 

“That’ll work.” 

You yank out some of those wires you’d cut, and Bucky busies himself heating the ends while you carefully remove the main circuit board from inside the box. Setting it on the ground, careful not to pull out the wires it’s plugged into, you study it with a frown as you brace yourself on your elbows, nose not five inches from the circuit board. You hold out a hand. Bucky passes you a hot, dripping wire.  

“So,” he says, as your brow pinches. “Where’d you learn to defuse a bomb so delicately?” 

A pause before you answer. “Got my undergrad in electrical engineering.” 

“No wonder you’re so good with tech.” 

“Yep.” 

“And...you went from that to SHIELD?” 

“Yep.” You pass him back the wire, and Bucky heats it again. After he returns it, you continue, “I was on a flight once that someone tried to blow up. Nick Fury was on board. He got the terrorist, and I defused the bomb.” Pause. “Then we found another one. Less than ten seconds left.” 

“What’d you do?” Bucky asked in a hushed voice. 

You chuckle. “Threw it out the airlock over the Atlantic. And Fury gave me his card.” 

“Wow. How come I never knew this?” He watches your nimble movements over the circuitry. The molten drops of silver, skillfully maneuvered.  

“You never asked.” 

“Oh.”

“But neither has anyone else - only Natasha has some idea of what happened on that flight. She likes to get her paws on high-security files. That was before Fury zipped my identity permanently closed.” 

“And your family?” Bucky can’t help asking.  

“They think I’m in IT,” you explain.  

The numbers on the front of the box stop. With a little laugh, you lift your head at last and sit back on your haunches. Your dress is smeared with dirt and oil from the floor, and some has smeared on your face - but you’ve never looked lovelier.

“Perfect.” relief flooding his limbs, Bucky can’t help smiling soppily at you - which you return, reaching out to tuck some hair behind his ears. Mission’s over. Finally. His eyes flicker to your lips, to whatever shade of expensive lipstick you’re wearing. How smearable is it?  

Running footsteps start outside the door, and he jolts back to reality. The smile lingers on your lips.  

“I’ll call Stark and report, yeah?” you say softly.  

“Yeah - I’ll get to Interpol. Then let’s bust outta here, yeah?” 

Your eyes sparkle. “Yeah.” 

Interpol, combined with forces of the local police, are there in less than five minutes. Subtle, too - breaking through the glass ceiling to rain down upon the unsuspecting guests. By that time, Bucky has dragged you to the ballroom to watch Coates being taken away - and it’s a very satisfying image. There are too many people, otherwise he’d sling an arm over your shoulder, or hold your hand. But he has to content himself with watching the expression on your face as you watch the commotion from a doorway, arms crossed in front of your chest.  

“I’m tired,” you say at last, turning to Bucky with a shy little smile. “Take me home?” 

Bucky grins, straightening from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe. “Need me to carry you? I noticed you didn’t pick up your shoes back up. And the police made a mess with the glass.” 

“That would be great.” 

It’s no trouble at all, lifting you into his arms bridal style. But Bucky doesn’t say so - he knows you’d snap right back at him with some comeback, and from the way your head is leaning against your shoulder, now’s probably a good time to let you relax.  

Stark’s driver had been waiting outside the gala - since Bucky had informed him they’d likely need a ride home afterwards. The ride goes too fast, in that pleasant backseat with the twinkling lights of midnight London streaking lazily past the windows, and your languid body tucked into the seat next to him. But that’s okay.  

Out of sight from the driver, he strokes your lower back in tiny circles, listening to your slow, even breaths.  

The townhouse is empty as it’s been all week - until you step inside. Already Bucky’s heart is getting lighter, and after locking down the security systems, he follows your swirling skirt up the steps towards the bedrooms.  

“I could sleep for a week,” you say over your shoulder, with a little smile as you reach down to tangle your fingers with his. Bucky steps a little faster. “I don’t think I got a full nights’ rest the entire time I was with the target.” 

“I thought you said he couldn’t get it up.”

“He couldn’t. But he still wanted me in his bed, and once his sleeping meds kicked in I had to run recon. And then make sure those files got sent to a higher-up.” 

“Phew. Sounds tiring.” 

“It was. But first,” you wink back at him. “A shower.” 

“Need some help?” Bucky asks, eager and unashamed. 

“Yeah. I need help finding my jammies from my suitcase.” 

Into the brightly lit bedroom, and Bucky sticks his tongue out as you pop the zipper in the back of your dress with a laugh. He tugs the tie from his neck. And his throat promptly closes over as your dress flutters to the ground, and you’re left in a pair of expensive underwear and, unsurprisingly, your ‘formal’ thigh holster and marble-handled pistol. Bucky drags his eyes back up to your face after a pregnant pause, to see that mischief in your grin as you roll your shoulders.  

“Eye on the prize, Barnes,” you tease, walking past him so casually towards the bathroom.  

“Uhh….already on it.” Instinctively he bends over to scoop up your discarded dress -  he doesn’t want to be tripping over that. The sound of rushing water from the bathroom - and steam begins to billow out. Bucky peeks back over his shoulder - your underwear is in a pile by the sink.  

Hot damn. Two freaking weeks.  

Pajamas. Right. You’d asked for pajamas.  

Shrugging out of his clothes first - jacket, trousers, white shirt, shiny shoes - Bucky rummages through the suitcase you’d left behind, picking out a few things he thinks count as pajamas. He’s not about to be outdone by women’s clothes. As an afterthought, he grabs a flowery bag which he supposes has like, deodorant and stuff. Right?  

“Here,” he calls into the bathroom, plopping your stuff on the counter in the misty bathroom.  

“Thanks, sweetie,” you tease back, and Bucky chortles.  

“You sure you don’t need help?”

“Positive. I’m almost done.”

“Um - maybe I need a shower, too.” 

Your laugh echoes in the enormous bathroom. “Probably. Hop in, Bucky.” 

Score. Bucky shoves down his underwear, tossing them aside, and slips through the glass door into the shower. The steam is hot and thick, and smelling as sweet as you but not as sweet as your smile. He wastes no time pulling you close, placing several sloppy kisses on your damp lips as you giggle. 

“All yours,” you say with a grin. “I gotta get out or I’ll be here all night.”

“No problem with that,” Bucky says, a little testy as your warm body slips out of his embrace, and sneaks out the door. Only a wink is sent back in his direction. Bummer. Well - might as well.  

Over the rush of the water, he can hear you yawn as you dry yourself. You’re fast. Must be eager. Bucky starts to rinse the shampoo from his hair, and your footsteps pad out of the bathroom. He shuts off the water.  

Phew. This is it. Bucky leans out to grab a towel, giving himself a haphazard once over. The mirror isn’t steamed up, thanks to Stark’s tech - and deciding that the moment should be a little special, maybe, Bucky drags a comb through hair, wringing as much water from it as he can. Well, it ain’t getting any better.  

Towel still around his waist (hopefully not for long), he steps out of the bathroom and into the less-humid bedroom. He blinks at the bed - you’d put on the jammies he’d brought, and curled up on the pillows as if to wait for him - but your head is lolled over, eyes closed.  

Dead asleep.  

And obscenely adorable. Bucky doesn’t bother hiding his grin.  

It’s no surprise, considering the mission and all - all the same, he’s a tad disappointed. But there’s always tomorrow. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Bucky reaches for his phone on the dresser to make a call.  

“You did great, Barnes,” Stark’s voice says. “Interpol made 37 arrests tonight. No casualties. Where’s 28? I need to thank her, too.” 

“She’s asleep,” Bucky informs him. “Tuckered out. You still got that jet at the airport?” 

“Yep, ready when you need it.” 

“I think we’re gonna take a day or two to recuperate, then we’ll head back.” 

“Not too long, now,” Tony says. “Got another mission.” 

 Bucky groans softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Better be an easier one than this.” 

“Um - yeah. Sure.” Stark hangs up. Bucky rolls his eyes at the ceiling, and tosses his phone back.  

Maybe it’s just the peaceful bubble you’re in - but suddenly his exhaustion is at least the equal of yours. It had been a long mission. And that evening? A bit stressful. So Bucky finds a pair of clean underwear, hanging up his towel in the bathroom and orders the house AI to turn off the lights.  

He remembers, belatedly as he’s crawling into the covers and tugging some over your prone form, that he’s never actually slept beside you before. But it’s not a sacrifice at all. Moonlight is brushing against your cheek from a skylight, and Bucky falls asleep with a smile. 

III. After 

It’s the stiffness in his muscles that breaks through Bucky’s slumber first. As he shifts in the plush bed, wincing a little, the sun hits his face - guess he’s up, now. The tick of a heavy clock grates on his ears - ugh, how had he been able to sleep through that? It’s obnoxious. Next, the tantalizing smell of clean woman - clean you - breaks through his senses, and his heart rate picks up.  

The mission’s over. You’re here. 

Bucky lets out a long, slow breath as he opens his bleary eyes. He can’t stop the smile spreading across his face - nor does he want to. Instead he rolls over onto his side towards the lump on the other side of the bed, where the bright sunlight is making your strewn and messy hair shine.  

You’re still sleeping - that’s good. It’s been a long mission, for both of you. In different ways, of course. Bucky scoots close, his stomach flipping a bit as he admires your eyelashes, spread on your cheeks. The soft puffs of breath from your lovely lips. The utter contentment in your expression. And your limp fingers curled up on the pillow by your head.  

He can’t stop himself. Bucky lifts his flesh hand, tracing the curve of your smooth cheeks. A moment later and your breath catches. Oops. Well, not really. He grins as your mouth splits in a yawn, and your muscles tense in a languorous, full-body stretch.  

“What time is it?” you mumble. 

“Half after ten.” So the clock’s good for something. 

“Oof. Let me sleep longer.” And you turn on your side so your back is facing him. Bucky finds that offensive. So he scoots closer again, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your backside flush against his front. His feet find your toes - his fingers find one of your hands hiding beneath the pillow. 

“Bucky…” your drowsy morning voice is a bit whining, a bit warning.  

“What is it, babe?” Bucky nuzzles the back of your ear with his nose. “Didn’t ya miss me?”

“Ugh, so much. But I’m so tired.” 

“I can take care of that.” 

A sigh - and then an adorably sleepy giggle. “Of course you can. Fine then. Wake me up.” 

That’s all he needed. Bucky wastes no time flipping you onto your back, lips crashing into yours with urgency - but sweetness, too. He can feel a laugh threatening from you - and so he pulls away, pushing the covers back.  

“Just keep your eyes closed, ok babe?” he says, hands exploring your pajamas (and what’s beneath), and he sidles downwards. “You just relax. I’m gonna enjoy myself for a bit.” 

“Enjoy yourself all you want.” Your voice is a little thick, a little hazy. Perfect. And from just a few touches? A kiss? You’d missed him as much as he’d missed you - Bucky’s sure of it. He can hear your heartbeat picking up rapidly. All the agony of waiting - of having watched you across the room, unable to touch you or even make eye contact without compromising the mission - seems tied up in these tender moments. Bucky memorizes the soft whimpers forming in your mouth as he trails kisses down your stomach to your hips. And there - his lips fasten to your sensitive skin, as if to try to implant your taste to his tongue forever. 

If only he could.  

His blood is rushing as he hoists one of your knees over his shoulder, sucking in a breath of your scent so close to his nose. You’re squirming - Bucky likes that he can do that to you - and he groans as your fingers find his hair to tangle in it.  

Damn, he missed this. Every noise, every touch, every taste - every second of burning arousal that curls his toes, that has every hair on his body standing on end in wild anticipation. Two weeks apart? Felt more like two lifetimes. Finally, feeling that perhaps he should curb his own eagerness, Bucky pulls away slightly to nuzzle the soft skin of your thigh. 

“Ugh, we didn’t used to do this in my day,” he laments. “Wish we had.” 

A throaty laugh from you, and he glances over with a grin to see your lazy smile beaming down at him. “That’s not true. Plenty of people have done this for centuries.” 

“Fine. But it wasn’t exactly common knowledge in my day.” 

You hmm a little hum. “And how am I supposed to take the pronouncement that you wish you could do this with other girls?” 

“Ooo, possessive, are we?” Bucky grins as he nips the inside of your thigh, making you squirm. And laugh.  

“As if you haven’t spent the last week with your nutsack in a knot over my cuddling up to a target for vital information!” 

“Excuse you, I was incredibly professional.” 

“Oh, please. I could read you from a hundred yards away. You were not happy.” 

“Well, maybe not. Were you?” Bucky lifts a brow expectantly. But your lips stay curled in a lovely smile.  

“I am now.”  

His heart leaps from his chest. Abandoning his adoration between your legs, Bucky hoists himself up and crawls above you, drinking in your lovely, lusty eyes, still fastened on his face. Your arms wind around his neck as he lowers his head to nibble a kiss or two on your throat.  

With definite dexterity but maybe not elegance, your toes trail up his leg and hook into the waistband of his briefs. A yank - and they snag on, well, a hook, which happens to be a bit sensitive at present. Bucky groans, and reaches down to pull his briefs over their obstacle. Your laughter in his ears is such a pleasant sound he nearly forgets to be embarrassed.  

“Don’t laugh, babe,” he grumbles, not really meaning it. And from the sparkle in your fond gaze, you have no intention of obeying.  

Bucky had intended to love you all day long, over and over again, showing great skill and tact in a refresher course of every method of loving that both he and you enjoy immensely. Probably to be repeated in the shower, or kitchen, or anywhere else - since the town house is empty. But those thoughts are forgotten. Right now, only one thought: show you how much he missed you. How much he wants you. Arousal? Now bearable. Outweighed by the sweetness of your glance, the beauty of your smile, and the little tingles that break out across his skin as he takes advantage of his position to pay your breasts some belated attention before aligning his hips with yours.  

A long sigh escapes your lips - relief? Perhaps. Your eyes have fluttered shut, and Bucky feels the prints of your fingers in his shoulders. His legs nearly give out - with a groan, he closes his eyes, too - he doesn’t remember being this sensitive before. Every little twitch has his stomach tightening, and a brief fear of finishing before you pops his eyes back open.  

You’re grinning.  

“Missed me?” you tease lightly, fingertips tracing nonsense on his back. More goosebumps. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says hoarsely. “So much.” 

“Luckily you’re back where you belong.”  

Oh, that mischief in your eyes. He chortles, a little breathlessly, before lowering his head to kiss you for all he’s worth. He can’t stall much longer, but you’re apparently fine with that - you meet his every thrust with a roll of your hips. Expert movements, perfected by practice and the intimate affection you share.  

Bucky tears his lips from yours, burying his face into the sweet slope of your neck. Little kisses, some sucking and you’ll have to wear a scarf. Oh well. Now his ears prick up at the sweet sounds falling from your lips like a prayer - his name mingled with some things that made sense, some things that didn’t - he doesn’t care. He’s trying to hold himself together.  

The moment your pulsating climax begins, Bucky loses it. Not surprising. As his muscles clench across his entire body, his vision whiting out slightly - he bites his lip to keep from groaning too loud, intent on finishing the job for you no matter how it pains his overly-sensitive parts. Wildly, feeling as though he’s losing control of something, he reaches above to brace his metal hand against the headboard. It helps. And a moment later your moans soften, and turn to little sighs of contentment. 

Bucky peeks open an eye. Your eyes are closed, a blissful smile on your face as you lazily trace the fine hairs on his bum. It tickles. He doesn’t care.  

“Thank you,” you murmur. 

“Huh?” 

“It’s so good to be back.” 

Bucky laughs a little. “Where you belong too, huh?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

The words are strangely weighted, and uncomfortable in the overly intimate moment, Bucky pulls out with a wince, falling onto his back beside you. His heart is still pumping. Oh well. Immediately he rolls onto his side to pull you close.  

Your eyes are glittering a thousand emotions, but it’s your smile that draws his gaze. Wrapping you into an embrace, Bucky amuses himself by playing with some of your hair. The tip of your index finger traces the ridge where his metal arms meets his scarred shoulder. He should care about that. But he doesn’t.  

“You're beautiful,” Bucky says a moment later, without thinking. Your little laugh makes him smile.  

 “And here I just thought you liked me because I can kick your butt,” you tease.  

“Kick my butt? I resent that!” 

“You know it’s true, Barnes. I’m way too hot. You get distracted.” 

“Well...that might be true, but…” 

“But nothing.”  

Brow quirked, you poke his chest, and Bucky rubs the pained spot with an offended, “Ow!” But with your giggles, he just settles for some light-hearted grumbling, and pulls you back into his embrace. You settle back in, thankfully with minimal poking. 

Yes, everyone is right where they should be. Including Clint: not there. 

“Mmm, Bucky?” 

“Yeah, babe?” 

“If we stay here I’m gonna fall asleep again.” 

With a regretful sigh, Bucky hoists you into a sitting position as you stretch your arms above your head with a yawn. The golden morning light splits around your body.  

More than beautiful. Breathtakingly magnificent. How had he gotten so lucky? 

More than lucky. There’s not even a word for it.  

“Breakfast?” you ask cheerily, fishing around for your discarded pajamas.  

“Whatever you want, babe.” Bucky pulls on his briefs. And some shorts. And a shirt. If there’s cooking involved, a layer of protection might be ideal. 

“Where are my clothes?” you mumble after a moment, as he stands and stretches out some stiffness left in his limbs from sleep.  

“Hmm?” 

“My pajamas. You threw them somewhere, but I can’t find them.” 

“Er - sorry.” Bucky shrugs. “You can eat breakfast naked. I won’t mind.” 

Your eyes peep up at him from over the edge of the bed. “Would you like that?” you tease. “Because it sounds uncomfortable to me. And you’d probably burn your fingers cooking because you can’t look away from this.” You stand - making your point as Bucky swallows thickly - but you wander over to his strewn bags, and rummage through. One his his own long-sleeve shirts, and a pair of his boxers. Right over your head, right over your legs.  

“Presumptuous,” he teases. 

“You lose my clothes, I wear yours,” you shoot back, grinning a beaming smile that makes Bucky want to pull his clothes right off you. He might, still.  

“So,” you add casually, fluffing up your hair. “Do you think Stark will notice that we only used one bedroom?” 

Bucky chortles. “Stark’s no secret agent.” 

“Still,” you say with a laugh. “Wouldn’t feel right not covering our tracks. It’s habit, isn’t it?” 

“You saying you wanna mess up another bed?” Bucky asks, quirking a brow as your eyes dance. 

“How about after breakfast?”

[illusteresa]

Pick a Card

2019 Brighton Illustration Fair overview

I got on a train early in the morning and went to the BIF, one of the illustration fairs I always wanted to attend hosted by the University of Brighton. I went with the curiosity for the overall market and the kind of illustration style the participants had so I could gain more knowledge. So many booths and so little time to see it all and Brighton School of Art was full in every square meter you could find with not only beautiful art pieces, their artists and editorial companies but also with a big crowd of art lovers.

The urge to augment my visual culture made me spend 5 hours on my feet that seemed like only 30 minutes had passed since its beginning. The way time is perceived when we are enjoying ourselves seems unfair to me especially since I am a forgetful person and wanted to take it all in. This lack of memory made me collect mementos everywhere I go since I was a young girl. So at BIF I was set on collecting business cards.

These, in the business of illustration world, are most effective for elevator pitching and events like art markets, when illustrators want those who pass by to notice their work and to reach them with potential commissions. For the client, fairs are just like window shopping, they will pass by the booth and if interested in what the illustrator has done they will stop, ask stuff, maybe buy stuff too but, in the end, no one wants to lose these clients so making sure they get a business card is incredibly important for the art business to prosper since it’s the fastest way to give your contact and social media just by handing out a simple card.

Being a designer I found these mementos quite interesting since I have a different perspective on illustration business cards and I emphasize the importance of a good card design specially to the illustration field.

Most books underline that the “perfect postcard” or the promotional piece is the right way to get your work seen by Art directors (Rees, 2014 and Heller & Arisman, 2004) but nowadays it is my belief that the social media is way more effective and a business card does the same trick as the postcard since nowadays people value one on one elevator pitching more than the mail loads they receive each week. 

To my disappointment, some illustrators didn’t bring enough or just didn’t make those. Two mistakes I learnt myself through experience: always make 100 or more for an illustration event, never less and the illustrator should always have at least 5 of these in its wallet wherever he goes because you never know who you might bump into (Graham, 2012). This exemplary network starter called business cards runs out quicker than we think. 

Social media is the most important thing illustrators should write on the cards and I thought actually that this was common knowledge but there were a lot of illustrators without their Instagram or Facebook on the cards they had on display. Social media nowadays is the portfolio of the illustrator’s journey first hand and people who are interested on our work will always follow us because it is as simple as clicking on a button. 

Others made the big mistake of printing cards on 70g paper which to the future client just looks like we don’t care at all about our work. It is that kind if disregard to the business that clients avoid. An illustrator does not print in shitty paper. We print in high quality. Every detail of a business card design portraits the work quality of the holder if he takes himself seriously. Or at least it should!

Talking about the graphics and typography, overall I have no big comment on it. There was an obvious lack of knowledge in some cases where the typography had too much of an impact and took the attention from the work itself due to exuberance or inadequacy which is something an illustrator should avoid. Others just had a lot of fonts on it instead of settling for one or two at most when they lacked the typographical skills of a professional designer. Another aspect I found worrying in terms of graphics and typography was that there were some illustrators who had only the name and a colour on the background. Even though a freelance illustrator can actually give those away and be effective, in these events there are more than a hundred illustrators so if the artist doesn’t brand himself with imagery or a good logo he will easily be lost and forgotten in the middle of the other cards. This is always worse than having a card that is badly cut or a little pixelated.

Looking back on the cards I collected, I can remember most of the artists’ works as if it was yesterday. Some better than others, some displayed their work in a modular way, others in a more random way. Some artists’ work matched well with their cards and others didn’t. But I can easily say that I feel that their care for their business was as good as their cards. It mirrors them not only in their work quality but also in their attention to details, time and organization.

Every person will know that carrying around 100 different business miniature cards is complicated since no one has enough storage space for them in their wallets. Viewing all the artists as a whole, I decided on making a digital collage using their business cards graphics in order to portray my visual memorabilia in one single image: the BIF’s business crowd. 

For such, I started by displaying the cards with paper tape in three A3 sheets of paper so I could scan them. With the scan done, I made the collage in photoshop. No changes were made to the originals other than cutting and pasting.

After doing this piece out of the mementos I accidentally shaped it like a head in profile. I found it very intriguing since most memories are kept in our brains and the feeling I got after the event was of a massive amount of information that filled up all my head with colourful imagery. A perfect protrait of my overall experience.

Illustration’s credits

Lizzie Lomax - Anna Soba - Dommy Sullivan - Bárbara Malagoli - Catherine do art - Alice Monvaillier - Shake Bristol - George Manson - Kissi Ussuki - Flying Eye Books - Nobrow - Angela Hadrill - Mia Minerva - Monosodium - Ewe Rynkiewicz - Ella Willson-Smith - Lloyd Stratton - Jo Dertili - Olivia waller - Aysha Tengiz - Illwookie - Meneer Heirman - Robert Sae-Heng - Honey Parast - Maya Doyle - Printed Goods - Hannah Peck - Hayley Wells - Wingki But - Arabella Simpson - Kate Lorton - Yuk Fun - Evie May Adams - Jessica Smith - Owen Davey - Beya Rebai - Pencil Bandit - Sundance Goods - Michael Vankehem - Alex Norris - Hazel McCoubrey - Aga Giecko - Laura Girling - Jayde Perkin - Lauren Morsley - Marie-Yaé - Fern Eleanor - Family Store - Amber Timm - Guy Field - Ellie Fryer - Playtime - Jack Snelling - Shanti Rai - Nikoo Bafti - Stacey Thomas - Hiffy Ulrich - Leanne Rule - Lineette - Brandon Seager - Rachael Presky - Carlett Li

References

Graham, A. (2012) Chapter 47: Business Cards. In: From Business Cards to Business Relationships: Personal Branding and Profitable Networking Made Easy, New Jersey: Wiley.

Heller, S. & Arisman, M. (2004) Inside the Business of Illustration. New York: Allworth Press.

Rees, D. (2014) How to Be an Illustrator. London: Laurence King Publishing.

[imaginegladions]

Gladion (and reader) Kimi no na wa head canons?

*crying* what did i do to deserve the stream of sad aus?

sorry, i couldn’t really expand on it since it relies heavily on the life of the reader which is subjective depending on who is reading

KIMI NO NA WA AU HEADCANONS:

So Gladion is obviously Mitsuha in the sense that he has a sister and parents with power lololol, except he lives in Taki’s era.

One day, you wake up in a pretty unfamiliar room. It’s v sleek and modern and you look in the mirror and…

It’s like that Mulan moment where she’s singing Reflection except your reflection definitely doesn’t show who you are inside.

In fact, your reflection is quite… attractive.

“Gladion-Onii-sama!”

“Wow that’s a lot of respectful titles.”

“Huh?”

“I meant good morning… imouto.”

“Wow! Gladion-onii-sama must be feeling great if he’s saying good morning to me! Or to call me little sister!”

You kind of… have to wonder how dickish this guy is to not use affectionate nicknames with his cute little sister.

But, one look in his room kind of settles it. He’s the edgy ew-emotions kind of guy.

You’re very intimidated by his gang.

Not really because they’re weird or anything but because the guy is a part of an Actual Gang. Everyone wears all black and lurks in alleys and everything.

“Want to hang out with us, punk?”

“No, thank you.”

“… Wow, we expected a no but definitely not a thank you from mister heart-of-stone.”

If even his gang friends think he’s heartless he has to be crazy intimidating in person!!

You’re honestly super put off by this guy up until you and Lillie head home.

“Oh! It’s time for us to pick up Null!”

“Null?”

“Huh? You don’t remember, Onii-sama?”

Lillie ends up going with you to a vet where you both pick up a baby German Shepherd with a long bandage wrapped around its head and its leg.

Turns out, Gladion is a puppy person.

“I think it’s very brave that you would save him from such a harsh environment.”

You’re v confused for a moment and then you realise the vet is talking to you.

“Oh. It’s… it’s what anyone would have done.”

“Hah, not everyone would storm into their drunken neighbour’s house and stop him from shooting his dog! 

You manage to stop yourself from screaming I did what???

“It’s a good thing you were there to hear him kicking this one around or else he’d be a goner! You must be very proud of your brother, Lillie.”

Gladion’s sister - Lillie, oddly that’s the first time you’ve heard her name -nods very excitedly. “Onii-sama is a really good person.”

The entire walk home with Null at your side kinda makes you want to rethink your initial reaction towards this person whose body you’ve accidentally highjacked (bodyjacked?).

You learn that Gladion cooks because their parents are away a lot.

He helps Lillie with homework every night and he’s pretty smart himself.

The reason, apparently, that the gang keeps trying to hang out with him is because he was the one who convinced their mother to set up their scholarship funds as part of their company’s good will program.

But, the cutest thing is… he’s apparently very sweet with Null.

“Where does Null sleep?”

“Where he always sleeps, silly. With you.”

JESUS THIS BOY IS SO PURE NOW YOU HAVE TO MEET HIM.

Fortunately, Gladion has had a similar experience living your life.

So, he goes over to meet you (in his own body this time, thank god) along with Lillie.

He told Lillie after the first switch because he didn’t want her to be confused so now Lillie and you are pretty close. 

Both of them are disappointed to find that your town doesn’t exist. 

“Are you sure it’s here, Onii-chan?”

“Yes, I’m sure. It should be in this spot. I even remember this road-”

Your town was built on reclaimed land and it was washed away by a giant tsunami when a meteor hit a nearby ocean.

The books say you died years ago.

Gladion is never the same after that and keeps hoping he will end up in your body if he goes to sleep.

One day, after moping for an hour, he spots Lillie tying her hair with something… bright and woven.

“OH! She wove this for me. When she was in your body, she said she made this and left this somewhere hidden in this town in the museum when she went on field trip here so we went and got it together! Didn’t I tell you?”

“I need to borrow it.”

Gladion ties the thing to his wrist and goes back to sleep.

Long story short, he manages to warn everyone of the tsunami right as the meteor is about to hit the ocean and everyone manages to evacuate in time, including you. 

He wakes up the next day in his own body and gets up for breakfast…

Only to find you chatting with Lillie at the table.

“…Hi.”

“Good Morning!”

[animationnut]

To Gravity Falls, From Piedmont: Chapter 24

Summary: It’s a long way until next summer. Until then, Dipper   and Mabel share their daily antics and life problems with their lifelong friends and attentive great-uncles through an endless string of   e-mails. Distance makes the heart grow fonder after all, and there’s no place Dipper and Mabel love more than Gravity Falls.

                                                     Chapter List

To: Grunkle Ford (Highsixer)

From: Dipper Pines (GhostHarasserfan)

Subject:  Natural remedies

Just a curious question for you. Do you know of any natural remedies for acne? I tried the Internet for some answers but I don’t really know where to start. Plus I don’t know who’s trying to mess with me. I could try drugstore products but again, don’t know where to start.

Any input you have would be great. Thanks!

“I’m not going to school tomorrow.”

Mabel, who was sitting on the edge of the white porcelain sink, gave her head a sharp shake. “Sorry. I think I heard you wrong. I could have sworn you said you didn’t want to go to school.”

“I can’t go out in public like this!” cried Dipper, unable to tear his gaze away from the oval-shaped mirror. “Everyone will stare!”

“I think they already stare. You wear a winter hat and we’re in California where the sun almost always shines.”

“When they look at Wendy’s ushanka, it’s with curiosity. But when they catch a load of Mount Everest on my face it’s going to be with disgust!”

On Dipper’s chin, smack in the middle, was a bright red pimple. It stood out against his pale skin and there was a collection of blackheads surrounding it. Dipper poked at the acne gingerly, flinching as it throbbed beneath his touch.

“I think touching it is just going to make it worse,” remarked Mabel.

Dipper hastily lowered his hand. “Ugh, this sucks.” He grabbed a washcloth from the cupboard behind him and soaked it with cold water from the tap. He pressed it against his pimple and slouched against the wall. “I have to make this go away by tomorrow.”

“You’re not the first teenager to have acne, bro,” Mabel pointed out.

“I’m already self-conscious enough, this isn’t helping matters,” said Dipper miserably. “I’m just going to be paranoid that every time someone looks at me all they’ll see is this dumb pimple.”

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” soothed Mabel. “We’ll do what we can to get rid of it. You’re also not the first teenager to worry over acne. It’s the plague of puberty.”

“Definitely not the part I looked forward to,” muttered Dipper. “How come I’m the first one to have to deal with this?”

Mabel grinned. “I got the braces. It’s only fair you get the pimples.”

“Fair point,” conceded Dipper. He dug through his shorts pocket and removed his phone. “I’m going to do some investigating.”

“Is it okay if I take Waddles for a walk?” asked Mabel.

Dipper waved her away. “Oh yeah. I’ll be fine. Just having a fit. I’ll get over it…hopefully.”

Mabel patted him on the shoulder. “Seriously, try not to worry about it. Society’s standards of beauty is way overrated. I’ll be back shortly to see what cure for acne you’ve discovered.”

She skipped out of the bathroom, calling out for her pig. Dipper took her place on the counter, legs kicking idly as he searched through the numerous Internet results for some home remedy solutions.

“Wait, toothpaste? Is that a thing?”

…

After circulating through her neighbourhood for twenty minutes, Waddles happily trotting by her side and sniffing every single tree and bush as he tended to do, Mabel began the trek for home. Sweat caused her bright pink tank top stick to her body, matching sweater tied securely around her waist. When she was a block away from home her phone started to trill and she fished it from her pocket. She swiped her finger across the screen to accept the incoming video call and beamed when Stan’s face filled with rectangular screen.

“Hey, Grunkle Stan!” she greeted cheerfully.

“Hey, kiddo.” He noticed the blurs of green shrubbery in the background and asked, “Out painting the town red?”

“Nah, just taking Waddles for a walk.”

Stan shook his head in mock-disappointment. “You kids are pretty boring without the supernatural surrounding you.”

“Our secret is out,” joked Mabel. “What sorts of trouble are you causing?”

“Well, I accidentally broke a statue in an abandoned temple, and I guess it was sacred or something, for the locals freaked out. We got chased out of the village, but I managed to smuggle a rare jewel with us, which is the only reason why Ford isn’t giving me the silent treatment.”

“Wow, I was sort of joking, but I really should have known better,” said Mabel in amusement. “Can I see the jewel?”

“Sure. Gimme a sec.”

Mabel reached her front door as Stan started rummaging for the artefact. She stepped into the air-conditioned hallway and unclipped the leash, allowing Waddles to scamper off. She glanced back the screen to see a weird, spiky amber-coloured gem cradled in Stan’s hand.

“Cool!” she exclaimed. “What is it?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Where’s your brother? He’d probably get a kick out of this.”

“He’s probably in the bathroom, hold on.”

“Whoa, you can’t just burst in on him! There are some things I want to go through life not seeing.”

“No, ew, he’s been trying to get rid of a pimple,” laughed Mabel.

“Ah. The teenage years. How I hated them.”

Mabel discovered the bathroom door open but the lights were off. She turned on her heel and shuffled into the bedroom, where she found Dipper typing away at his computer. “Yo, Dipping-Dots, Grunkle Stan has something to show you!”

Dipper turned his head, eyes widening at the sight of his great-uncle on Mabel’s phone. “Wait, not when I have junk on my face!” he yelped, jumping up and accidentally tripping over the chair leg, crashing to the floor.

Mabel jogged over and peeked down at her brother, who groaned and shoved his chair to the side, the wheels making tracks in the carpet. She squinted. “Is that toothpaste?”

“Toothpaste is supposed to go in your mouth, not on your face,” quipped Stan.

Dipper flushed and stood, the bright blue glob of mint-scented toothpaste covering his pimple. “It’s a home remedy,” he defended. “The general consensus online seems to be that it works. I thought I’d give it a shot.”    

“You try popping it?”

“I am not popping this thing,” exclaimed Dipper. “That’s disgusting. Besides, I’m trying to reduce my chances of leaving a scar.”

“Too bad I’m not there. I was the ruler of popping pimples.”

Mabel pulled a face. “Super gross, yet not surprising.”

“What was it you wanted to show me?” asked Dipper.

Stan showed Dipper his discovery and the thirteen-year-old fawned over it for a moment. On Stan’s end of the video call there was the sound of footsteps falling on wood and Ford’s voice spoke, “Stanley, I’ve told you not to play with the gem. There won’t be much to study if you break it.”

“I’m showin’ it to the runts, Poindexter.”

Ford squeezed next to Stan on the screen and smiled. “Hello, kids.” His gaze landed on the patch of blue on Dipper’s face and he asked in bemusement,

“What’s on your chin, Dipper?”

“Toothpaste,” he answered, cheeks flushing slightly. “Beneath the toothpaste is a pimple that may or may not consume my face at a later date.”

“He was hoping you might have a solution for him,” said Mabel. “This was his attempt while he waited.”

“Did you contact me?” asked Ford, brow furrowing. He patted his pocket, quickly realizing that his phone was not where it usually was. “Blast. I must have forgotten it here when I went out in port. I’m sorry, my boy.”

“Hypocrite,” scoffed Stan. “You’re always on me about bringing my phone everywhere.”

“That’s because you forget yours ten times more than me,” returned Ford. Placing his attention back on Dipper, he said carefully, “I’m not sure if toothpaste is the best remedy for acne.”

Dipper groaned. “I thought it sounded really weird.”

“No, no, it’s certainly a tactic that people use,” assured Ford. “But the ingredients in toothpaste will dry out your skin, which could sometimes make it worse. In my youth I tended to use a honey and cinnamon mask. It’s not necessarily proven that it works, but I certainly saw improvements. Raw honey has more medicinal benefits than commercial honey.”

“There’s about a thousand and one health shops in California, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” said Mabel cheerfully.

“Did you ever try and experiment with acne solutions?” asked Dipper curiously.

“I did. Once.”

“Ended horribly,” said Stan with a cackle. “His entire face broke out into hives and boils. It lasted for almost two months. It was disgusting.”

Ford glared. “Though I could have cracked the perfect acne treatment skin cream, I decided that perhaps such an endeavour would be best left for professional dermatologists. There are drugstore creams and masks you can use, but it will most likely require trial and error to find one that works best for you.”

“I guess I could do that,” said Dipper, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll start with the honey things for now. I really want to bring this pimple down before school tomorrow.”

“Kid, you’re not the first to have a bright red spot in the center of your face,” said Stan.

Mabel threw her hands in the air. “That’s what I said!”

“I know, I know. I just…feel self-conscious, and we all know I have enough of that.”

“I’m afraid nothing of puberty is fun. It’s okay if acne makes you feel uncomfortable—it’s natural, and I guarantee majority of teens go through it every day,” reassured Ford. “But you don’t have to be ashamed of it. As cliché as it is, your appearance is only a small part of who you are—”

“—it’s what’s on the inside that’s most important,” finished Dipper with a sincere smile.

“And if anyone wants to give you crap for some dumb zit, they’re the ones with real insecurities,” added Stan. “Just deck ‘em.”

“Er…I think I’ll save that as a last resort,” said Dipper with a slight smile. “I’ll just ignore them and keep my head high.”

“Stanley, you could learn a thing or two from him,” chided Ford.

“Shut up, Poindexter.”

Dipper laughed. “I’m gonna wash this junk off of my face and find some cinnamon. Thanks.”

“Anytime my boy.”

“You’ll keep us updated on what you find with the gem?”

“Of course,” agreed Ford. “Granting that Stan doesn’t break it.”

“Keep up the attitude and I’ll do it just to spite you,” countered Stan.

They said their goodbyes and Mabel disconnected the video call. “I’ll go milk a bee for some honey.”

Dipper squinted at her. “You are joking, right?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Glad to know you think so highly of me.” She leaned forwards and gingerly poked the blob of toothpaste, where not a single blue chip came off. “It hardened, bro.”

“Ah, shoot!”

To: Grunkle Ford (Highsixer); Grunkle Stan (StantheMan); Dipper Pines (GhostHarasserfan)

From: Mabel Pines (ShootingStarRainbowUnicorn)

Subject: Magic of makeup

1 Attachment (Photo File)

Hey!

So the honey and cinnamon mask brought down the redness, but the pimple was still noticeable. Thankfully I’m a whiz with makeup. Should have just done this from the beginning!

Much love,

Mabel

See all messages in this thread (Expand)

Dipper Pines: Thanks for letting me know ahead of time that you were doing this…

Mabel Pines: Aw, come on, you’re not the only guy to ever wear makeup. Robbie is awesome with eyeliner.

Dipper Pines: That does not comfort me.

Grunkle Stan: Wow, can’t even see it. How much gunk did you use?

Mabel Pines: Just a few layers of foundation and concealer.

Grunkle Ford: This technique would have saved me a lot of grief with my more appalling acne episodes.

Grunkle Stan: You’re lucky to have a sister like you do, kiddo.

Dipper Pines: Yeah, definitely. But I think it’s only fair that she sends you a picture of herself.

Grunkle Ford: Why’s that?

Dipper Pines: The makeup job she performed on herself is miraculous. She woke up this morning with a huge zit in the middle of her nose. Hers is way worse than mine.

Mabel Pines: …I would say it’s unbecoming to boast, but if you ever end up getting braces I will be laughing all the way to the orthodontist.

[yamesutya]

1-154 all of them!! Because I want to know everything!! what the heck! I love you, have a lovely night :)

LMAO ANON YOU CRAZY I LOVE YOU THOUGH THANK YOU HAHA

(lol I’m working my way through them, it’s not quite done yet. ANON YOU BETTER SEE THIS LOL)

1. Full nameSonia Fan (that’s it, no middle name)

2. Zodiac signleo

3. 3 Fears bugs, the ocean, being alone/forgotten/left behind

4. 3 things I lovepuppies, tacos, traveling

5. 4 turns onsnice eyes, a good sense of humor, being open-minded, nicely kept hair (particularly the swooped up style that hector used to have)

6. 4 turns offs lack of communication, unfaithfulness, racism/general offensive behavior/lack of understanding of others, poor taste in sports teams lmao 

7. My best friend my roommate!

8. Sexual orientationstraight

9. My best first datelol ok well this might sound confusing but I’ve never really officially dated anyone (to me this means officially bf/gf), but I’ve gone on a nice date on valentine’s day and the relationship didn’t end up being weird even though it didn’t work out… we just went to the movies and dinner

11. What do I miss
LONDON, all the places I’ve traveled mostly… OOH, the animes I finished recently because I need them to come back RIGHT NOW

12. What time were I born
I actually don’t remember… 

13 Favourite colour purple

14. Do I have a crush
hm, not really, kind of still like the guy I was talking to a while ago but ATM it’s best I just focus on myself

15. Favourite quote
this isn’t necessarily my favorite, but one I’ve always remembered and liked is “the past is in the past, let it fucking GO”

16. Favourite place
london, hands down, can you tell? 

18. Do I use sarcasm
hahaha oh boy do I ever I’ve been sarcastic since day 1

19. What am I listening to right now
irl nothing lol 

20. First thing I notice in new person
their smile, how they carry themselves 

21. Shoe size
teeny tiny, 5-5 ½, sometimes a 6

22. Eye colour
brown

23. Hair colour
dark brown

24. Favourite style of clothing
anything in the color black lmao I kid you not. comfy, clean but cute and stylish I guess, I’m pretty basic tbh 

25. Ever done a prank call?
noooo

26. What colour of underwear I’m wearing now?
I had to check lmao, white

27. Meaning behind my URL
hector is the (albeit problematic but lovable) OG arsenal fav, he’s not the first reason I looked into arsenal, but he is what hooked me 

29. Favourite song
honestly I have a few, my most recent jams have been La Carretera (Prince Royce), Ya Me Enteré (Reik ft. Nicky Jam), Nunca Me Olvides (Yandel), aaand Caroline (Aminé) randomly

lots of latin music since I’ve had the local latin station on a lot lol

30. Favourite band
This Century, Marianas Trench 

31. How I feel right now
a little stressed, but doing ok

32. Someone I love
my parents

33. My current relationship status
single, a little confused and sad, but still sort of ready to mingle

34. My relationship with my parents
I get cranky when I stay at home too much these days, but it’s good so far and I love them, I miss them every time I leave. I don’t tell them enough but I’m super thankful for the life they’ve given me, I graduate soon and I know when that happens and I see them I’m going to be emotional 

36. Tattoos and piercings?
used to have my ears pierced, no tattoos  

Tattoos and piercing i want
one day I’ll probably get my ears pierced again, and I actually do want a few tattoos even though when I was younger I never thought I would. I want some purple flowers on my wrist, and potentially ones involving arizona, where I’m from, maybe my astrological sign or some kind of soul animal, but I’m not sure about those so it’d be a while if I were to get the last two

37. The reason I joined Tumblr
my friend had one and it looked fun lol. and I was just getting into kpop 

38. Do I and my last ex hate each other?
um. he’s not even really an ex since we were still figuring things out. but we’re a bit awkward. we’re just both dumb and stubborn tbh

39. Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?
i have occasionally

40. Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?
it’s my dad, so kind of yes lol

41. When did I last hold hands?
october…?

42. How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?
if I’m not showering I can get ready in 20 minutes but it’s nothing fancy

43. Have I shaved your legs in the past three days?
yes actually

44. Where am I right now?
my apartment kitchen table 

45. If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?
probably my roommate 

46. Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?
reasonable

47. Do I live with my Mom and Dad?
not at the moment

48. Am I excited for anything?
my sports classes, nervous-excited for graduation, spring break…

49. Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?
yesss, he is my self-titled gbf actually lol

50. How often do I wear a fake smile?
when I’m working games for my athletics department internship haha, it’s not super forced but I do smile a little harder purposefully

51. When was the last time I hugged someone?
today! some of my fellow senior friends because almost graduating is weird

52. What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else rightin front of me?
it would be real bad, I’m not good at taking things like that. I’d have to leave, if I was drunk I’d probably cry and potentially throw up. this is only because the last person I kissed I really liked, if it was a person I randomly made out with one time it wouldn’t be that bad

53. Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?
probably the guy I keep talking about in this, he is a good person who can be trusted, I probably just trusted him with too much of me when we both weren’t ready for each other (ew was that too deep I’m sorry lol)

54. What is something I disliked about today?
being too tired to properly read as much for my homework as I had wanted, boo :(

56. What do I think about most?
at the moment, my future, and also the animes I’ve recently watched 

57. What’s my strangest talent?
I can lick my elbow and I have super flexible/hyper-extended knees (idk are these even talents lmao)

58. Do I have any strange phobias?
that one where you don’t like tons of tiny holes in things

59. Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?I’d be lying if I said just behind, but I do like taking pictures since I take pretty good ones, so it’s a little of both. I like attention though so mostly in front haha unless I’m doing dumb things

60. What was the last lie I told?
I said I’d bring in the routes I was supposed to deliver posters to for my internship, but I’m going to making up notes and turning it in to get paid even though I didn’t deliver any, oops 

61. Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?
video chatting, I hate talking on the phone for some reason

62. Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?
not really, I’m not against believing in them, I just don’t really think about them much

63. Do I believe in magic?hmmmmmm yes…

64. Do I believe in luck?
yeah, I’d say I do, I believe in fate a little at least

65. What’s the weather like right now?
chilly

66. What was the last book I’ve read?
I recently restarted Soccernomics, but I haven’t had time to read again lately

67. Do I like the smell of gasoline?
not really

68. Do I have any nicknames?
not any that have stuck

69. What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?
I’m a baby, nothing worse than cuts, bruises, scrapes, etc. 

70. Do I spend money or save it?
lol I’m not the worst but I’m a spender

71. Can I touch my nose with a tongue?
yes!

72. Is there anything pink in 10 feets from me?
one of my G2 pens

73. Favourite animal?
DOGS ALL THE DOGS, but also otters, lions and foxes, red pandas… 

74. What was I doing last night at 12 AM?
watching youtube videos lol

75. What do I think is Satan’s last name is?
um…? no answer? idk

76. What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?


How can you win my heart?


What would I want to be written on my tombstone?


What is my favourite word


My top 5 blogs on tumblr


If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would Isay?


Do I have any relatives in jail?


I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good,and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice!What is that power?


What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?


What is my current desktop picture?


Had sex?


Bought condoms?


Gotten pregnant?


Failed a class?


Kissed a boy?


Kissed a girl?


Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?


Had job?


Left the house without my wallet?


Bullied someone on the internet?


Had sex in public?


Played on a sports team?


Smoked weed?


Did drugs?


Smoked cigarettes?


Drank alcohol?


Am I a vegetarian/vegan?


Been overweight?


Been underweight?


Been to a wedding?


Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?


Watched TV for 5 hours straight?


Been outside my home country?


Gotten my heart broken?


Been to a professional sports game?


Broken a bone?


Cut myself?


Been to prom?


Been in airplane?


Fly by helicopter?


What concerts have I been to?


Had a crush on someone of the same sex?


Learned another language?


Wore make up?


Lost my virginity before I was 18?


Had oral sex?


Dyed my hair?


Voted in a presidential election?


Rode in an ambulance?


Had a surgery?


Met someone famous?


Stalked someone on a social network?


Peed outside?


Been fishing?


Helped with charity?


Been rejected by a crush?


Broken a mirror?


What do I want for birthday?


How many kids do I want and what will be their names?


Was I named after anyone?


Do I like my handwriting?


What was my favourite toy as a child? 

Favourite Tv Show?


Where do I want to live when older?


Play any musical instrument?


One of my scars, how did I get it?


Favourite pizza toping?


Am I afraid of the dark?


Am I afraid of heights?


Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?


Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in theend?

What I’m really bad at


What my greatest achievements are


The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me


What I’d do if I won in a lottery


What do I like about myself


My closest Tumblr friend


Something I fantasise about my ex

Ask me stuff!