#im trying to get back into drawing more i really am. expect more blond guy angst and other such variations in the future

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

brief break from the Grind to doodle some thp art with a way better title i thought up of just now ripp (not gonna change the title im too attached to the tag)

[itsmeevie01]

Bio!Dad Bruce Day 14-Gala (Part 1)

ummm hi? i just wanted to give yall a huge heads up that this IS part one of two, and part two will be added when i have time to go back and finish. both my computer and my phone are acting up, and my tablet has a faulty keyboard. that said, im going to work to get things back on track. 

Two days after Christmas, the manor was buzzing with activity. The Kents had arrived the day before, and now everyone was prepping for the annual Winter Gala. Marinette was standing in her room, hands on her hips, glaring at her father as he tried to convince her that no, Marinette, the gala is not that big of a deal. down the hall, Tim and Damien helped Alfred sort through the myriad of suits and other formal wear that the siblings would be wearing the next night. Jason had left on ‘business’, while Dick was watching over the people brought into finish decorating for the occasion. Once the boys’ clothing had been sorted, Alfred moved on to check on Cass who had been studiously avoiding all activity related to the Gala.

In the Crewe Group Chat

Kim: Mari, when do you get back in town??

Chlo: M, there’s damage control to do, do you want me to wait for you?

Max: Marinette, you may want to check your Instagram. I know that you avoid social media in Gotham but…

Chlo: MARINETTE CHENG-WAYNE

Chlo: Pick up your phone

Chlo: MARI

Alix: Chloe, chill.

Alix: there’s only so much we can do if she’s busy today.

Kim: we need to take care of this somehow though.

Alix: do we have ANY OTHER WAY to contact m?

Adrien: why do I feel like I’m missing something very important?

Max: have you checked the news lately?

Adrien: I only really check AkumaWatch, why?

Max: check international news

Adrien: is… is this what I think it is? (Attached is a screenshot of international gossip. At the top of the page is a picture of two teens in hoodies moving away from an airport. They are dragging suitcases and have their heads down to avoid attention. The boy’s hood is thrown back, and his well-known blue eyes are glaring at the photographer. Above it is the title has Timothy Drake-Wayne finally found love? The second screenshot is from farther down the article where there is a picture of Cassandra Cain-Wayne, Damien Wayne and Marinette hurrying along a sidewalk completely bundled up. The caption reads could this be Tim Drake-Wayne’s mystery girl? Who is she?)

Chlo: YES

Chlo: and its gala day so she’s going to be busy af anyways.

Adrien: What do you mean its Gala day? There’s only one Gala today?

Chlo: Duh. Mari is going.

Chlo: Keep up, Adrikins.

Alix: oh god

Alix: does anyone know how her dress turned out? She had been freaking out about it last I heard, and we all know how much M puts by first impressions.

Adrien: Ok, I’m still really confused? There’s only one Gala today? The Wayne Winter Charity Gala, which is really exclusive and a huge to-do? What Gala is Marinette going to???

Nino: dude

Nino: please

Nino: don’t be oblivious.

Mari: what did I miss?

Chlo: DID YOU SEE THE NEWS?????

Mari: um…yes? Jason has been having a ball with all the press. Why?

Chlo: I thought you were trying to be low key?

Mari: tonight

Chlo: IM SORRY??? WHY AM I ONLY HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW????

Alix: well, it’s a good thing you have so many influential friends who keep ending up at the same Galas as you, Mari

Adrien: ok, I’m still confused

Chlo: your going to the Winter Gala, right?

Adrien: yeah? We go every year. The only entertaining part is the fact that the Wayne kids always fight. Otherwise it’s all snobby rich people.

Chlo: I’m taking offence to that, since Alix and I have also been going for years.

Alix: seconded

Mari: to be fair, you both tend to hide away and prank people

Adrien: wait. That was you two?

Adrien: And Marinette, how do you know that?

Mari: omg

Mari: I give up sdjkgb

Class Group Chat

Lila: guys! My friend reached out to me…

Alya: wait! Which friend? Is it…?

Lila: yes! Its Maralynn! She’s sooooo excited about her family Gala tonight!

Alix: Maralynn?

Lila: ok, you didn’t hear it from me, but that mystery girl? Seen at the airport with THE Tim Wayne? That’s her! They’re actually twins!

Chloe: oh! That means that Alix, Adrien and I will see her tonight! Its so cool that she trusts you not to reveal who she is…. (:

Marinette: lol isn’t Twitter convinced that she’s dating Tim? AWKWARD

Lila: Maralynn told me that it wasn’t worth it to go after the rumors. I’m trying to respect her decision.

Rose: that’s so sweet, Lila! I didn’t know that you knew the Waynes!

Lila: I don’t know ALL of them, just Maralynn! We were at boarding school together in Italy for a few years.

Marinette: OH WOW

Nino: Chloe, Alix, your going to have to tell us what you think of her?

Lila: oh yes! And if you see my boyfriend, send my love!

Chloe:…BOYFRIEND???

Lila: oh? You didn’t know? Tim and I have had a thing for a while

Marinette: oh really? Chloe, you’ll have to pass on that she’s thinking of him tonight!

Lila: I mean… not if you don’t want to! I wouldn’t want to be a bother on GALA night!

Chloe: if I see him, it won’t be a bother at all Lila!

Marinette shook her head and set her phone down as the class chat continued to blow up. As much as she loved Chloe, she knew that the girl was instigating Lila for fun. When everything blew up, Marinette wanted to be able to stand back and watch the fire burn, but not be close enough to get burned. When she turned in her room, the garment bag in the corner caught her eye. Inside, Marinette knew, was a long black dress. When she had run the design past Alfred, the English man had given her an approving nod. Later, she had heard him mentioning to her father that at least one of his myriad of children would be able to dress themselves. The comment had made the teen giggle and she had made sure to put every effort she could into the gown. More than anything, she wanted to make her family proud. A knock on the door drew her attention and she turned to find Cass standing there, her own gown held in its own garment bag.

“get ready? Together?” the noirette lit up at her older sister’s suggestion and she nodded excitedly. The other girl moved into the room and hung the bag in her arms over the wardrobe next to Marinette’s. after she had deposited her shoes, the older teen turned to her sister and smiled.

By the time that Tim came to check on them, both girls had finished their Makeup and were working on hair. The makeup artist that Bruce had hired was packing up her stuff and the hair stylist was partway through Cass’s hair. Marinette turned towards her brother with a smile from where she was standing in front of the hidden dresses. “lend me a hand?” He smirked at the frustration on her face.

“Gladly, Little Bit. Which one is yours?” when the girl nodded to the larger of the two bags, Tim frowned. “how big exactly is your dress?”

“Big enough for me to need help getting it on. Its not that it’s exactly heavy either! Its just…poofy?” he laughed at Marinette’s rush to explain and helped her pull the bag off of the dress. When the dress was no longer hidden, his breath caught. The black dress was stunning. He could see where it moved from black to grey to blue at the bottom, and the long full sleeves followed the same style. Hanging on the hanger behind the dress was a black hoop, and a pair of low heels (as tall as Bruce would allow, actually. He had to remind her ten times that although this was a high society event, she was still 14, and didn’t need to be dressing like she was 20.) sat under the layers of the dress. Where he had been expecting glitter and sparkles, Tim was surprised to find that the satin was free of almost anything that glittered.

“wow” Marinette laughed at his reaction and reached for the hoop.

“I know, right? It took forever, but its totally worth it! And, it’s the designers first attempt at this kind of formal. I think she did a great job.” Tim paused at that.

“LB, hey,” his sister tensed at the abbreviation for her nickname before she turned to him. “who exactly designed your dress?”

“Oh, just a small up and coming designer. You wouldn’t have heard of her.” Cass sniggered from her spot by the vanity and Marinette shot their sister a smile. “ok! Let me get the slip on, and then after the hoop is on top, ill need your help with making sure the skirt fits right.”

Marinette would not be over exaggerating if she said that the red carpet was incredibly chaotic. The only thing she could think of that was more chaotic was perhaps the last time Jagged had held a concert in Paris. After she had made it through the gaggle of reporters and the public (was that Mr. Kent, SUPERMAN, she saw standing in the crowd calling out questions? Dam that man was everywhere.) the teen dropped her purse, that held an extra set of shoes, in her seat. The rest of the family wouldn’t be in for a bit. Her father, Dick, and Damien would all be in the receiving line Alfred would be behind the scenes all night, and Tim was already striking up discussions with business partners. Cass was on the other side of the room, looking stunning in her deep blue dress. When her sister had approached her, through her website, about the dress the teen had squealed at the idea of designing the close-fitting dress for her only sister. A Blonde caught her eye and pulled the noirette out of her thoughts. The familiar girl who was making her way over had abandoned her trademarked blues and yellows in favor of a deep red that matched the garnets littering her jewelry. A few steps behind her was another teen close to Marinette’s age with a pink pixie cut slicked down. The other teen was wearing a suit that had perfect tailoring…actually, that was Marinette’s suit. The girl laughed as Chloe and Alix joined her, the shortest of the three standing in the middle to draw attention to her suit.

As the girls caught up, they scanned the ballroom. On the other side, Tim was starting to look frazzled, while Marinette thought she saw Jason slip in past one of the servers. opposite them, Damien and Dick were starting to mingle while Bruce moved to greet the Kents. As she swept her gaze over the room, Marinette blinked. There, looking straight at her was-

“oh no, its Adrien. Chloe I love you and all, but if that boy causes a scene tonight…” Chloe waved away Alix’s worries.

“I already told him to be on his best behavior. I am personally more interested in when Felix will get here. For all his big talk about transferring to a private school in Paris, I won’t believe it until the brat comes to see me.” The group stifled their laughter at Chloe’s put out response.

“as long as he doesn’t come over asking about everything going on, we should be good.” Marinette nodded at Alix’s statement on Adrien.  

Look for Part 2 soon! if yall have any thoughts, i’d LOVE to hear them, since i have the basic plot down and im fleshing it out now...

[lovelyfaustus]

(I would much rather be on anon, instead of flaunting my art account, but ...)

Hello! If you have time, could I request a matchup from you? If you’re currently busy or do not have the time, I understand and I thank you for reading this much anyway.

Im a 22 year old, 5'4" gay (trans) guy with very wavy brown hair I like to dye bright blue or have faded blonde tips, I'm average-ly sized, and I wear glasses. I am mostly very polite, quiet, and "charming" around new people, though that's mostly just a default reaction. Towards friends, I am more snarky and quick-witted, and to crushes ... I am extremely tsundere and deny my emotions, until I fully trust the person I like (which can take a while). I'm relatively smart (above average), and my hobbies consist of Writing and Composing Music (I can play upwards of 11 instruments, and sing), Drawing/painting, and collecting facts on familiar birds or exotic bugs. I even have a hand written journal dedicated to flora and fauna I've found interesting facts for. I'm extremely determined and very rarely give up on anything once I've set my mind to it, I just rarely want anything.

Thank you for your time, I'm sorry about the length of this ask. Once again if it's too disinteresting, long, or you have enough on your plate, then focus on you! I wish you the best and hope you enjoy your day.

u sound cool af !! ty for requesting aa ur too sweet ! D,:

hmm,,,, after reading your request a couple times i cant help but wanna pair you with Sebastian :0 (pls dont hate me if you didnt want seb aaaa)

i feel like, upon first meeting you, sebastian would right off the hook fall for your charm. in fact i think he would try to “out charm” you lol. He would also internally compliment your manners when he meets you for the first time! like >;0? Your politeness is impeccable!

after gaining the honorable title of your friend, Sebastian would probably be taken back by your wit. For some reason he didn’t expect human behavior to be so ??? inconsistent????? if you like, walk away from him after some witty banter the reaction you’d probably get is just

🧍‍♂️❓

HE FINDS IT VERY ENTICING THO!!!

if you were ever comfortable enough or in a situation where you wanted to tell him that you’re trans, he would accept it ofc !! He likes you a whole lot, you’re a very interesting human! nothing is going to change that :) He may ask you questions about it though, like maybe when you realized or what kinda things make you comfy/uncomfy. tbh if he found out abt someone personally being against u for being trans, that person would end up dead somewhere in like a ditch or something

HE !! WANTS !! TO HEAR YOUR MUSIC !!!!!!!!

SHOW HIM NOW!!!!!! hes like , MESMERIZED at how well it sounds, how put together and organized it is. his human did this !!!!!!!! he feels like the coolest man in the world bc hes so honored to know you >:0!

I feel like Sebastian would find secret stashes of your writing and read it behind your back (not in like a bad way tho¿ like if u asked where ur writing went he’d be like “oh i found it and i wanted to read it. its really good btw”)

you and him paint together !! he likes watching over your shoulder when you draw. Also!! when he finds your journals about florals he’ll probably ask to let finnian borrow them and the scenario is just like

seb: Finny! the lovely (ur name) has given me this book to lend to you. Please read over it and return it in mint condition. *tosses finnian into a dead rosebush*

he likes that youre a very strong willed person! he thinks your compassion is really charming!

-

aaaa IM SORRY if this is like. ugly bad and stupid D: i have never done matchups before nd im kinda scared im accidentally gonna give someone a character they hate :C

[91percentpynch]

lonely heart - kevaaron au pt 4

oh look it‘s me, coming out of my dark hole to make you suffer with a super sad chapter with a nasty cliffhanger:) so get your tissues ready and enjoy!! okay first of all sorry that i didn‘t update this in a g e s and that it‘s rather short and for the cliffhanger, but i‘ll try to update it more regularly now:)

check this out for the other parts:)

trigger warnings: drug abuse, mention of suicide, mention of mental health issues, very sad aaron, mention of blood

“You were too good for me”, Aaron whispered into the void. “You were way too fucking good for me. You made me a better man. And I fucked up”

Aaron got up as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. He knew he wouldn‘t be able to sleep alone tonight. Like every single goddamn night since he left Kevin. Like every single goddamn night since he made the biggest mistake of his life.

„Taylor?“, the blonde haired boy murmered, „You up?“

„Babe, you know I‘m up. My girlfriend lives three states away, we talk every single day at the same time as you call your man. Not that I would be able to sleep when you call him, cause a) i love Day and b) you‘re always sad and high and end up in my room anygays, so did he take the phone darling?“

Taylor was Aaron‘s roommate and the closest thing he had to a best friend. She had been there for him every single day, cuddled him, held him while he cried and dried his tears afterwards. And Aaron did the same when she misssed her girlfriend too much.

„You do realize he is not my man anymore, I fucked that up. Big time. He did actually take the phone just to tell me to fuck off and stop calling“

„You could always go over there and say it in his pretty face. Didn’t say you can’t come over did he?Pro point: Might lead to making out“, Taylor said while taking him in her arms. „Plus another pro point: you‘d get sober again. And you‘re less moody. No offense but a Kevin-less Aaron is hardly managable, like you‘re either a whiny little bitch or you‘ll give me the death glare of the cenutry. Legit worse than Andrew‘s and I called him a cute little baby boo once when I was drunk and he almost stabbed me right there with a look on his face like I just murdered Neil in front of him“

„Tay, I take that as a compliment. And we both know Kevin’s a bit of a dumbass so he did not exactly tell me Not To Come over just stopp calling. Anyways I don‘t even know where he lives. And stop talking about me getting high, you do the same shit“

„Yeah but I know my limits and I have not the same history as you. And for the i DoN‘t EvEn KnOwS wHeRe He LiVeS, phone number. Now“

„O- okay“, Aaron said and told her Kevin‘s phone number while Taylor calmingly stroked his back.

„Neat, got him“, Taylor said after a while. „He‘s with the scary big dude and his adorable little boyfriend I think? I have their address right here, I think we‘re gonna visit them tomorrow cause it‘s like 4 am right now and we don‘t wanna rob him his beauty sleep plus we don‘t want to wake the scary big dude. And I‘m pretty sure the adorable small golden retriver boy could and would stab us“

„Did you just stalk my ex and located his phone at 4 am like fucking Garcias in Criminal Minds?“, Aaron said confused.

„Anything for you big guy. And as I said I miss Day‘s pretty face, preferably in your pretty face so you shut the fuck up about how stressed and depressed and lonely you are.“, Taylor chuckled as Aaron looked at her shocked.

„Well I miss Casey, preferable in your face so YOU shut up“, Aaron was never as good in witty remarks as his brother. Especially high Aaron.

„Babe I think it‘s time for you to go to bed, you‘re not fun when you‘re sad, high and tired. Come here, let me cuddle you, while you whiney little bitch sleep“

Aaron slowly went over to Taylor and into her loving arms, laying down, trying to fall asleep.

After a long while aaron drifted into sleep, just to be greeted by familiar smaragd eyes. In his dream Kevin and he never broke up. Kevin was on top of him, his hands gently discovered Aaron‘s body, touching him as if he was sacred, something to worship. Kevin‘s lips were at Aaron‘s ear whispering sweet nothingness. Aaron‘s hips moved against Kevin‘s loving touch. „Stress release“ Kevin called these holy moments in dawn. „Highlight of my day“ Aaron called them.

The dream was as beautiful as it was cruel. It was as if his body, his mind were as much refusing as able to believe that Kevin was gone. It was his own fault, Aaron knew it. But the ever present voice of his mother, disapproving and disgusting, in his head was just too much for him to handle. He thought - foolish as Aaron was - that the pain of living without Kevin would be better, less cruel, less painful. But he never knew real love and therefore never experienced its lost. Until that faitful day. Until Kevin took his bags and left.

Aaron was used to pain. The hot one after an extraordinarily vicious hit. The cold one when his mother died. The numbing one when the hunger was growing more and more unbareable. But nothing was even slightly as hard to handle as the loss of Kevin in his life.

Kevin was the first good thing Aaron had. He gave him a will to stay, to try, to give this stupid sport everything he got. And Exy turned into more mundane things like getting his eating routine under control or getting a more or less acceptable sleeping schedule. The dark days were still there, for both of them, and they would probably never leave them completely alone, but they got less. And when they did happen they would hold each other together.

Ever since he fucked up things with Kevin, Aaron had more and more dark days. The voice of his mother telling him he‘s a failure, the bored stare of his brother and Aaron convincing himself Andrew wouldn‘t even bet an eye if he died, the voice telling him the world would be a better place without him growing louder and lourder every passing day.

Logically he could say that the death of a single person wouldn‘t change much for the over all world population, expect maybe it‘s some kind of insane mademan dicator or someone important, but still. It made sense. All he did after all was fucking up, being a failure, never good enough, never perfect.

His lonely heart only screamed Kevin‘s name and he knew if Kevin didn‘t take him back, his life wouldn‘t make much sense anymore. Well he would definetly not tell Kevin that. He would not manipulate Kevin into loving him, because that wouldn‘t be much better than not having him at all.

Aaron woke up the next day around noon. He didn‘t really feel like getting up, like getting up was simply too much. But Aaron knew he had to. He didn‘t want to worry Taylor more than he already did. And it would end today. One way or the other.

So he got up, put on the first pair of black jeans he could find and the first sweater his hands could find. Ironically it was one of the sweaters Kevin gave him, on the third of december last year. It was one of Aaron‘s favourites as well.

„Ready for the big Day, small guy?“, Taylor said winking at him.

„Not really? What the fuck am I supposed to do there anyways?“, Aaron replied on his way to the coffee maker.

„Talk to him? Deliver one of those borderline cringe big speeches. Get im flowers. Break into his bedroom and say ‚Draw me like one of your french girls‘, naked of course“, Taylor laughed at the face Aaron made, listening to her suggestions.

„I think I like the big speech. I mean I‘m shit with words, but I‘m sure you want to help your boy getting ‚his man‘ back, right? Also what kind of flowers would you give someone you dumped cause the voice of your dead mother told you it was wrong and disgusting, which you never told him for obvious reasons?“

„Honey, you‘re so fucked up sometimes, I love you but you should go to a therapist or something. Also I‘d say sunflowers or roses? I don‘t speak flowers man, I‘m the tech nerd. Not the romantic one, the nerd. But we‘re gonna make a snazzy speech and you‘re gonna get your man back“

After their typical breakfast - if Aaron didn‘t forget to eat again - they sat down together on the living room floor, paper and pen ready, trying to write the world changing speech.

„Why is this so fucking hard? Why can I only tell him how much I love and miss him when I‘m high off my ass“, Aaron complained.

„What about you don‘t think about him that much. Just tell me what you love about him and then we write that down?“, Taylor suggested.

Aaron took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. „I loved him because he was the first one who saw me. Aaron Minyard. And not just the other Minyard, the lesser twin, the shadow of Andrew. He looked at me and somehow chose me. Even if he could have had everyone else. He chose me, even though I‘m not special. Kevin chose the failure when he could have had the first prize. He looked at me and saw something worth loving, worth keeping around. Hardly anyone could tell Andrew and me apart. But it took him less than a day to do so. Kevin is strong, so so strong and somehow chose the most fragile thing he could find, took it and made it worth soemthing. Kevin made me feel something. Not numbness. Not pain. Something warm and beautiful and living. He gave me a reason to stay alive. Kevin made my life bearable, he made my life beautiful. We were both broken and we would probably still be broken if we were together but we softened each other‘s edges. Kevin believed in me when no one else would. He knew how I felt, knew what I needed and when I needed it. Kev gave me love and safety and I kicked it with my feet. This man is like a god who fell for whatever reasons for a homeless man. And I know I don‘t deserve him but I also know I cannot live without him. And I know that I must tell him that before it‘s too late. If it‘s not too late already“

Taylor wipped a tear out of her eyes. „That‘s it. You tell him that and we‘ll get him back“, she said. „Can I hug you?“

„Sure you loser“

„Ah there is my boy“

They spent the rest of the afternoon writing down the speech, making edits here and there. In the end Aaron collected the pages and went to his room to change. He replaced Kevin‘s sweater with a simple black jumper, put on his Docs, got his keys and left.

Aaro did feel a little uncomfortable, stalking Kevin like that. But he knew this was his chance to fix things. This was his chance to get Kevin back, to make his life worth living again. Which to be fair was a bit selfish, but you are allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, aren‘t you?

Jean and Jeremy‘s apartment complex was a 15 minute drive away from the flat Aaron shared with his three roommates. Theirs was fanzier, obviously. After all Jeremy was a professional Exy player and Jean was some kind of semi famous artist or fashion maker or whatever. They could give Kevin the world. They could give him what he desereved. All Aaron had to offer was an apology and his love. No money. Not yet anyway. Just anxiety, depression and stress.

But if Kevin was willing to take his love, to give Aaron one more chance, he promised himself Aaron would make it count. He will tell Kevin how much he loves Kevin every single god damn day. Aaron will get therapy and work on his issues. Sober up and this time for good. He will do anything to be worth of god‘s love. Just that god in his case was a twenty two year old boy with black hair, forming soft waves at the end and a smile that will make the sun jealous. Eyes made out of smaragd. Lips so sinful and kissable.

Aaron sat down in front of the door, waiting for his courage to come back to him. He could do this. He would get his man back.

Hours passed, or maybe it were only minutes or seconds after all before someone came closer. Ever so slowly Aaron lifted his head, just to look in the ever so familiar green eyes, big with shock.

„You said to stop calling. You never mentioned face to face conversations“, Aaron said, his voice hoarse.

Kevin stared at him as if he was a ghost, a reminder of his past life, something he rather wanted to forget.

„Look I know I fucked up. I know I‘m not good enough for you. I know you deserve the world and I cannot give it to you. And when you look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t feel anything for me anymore, no love or hate or affection or whatever humans feel, I will turn away right now and go and never come back. Never bother you again. But if you allow me to apologize, if you however decide to gieve me one last chance, I prepared this whole ass speech for you“

Aaron was sure they could hear his heart beating against his chest, roaring, screaming to return home. To return to Kevin where it belonged.

Kevin‘s eyes wandered to the floor, his fingers automatically closed around his left wrist. A nervous habit. Just another little part that makes Aaron‘s heart ache.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, he lifted those unbelieveable beautiful eyes and met Aaron‘s golden ones. Kevin studied him and the world around them stopped.

Out of the corner of Aaron‘s eyes he could see Jean going still, his breathing too calm, too even. It‘s the same thing Andrew does when someone fucks with Josten. At least his death would be fast. Or slow. Whatever. Aaron didn‘t really care, without Kevin it wasn‘t worth anygthing anyway.

„Why“, Kevin said after what feels like forever, „Why would I forgive you? Why would I give you another chance? Why would you think you can come back here just to fuck me over again? Aaron I loved you, I really did. I always will. You were my first love and maybe, yeah maybe, my last one. But right now I can‘t. I just, I just can‘t. Please leave. Please leave me alone. For now. Maybe, one day we can talk about it. But right now I cannot handle the thought of you to leave me. To tell me all these beautiful lies, to cut me open and leave me to bleed out. I love you“, tears were running down Kevin‘s cheek. Tears Aaron one day, a long time ago, promised himself he would never let Kevin feel again. Pain. Sadness. Everything because of his failure, because of his weakness, because he‘s a fucking piece of shit.

„Thank you for giving me a reason to stay. Jusst remember that you were my light, my warmth, my happiness and I never stopped loving you. Never will. Please just be happy“, Aaron replied as he turned around to walk to his cars.

When he was sure he was out of ear shot, he let himself feel. Feel the pain. Feel the loneliness. Feel the numbness and the cold and the hatred. It was in that moment, that moment where he was alone and nothing more to lose, that he decided that it was enough. He would end it. End it tonight.

„Thank you“, he texted Taylor. „I‘m glad I didn‘t eat you in the womb“, he texted Andrew. „You were not so bad after all“, he sent to Neil. And lastly „Thank you for taking me under your wing“, to Nicky. They would understand. It would take them some time but in the end they would feel better. They would be happier without them. Because at the end of the day he caused them pain and wasn‘t really worth a thing.

So when he got in his car, tears running uncontrallably down his cheeks, he knew what he had to do.

[georgescatcafe]

but i keep my hands (’til you come into the water)

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: georgenap genres/tags: barista george, fluff, humor, flirting, friendship, communication, getting together word count: 22,064 summary: George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.”

Or, the one where George is a barista, Dream is Sapnap's best friend, and Sapnap just feels a lot.

+ao3

;;

The first attempt is a disaster. Sapnap should’ve expected it, the object of his desires completely different from who he usually chases after. For one thing, it’s a guy, for another, he’s got his arms crossed, fingers digging harshly into his arms, brows furrowed, lips downturned in a frown. Usually, when someone catches Sapnap’s interest, they paint a more pleasant picture.

Yeah. Not this one.

“I’m working,” he snaps. “I get it, but I really don’t like being flirted with at work.”

“You’re so upfront,” Sapnap replies, smile still on his lips, though he’s certain his ears are turning red as more people turn to look at him where he leans against the counter, probably about to be completely eviscerated by this barista. “I like that.”

He’s not eviscerated. His fate is even worse.

He gets ignored.

“Julia,” George calls, placing down the drink handed to him.

Sapnap steps out of the way as a petite girl with blonde hair takes the drink from the other, delicate fingers curling around the cup, golden-tipped fingers contrasting against the pink of her drink. Sapnap finds himself fighting against the urge to shove his hands in his pockets, remembering something about Dream saying that’s an obvious display of insecurity. And Sapnap isn’t insecure.

He just doesn’t like the way George smiled at the girl as she walked away.

“It’s called customer service, idiot,” Dream tells him later, the two of them having agreed to meet at the library so Dream doesn’t have to smell the coffee that wafts a good way out past the entrance of the Starbucks Sapnap frequents. Sapnap rolls his eyes as he takes a long sip of his vanilla frap, not fully convinced.

“It’s just,” he finally says, drink set carefully down on the table, “it’s like… why did he smile at her like that, when you could barely hear her ‘thank you,’ yet he doesn’t even look at me?”

“Maybe because he told you to leave him alone and you didn’t?” Dream suggests, taking Sapnap’s cup and drawing a smiley face in the condensation. He presents it to the other, only for Sapnap to groan and rub it away. He’s not exactly in the mood for cutesy shit. He says as much.

Dream looks unimpressed. “I’m just saying,” he draws another smiley on the opposite side of the cup, “try respecting his boundaries next time.”

“But I only know him as the barista from Starbucks,” Sapnap whines. “How am I supposed to flirt with him if I only see him when he’s working?”

“Break,” Dream replies, easy.

“Ah.”

Dream sets down Sapnap’s cup, the new smiley still there. “Yeah,” he says, “ah.”

;;

Dream had also advised him to maybe read the barista’s nametag and find out his name, so that’s the first thing Sapnap does when he walks in on Wednesday, eyes going directly to the little plaque on the barista’s apron. GEORGE. Sapnap bites his lip. He can work with that.

“Welcome to Starbucks, would you be interested in trying any of our—oh.” Sapnap looks up from the nametag to see George’s eyes on him, face devoid of any emotion other than perhaps vague disappointment.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

George’s lips press together, and it’s not a frown, so Sapnap takes it as a smile.

“One venti vanilla frap please.”

“Name?”

“Come on,” Sapnap says. “You so remember my name.”

George hums, brows furrowing as he enters the order into the computer. “You’re right. Something like… ‘nuisance’?”

Sapnap frowns.

“My bad,” George says. “It was ‘annoyance,’ wasn’t it?”

“Ha ha,” Sapnap replies, crossing his arms. “It’s—”

“Sapnap, I know.” George taps the screen and Sapnap tries not to flush at the sight of his wrists. It’s not like they were hidden. It’s not like George is some Victorian lady. Jeez. Embarrassing. And then—

“‘I know’?” he quotes. “So you remembered my name.”

“Kind of hard to forget,” George replies, “since you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he tries, “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were.”

“I’m just determined.”

“Determined?” George repeats, unamused. Sapnap nods. George gives him a long look up and down (and it’s not checking him out, not even close, but Sapnap pretends that’s the case, straightening up and hoping the lighting makes him look good) before sighing and motioning to the person next in line.

Sapnap is ready to continue speaking, but then he remembers the main point of Dream’s advice and instead just rolls his eyes, finding an empty table near the window. 

Better? a text from Dream reads.

Duh, his name is George

George

Yes, George , Sapnap glances up at the barista, who’s now taking the order of a guy definitely taller than Sapnap, and judging by the size of his arms, probably stronger too, and when he walks away, George’s eyes definitely follow him, lips curled into a smile not like the one he wore when the blondie left, but rather… oh, come on. Dude what the hell

What

Sapnap doesn’t take a picture, but he does try his best to describe the other customer to Dream. George was like..drooling over him what the hell!

I doubt it

When Sapnap looks up again, George is most definitely not wiping any drool away from his mouth, instead wearing a polite smile as he takes an older woman’s order. It’s as if Sapnap made up the smile he wore watching that guy walk away.

Ok, he concedes, maybe not drooling, but he definitely like… I dont think Im his type :(

As if u ever gave up that easily, Dream’s reply is fast, and Sapnap smiles as the thinking dots appear. You’re fine, just be yourself and respect his boundaries. I know you, you’re a great guy Sap you’ve got this

He’s right. About… everything. Sapnap slips his phone into his pocket right before he hears his name called. It’s not George calling out the drinks today, whoever was missing the other day now returned to their normal shift. Sapnap accepts the drink with an easy thank you and is about to walk away before he’s struck with an idea.

“Um, excuse me,” he calls to the woman who’s already started to head back to the espresso machine. She turns around and makes her way back over to the counter anyway, brows raised, anticipating Sapnap’s question.

Sapnap leans in some, unsure if he wants George to hear what he’s about to ask or not.

“Um, George,” he starts, and, oh, that’s not a good look. He presses on anyway. “When is… do you know his breaktime?”

“I do,” the woman replies, and Sapnap is ready to be pleasantly surprised, the amount of information this employee is ready to give more than expected, but then she continues, “but legally I’m not allowed to share it with you, and even if I could, I don’t think I would.”

Sapnap tries his best to swallow his disappointment. He’s not sure how he ended up so dumb with hope anyway. “Right,” he says. “Sorry for asking.”

“I suggest not doing it again,” she replies easily, but before she walks away she gives him a soft smile, “but it’s fine.”

Sapnap returns her smile, even as he feels an itch at the base of his neck, only growing as heat spreads under his skin. He’s quick to make his way back to the table, fingers wrapped tight around his frap.

He tries his best not to watch George, appearing as disinterested as he can, up until the other switches places with another employee, now going around cleaning up tables. Sapnap’s been people watching, eyes determinedly looking anywhere but at George, but that fails when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, a napkin falling to the floor, just in reach of Sapnap’s foot. Stretching the tiniest bit, Sapnap catches the napkin under his shoe, pulling it over to him so he can pick it up and throw it away himself. He almost makes a comment to George about his cleaning skills, always one to tease, no matter who it is he’s teasing, but then the napkin flops over the back of his hand and he sees ink on paper.

Mon-Th 8am-4pm break @ 10 lunch @ 12 break @ 2

Sapnap has no idea when George wrote that, if it was while he was still taking orders or if he wrote it while Sapnap kept his eyes out the window, but when he looks up, he finds the barista already watching him, now back behind the till, cheeks pink even as he holds Sapnap’s gaze. Sapnap smiles, waving the napkin in an I got it! gesture. George doesn’t smile back, just looks down at the register, then up at the customer that walks in a second later.

That’s fine. Sapnap shoves the napkin into his pocket. This is progress.

 When he’s about to leave, hand pressed against the glass door, he turns. George is looking down, but Sapnap can see the tips of his ears, the slope of his nose. Pink. Bright, pretty pink.

He smiles. Definitely progress.

;;

“So you want me to flirt with you, then?” Sapnap asks, leaning his hip against the edge of the table George sits at, the barista looking at something on his phone.

“No, not really,” George replies, not looking up from the device.

Sapnap sits in the seat across from him. “But I can flirt with you now, right?” he asks. “Since you’re not technically working right now?”

“I’m being paid for this,” George says. “It’s ten minutes. Money is going into my bank account, right now.” He finally looks up at the other, eyes wide in emphasis. “That means I’m working.”

“Boo,” Sapnap immediately snaps. “You just don’t want to admit that you want me.”

George makes a face.

“Want me flirting with you,” Sapnap clarifies, though he wouldn’t mind George wanting him. (He even hopes for that, honestly.) “You want me to flirt with you.”

“Quit making assumptions, you weirdo.”

Sapnap laughs. “You sound like my friend.”

“Oh, really?” George asks. “Maybe we’d get along then.”

“Me and you?” 

George gives him a dry look. “No, you idiot, me and your friend.”

“Well, you’re not going to meet him,” Sapnap replies.

“What, is he better looking than you?” George asks. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Hey!” Sapnap cries indignantly. “What does that mean?” George merely raises a brow. “And no , he’s not. I just… he doesn’t like coffee.”

“And that means he can’t come inside?” George asks.

“He gets, like, really nauseous if he smells it,” Sapnap explains “After I come here, I usually end up meeting him at, like, the library or something.”

“Oh, are you guys students?” At this, George sits up, leaning forward slightly over the table. Sapnap wonders if he’d be allowed to copy the other’s posture, or if it’d make George lean away. He decides not to risk it.

“I am,” he says. “My friend isn’t.”

“H’m,” George says.

“Yeah,” Sapnap replies. “H’m.”

He smiles at the smile that spreads on George’s lips, even as the other looks away, tucking his chin into his collar in an attempt to hide it further. “Stop it,” George says, muffled as he speaks into fabric. “Stop that.”

“I’m just looking at you,” Sapnap replies.

George glances at him from the corner of his eye. “I know,” he says. “Stop it.”

Though he doesn’t want to, he does. “So are you a student too?” he asks.

“Alum,” he replies. “Graduated last year.”

“Ooh,” Sapnap says. “Teach me all that you know.”

“You don’t even know what I majored in,” George replies. “What if we took, like, completely different classes?”

“Unimportant,” Sapnap says. “I was just trying to find an excuse to spend more time with you.”

“I—,” George is cut off by a persistent beeping. The two look down at the phone on the table. “Oh,” George turns off the timer. “Back to work.”

“I thought you said you’re still technically working?” Sapnap asks, knowing the grin he’s wearing is infuriating.

George’s eyes narrow as he looks at Sapnap before he shakes his head. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re the one who talked to me for ten minutes,” Sapnap replies easily.

George doesn’t reply, instead just shaking his head once more, heading back to the counter, where he grabs his apron and goes to tie it around his (oh God, small) waist. Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut, thinking, before he gets up from his chair. The place is relatively empty for ten in the morning. “It’s compsci,” he says as George finally comes to stand at the register. “I’m a compsci major.” George looks up at him from across the room, startled. “In case you were, you know, actually wondering.” He can feel his confidence drain out of him the longer the other continues to stare blankly at him. “Um, yeah.” He lifts a hand to wave goodbye, and he’s about to walk out when George replies:

“Wait, Sapnap,” he turns around to see George watching him, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, “if you actually do want help ever, uh, I can do that. For you.”

Sapnap wants to reply, wants to say thank you or maybe even you, me, library tomorrow at six?, but instead he stays silent, and the moment passes, George inserting something into the computer, Sapnap clearly dismissed.

;;

“I fucked up,” he says immediately to Dream, sinking into his seat at the small diner on the corner of Mulberry and 11th, convenient for its equidistance from his dorm and Dream’s apartment.

“You really could’ve gotten a date, and instead you just stood there,” Dream says, a vague echo of Sapnap’s retelling.

“You’re making fun of me right now,” Sapnap whines.

“No,” Dream says. Sapnap looks up at him from between his fingers. The corner of Dream’s mouth twitches. “Maybe.”

Sapnap groans, pushing his face further into his hands.

“No, no, it’s not that bad,” Dream tries. “Come on, man, no moping at Sally’s. You’re literally eating cheesecake pancakes right now. You can’t mope.”

“I’m not moping,” Sapnap immediately replies. “I’m mourning.” He pulls his hands away from his face, instead pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples. “Mourning the relationship that never was.”

“Is this what you’re like when you actually have to work for a relationship?” Dream asks. He steals a strawberry off of Sapnap’s plate. “I don’t know if I like this dude.”

“George?” Sapnap asks.

“No,” Dream says, stealing another strawberry, “you.”

“Considering you’re still here, I think you like him well enough.” Sapnap lifts a brow as Dream goes to sneak another strawberry, blocking the other’s fork with his own. Metal clinks against metal.  Dream accepts defeat, going back to his waffles.

“We all have our ups and downs,” Dream finally declares. “That was a bad day—”

“But it was going so well!”

“Okay, then things got thrown off with the alarm—”

“Timer.”

“—going off,” Dream eats another bite of waffles, “so basically: don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it,” Sapnap says, just to be contradictory.

Dream knows what he’s doing, so instead of replying, he just finishes off the first of his waffles. Sapnap glares down at his own meal before spearing a piece of pancake.

“I’ll go back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Dream says.

Shit.

;;

He resigns himself to waiting until Monday to see George again, only to find himself stopping short when walking to his dorm from the library, spotting a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches that line the commons.

“George?” he calls, before he can decide if interacting outside of the four walls of the Starbucks they’re so used to is a good idea.

George looks up, slipping his phone in his pocket, eyes obviously wide even when hidden behind a pair of—

“Are those clout goggles?” Sapnap asks, biting back a laugh.

George crosses his arms, stretching his legs out (though they don’t reach particularly far, Sapnap affectionately notes) and leaning back on the bench. “Maybe,” he replies.

Sapnap stops holding back his laughter, letting it spill out freely as George’s face goes through a range of expressions, from a frown to a smile to a grimace to something of a cross between all three.

“If you’re done,” he says when Sapnap’s laughter has turned more into sporadic giggles.

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap immediately replies, though it’s clear the words mean nothing. He’s certain if he could see George’s eyes clearly through his lenses, the other would be rolling them. “It’s cute,” he almost says, but something stops him, the words turning into, “It’s fine. They suit you.”

One of George’s hands comes up to adjust the glasses, the twist of his lips finally turning into a smile. “Really?” he asks, hand pulling away from the frames to instead rest his fingers lightly against the plastic, but Sapnap isn’t paying attention to the glasses at all, eyes instead locked on the delicate bones of George’s wrist.

“Yeah,” he says anyway. George’s hand falls back to his lap. “So,” Sapnap says, now that the immediate distraction is gone, coming back into himself, “what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you were wanting to see my face again.”

“Um.” George looks away, at a tree that Sapnap knows is behind him, at the ground, the railing of the bench, at an acorn that lay a few feet away. Sapnap tries not to let the hope grow in him, even though the silence only continues to stretch on.

The hope finally breaks loose, and he asks it: “Did you really come here just to see me?”

“Not… entirely,” George replies. Sapnap gives him a disbelieving look, and George is quick to defend himself. “No, really!” he says. “I live in the area, and this… it’s nice, isn’t it?” He motions to the commons. “It’s, like, cool outside now, and the sun isn’t, like, really hot or anything. It’s nice.”

“But you said ‘not entirely,’” Sapnap says, “so that means I was part of the reason?”

“I didn’t expect to see you,” George sighs. “But if—if—I did see you, I wouldn’t be opposed to, like, hanging out or, um, something.”

“Okay,” Sapnap says easily, taking a seat on the bench next to him. Now that he’s beside George, he can see his eyes better underneath his glasses, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way he stares. “So what do you want to do?”

George gives a noncommittal shrug. 

Sapnap sighs. They sit in a tense silence, Sapnap itching to say something, George… Sapnap isn’t sure what he’s thinking. Although they’re sitting side by side, sometimes their shoes would brush against each other, edge of sole against edge of sole, and George would jump like he’s been shocked, bringing Sapnap’s eyes back to him every time. Finally, Sapnap gives another sigh and says, “I spy… with my little eye… something… blue.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees George tense. And then.

“The sky?”

“Nope!” Sapnap answers, popping the ‘p’. “Try again.”

George hums quietly, head moving the tiniest bit as he surveys the area. “There,” he says, pointing, “those flowers.”

“Got it,” Sapnap smiles, “your turn.”

George looks around, a single finger tapping on his jean-clad thigh. Sapnap refuses to follow the movement. “I spy,” George begins, “with my little eye something that starts with P.”

Sapnap looks around, searching for whatever George could have chosen. Then a bark rings through the air, and his head snaps around to look at the dog darting across the commons to get to a girl kneeled in the grass. “That puppy,” Sapnap replies, smug.

“Yup.” George nods, glancing over at Sapnap as he picks out something.

“I spy with my little eye,” he starts, angling himself more towards George, “something green.”

George falters. “Grass?” he tries, a slight smile on his face.

Sapnap laughs. “No,” and then out of a rush of courage he’s not sure from where, he reaches up to pluck the leaf out of George’s hair, holding it up between the two of them.

George scoffs. “That’s not even fair. I can’t see that. And was that in my hair this entire time?”

Sapnap shakes his head, flicking it away from them, the leaf dancing idly in the air before twirling to the ground. “Nah. It must have happened sometime last round.”

“Ah.” George finally takes off his sunglasses, pushing them up onto the top of his head. “Well, still not fair. I can’t even see green.”

“What?” Sapnap doesn’t mean for it to come out as a laugh, but it does. “What do you mean you can’t see green?”

“I’m colorblind, asshole,” George doesn’t shove him, but his hand does lift and make a weak motion towards him. “When you started with a color, I figured this wouldn’t last long.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” Sapnap asks, hand coming down on the bench next to him so he can lean towards George.

“You said blue; it was fine,” George replies. “Besides,” he gives a shrug, “I just said the letter the word starts with. If I did it every time, maybe you would too.”

“Weird,” Sapnap says, the word coming out on a whistle.

“Not as weird as you,” George easily fires back.

Sapnap rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply, settling back on the bench once more. They sit in a companionable silence for another second before he remembers.

“Hey, uh,” George looks over at him, and wow, have his eyes always been that deep, wide and round and shining like honey in the bright sun, “my friend and I, the one that doesn’t like coffee, we’re meeting up for dinner. Would you… maybe want to come? Just so you can meet him. You know. We hang out a lot. And stuff.”

George seems to consider it before he nods. “If your friend is fine with it, why not?”

Sapnap sends Dream a quick text to ask, though he knows the other will say yes. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” he asks, even though he and Dream were just going to meet at, like, a McDonald’s.

“Not that I know of,” George replies.

“Awesome,” Sapnap says.

“Yup,” George agrees.

And… it’s awkward again.

“Got any other plans?” he asks, just to break the silence.

“Not really,” George says. “Fridays are usually pretty uneventful.”

“No one asking you to any parties?”

At that, George gives a quiet laugh. “Not really a partying type of person.”

“Really?” Sapnap asks, eyes wide. “I never would’ve guessed.”

George looks over at him, brows high, before he realizes it was sarcasm, making him roll his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re so annoying.”

“I’m not the one who agreed to spend more time with me.” 

George doesn’t reply, but when Sapnap glances at him, he’s got a small smile on his lips, cheeks pink and not, Sapnap is pretty sure, because of the sun.

;;

Sapnap thinks he should be jealous. He’s, like, really sure he’s supposed to be jealous.

Dream and George meet and hit it off immediately, falling into an easy banter that Sapnap watches like a tennis match, a constant smile on George’s face, laughter spilling out past his lips like a waterfall. 

They get along like a house on fire or whatever the phrase is, and Sapnap is left to breathe in the smoke. Yet he’s not choking and he’s not jealous.

Because every time George says something that sends Dream into a fit of laughter, he’ll glance over at Sapnap, eyes bright and smile wide, as if to check that he has Sapnap’s attention too, that he has Sapnap laughing right along with them.

Sapnap wonders if Dream notices, if he catches these moments between them, but if he does, he never comments on it, instead continuing to talk to George like they’ve known each other for thirty years and not thirty minutes.

By the time they finish their food, George and Dream have exchanged numbers and are planning another time to hang out.

“It sucks about the coffee thing,” George says to Dream, head tilted back so they can make eye contact. It’s endearing, but Sapnap does feel a slight pain in his chest when he realizes their one inch difference in height means he doesn’t get the same experience. 

“Yeah,” Dream agrees, “honestly it’s just, like, really inconvenient because I don’t like coffee in the first place, but you’re telling me I can’t even be near it?” George gives a sympathetic smile, and Dream backtracks. “If you ever want, I’m sure I can stomach it for, like, a minute or two, but—”

“It’s fine,” George cuts him off. “I can meet you wherever you want. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Dream asks, looking apologetic.

“It’s fine,” George repeats. “So next Tuesday? When I get off work?”

“Yeah,” Dream confirms. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“Same here.” George gives him a smile. “It’ll be fun kicking your ass.”

“Oh, right, like you’re going to win,” Dream scoffs. “Right.”

“You’ll see,” George crosses his arms, “just wait.”

“Whatever.” Dream gives a laugh before shouldering his backpack. “Alright,” he says to both George and Sapnap this time. “I’m going to head out. Patches is probably wondering why she hasn’t been fed yet.”

George laughs as Sapnap lifts his hand in an easy wave.

Dream waves back then heads out, leaving George and Sapnap alone.

George turns to Sapnap.

“So,” Sapnap says, “what’d you think?”

“He’s nice,” George replies, and then, “thanks for, uh, inviting me.”

“Of course, dude,” Sapnap says because what else do you call the guy you like, other than dude? He blinks. “Maybe we could do it again sometime.”

George gives a hesitant smile. “Maybe.”

“You’re not, like, intruding on anything,” Sapnap immediately goes to reassure. “We do this, like, all the time. It’s really not a big deal.”

“I didn’t think I was.” George collects his trash, “but thanks for putting the idea in my head.”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” Sapnap follows his lead as they throw out the wrappers from the burgers. “Anyway,” he opens the door for George, who ducks his head in silent thanks, before following after him, “what about me?”

“What about you?” George asks.

“Your number,” Sapnap answers, “I want it.”

“You think I give it out just like that?” George’s brows are raised in disbelief as Sapnap scoffs.

“You did it for Dream, and he didn’t even ask!”

“Okay, and?”

“You’re so mean to me, George,” Sapnap whines, crossing his arms. “See if I ever talk to you again.”

“Oh because that’s just the worst possible outcome for me,” George laughs.

“What the hell?” Sapnap uncrosses his arms to instead fling them out at his sides. “I thought we had fun today! We played I spy!”

“Yes,” George says, “because that is the exact definition of fun.”

“Well,” Sapnap crosses his arms again, “ I had fun. Sorry that you didn’t.”

In his performance, he had closed his eyes, but when he opens them again, his heart is quick to skip a beat upon seeing the soft smile on George’s face as he looks at him. His eyes are no longer turned to gold by the sun, but instead are dark like the coffee he serves, and Sapnap only finds himself looking away from them to instead drop his gaze to the other’s lips. They’re a soft pink, and they’re full, and Sapnap finds himself wondering what they’d feel like on his own.

“It’s,” and then a slew of numbers that Sapnap doesn’t catch. He finally meets George’s eyes again.

“What was it?” he asks, pulling out his phone. George rolls his eyes, giving a quiet laugh, before repeating his numbers as Sapnap rushes to add him to his contacts. When he’s done, he sends a quick text to George (Hiiii :D) to which George doesn’t answer but does make a show of blocking the number (then immediately unblocking it).

“Anyway,” Sapnap shoves his hands in his pockets, Dream’s advice be damned, and gives a slight whistle, “walk you home?”

George shifts his weight, readjusting his jacket, before nodding. “Alright.”

Sapnap smiles. George starts walking.

;;

George’s apartment is nice. Not too far from the Starbucks he works at (not too far from Sapnap’s dorm) and it’s in a quieter part of the city. The two of them stand in silence on the front step.

“So,” George says.

“So,” Sapnap agrees.

A second. Two seconds.

George makes a small noise that has Sapnap ready to ask if he’s alright when George’s hand suddenly smacks against his cheek. Sapnap immediately reaches up to cradle the reddening skin. “Did you just slap me?” He thinks the slight crack in his voice is warranted.

George’s eyes are wide as he shakes his head. “No. Oh my God. I wasn’t… it was a,” and then he makes a motion, like he’s pressing a kiss to his fingers, then lifting them as if he were to press that kiss to—

“You couldn’t have just kissed me like a normal person?” Sapnap is trying not to sound accusatory or angry because he’s not, but what the hell.

“It’s—I didn’t—look, fuck, I’m sorry.” George wraps his fingers around Sapnap’s arm to tug his hand away from his cheek. “Here, look, shit, I—,” and then he’s got his lips on Sapnap’s cheek and any pain Sapnap’s feeling is gone. George’s lips are warm against his skin, and when he pulls away, his eyes are still shut, fluttering open only once he’s back within his own space. Sapnap stares at him with wide eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” George says.

“It was kind of cute,” Sapnap tries, heart pounding in his chest. “But only kind of.”

“Whatever,” George says, “I’ll see you Monday, Sapnap.”

“Will you kiss me then too?” Sapnap asks.

George shakes his head, shoving past Sapnap to get to his front door, pulling out his key and unlocking it. “Goodnight, Sapnap,” he says.

“Goodnight, George,” Sapnap replies.

George turns around, looking at him from right inside the door. Sapnap stares back. George opens his mouth, as if he plans to say something, but only ends up closing it again, shaking his head and turning to go further inside, shutting the door behind him.

Sapnap stands there on the front step for another second before shaking his head, the ghost of a response to whatever George left unsaid, deciding to take the long way home.

;;

Monday comes quickly, and after class Sapnap finds himself making his way to Starbucks, just in time for George’s lunch break. He wonders if thirty minutes is enough for him to take George somewhere, nothing fancy, just something quick, but then he’s inside and George is sitting at a table on the far wall, lunchbox open in front of him.

“Boo,” Sapnap says, sliding into the seat across from him, “I was going to ask if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

“I’m good, thanks,” George says.

“I can see that.”

He watches as George peels away layers of cling wrap around his sandwich.

“So how was class?” George asks, right before he takes a bite.

“Ugh,” Sapnap crosses his arms and rests his head atop them, closing his eyes, “I don’t know why I do it sometimes.”

“What, go to school?” Based on what he hears, Sapnap assumes George has peeled away more cling wrap.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Deep down you enjoy it,” George says, “and it’s for your future.”

“You went to school,” Sapnap starts, “and now you work at Starbucks.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what you said on Friday.”

“I didn’t say anything Friday,” George says.

“You’re right,” Sapnap sits back up, “you didn’t say anything because you were too busy kissing me.”

“Yeah because a kiss on the cheek totally equals making out on the couch,” George snorts as he takes another bite of his sandwich. “Right.”

Sapnap grins. “Duh.” When George just rolls his eyes and opens a bag of chips, Sapnap is quick to steal one. “Anyway, we have a quiz Friday that I am not looking forward to.”

“I don’t think anyone looks forward to quizzes,” George slaps his hand away when it swoops in for another chip, “are you ready for it?”

“Define ‘ready,’” Sapnap replies. At George’s unimpressed look, Sapnap shrugs. “I mean, as ready as I can be.”

“That’s better than ‘not at all,’” George sighs. “Tell me how it goes?”

“Obviously.” Sapnap smiles when George allows him another chip. “So what about you? How’s your morning gone?”

“It’s gone,” George says. And then he pauses. “I got a girl’s number.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, because that’s all he can think to say.

“She, like, wrote it on the receipt, I guess when Sarah was talking to me, and when she left, she just… left it on the counter.” Sarah, as it turns out, is the woman who told Sapnap she’s not allowed to disclose George’s break times. Sapnap still feels prickles of irritation under his skin as George continues: “I threw it out.”

The prickles suddenly stop.

“You threw it out?”

George nods, nonchalant, popping another chip in his mouth and even offering the rest in the bag to Sapnap with a raised brow. Sapnap just shakes his head, ears still ringing from George’s words.

“Why?” he asks.

“Not interested,” George says, finishing off his chips. “Besides,” he says, getting up to toss the bag in the trash, “no flirting while I’m at work.” Sapnap hands him the cling wrap sitting on the table. George smiles as he grabs his lunchbox. “See you later, Sapnap.”

“What if I wanted to order something?” Sapnap calls as George gets himself situated behind the counter.

“You drink too much sugar,” George replies, putting on his customer service face as a middle-aged man walks in. “Welcome to Starbucks, would you…,” Sapnap lets the rest of the greeting fade into background noise as he watches George’s mouth move, his fingers dancing across the computer as the man places his order. After another second, he gives a stretch, then rises, giving George a smile and a wave as he heads out the door.

He comes back that afternoon only to be greeted by George’s furrowed brows and a cold drink shoved into his hands. “On the house,” George tells him as Sapnap stares down at the vanilla frap, the condensation that had gathered on the cup wetting his hands.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” George replies, pushing through the glass doors and holding one open for Sapnap. “So where to?”

Sapnap thinks. He hadn’t really thought of anything for them to do, mostly just wanting to see George again. Then he remembers neon lights and crummy carpet with space patterns on it, rockets and stars and moons. With the next step he takes, he moves the tiniest fraction closer to George. The backs of their hands brush together. Sapnap lets this happen a couple more times, and then—he takes George’s hand.

George just holds on tight.

Sapnap smiles. “I have somewhere.”

;;

They hold hands the entire way, and Sapnap tries not to let it get to him. George’s fingers are thinner than his, and not long after he had started to lead them in the direction of the arcade did George’s fingers slot their way between his. His palm is warm, pressed flat against Sapnap’s own, and every once in awhile Sapnap will say something that makes George laugh and his hand will come up as if to cover his mouth, the action aborted halfway to its destination when Sapnap’s arm goes taut, George letting their hands fall back between them. He still looks over at Sapnap though, eyes glittering, squinted, cheeks rosy.

It’s maybe the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen.

;;

Correction. George smiling (still, because George always looks nice smiling) colored by the neon lights is the most beautiful thing Sapnap has ever seen. He’s almost tempted to take a picture of just George, just for him to have, him to cherish, but he knows George will hate it, George will watch him like a hawk over his shoulder as he deletes it, not letting up until he deletes it, and the effort isn’t worth it. Seeing George so displeased isn’t worth it.

So instead he crowds into George’s space, demanding a selfie, “to send to Dream! To make him jealous!”

Like that’s anywhere close to the truth. But he does send the selfie to Dream, who does reply with a >:(, and Sapnap laughs and shows George, who laughs then wanders over to the skee ball, and then that’s when Sapnap goes and changes the picture to his homescreen (because a lockscreen is too risky, because he knows George will definitely see it).

He lets George win at skee ball. And air hockey. And… this game isn’t even competitive, what the hell, but he lets George win at that too. (And okay, maybe sometimes George wins because he’s better, but it’s not like Sapnap would ever admit to that.)

When they leave, George is still giggly, fingers intertwined with Sapnap’s once again, but less passive, more with a purpose, more I’m holding your hand because I really want to hold your hand, because I like how your fingers feel between mine, because I like the way our skin touches, you’re here and so am I. It’s so deliberate, and Sapnap is dizzy from it.

They get dinner at a seedy, shitty pizza place, though the pizza is anything but, and then it’s back to Sapnap walking George home.

“You really don’t have to,” George says. “Your dorm is, like, right there,” he makes a general motion to the upcoming intersection.

“But I want to,” Sapnap says.

George sighs, but doesn’t say anything, even as they walk past the entrance of the university.

When they reach his apartment, Sapnap fakes nonchalance. “So,” he says, “are you going to make it a big deal?”

George crosses his arms.

Sapnap puts up his hands in front of him. “Just a question.” He smiles. “So are you?”

“You’re so annoying,” and then warm lips are on his cheek as fingers tangle into his shirt. “I hate you,” George says when he leans back. Sapnap looks down at where George still has a grip on his shirt, but when he meets George’s eyes again, the other doesn’t let go. Sapnap wants to take his face in his hands and press a kiss to his lips right then and there.

George’s gaze dropping down—to his lips, there’s no doubt about it, George is looking at his lips—is almost enough to make him do so.

But that would scare George away. He knows it would. So he leans back on his heels, smile on his lips. “Hate you too.” The soft lilt of his voice belies his words. He doesn’t mind. 

George’s eyes flit back up to Sapnap’s. Sapnap’s smile widens. George drops his hand from Sapnap’s shirt. “Thank you for today,” George finally says. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Sapnap reaches out, taking George’s hand in his own, finding that he quite missed the other’s touch, even if it’d only been a few seconds. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” George agrees, “we will.”

They stand there in silence, Sapnap holding George’s hand. George clears his throat.

“Well,” he says, “goodnight, Sapnap.”

Sapnap gives the other’s hand a squeeze. “Goodnight, George.” He drops George’s hand, their fingers dragging together until they’re not.

When their fingers finally part, George takes a breath then turns to unlock his door and head inside. Right before he shuts the door, Sapnap is treated to the sight of an eye turned liquid gold from the streetlights, a rich, amber color that leaves Sapnap tasting coffee and honey. “Goodnight, George,” he says one last time, and then, the door shuts and it’s just Sapnap out in the cold. He gives a smile to the closed door, then turns and starts the walk to his dorm.

;;

Sapnap ends up with what feels like fifty new assignments on Tuesday, and he knows Dream and George are meeting up after George’s shift ends, so he decides to forgo his usual trip to Starbucks and instead heads back to his dorm after shooting George a quick Have fun with dream :) text. 

When he reaches his room, his phone chimes in his pocket.

thanks, i’m gonna kick his ass

Sapnap huffs out a laugh before unlocking the door and heading inside, dropping his backpack onto the floor next to his desk then collapsing into his chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes before replying to the text.

Of course u will <3

Immediately, he gets a text back, and he thinks more about that than what the text actually says (gross, don’t ever send me a <3 ever again).

Just to be antagonistic, Sapnap grins and sends: Good luck baby xoxo mwah mwah mwah <3

Another instant reply: you’re so disgusting. talk to you later sapnap

Sapnap’s grin stays as he sets his phone down and pulls out the assignment he’s decided to tackle first. Sure, George may be annoyed by every text he sends, but he’s still replying right away, still replying at all—he totally doesn’t mean it. George totally loves texting him, he’s sure of it. Sapnap gets out his laptop and goes to Blackboard as he thinks about George on Monday, the way he’d sometimes lean into Sapnap, the clean scent of his laundry detergent settling into Sapnap’s heart and the occasional press of his cheek against Sapnap’s leaving a permanent warmth under his skin.

He goes through his assignments in a daze, Java getting mixed with java and graphs getting interrupted by George. Only the sound of his phone going off—a call from Dream—breaks him out of it, little numbers and letters dancing behind his eyes as he blinks and answers the phone.

“Yeah?”

“George and I are getting something to eat, do you want us to bring anything to your dorm?”

“You don’t have to,” Sapnap replies, even as his stomach rumbles and roars at him to eat.

“You’re right,” Dream agrees, “but I’m not doing this for myself.”

Sapnap blinks. “George,” he says, and Dream gives a quiet hum. “Where’re you guys getting food from?”

“Taco Bell, maybe,” Dream replies. “There’s one on the way to your dorm.”

“Across the street, yeah,” Sapnap agrees. “Then can I get a Cheesy Gordita Crunch with two soft chicken tacos, a steak quesadilla, cinnamon twists, and a Baja Blast?”

Dream repeats it back to him with an, “alright,” at the end, and Sapnap tells him he’ll pay him back when they get to his dorm. “Sounds good,” Dream replies. “See you in a bit.”

“See you,” Sapnap agrees, then the call disconnects, and Sapnap is left in a messy as hell room with George on his way. “Shit,” Sapnap says, looking at the weeks-old laundry spilling out of his wardrobe and the assortment of half-drunk Gatorades and water bottles littering the shelf above his desk. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He grabs his trash can from where it sits at the foot of the bed, lifting it to the edge of the shelf and just pushing all the bottles into it, some of them falling past the edge and hitting the floor. He groans as he bends over to grab them and put them into the trash properly. When that’s done, he knows he’s not going to be able to run a full two and some loads of laundry before Dream and George get to his dorm, so he deems the laundry a lost cause and shoves it as best he can back into the wardrobe, his hamper buried under weeks of unwashed clothes. Oh well. At least his room doesn’t smell.

Sapnap freezes. Does it?

He shakes his head. No. It doesn’t. It’s fine. Besides, his room isn’t that bad. And George is a guy; he probably lived in the dorms, he knows the horrors of a bunch of dudes crowded in one building. It’s fine.

A knock on the door makes him look up from where he’d been staring a hole into his bedsheets, wondering if remaking his bed (he had put it together haphazardly that morning, more for a sense of productivity than any need for cleanliness, the sheets wrinkled and pillows slouched awkwardly) would be worth it. He supposes the interruption is answer enough. Leaving the bed as is, he unlocks the door, swinging it open to see George standing there holding three paper bags, two drinks under his left arm.

“Hi,” Sapnap says.

“Hi,” George replies, angling himself to allow Sapnap to take a bag from him. “These drinks are really cold.”

“Here,” Sapnap grabs the green one, immediately lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. “Almost as refreshing as seeing you.”

George stares at him before making his way into Sapnap’s room, setting the two bags down then taking out a napkin and setting his drink on it. “You’re not funny.”

“You’re right,” Sapnap agrees, making George’s eyes widen as he looks over at him. “I’m hilarious.”

George’s parted lips fall into an unamused line. He scoffs, turning back to the bags and pulling out various Taco Bell items. “Here,” he says, handing Sapnap his quesadilla and cinnamon twists, “they threw some of our things in the same bag. Everything in the one you’re holding is yours, though.”

“Nice.” Sapnap sets down the bag to take the food, immediately getting started on his quesadilla.

“And Dream was going to come, but then he got a call from someone and said he had to go. He might’ve taken the hot sauce…?” He looks over at Sapnap with a raised brow, who glances into his bag.

“Nah. There’s sauce in here.”

“Cool,” George replies. “But yeah, it’s… it’s just us now, I guess.”

Sapnap glances over at him. George is staring down into his bag, fingers crumpling the paper. When George turns to look at him, Sapnap doesn’t turn away. George holds his gaze for a second before his ears turn a warm pink, and he ducks his head, reaching into his bag to pull out a Quesarito. 

“Uh,” Sapnap says, and then reaches across George to grab his wallet from the desk and pull out a ten. “For the food.” He holds it out to George.

George takes it, their fingers brushing and Sapnap’s pulse sent racing. 

“Thanks,” George says, “but Dream paid.”

Sapnap plucks the cash from George’s fingers. “Never mind then.”

George laughs, “rude,” before unwrapping his Quesarito and taking a bite. “So how are your classes going?”

Sapnap groans making a motion to the stack of assignments half-covered by an empty Taco Bell bag. “Terribly. I’m doing… fine. It’s just… so much work.”

“The worst,” George agrees, taking another bite. “Studying for the quiz?”

“What are you, my dad?” Sapnap asks, but at an unimpressed look from George, he sighs and leans back against his bed. “Yes.”

“Good,” George says, and then he says, “I kicked Dream’s ass by the way.”

“Like I said you would,” Sapnap replies, and when George looks at him from under dark lashes, he thinks about how easy it would be to lean forward and press a kiss to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose, Sapnap hesitates for the shortest second before his gaze drops lower—it’d be so easy to lean forward and press a kiss to George’s lips. When he meets George’s eyes again, they’re dark, and in the faint light, Sapnap can see his pupils blown wide. He swallows. George watches the movement.

Sapnap takes a breath. “I—”

And then George is on him, their mouths pressed hot against each other. Sapnap moves back, resting on the bed, as he tilts his head, angles it so that he can kiss George properly. It’s once he does this, once he brings a hand up to hold the back of George’s head, that George pulls away with a small breath. “This was a—”

“If you say ‘bad idea,’ you owe me ten bucks,” Sapnap says before he can finish.

George, flushed, glances up at him and huffs a small laugh. “Lapse in better judgement, then.”

“No take-backs,” Sapnap says, his left hand, which had settled on the curve of George’s hip, sliding up to hold the nape of George’s neck. “Okay?”

George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels it warm against his lips, a phantom of their kiss. “Okay.”

Sapnap smiles. “Good. So what’s wrong?” He wouldn’t normally talk it out, the other party throwing out their worries and Sapnap immediately going back in for the kill, lips on theirs and them preferably in the bed by now, but it’s okay if it’s George—if this takes longer than it normally would, that’s okay, and—George gives him a hesitant smile back—if the end result is more than a tumble in the sheets, that’s even better. (Not that that was ever the desired result, but for a time, Sapnap could’ve been content with just that. Not anymore, though. Not now.)

“I’ve never dated anyone,” George admits, “not seriously.”

“Like, you’re some type of player or…?” Sapnap lifts a brow as George sends him a look. He drops his hand to pull himself back and up onto his bed then pats the space next to him in a silent offering to George. George looks from his hand to his face then back a couple times before sighing and climbing onto the bed next to him. When George places his hands down at his side, his and Sapnap’s pinkies brush together. George takes another breath.

“I mean, I dated a girl in high school, if you could call it that,” George says. “More like I knew she had a crush on me and was doing what I was supposed to.” He makes a face and Sapnap wonders if it would be bad of him to curl their pinkies together, to take even more than that. Good or bad, he leaves his hands as they are, letting George continue. “It didn’t mean anything, and it was a high school relationship. Those are hardly legitimate.” He gives a slight eye roll. “So yeah, this is… kind of new to me.”

“That’s okay,” Sapnap says immediately. “I’ve never had a real relationship either.” 

It’s not the consolation Sapnap had planned for it to be. Sapnap wouldn’t say he sleeps around, or slept around, he’s not some kind of manwhore or anything, but the fact still stands that he’s definitely had more than one partner and most of those relationships did reach at least third base before he even hit the ball. That, in contrast to George’s high school hand-holding, is definitely a strike against him.

Sapnap shakes his head, dissipating the baseball metaphors beginning to sprawl in his mind. “But it’s something I want with you,” he amends. “I really like you, George. Like… I really like you.” He’s not sure if the second thing is what does it for George, but either way, he still takes Sapnap’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and resting their connected hands in his lap. Sapnap leans over just enough to have their shoulders touching.

“You really do annoy me sometimes, you know?” George asks, thumb rubbing smooth circles into Sapnap’s skin. “It’s like you go out of your way to do it, too. You can’t just… dial it back a bit. It’s really all or nothing with you.”

“I’m not known for doing things in halves, yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

George glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Except for relationships,” he says. His voice is rough.

The smile that had started to grow on Sapnap’s face drops. “Yeah. Except for those.”

“I really like you too,” George finally admits, “and if you’re willing to try,” he squeezes Sapnap’s hand then looks over and meets his eyes, “I am too.”

;;

The soft atmosphere had broken not long after that, Sapnap’s stomach rumbling and George bursting into lilted giggles, nerves and hesitance coloring his every move after that. But when Sapnap offered to walk him home, George agreed, and they held hands the entire way, and when they reached George’s door, George scrunched his face up then grabbed Sapnap by the front of his jacket and pulled him into a searing kiss.

“For someone who’s never been in an actual relationship,” Sapnap had said, “your kisses are pretty hot.”

“Thanks,” George had said and then slammed the door in Sapnap’s face.

Sapnap didn’t mind, though; nah, he grinned the entire way home.

;;

The rest of the week flies by in a vanilla frap-flavored, headache-filled haze. George is certain the headaches are from all the sugar Sapnap intakes, but Sapnap is certain it’s from all the homework his professors assign and studying George pushes him to do.

“It’s not as if you wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t in the picture,” George tells him as he wipes down the table next to Sapnap’s. Sapnap has a lab report open on his laptop, his notes spread all out on the table before him. Half of the keyboard is covered by the paper, rendered unusable. 

Sapnap doesn’t have a good argument for that, but he also wants to keep George nearby. He leans back in his chair. “I’d have a headache with no remedy,” he says.

“Remedy, huh?” George asks, standing straight and arching a brow.

“Seeing your face is the only medicine I need,” Sapnap says, and then he throws in a, “pretty boy,” just because he wants to see what it’ll make George do.

Apparently, it makes his expression fall off his face and heat rise in its place, cheeks and ears glowing a bright pink even as he stutters out irritated (and empty) phrases, eventually giving the table a final furious once-over then disappearing into the kitchen to get rid of the dirtied rag. So basically, the words did the opposite of what he wanted, but in the end, Sapnap finds himself unable to consider it anything other than a win, mind now running through other opportunities to pull out the pet names.

George appears only when he’s about to leave, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek that’s really more an accidental brushing of lips against skin, but it’s enough for Sapnap, and he leaves the other with a smile and a promise to tell him how the quiz goes at dinner.

;;

Come dinner, Sapnap is halfway through explaining how he’s pretty sure he failed the quiz when George sits up in his seat and asks, “Is this a date?”

Sapnap freezes, mouth open and mid-word. “Do you want it to be a date?”

George huffs. “This isn’t really the wining and dining I expected, but—”

“I’m nineteen,” Sapnap tells him.

George sighs. “It was just an expression,” he says. “And I was going to say it’s fine. Everything here leaves something to be desired, but it’s fine.”

“Everything?” Sapnap asks, eyes widening coyly as he looks at the other.

“Everything,” George confirms. “Especially my date.”

Sapnap exaggerates a sad face and George rolls his eyes, throwing a fry at him, but he’s got a smile on his face, so Sapnap drops the act and grins back. “You’re so cute,” he tells the other, and George immediately seems to grow smaller, shoulders curving inwards, face angled down, his smile facing the floor instead of Sapnap, who observes this all with a quiet gaze.

“Shut up,” George says, the words on the end of a laugh.

“It’s true,” Sapnap replies. “I love looking at you. Even when you look dumb.”

“Excuse you,” George immediately snaps, finally looking back at Sapnap, “I never look dumb.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, “you’re right. I meant when you look stupid.”

“What the hell?” George guffaws. “You’re actually so annoying. Shut up.”

“So you want me to shut up when I compliment you, and you want me to shut up when I insult you—what’s the truth?”

George looks at him, unimpressed. “The only conclusion is that I like you best when you say nothing at all.”

Sapnap scoffs. “Rude.”

“And yet.” George lifts a brow.

Sapnap gives a quiet exhale. “And yet,” he agrees.

;;

Dream stretches his legs out in front of him while Sapnap twists himself around to lean against Dream, back pressed against shoulder.

“How’s it going with George?” Dream asks, flicking through the channels on the TV, Sapnap watching the short frames he gets while taking nothing in.

“I think we’re a thing,” Sapnap replies, settling even further into Dream when he finally decides on a channel. It’s an old comedy from the 80’s, one Sapnap thinks his dad might’ve shown him when he was younger. Vaguely, he recalls falling asleep halfway through. He’ll try not to do that this time.

He feels Dream shift as he looks down at the younger. Sapnap can sense his eyes on the top of his head. “You think?” Dream asks, the words coming out slowly, as if he’s tasting every letter.

“We kissed,” Sapnap explains, “and we both talked about how we feel, and we went on a date, and he’s kissed me again since that first one. On the lips,” he adds hastily, just so Dream understands the severity of the situation.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Dream concludes.

“But no one’s said ‘boyfriend’ yet,” Sapnap confirms.

Dream hums as a fanfare starts up in the movie. Sapnap takes a handful of popcorn from the bag on the coffee table in front of them.

“I think we’re taking it slow,” Sapnap continues. “Neither of us are good at relationships.”

“What do you mean?” Dream turns slightly, and Sapnap slips down his arm some. “You’re not good at relationships?”

“You know how it was,” Sapnap answers, “is.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Sapnap shrugs, scooting back up against Dream as he does so. “I’d think so. Someone like George would think so.”

“Where does that leave me?” Dream asks.

Sapnap doesn’t answer, eyes back on the TV screen. Dream huffs, but doesn’t push for one either. 

“It’s fine,” he finally says. “Whatever works best for you guys.”

Sapnap nods, and they don’t talk about George or Sapnap and George or relationships for the rest of the movie.

;;

This is new. Sapnap’s heart pounds heavy in his chest as George sits perched on his lap, hands flying across Sapnap’s keyboard as he types a command into the chatbox. Dream’s voice crackles through his speakers: “George! What the hell?”

“Oops,” George says, glancing back to share a conspiratorial look with Sapnap, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, you did,” Dream argues, his character finding George’s—who's really just using Sapnap’s character, but it’s whatever—and George running, even as Dream hits him over and over, beginning to take hearts. “You’re such an idiot, oh my God.”

George leans back against Sapnap’s chest, letting Dream kill him. “Fine,” he sighs, “we can do it your way. Whatever.” Sapnap smiles at the way his accent colors his words. George sends him a curious glance; Sapnap noses at the edge of his hairline in answer. George makes a small noise before leaning forward to get back into the game. Sapnap shifts, adjusting George on his lap so he can have some circulation in his thighs again. It’s not that George is heavy, no, George is fairly light, but George is bony, and for all Sapnap likes him and would in fact like to slip his hand in the other’s back pocket as they walk together, that doesn’t change the reality of George having a bony ass and it pressing into Sapnap’s lap.

When he’s got him where he wants, Sapnap curves himself over George, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. George feels warm all over, and when Sapnap tilts his head to take in the other’s profile, he sees it as a soft pink. Though George can’t really afford a free hand when PvPing Dream, he still lifts a hand to shove Sapnap’s head away.

Sapnap huffs and hooks his chin over the other’s shoulder. And then he gets the most terrible (wonderful) idea and angles his head so his nose is pressed into George’s neck and he’s starting to run kisses across the skin there. George breathes out a titter and lifts his shoulder to try and push Sapnap away. Sapnap grins and starts to climb his lips up the slender column of George’s neck. George gives a full-on giggle at this. “Stop,” he says, hand coming up to shove at Sapnap again, the lapse giving Dream a chance to hit George with his axe. “Sapnap,” George says when his kisses turn a bit rougher.

“What are you guys—,” and then George gives another breathless laugh and Dream makes a disgusted noise. “Seriously?” he asks. “In the middle of my Minecraft PvP?”

“Sorry,” George gasps, shoving at Sapnap with an urgency now, brows knitting and lips losing their smile for a frown instead. Sapnap gives one final nip to George’s neck before relenting, letting George stand from his lap and glare down at him. It holds for another second before George turns back to the computer. “I’ll be back on in a bit, is that okay?”

Dream makes a noise of confirmation then ends the call. George turns back to Sapnap. 

“Too far?” Sapnap asks.

George scrutinizes him, eyes narrowed, before he sits back down on Sapnap’s lap, this time angled towards him. When Sapnap puts his hands on his hips, George makes a face. Sapnap drops his hands. “I know I kissed you first,” George finally says, not quite meeting Sapnap’s eyes. “So I should be okay with all this.” He finally manages to make eye contact, holding it as he speaks. “But I’m not.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“You can tell me when it’s too much,” Sapnap tells him, but at George’s look, he sucks in a breath. “You did.”

“I was—I didn’t seem like I meant it,” George says. “I know. And, um, I guess I didn’t. Not really, not at first, but—”

“I still should’ve.” Sapnap lifts a hand, looking from it to George’s eyes then back. George gives a nod, and Sapnap sets his hand on George’s side, fingers resting in the spaces between George’s ribs. He feels George’s chest expand and contract with every breath he takes.

“We could,” George ducks his head, “have a sign, or a word, or something, and if one of us does it, the other stops,” he meets Sapnap’s eyes again, “would that work?”

Sapnap’s brows raise, jaw dropping slightly. “George…,” he says, “did you just suggest we employ a safeword?” 

George splutters. “No? I mean—I guess, but not like that! Just… yes or no?”

“Butterscotch,” Sapnap says.

“What?” George makes a face.

“When it’s too much,” Sapnap explains, “just say you want butterscotch.”

“It sounds like a euphemism.” The word drips distasteful from George’s tongue.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “But that’s what makes it good !” He slides his fingers from George’s side around to his back, watching George’s face all the while. When George doesn’t stop him—physically or with butterscotch—Sapnap brings his other arm around George, holding him. “People will think we’re going to fuck or something, but actually we’re doing the opposite!”

“That or they’ll think we’re sugar addicts,” George scoffs, making Sapnap laugh.

“One of those,” Sapnap agrees. “Is that really such a bad thing?”

George looks at him, disappointment clear on his features. Sapnap smiles. George’s facade breaks; he smiles back. “It’s dumb,” he says.

“You always look dumb,” Sapnap replies. “No one will think anything.”

George sighs. Sapnap feels the movement against his chest, beneath his fingertips. “Fine,” George finally concedes. “Butterscotch.”

Sapnap smiles back then leans forward till their noses touch and their breath intermingles as George inhales then says, “If there’s ever been a better time to say the opposite of butterscotch, it’d be now.” Sapnap kisses him. George’s eyes slip shut, hands coming up to tangle slender fingers into the ends of Sapnap’s hair, and returns the kiss.

Eventually, George calls Dream again and the two of them start up their game again, George back to his perch at the edge of Sapnap’s lap, and this time Sapnap doesn’t kiss him, but George lets him run his fingers up and down his sides, and Sapnap delights in the little shivers and shudders George does every time. George and Dream end the day on a tie, the last win one of Dream’s. George’s consolation is a kiss pressed to his temple, but then George says that’s not enough and decides Dream and Sapnap owe him dinner.

“Both of us?” Sapnap asks as Dream groans on the other line.

George nods.

“Why me?” Sapnap makes the best pleading face he can. 

George is made of stone. “Friend of the enemy.”

“Boo,” Sapnap says, “hiss.”

“Hey!” Dream’s voice crackles through the speaker. George glances over at it, unamused.

“I think we should try that one place, what was it called? It’s on Main and Delaware.”

Dream makes a noise. Sapnap thinks it might be one of fear. “If it’s the place I’m thinking… that’s really expensive.”

“But you can pay for it, can’t you, Dream?” George asks. “I know you can.”

Dream doesn’t reply. All three of them know he can.

“But I wouldn’t do that to you,” George continues. “Which is why Sapnap owes me dinner too.”

Sapnap is about to whine when his brain catches onto an idea and his eyes narrow. “Is this payback for the date?”

“H’m?” The tilt of George’s head is innocent in a way only the guise of innocence can be. Sapnap’s eyes squint even more, vision practically gone. “Of course not.”

Sapnap doesn’t believe him.

;;

Despite George’s teasing earlier that week, he ends up ordering the cheapest things on the menu, though Sapnap (feeling guilty about the date thing, oops) points out other, more expensive, things for George to try.

“Sapnap,” George finally says, “it’s fine. If it bothers you that much, we can split a dessert or something.” Across the table, they meet eyes and at the contact, a small smile appears on George’s face. Sapnap’s breath catches.

Dream is seated next to George, this date of course anything but traditional, but, like at the McDonald’s, Sapnap finds he doesn’t care, their closeness completely platonic—if anything, he’s comforted by it, in a sense, his two favorite people getting along as easy as they do. Sapnap’s utterly sold on it.

He and George catch eyes again as Dream peoplewatches casually, cheek resting on his palm. Sapnap’s own palm is open on the table in front of him, bored of messing with his unused cutlery. He smiles as George eyes the hand, eyes dark and inscrutable, before a hand covers his own. Sapnap curls his fingers around the other’s. They sit in this calm silence until their server brings them their food.

Sapnap’s tempted to keep George’s hand in his as he eats, but it’s his right hand and George’s left, so he lets go, turning to his food instead. George does the same, and Sapnap thinks that’s it, but then he feels a foot brush his, and when he glances up, it’s to see George already watching him, cheeks flushed. Sapnap hooks their ankles together. George’s gaze goes back to his plate.

When it comes time for dessert, George does agree on splitting with Sapnap, Dream getting his own thing, some chocolate mousse pie, and George and Sapnap getting a crème brûlée, George eager to tap the top with his spoon when the waiter brings it out to them, steaming and pretty.

Every once in awhile, their spoons clink against each other, and they exchange quick glances, Sapnap swears his aren’t heated, but the pounding in his heart suggests otherwise—he never knows with George, whether there’s something behind them or not, his eyes dark, endless, Sapnap wonders if he’ll ever be able to properly read him. If Dream is ever uncomfortable, he never gives any indication of it.

Dream and Sapnap do pay, and George looks green and guilty after, even when Dream did everything he could to keep George from seeing the check, leaning away and even cupping a hand over the receipt to prevent curious eyes from wandering.

The three of them walk out together, Sapnap’s pockets feeling considerably lighter, but the meal worth it, and when he reaches over, George lets him clasp their hands together easily, fingers intertwining like this happens everyday. Dream walks on his other side, hands in his pockets (Sapnap stops himself from making a smart remark), eyes on the sidewalk ahead of them. The sun has long since set, and a chill has started under Sapnap’s skin, shaken only by the solid warmth of George’s hand in his. Still, when a breeze ruffles their hair, Sapnap has to suppress a shiver. 

They reach George’s apartment first, and he goes with an easy goodbye to Dream and a short hug around Sapnap’s middle. When he pulls away, he turns his head and his lips brush Sapnap’s cheek in something like a kiss. Sapnap watches him up until the door finally shuts and they hear the click of the lock. 

They’ll reach his dorm before they reach Dream’s place. When Sapnap looks over, Dream is still staring straight ahead.

“I could’ve paid it all myself,” Dream says. “You knew that.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap agrees.

“You could’ve told me to pay it all myself.” Dream turns his head, eyes on Sapnap. His gaze is sharp. “George wouldn’t have minded.”

Sapnap looks to the ground. “Yeah.”

Dream goes back to looking ahead. They walk in silence for another minute. “He’s happy,” he finally says. Sapnap’s eyes dart to the other. Dream isn’t looking back. “He really likes you.”

“I really like him,” Sapnap says.

“Monday—the other week,” Dream gives a slight laugh, “George said he really liked that, too. He had a bad day—,” Sapnap remembers the drink shoved in his hands, the dark expression on George’s face, “—and then you were there, and you were happy and happy to see him, and suddenly the bad parts of the day didn’t really matter.”

“I just want to see him smile,” Sapnap says, and then he amends the statement, “I want to see him happy. If it’s because of me, that’s even better, but really, he just…,” he shrugs, makes a noise in his throat. “I care about him.”

“So do I,” Dream says. “And I care about you. And I can tell that you guys make each other happy. And that’s all you want for each other.” He glances over, showing the other a soft smile. “And that’s all I want for you both.”

“You haven’t even known George for that long,” Sapnap says, because he’s socially incompetent or something.

“George is easy to love,” Dream replies.

Sapnap doesn’t have anything to say to that. It’s true. He is.

;;

It’s another one of Sapnap and Dream’s biweekly movie nights, but this time George is there, head resting in Sapnap’s lap, feet in Dream’s. He fits perfectly along the couch, though he’s turned on his side, blanket tugged tight over him as he watches Jurassic Park. They settled on that after some brief bickering, mostly between George and Sapnap, Dream content to watch whatever, while George wanted a comedy and Sapnap didn’t know what he wanted but it wasn’t a comedy because, “Dream and I watched a comedy last time!”

“I wasn’t here last time!” George argues. “So it shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does ,” Sapnap does not whine, though they all know the pitch in his voice makes it close to one. “We should watch something else.”

In the end, it was Dream who decided, having closed his eyes then picked a movie off the shelf randomly. Once Dream was sat back down on the couch, George had huffed and flopped over onto his side to watch it, ignoring Sapnap’s cheering but not turning away from the hand the younger had placed atop his head, fingers running through the short strands.

Now, an hour and a half later, George makes a sleepy noise, nuzzling into Sapnap’s thigh, and Sapnap’s heart clenches in his chest.

Dream had dozed off a few minutes ago, chin in his palm, and now his elbow has started to slide off the arm of the couch. Sapnap bends over, running his nose along the curve of George’s ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey,” he whispers. “Want to call it a night?”

George turns his head, nose bumping into Sapnap’s when Sapnap doesn’t sit up quick enough. Their eyes lock, dark blue on dark brown, and George stares up at him for a second before he glances to Dream at the other end of the couch, one hand curled around George’s ankles. “��Kay,” George says, voice rough. Sapnap finally leans back the rest of the way, and George sits up, pointing his sock-clad toes and stretching out his right arm, the limb having been pressed to the couch beneath him. When he takes his feet from Dream’s lap, dropping them to the floor, Dream’s elbow finally slips from the couch, and he jerks awake, eyes blinking rapidly until they finally settle blearily on the TV.

Sapnap leans over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “George and I are gonna head out,” he tells him. “We’re all pretty tired.”

Dream looks over at him, movements sluggish, before he nods. “See you guys tomorrow?”

“Probably,” Sapnap replies.

Dream nods again before making a small noise and pushing himself up from the couch. The movie still plays on the television, but none of them pay it any mind. Dream picks up their empty bowl of popcorn and takes it to the kitchen.

George sighs, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes.

“Ready for the walk home?” He’s talking about their respective homes, Sapnap knows—George’s apartment and Sapnap’s dorm—but it feels so much like they’re a duo, a pair, home coming from George’s lips like they live together, that it makes Sapnap’s breath catch in his chest. Breathlessness and a clenching heart—maybe Sapnap should seek medical help.

At his lack of reply, George looks back at him. The blue light colors his skin something pretty. Maybe Sapnap’s just had an overdose of George. He doesn’t think he minds. “I’ll walk you home,” he says. And then he thinks about the placement of their houses. He backtracks. “Or… if you wanted, you could just stay at mine?”

George, growing steadily more alert as time goes on, stares at him. “You want me to go home with you,” he says. It is in no way a question.

“I mean, if you want,” Sapnap answers anyway.

“We might as well have spent the night here,” George tells him.

Sapnap glances back at Dream, only to find the other missing from the kitchen. A look at the dark hallway and the slim line of light coming from underneath the bathroom door lets him know where the other is, however. He turns back to George. “We can ask Dream,” he says. “Do you want to?”

George gives a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe your place would be better. We don’t know what he’s doing tomorrow.”

“We don’t,” Sapnap agrees, although they’re both aware Dream doesn’t have any plans.

“And we don’t want to overstay our welcome,” George continues.

“We don’t,” Sapnap repeats.

George sucks in a breath, holds it. “My place is farther,” he finally says on the exhale, “ but my bed is bigger.”

That’s true. Sapnap has a room to himself, but he’s still only got a twin. It can barely fit him sometimes.

“I’m willing to make the walk if you are,” he decides.

;;

George is willing to make the walk. Dream had come out of the bathroom not long after, wiping his hands dry on his sleep pants, then waving them out with a tired smile. Sapnap had taken George’s hand the minute the door had shut behind them, the two of them alone on the sidewalk, Sapnap tugging George even closer, using their connected hands to his advantage.

They make their way to George’s apartment slowly, despite their initial reluctance to walk. Sapnap wonders if it’s a delay of the inevitable or an enjoyment of the other’s company. (They can enjoy each others’ company within four walls, not outside where the unforgiving autumn cold that’s finally settled seeps into their bones.) George takes a breath.

“I don’t,” he starts, then makes a noise. “I don’t want anything to happen, Sapnap.”

When they pass under a streetlight, Sapnap sees George’s cheeks glow red. George glances over at him.

“You know that, right?”

Sapnap has a list of things he could say. I never even thought about that, is one. Why not? is another. “Yeah,” is what he goes with. “Don’t worry.” He squeezes George’s hand. George squeezes back.

“I just…,” George tilts his head back, looking to the sky, and Sapnap’s eyes are locked on the graceful column of his throat, “I really like you, Sapnap.” He goes back to looking ahead, but Sapnap keeps his eyes on him. “And it’s almost been a month since… since,” with his free hand, he makes a vague motion at where their other hands are locked together, “this. Whatever this is. So I just… in case you, I don’t know, expected anything.”

“It’s okay,” Sapnap says. Again, he adds, “Don’t worry.”

George smiles at him. Sapnap smiles back.

;;

When they reach George’s apartment, George unlocks the door and Sapnap follows him silently inside, chewing on his lower lip as he contemplates what he’s about to say next. Eventually, he gives up on elegance:

“You said this.” George looks over at him from where he’s locked the door. Sapnap leans against the kitchen counter. “Whatever this is.” He makes a gesture between the two of them, something indicative of the blurry relationship they have.

“I don’t know what to call it,” George says.

“I know,” Sapnap replies. “I don't know what to call it either.”

George glances around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before he looks back to Sapnap. “What do you want to call it?”

Sapnap raises his brows. “What do you want to call it?”

George gives a sigh. “Are we having this talk now?”

“When else will we have it?” Sapnap crosses his arms as George shuts off the main lights, plunging the two of them into darkness.

“I don’t know,” George replies. “In the morning?” He’s nothing but a shadow as he crosses in front of Sapnap. Sapnap refrains from reaching out to grab a wrist, pull him to his chest, demand an answer now. It doesn’t matter that much.

But it’d be nice to have some answers. And George had been right before. It’s been almost a month since that kiss in Sapnap’s dorm, lips greasy with Taco Bell yet the kiss still nice, in that way kissing someone you really, really like is. In kissing someone you could grow to love—maybe already love, deep, deep down—is.

“I just like knowing,” Sapnap finally says. “What’s wrong with that?”

A light flicks on, and when Sapnap takes a couple steps away from the counter, he realizes it’s the light for George’s bedroom. He stands out of place in the doorway before George takes notice and makes his way over to the other. 

Sapnap gives him a tight smile once they’re face to face. George studies him for a second before sighing. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” He pivots, going over to a set of drawers and tugging the middle one open. T-shirts and lounge pants are folded loosely inside. “I like knowing too.” He glances over his shoulder at Sapnap. “Do you think any of these will fit?”

George buys most of his clothes oversized. Just something Sapnap’s noticed about the other. “There’s a chance,” he replies. George tosses a few different pairs at him. Sapnap changes in the bathroom.

The first pair he tries doesn’t fit at all. He gives a small laugh to himself before grabbing the second. They fit better. The third look hot, flannel and dark, even for the weather, so he leaves them folded and tries his best to fold the other pair before dutifully marching back to George’s side to have him tuck them back into his drawer.

“We’ve been on a date before,” Sapnap says, “and a half. A date and a half. You could say we’re dating?”

“We’re about to literally sleep together,” George replies, and although his cheeks are flaming, the heat radiating off them in waves, his expression remains neutral, completely unamused. “I think we’re a bit past that.”

“So…,” Sapnap tries his luck, though he’s starting to think it less luck, and more a careful maneuver on George’s part, “you could say we’re boyfriends?”

“A bit gradeschoolish,” George replies.

Sapnap blinks at him.

George stares back before rolling his eyes and scoffing. “You’re so dumb. Yes, you could say we’re boyfriends.”

Immediately, the blank look drops off Sapnap’s face, and he grins, even as George turns on a lamp and brushes past him to turn off the bedroom light, completely ignoring him. Sapnap watches him disappear out the door and round the corner into the bathroom. There’s the sound of water running, then rummaging, then water running again, and then George’s head pops into the bedroom and he says, “I’ve got a spare toothbrush.”

Sapnap brushes his teeth and watches George’s shadow every time its reflection appears in the mirror. He holds back a sudsy laugh when he realizes the taste of George’s toothpaste is familiar. He rinses and spits then straightens and runs a hand through his hair. It’s gotten longer since the start of the semester. Since he’s met George. When he tugs his fingers through the ends, they get caught on knots. He does his best to untangle them without a brush. He gives up less than a minute in.

When he gets back into George’s room, George is already in bed, looking at something on his phone. Sapnap bites back a giddy smile, crawling into bed next to him, immediately pressing a kiss to his temple then sliding down the bed and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

George sets his phone down on the bedside table before looking down at him. “You’re very affectionate,” he says.

“So I’ve been told,” Sapnap replies.

George stares at him for another handful of seconds. Sapnap stares back. George blinks, then stretches to turn off the lamp. They’re left in the dark once again.

Sapnap is forced to lift his arm when George gets properly under the covers, the sheets tugged up to his chin. He’s flat on his back, and when Sapnap sets his arm back down, this time across his chest, he can feel the tension in him. George takes in a breath, and when he lets it out, Sapnap feels it shudder.

“George,” Sapnap says, and then, a leap of faith, “baby.”

George turns his head. Beneath Sapnap’s arm, his heart pounds.

“C’mere,” Sapnap says. A second. Two seconds. George rolls onto his side. Now, they watch each other, face to face. Sapnap can’t pick up any details on George’s, the room too dark, the most he can figure out being the slope of George’s nose, the occasional movement of his eyes. The window is behind George. Sapnap wonders if George can see him more clearly. 

Sapnap gets his arm further round George, pulling him close. When George lets out a breath, Sapnap feels it warm through his shirt. When George blinks, Sapnap feels the feathery kisses his lashes leave on his skin.

“You’re really warm,” Sapnap says.

From beneath the covers, George’s fingers twist and tangle in his shirt. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

A car passes by outside. George gives a small sigh. Sapnap brushes the pads of his fingers across the back of George’s neck.

“You can,” the words get muffled into Sapnap’s chest.

“What?” Sapnap asks.

George tilts his head back. “Your shirt,” he says. “You can take it off if you want.”

It’s Sapnap’s heart’s turn to pound.

George goes back to lying on his back. And then he rolls onto his side, but this time, he faces the window. Sapnap studies the curve of his shoulder. Then he sits up. And he pulls off his shirt.

He doesn’t really know what to do with it. Dropping it on the floor seems messy, but folding it and putting it on the bedside table just feels weird. No matter what, he’s not getting out of bed. He glances over and has to fight back the urge to jump. George has rolled back over, now staring at him.

Sapnap drops his shirt on the floor. George scoffs before rolling back over.

“I didn’t know what to do!” Sapnap immediately defends himself. He gets back under the covers. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” George replies.

Sapnap moves closer. “Stop,” George says.

Sapnap places a hand on George’s shoulder. It’s warm under his palm.

“Sapnap,” George says.

“George,” Sapnap replies. He runs his hand from George’s shoulder down to his chest. Again, he can feel his heartbeat. He pulls the other closer, so George’s back is pressed to his chest.

“No,” George says. “I’m not… spooning with you.” The word is spat with venom.

Sapnap sighs, nose tickled by the other’s hair. “Night, babe.”

“Sapnap.” George’s fingers curl around Sapnap’s wrist. They make no move to pull his hand away. He makes no move to push him away.

He still hasn’t said butterscotch. Sapnap is pretty sure he’s not going to say butterscotch. George lets out a breath. Sapnap feels him relax against his chest. Another car passes by. Sapnap hears it outside. Sees the change in lighting from behind his eyelids.

George lets out a quiet breath. “Whatever,” he finally says, more to himself than to Sapnap. “Night, Sapnap.”

Sapnap hums and delights in the shiver it sends through George. When he falls asleep, it’s to the steady sound of George breathing and the light movements of George tracing shapes on the back of his hand. Sapnap wonders what exactly it is he’s drawing. Wonders if he’s drawing anything in particular at all.

;;

When Sapnap wakes, George is still asleep. They’ve changed positions sometime in the night, both of them apparently being the type to spread out (and it had felt nice, Sapnap notes, not just to wake up next to George, but to wake up in a bed that he can actually stretch out in), so now George, Sapnap sees after sitting up all the way, has a foot just off the edge of the bed, the bump of it clear under the blanket, an arm flung back towards Sapnap, the other close to his head, fingers brushing the hair near his ear. The leg closer to Sapnap is tangled with Sapnap’s own. Sapnap’s not sure which of them is the cause for that.

There’s not much to do yet. It’s a Saturday, and while Dream didn’t have plans, he didn’t have any either. George might, but Sapnap is pretty sure that’s unlikely. He lets himself fall back onto the bed, head bouncing lightly against the pillow. George makes a soft sound from next to him. Sapnap takes his hand. He tries not to think the curl that appears at the corner of George’s lips is because of him.

George sleeps for another hour, Sapnap drifting in and out of wakefulness next to him. The final time Sapnap wakes, he knows he won’t be falling back asleep, but it doesn’t matter, because George huffs then slowly blinks open his eyes, staring blankly at the wall before looking over at Sapnap.

“G’morning,” he says.

“Morning,” Sapnap replies.

“Breakfast?” George asks.

“I’m down.”

Neither of them move.

George gives a soft laugh. Sapnap smiles at the sound.

“I might have eggs in the fridge,” George says. He looks over at the other. “I have apple juice.”

Still, neither of them move. Sapnap grins as George sighs and presses the heels of his palms over his eyes.

“There’s a diner on 3rd and Ashmore,” Sapnap tells him. “Want to try there?”

“Sounds good,” George replies.

They sit there for another second before George swings his legs off the bed and Sapnap leans over to pick his t-shirt off the floor.

“I might have a sweater you can wear,” George says. “You can put it on over your shirt.”

“Yeah?” Sapnap asks.

George tosses him a sweatshirt. It’s a pale grey, crewneck. Sapnap tugs it on over his head. It’s a little tight. George sighs, grabbing Sapnap’s jacket off the chair he had set it on the night before. “Never mind. It’s fine. Not like anyone saw you last night anyway.”

“Scared they’ll think you’re sleeping around?” Sapnap teases. George sends him an unamused look, taking the sweatshirt back when Sapnap hands it to him. “George the neighborhood whore?”

“Shouldn’t you be a little nicer to your boyfriend?” George asks, and while Sapnap is choking on his words, George sends him a playful look, hanging the sweatshirt back up in his closet.

Sapnap gets a grip on himself and gives him a smile back. “That’s not a no.”

“Yes,” George tells him, “because I’m just such a whore. Always sleeping around.”

Sapnap stands, going over to George, backing him up into the bedroom door. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, “if that were the case. I know it’s not, but even if it were, I don’t care.”

“I don’t care either,” George replies. Sapnap wonders if George thinks that was the case with him. “I,” they had tentatively locked eyes, George’s occasionally glowing amber when caught by the morning light slipping through the blinds, but now, George looks away, at some distant point past Sapnap, “like you as you are. If that’s how you were, it wouldn’t matter. I like you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Sapnap asks, breath caught in his throat. At George’s concerned look, Sapnap waves a hand. “Morning breath, I—you—you seem like you’d care about that.”

George presses a kiss to the corner of Sapnap’s lips. Sapnap lifts a hand and runs his fingers along George’s chin, gets pricked by the short, short stubble there, then tilts his head and kisses George proper on the lips. George kisses back.

When they separate, George keeps his eyes closed. Sapnap bumps their noses together.

“In the future,” George says, “I’ll care about that.”

Sapnap really wants to say I love you.

“I’m sure you will,” he says instead.

;;

For breakfast, Sapnap has steak and eggs. George has French toast. To drink, he has apple juice. Sapnap stares into his own black coffee.

“Very nice,” George tells him. “Very stereotypical.”

“Are you really judging my food choices right now?” Sapnap asks.

George lifts his cup to his lips, taking a sip of his juice as he raises a single brow. Sapnap tries to be defiant, firm in his choices, but his eyes are continually drawn to George’s throat, the pale skin there. His gaze is only broken by George setting the glass back down. Sapnap swallows. He can’t say if George’s eyes following the movement is deliberate.

He looks back up. George has moved on, cutting into his toast, taking a bite.

“It’s good,” he says, once he’s swallowed. “How’s yours?”

Sapnap cuts into his steak. It’s good.

They eat, and their legs once again tangle, this time under a table instead of blankets.

;;

Despite what they had all told each other the day before, George and Sapnap end up not seeing Dream again.

“Sorry,” he tells them over a Discord call, George and Sapnap both at George’s computer, Sapnap having dragged the chair in the corner of George’s bedroom over to the desk. “Someone kind of high profile asked me to code something for them. I wasn’t going to turn it down. It was a good offer.”

“We didn’t expect you to turn it down,” George replies. “We don’t want you to turn it down.”

“Yeah, man,” Sapnap agrees. “That’s great. Secure that bag.”

“Secure that bag?” George echoes. “Seriously?”

“Let’s get this bread,” Sapnap says solemnly. “Make his pockets hurt.”

“I already did,” George replies.

“Still,” Dream cuts in easily, making George and Sapnap immediately stop, heads turning once again to the computer, “I’m sorry. I’ll see you Monday or Tuesday maybe.”

“You want a rematch?” George asks him. “It’s been awhile since I’ve completely obliterated you.”

“Whatever,” Dream laughs. “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” George and Sapnap agree. And then the call ends. And then it’s just them.

Part of Sapnap feels like he’s overstaying his welcome. Part of him wants to overstay his welcome, wants to stay forever. Part of him feels like George would say something if he were. If not get out , then butterscotch or something. But George has stayed silent, content to have Sapnap by his side.

At that thought, Sapnap leans over, a hand coming to rest on George’s thigh. George shifts, and Sapnap’s hand falls. That was the movement’s intention. Sapnap readjusts, placing his hand on the edge of George’s chair. George returns to his previous position. Sapnap leaves his hand where it is.

George takes a breath then leans back, head rolling on his neck to look over at Sapnap. “Got any work to do?”

“Nope,” Sapnap replies, popping the p. George hums, eyes slipping shut.

“Got any plans at all?”

“Nope,” Sapnap repeats. “No obligations, nowhere I need to be. I can go home if you want me to, though.”

“You don’t need to,” George replies. And then he glances behind to the bed. “I might take a nap.”

“You want me to say something,” Sapnap says, eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

George looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I want you,” he says, “to do whatever you think you should be doing right now.” 

And with that, he rises from his chair, tugs off his tennis shoes, and falls onto the bed.

“In jeans?” Sapnap asks him, crossing his arms as best as he can at the angle he’s at.

George grunts. Sapnap sighs, taking the pair of sweatpants George had left on the dresser and dropping them on the bed next to George.

“You want any water or anything?” he asks.

George keeps his eyes closed. “I’m good, thanks.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before heading to the bathroom.

He really has no idea what George wants from him. 

Really, going into the bathroom was just him stalling, more for George’s benefit than his—he’s completely certain he’ll reenter George’s bedroom to see the other wearing the sweatpants he had set next to him—but he does use it as a moment to wonder just what he’s supposed to be doing.

When he goes back into George’s room, the other is lying the way he had been when he left, but, just as Sapnap thought, he’s now wearing sweatpants, an arm thrown across his eyes.

Sapnap takes a seat next to him, then lets out a breath and lets himself relax back onto the bed. George’s arm falls from his eyes. Together, they stare up at the ceiling.

“Can we just stay like this?” George finally asks.

Sapnap looks over at him.

George remains looking at the ceiling.

“Like what?”

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap.” George’s fingers brush his. Sapnap fights the urge to take them. “It’s a lot for me.” George finally turns his head and meets Sapnap’s eyes.

Sapnap holds his breath. George’s fingers run up his arm, tickle quick over his shoulder, finally scratch through the slight beard he has. “Sorry,” Sapnap says.

George takes a breath, then shifts, turning himself onto his side. “Not your fault. It’s just new. A lot of this is,” he gives a quiet exhale, “new.” His fingers still press against Sapnap’s skin. They’re warm. Sapnap swears when they fall away, his skin will be stained red.

“I like it,” George finally says. “New is good.”

“That’s good,” Sapnap says.

“It is,” George agrees. “I like this a lot.”

“In the future, you’ll care?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs, gentle, soft. “I already do.”

;;

The rest of the weekend passed slowly, time molasses. Sapnap hadn’t spent the night again, the two of them finally napping, then Sapnap slipping out when they next woke, delivering a kiss to George’s lips then tugging his jacket over his shoulders and heading out into the October cold. He’d taken his time on the walk home, an opposite of Friday night—reluctance to leave, each step heavier than the last. By the time he gets to his dorm, he swears his feet are stone.

Wearily, he eyes his desk. Atop it lay various assignments, all at different degrees of completion. Most aren’t due till Friday or the next week entirely—he’d meant it when he told George he’s got nothing he needs to be doing—but with nothing to take his immediate attention anymore, he finds himself wondering if now would be a good time to complete it all.

He gets through an assignment and a half before he finds his thoughts wandering. Some of them go towards eating; he and George had slept through lunch, and now it’s practically dinnertime, and Sapnap is hungry. But most of them go towards George, towards a thought he’d had that morning.

I love you.

He rolls the thought around in his mind. Reshapes it.

I love you, George.

A beat.

“You’re so affectionate, Sapnap. It’s a lot for me.”

Sapnap groans, head coming to rest in his hands. When he lifts his head again, he pushes his hair back. An I love you now would be too soon. They’ve just declared themselves boyfriends, and now Sapnap is thinking about I love yous.

It is a lot. For anyone. Sapnap is the odd one out here. He knows it’s a problem, but he just doesn’t know any other way to be.

;;

meeting dream today, gonna try and kick his ass. wish me luck?

Sapnap smiles down at the text that lights up his phone. Kick his ass babe, gl but u got this

thanks

Sapnap slips his phone back into his pocket. It vibrates. Sapnap pulls it out once more.

It’s probably the bare minimum. There’s no words involved. But it stops Sapnap short, leaving him staring down at his screen with wide eyes. He wonders if he’s pink. His skin feels warm. 

<3

It means something. It’s George. It has to mean something.

;;

“I brought Taco Bell,” George announces when Sapnap swings the door open.

George pushes past him easily, setting the bags at an empty spot on Sapnap’s desk while Dream brings up the rear, shirt wet with condensation from their drinks.

“It only felt right,” George tells him as Dream gives him his Baja Blast.

“I’m here this time, though,” Dream says, pulling out a burrito from one of the bags George sat down. “Please don’t make any jumps in your relationship while I’m still in the room, thanks.”

George glares at him then takes a menacing bite of his Quesarito.

Sapnap turns to Dream with wide eyes. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

“It won’t be,” George says.

“I didn’t realize you’re so sentimental, George,” Dream finally speaks up after a few minutes of them just eating their food.

“I’m not,” George replies.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Dream sends him an unamused look, but George just gives him one right back.

“Really,” he says. “I’m not.” He glances at Sapnap. Dream catches it. “I’m not really doing this for myself, anyway.”

Sapnap flushes, staring down at his gordita. Dream looks between them, blinks, exhales. Sapnap thinks he’s going to say something ridiculous. All he says is, “Couples,” and that’s that.

George catches his eye, smiles, and it’s like they’re sharing a secret. Sapnap likes it.

He loves it.

;;

With a new week comes the panic of midterms. Sapnap had thought he’d been overwhelmed before, but now he’s drowning, completely slipping under murky waters.

George pulls him out with a heated chocolate croissant and a pat on the head.

Sapnap smiles at him as he walks away.

Dream sits on a chair next to him, flipping through one of the New Yorker s left on the little table in front of them. Sapnap blinks at his laptop before setting it aside and stretching. “You’re so lucky, man,” he tells Dream, who gives a noncommittal hum and turns a page. “I mean it. Midterms are the worst.”

“Yeah,” Dream agrees. “Tests are annoying.”

“They’re dumb,” Sapnap says, conviction coloring his words. “Memorization is dumb.”

“Just a couple more years of this,” Dream replies.

Sapnap sighs, picking up the chocolate croissant and taking a bite. “Just a couple more years.”

After a few more minutes, Dream heaves a sigh. “It’s getting to me,” he says.

“Sorry,” Sapnap replies, like he can in some way change the strength of the coffee.

“It’s fine,” Dream dismisses, then he stands, dropping the magazine back onto the table. “See you later.”

Sapnap sends him a smile as he waves at George, who’s moved back behind the counter.

“See you!” George calls as the door slides shut behind Dream.

“That was pretty long, I think,” Sapnap says when George makes his way over a few minutes later, now on break, taking up Dream’s empty chair. “We’d been here almost an hour.”

“That is long,” George agrees. “How long are you staying?”

“You get off at four?” Sapnap asks, and George nods. “Want to get dinner with Dream and I after?”

“Of course.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back.

;;

Despite all of his manic studying—or perhaps because of it—midterms the next week pass by relatively quickly, him coming out of his last class Friday tired but content. He doesn’t really think he got an A, but he’s sure his mark will be pretty damn close. 

A few hours and a billion failed Minecraft speedruns later, Sapnap gets a message from Dream.

I know movie nights r every other week, but u just finished midterms. Wanna come over?

Sapnap’s at the other’s house before he even thinks about it. “Uh, yes, I want to come over,” he tells Dream when the other opens the door. “What are we watching?” 

“Whatever you want,” Dream replies. “You’re the one who’s got nothing to worry about anymore.”

Sapnap grins, plucking a movie off the shelf. “Here,” he hands it to Dream. “Popcorn?”

“You know it,” Dream replies, getting the movie set up.

When the popcorn is done, Dream is on the couch, remote in hand. “Good?”

Sapnap nods, setting the bowl between them.

The movie passes by quickly, and they move onto the next one—it turns into a right marathon by the time the sun has set, and eventually, the bowl of popcorn is empty, and they’re leaning against one another in the center of the couch.

At a lull in the movie, a quiet moment between the two main characters, Sapnap speaks:

“I think I’m in love with George.”

Dream is quiet for a moment. Sapnap feels him shift against him. Their shoulders press together. “He’s easy to love,” Dream echoes his words from weeks before.

“Easy to scare,” Sapnap replies.

More movement.

“Is there ever a right time to say I love you?” Dream asks. “If you love them, let them know.”

“He told me that I’m a lot,” Sapnap tells him. “That I’m a lot for him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t say it like that,” Dream says. Sapnap gives a half-hearted shrug. Dream sits up, angling himself to better face Sapnap. Sapnap imitates his pose. Like this, he can only see half of Dream’s face, one side lit up by the TV screen, the other cast in shadow. “It’s been a month,” Dream continues, “and a half. I think George is the type of guy where, if he feels like you’re too much, if he doesn’t like you, he’s going to leave. He’s not going to sit there, miserable, waiting for you to pull the plug.”

Dream is right because of course he is, but Sapnap still shifts, uncomfortable. “I just… I am a lot. We don’t spend all the time together, but I’m so much more affectionate than he is, and it’s like… I already love him, and—and—we have a safeword, Dream. Like this is some BDSM thing. But it’s not for that, it’s for how much I fucking hold his hand.”

“But isn't that proof?” Dream asks. “That’s communication. Compromise. He wants this to work, Sap. He wants to be with you. Wants you.” He smiles, hand reaching between them to hold Sapnap’s shoulder. “He wants the guy that’s pushy and loud and in your face, the guy that drinks too many vanilla fraps and gets competitive over everything and likes to cuddle. He wouldn’t have decided to go out with you—hell, I don’t even think he’d have kissed you—if that isn’t who he wanted.” He leans back, hand stroking warm down Sapnap’s arm, and the minute it falls back into his lap, Sapnap leans forward to throw his arms around the other.

“I love you,” Sapnap says, turning his face to press his nose into Dream’s neck. “I’m so lucky you’re my best friend.”

Though his arms are pinned awkwardly to his sides, Dream still manages to reach and get his hands on Sapnap’s waist where he squeezes the other in a poor imitation of a hug. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t my best friend,” he replies. “I love you too.” 

When Sapnap pulls away, Dream smiles. “But I don’t think I’m the one you need to be saying I love you to, though.”

Sapnap sleeps on Dream’s couch that night and dreams of the different ways telling George he loves him could go.

He’s pleased to note that most of the scenarios end positively.

;;

Saturday he spends the night at George’s again. He lies in bed, quiet, with George next to him, one of the older’s hands holding his phone, the other affectionately brushing through Sapnap’s hair. Sapnap gives a quiet sigh before rolling over and touching his nose to George’s hip. George hums and twirls a lock of Sapnap’s hair around a thin finger.

“You okay?” George asks.

Sapnap squeezes his eyes shut and nuzzles further into the other's side. “Tired.”

“Fall break is coming up,” George consoles him, “and midterms are over.”

Sapnap nods, arm stretching out and over George’s waist. His fingers brush along George’s side, featherlight. George flinches away from it with a giggle. Sapnap tilts his head, eyes opening and gaze flitting to George’s face. It’s a bad angle, but he can still make out the smile there.

He loves George, he knows that now. He’s in love with George.

And George wants him. Wants the him that touches too much and feels too much and loves more than he should. George wants that. George has that. And he likes it.

Sapnap sighs, sinking back into George’s side. George plugs his phone in then turns off the lamp. Before he gets fully under the covers, Sapnap feels his fingers run through his hair one more time before a kiss is pressed to the top of his head.

“Goodnight, Sapnap,” George whispers.

Sapnap squeezes George as best as he can, delivers warm kisses to the parts of George he can reach. “Night, baby.”

George hums, touching the tips of their noses together (with the action, Sapnap swears he did some kind of witchcraft to steal his breath), before rolling over, back to Sapnap’s front. Sapnap bites back a smile. He wonders if George would call this spooning. Because that’s what it is.

He buries his nose in the soft hair at the nape of George’s neck. It’d be easy to say it now. Let the words slip out and if George questions him on it, he can blame it on sleep. A slip of the tongue.

But he doesn’t want it to be a mistake, even if that’s a lie to save his own face. He wants the words to be deliberate, the meaning of them felt by George wholly.

He sighs, and George shivers with it. Sapnap makes a small noise of apology.

“What’re you thinking about?” George finally asks.

Sapnap takes in a breath. He’s not sure what to answer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” George says.

“I want to,” Sapnap replies.

George exhales, the sound loud, before rolling back over. When he’s facing Sapnap, a hand comes up to hold Sapnap’s cheek.

“I think you’re more affectionate than you realize,” Sapnap tells him.

“I think you just make me affectionate,” George replies.

Sapnap stares at him. George stares back before he lifts his hand, fingertips remaining against Sapnap’s skin. He runs them over his cheek, then across his lower lip. And then they go back to his cheek, and George is moving to slot their lips together.

When they separate, Sapnap smiles. He’s pretty sure George smiles back. He presses one more kiss to George’s lips.

He could say it now. George’s fingers begin to tangle into the ends of Sapnap’s hair. His mouth is hot underneath Sapnap’s own. Their breath intermingles. Under the sheets, their legs have tangled together. The two of them are practically completely intertwined.

Against his lips, Sapnap feels George smile.

He says it.

The words hang heavy in the minimal space between them. Sapnap’s heart is equally heavy in his chest as he anticipates George’s reaction. He wants to ramble—apologize, take them back, clarify, tell him that he loves him but he isn’t in love with him (but he is)—but he doesn’t. The words are what they are. He means them.

Though his face seems to now be void of the smile he wore, George doesn’t move away, and they remain tangled together. George rubs his thumb over the curve of Sapnap’s cheek.

He feels George’s breath. George kisses him softly. And then he replies: “I can’t say it yet, Sapnap.” His other hand finds Sapnap’s own. Holds it. “I feel it. I’m, like, certain I do. But I can’t say it yet. Not like that.”

Sapnap sucks in a breath, closes his eyes, nods. “I get it. That’s fine. I love you, though. I just… wanted you to know.”

At that, George laughs, a quiet, warm sound. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.” A beat. And then, “The minute I can say it myself, I’ll tell you.”

Sapnap smiles. “I’m holding you to that.”

George rolls back over. Instead of waiting for Sapnap to curl around him, he backs up, pulls Sapnap’s arm over him. Readjusts so it’s even harder to separate their legs. “Goodnight, Sapnap.” He means it this time.

Sapnap closes his eyes, relaxes. The words are out there now. And George accepts them. No take-backs.

“Goodnight.”

;;

Neither bring it up later. It happened—Sapnap definitely told him—but the words stay only in the air between them, felt but never heard. They go on a walk, no destination in mind, just enjoying each other’s company, and at the local cafe (an actual cafe, not the Starbucks George works at), they split a hot chocolate topped with a mountain of whipped cream that ages them a hundred years only for those years to be wiped away with a thumb. At one point, George has some stuck to the corner of his lips, and Sapnap can’t help but lean forward to lick it away. Of course, George shrieks and shoves him back, flustered and grossed out, but his lips are upturned.

“Sweet,” Sapnap tells him.

“You’re so annoying,” George replies.

“You’re cute,” Sapnap shoots back.

George flushes and takes the mug from Sapnap’s hands, lifting it to his lips so he can hide the smile on his lips. It only works so well. Sapnap lets the moment go, though.

“Normally that’d be butterscotch,” George tells him as they exit the cafe. “I can’t believe you did that. That’s so disgusting.”

Sapnap laces their fingers together. George huffs.

“The only reason you got away with it is because I didn’t expect it.” George kicks a pebble lying in his path. “So annoying.”

Sapnap doesn’t bring it up, but he does say it again.

George stutters out a laugh. Sapnap feels George’s hand squeeze his. It’s enough.

;;

The weeks pass by quickly after that, and soon Sapnap finds himself Friday night sitting between George and Dream while an early 2000s sci-fi movie plays on the TV. They weren’t supposed to have movie night this week either, but come tomorrow morning Sapnap is supposed to head down south for Thanksgiving with his family, so this is their last hurrah together.

They’re a bit like dominoes, actually, Dream sitting normally on the couch, Sapnap’s back resting pressed against his side, and George leaning on Sapnap. Idly, he plays with Sapnap’s fingers. To add to George’s amusement, Sapnap flexes and stretches his fingers. Meanwhile, Dream tugs on his hair.

“It’s probably best you head home soon,” Dream says. “Not to kick you out, but it’s a long drive tomorrow.”

“How many hours away is Houston anyway?” George asks, voice muffled with the way his cheek is squished against Sapnap’s chest.

“Too many,” Sapnap says. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Dream tells him. 

George makes an affirmative noise.

“But it’s only for a week,” Sapnap says. “And then I’ll be back up here.”

“You don’t normally focus on that,” Dream tells him, more for George’s sake than his. Sapnap flushes, glancing down at George, who stares back with inquisitive eyes. “But I guess now you have something to come back to. Someone.”

“I like spending time with you.”

Dream scoffs. “Like distance ever mattered when it comes to us.”

“Huh?” George pushes himself up and Sapnap sends Dream a dirty look.

“I like cuddling with the homies well enough, but affection from you is way different from affection from George.” He pulls George back down on top of him. “Affection from you is like… a jacket. Nice to have, really nice, but not a necessity. George is a shirt. No shirt, no shoes, no service.”

Dream guffaws. “I hope I’m not just a jacket to you guys, but a friend too.”

“You’re my friend, Dream,” George tells him.

“I love you, George!” Dream immediately replies, and George hides a laugh in Sapnap’s chest.

The movie ends not long after that, and soon Sapnap is heading home.

“I can walk myself home just fine,” George tells him when they reach the intersection that Sapnap is supposed to turn at.

“But I like walking you home,” Sapnap replies.

“But you need to rest,” George tells him, smile on his face. He brushes a strand of hair out of Sapnap’s eyes. “I can help you pack your car in the morning?”

“Do you want to?”

George just continues to smile.

“Why are you like this?” Sapnap asks, and then he leans forward and George lifts a hand to cup the back of his neck. They kiss, and when they separate, Sapnap squeezes George’s waist. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Sleep well,” George replies.

“I’ll try.” George smiles, and Sapnap smiles back. George’s hand slips from his neck, and Sapnap’s hand falls from his waist. George starts to walk away. “Goodnight!” Sapnap calls after him. “Love you!”

“Goodnight, Sapnap!” George calls back.

;;

George greets him with a kiss and a coffee and bagel pressed into his hands. “For the road,” he says, and Sapnap thanks him, setting the things aside and drawing George into a deeper kiss than the chaste one he was given. “For the road?”

Sapnap grins. “For me. A week away from you. You know I need my kissies.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” George says. “Oh my God. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Sapnap laughs before tugging his backpack over his shoulders. Dragging his suitcase behind him, he leads George to the parking lot, where he lifts his suitcase and sets it into the trunk. “Seriously, though,” he says, “this’ll be fun.”

“An experiment,” George replies. “A week apart. How will we fare?”

Sapnap grins, and George smiles back.

“Remember me while I’m away,” Sapnap tells him. “Don’t go falling for the first pretty face you see.”

“Of course not,” George says solemnly, and Sapnap laughs. George studies him for a second before once again kissing him. “Three’s a lucky number.”

“I didn’t think you believed in luck,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t,” George replies.

Another kiss. George makes a small noise.

“Four,” Sapnap says. “Actually, I think that’s unlucky in China. I read that somewhere.”

One more.

“How’s five?” George asks.

“Eh,” Sapnap says. “Even numbers are better.”

“Seven is lucky.”

“Eight?”

“Pushing it.”

Sapnap leans away from where he’d come to pin George against the door. George straightens up, readjusts his shirt. Sapnap runs a hand through his hair. George tracks the movement with his eyes. Sapnap’s hand falls back to his side.

“Thanks,” he says.

George huffs a small laugh. “Don’t mention it.”

Sapnap studies him for a second before pulling him into a hug. “I really will miss you,” he says. “I’ll see you.”

“You’re getting on the server with Dream and I if you’re not too tired tonight, right?” George asks.

“Duh.”

George nods. Sapnap feels it against his neck.

“I’ll miss you too,” George finally says.

Sapnap holds him tighter.

;;

Despite the drama of him leaving, Thanksgiving passes by without much fuss. 

They voice call a fair amount and when Sapnap gets to Houston he does hop on the SMP for a bit, a couple hours later passing out mid-call. When he wakes, the lights are all shut off and his blinds are closed.

He’s grateful.

Dream FaceTimes him on Thanksgiving, showing Sapnap his and George’s… creative feast.

“I still can’t believe you guys are having it together,” Sapnap tells the two, completely ignoring the football game on TV to focus entirely on them.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Dream asks him. “George’s family is in England, and it’s not like they celebrate, and I’m not going to Florida this year. Why not?”

That’s fair. 

“Still,” Sapnap says anyway. “And did you just call every nearby restaurant?”

“It’s an assortment,” George says.

“But it’s good,” Dream continues. “Besides, it’s more about the leftovers than the meal.”

Also fair, and Sapnap finds himself with an array of Tupperware from his family’s Thanksgiving in his backseat as he drives back to school. When he’s back inside his dorm, staring at his minifridge, he realizes they won’t all fit in the small space.

“Can I use your fridge?”

“Welcome back, Sapnap,” George replies. “How was your break?”

“I’m offering you free food,” Sapnap says.

“And I’m asking how your break was.”

Sapnap makes a face. “Good. I’m happy to be back. Now, can I please use your fridge?”

A pause. “You only love me for my house,” George finally says. “That’s so wrong of you.”

It’s the first time George has ever brought up Sapnap’s love for him, even as a joke. Sapnap takes a breath. “I do love you for your house,” he replies, teasing before turning serious, “but I also love you for a lot of other reasons. You’re very lovable, you know.”

George is quiet for a second before Sapnap hears movement. “When are you coming over here?”

Sapnap gets an Uber, knowing parking near George’s apartment is risky at best. “Ten minutes?” he says when his phone tells him his driver will be there soon.

“Okay.” Sapnap listens as George putters around. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” George replies immediately, and then, “you’ll see.”

“M'kay,” Sapnap says. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Bye,” George says, and then ends the call.

Sapnap looks down into his plastic bag of remaining Tupperware. His phone pings—the driver’s outside.

;;

“Are you ready to eat leftovers for months?” Sapnap asks, setting the bags down on the counter. “Or at least as long as they last.”

George opens the first bag, pulling out a medium-sized container stuffed full of mashed potatoes. Immediately, he finds a place in his fridge to tuck it into. He does this with the rest of the containers, Sapnap taking them out and setting them on the empty counter space for George to pick up and put away. When they’re done, George comes to lean next to Sapnap.

“We survived,” he says.

“I knew we would,” Sapnap replies.

They’re on each other in an instant.

“I’m not usually into this,” George says hotly into his mouth.

“I know,” Sapnap says.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” George continues.

“Do you need to know?” Sapnap asks.

George moans at the nip Sapnap gives to his lower lip.

“No,” George replies. “No.” Sapnap runs a burning trail of bites soothed by his tongue down George’s neck. “Sapnap.”

Against his skin, Sapnap smiles.

George gasps when Sapnap moves to press George into the couch instead, the cushions definitely comfier than the linoleum counter. “I missed you so much,” Sapnap says, each word punctuated by a kiss.

“You—Sapnap, yes—too.” George gets his fingers twisted and tangled into his hair, drags him up roughly. Sapnap bites back a groan at the sting and George pulls him into a bruising kiss. “Shit. I missed you.”

Sapnap lets himself be pulled down over George’s body, more than happy to press him further into the couch.

;;

George doesn’t let Sapnap skip his first class on Monday.

“School is important,” he tells him, zipping up his jacket like some mother hen. Sapnap makes a face when his hands brush imaginary dust off his shoulders.

“What are you going to do when I’m gone?” Sapnap asks.

George laughs. “Leaving for a week again?”

Sapnap gives him a dry look.

George smiles, soft. “I’m going to work. You’ll see me in, like, four… five hours at most. Is that really the end of the world?”

Sapnap grabs his hands from where they’d come to rest on his chest, pulling George in closer. “I just like spending time with you.”

“I love spending time with you too,” George says, “and you don’t see me clinging to you.”

“You think this is clingy?” Sapnap raises a brow in a silent challenge, and George tries to back up, but Sapnap just gives another tug to his hands before pulling him into a hug and wrapping his arms tight around him. “You wish I were clingy! You want me to be more clingy, actually.”

“I do not,” George replies, words warm against Sapnap’s ear. Sapnap holds back a shiver as George wriggles in his arms. “You’re… I like you like this.”

Sapnap holds him closer. George lets him.

He pulls away after a moment, the day finally catching up to them. “Class,” George tells Sapnap.

“Work,” Sapnap tells George.

They reach the Starbucks and George squeezes his hand. “See you,” he says.

“Love you,” Sapnap replies. And then George is disappearing into the cafe, the words dissipating in the growing space between them.

;;

The rest of the week passes by slowly, each day slouching into the next. Sapnap looks over at George, whose lips are wrapped pretty around a cake pop. He’s been quiet, more so than usual, and it sets Sapnap on edge, each word coming out of him more hesitant than the last.

Come Saturday, and he finds himself confronting the other.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says.

“I’m not avoiding you,” is immediately shot back, and Sapnap rushes forward, George bringing a hand up between them to push him away. “I’m not. I’m just….”

“I’m too much,” Sapnap says, filling in the words himself.

George is adamant. “No! You’re—you’re—you’re you, and I—Sapnap, I really—,” he makes a small noise and Sapnap tries to get closer again, but George’s hand comes back up and he mutters a quick butterscotch. 

“What’s wrong?” Sapnap asks. “I did something.”

“You—no,” George shoves past Sapnap to get a glass and fill it up with tap water. He takes a quick drink before pouring the rest down the drain. “You love me so much,” he finally says.

“You’re lovable,” Sapnap replies. “Everything about you, George. It’s just—you’re so easy to love.”

“That’s what Dream had said,” George tells him, and Sapnap swallows at the lump that’s built in his throat like sediment, little bits and pieces added to the pile till it cuts off Sapnap’s airways and he’s left floundering, gasping for air. George gives a quiet laugh. “I thought,” he swallows, takes a breath in contrast to Sapnap’s struggle, “it was too soon. I’m not good at this, Sapnap.”

Sapnap moves to speak, but George continues, setting the glass in the sink before his fingers curl into the countertop, knuckles turning white from his grip. He takes another breath. “I love you,” he says, all in one breath. “It shouldn’t have happened so fast. I’m… I’m terrified, Sapnap.”

When Sapnap takes a hesitant step closer, George lets him. He lifts a hand and brushes back some of George’s hair before running his knuckles over George’s cheek, down to his neck. He curls his fingers around the back, brushes them through the short hair there. Under his palm, George is tense.

George breathes, and it comes out in a shudder. “Everything about you is so much.” He straightens, meets Sapnap’s eyes. “I’m trying, Sapnap. But sometimes I think you’re just too much for me.” 

And then he shrugs off Sapnap's hand, moves around him, disappears into his bedroom. Sapnap hears the door click. He stands alone in the kitchen, his only source of light the one over the stove. He thinks it might be dimmer than usual. He waits. George doesn’t come back out. Sapnap wonders if he’s been broken up with. George still doesn’t come back out.

Sapnap looks at the empty plastic bags on the counter. He gathers them in his hands. George can keep his leftovers. He never really wanted them anyway.

;;

“I think George broke up with me,” Sapnap accepts the apple slice Dream hands him, and at the sight of the fruit, it’s like the dam he tried to build surrounding thoughts of George breaks and all those pent up feelings come pouring out, “yesterday. He told me he loved me. And then he left me.” His grandma had made some apple cobbler. It sits on the second shelf of George’s fridge. George’s favorite fruit is apples. 

Sapnap takes a bite out of the slice. Dream sits next to him on the couch, setting the tray of assorted fruit on the coffee table. “Did he actually say that?” Dream asks. “That he’s breaking up with you.”

“He left,” Sapnap repeats. “He said, ‘I love you. You’re too much for me.’ Then he just… walked into his room, shut the door, and that was it.”

“Talk to him again,” Dream says. “He told you he loved you. I don’t think that’s nothing for George.”

Sapnap sighs. It’s not. Dream smiles at him, and Sapnap leans over, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

“It’ll be fine,” Dream tells him. “Communication is always key.”

As always, he’s right.

;;

He doesn’t want to have any major conversations at Starbucks, but he feels if he doesn’t do it now he won’t do it at all. There hasn’t been any word between him and George since that conversation in the kitchen, but Sapnap doesn’t let that deter him, instead pressing on determinedly as he walks inside and sees George’s usual station devoid of, well, George.

“Called in sick today,” Sarah tells him as she finishes putting whipped cream on someone’s drink. “Thought he’d have told you.”

Sapnap blinks. “Uh,” he says, and then, “think he fell back asleep before he could. Thanks.” Sarah waves nonchalantly, but Sapnap is out the door before he can see it.

The walk to George’s has him tugging at the drawstring of his hoodie, the chill settling deep within him, unshakeable now, especially without George’s easy warmth by his side. He’s never been more grateful to see the steps leading up to the older’s apartment than he is at this moment.

And then he has to wait, much the same way he did Saturday, wait for George to see his text, call him back, answer his knock.

He waits, and he waits, and he waits.

The lock clicks, and the door creaks open. Sapnap swears his fingertips are turning blue.

“George,” he says immediately, just to have said something , and then the door is opening wider and Sapnap is rushing into the apartment, getting himself fully inside before George can reconsider.

In the sink, he spies empty Tupperware containers.

George stands next to the couch. Sapnap swallows.

“George,” he says again. “I missed you.”

“It was only a day, Sapnap,” George replies. His voice is quiet.

“You said I love you to me,” Sapnap says. George stays silent. Sapnap falters, continues: “I love you too, and I know I’m a lot, but George,” he comes closer—George lets him—he places a hand on George’s waist—George lets him, “I’ll… you once told me I can’t dial it down, or whatever, and this is me telling you that for you, I’d dial it down. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t, but I want to try. For you. You said you’d try for me. You need to know I’d do the same for you.”

George laughs, but it’s an empty, hollow sound, just air shoved past his lips. “I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Sapnap asks. “You said it happened so fast. What happened so fast?”

George mutters something. Sapnap moves closer. George pushes him back. “Falling in love, dumbass. I was in love with you before I even realized it was love I was feeling.” He keeps his hand in front of him, a visible barrier between him and Sapnap. “Am feeling.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sapnap asks. “What are you so afraid of?”

George doesn’t reply.

“It’s only as complicated as you let it be,” Sapnap says. “I’m—we’re—we’re in love with each other, George.” His voice is firm. George finally meets his eyes. Dark and inscrutable as ever. Sapnap is in love with him. “Isn’t that enough? Just for right now, tell me it isn’t enough.”

George moves, a mirror image of the him in Sapnap’s dorm on Tuesday months ago, bringing their lips together and kissing Sapnap with purpose. When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes sparkle. “I can’t. I can’t tell you it isn’t enough. But I won’t say it’s not either.”

“I love you,” Sapnap says, reflex. He presses a kiss to George’s lips, presses one to his cheeks, his chin, nose, forehead. “I love everything about you.”

“You too,” George says. “I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You don’t need to know,” Sapnap replies. “Just love me. Be in love with me.”

George’s fingers twist in the fabric of his hoodie, pull him closer. Their noses touch and Sapnap feels every single one of George’s breaths on his lips. They’re heavy. So are his own. When George speaks, he may as well be putting the words directly into Sapnap’s mouth, the two of them working as one. “I love you,” he says, and so does Sapnap. “I love you and being with you and being in love with you.”

“It won’t be perfect,” Sapnap says. (So does George.)

“But it doesn’t need to be.” George seals their lips together. He’s right. Neither of them need it to be perfect. Nor, Sapnap thinks, as George wraps an arm around his neck, draws him closer, holds him tighter, do either of them want it to be.

[legends-live-in-memories]

I Have Too Many Opinions. ep. 1

lmao. i got encouragement to post my opinions on fandom things and now i want to make a miniseries doing just that. so here i am. doing just that.

im putting it under the cut cuz this was 4 whole pages including the disclaimer. yes i put a disclaimer and i explain why.

Anyways, here is the first piece in what inevitably will become fandom info dump, this time on thomas astruc’s writing on miraculous ladybug. but only some of my opinions cuz we would be here all day otherwise.

So… a disclaimer before I begin… 

I do not hate Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir (yes i'm using their government name). I am quite a fan of the show actually despite its faults. I am also older than the intended audience but was obviously younger when the show first aired which is how my interest was piqued (the fact that its been 6 years and only 3 seasons says more about the show than me being a fan for that amount of time but also i never want to rush content creators cuz they're doing their best) and due to my age, there will be inherent bias in my approach of what i'm about to say as there is in EVERY opinion. The fact that it is an opinion should imply the presence of bias but most people tend to lack the critical thinking skills required to draw that conclusion ANYWAYS…

If I did hate the show I would not have this blog nor would I be even writing this because i tend to not give more than 2 seconds of thought to things i actively dislike (some of yall should give this a try) and i'm allowed to like things that are designed for an audience that i was originally a part of but grew out of. (I don't suddenly stop liking things because I'm older despite what many younger fans seem to believe about older audiences. I also don't need to be ‘allowed’ to do anything cuz i wasn't asking for permission anyways.)

This will not be character bashing, astruc bashing nor fandom bashing cuz, again, that would imply i hate any of those elements and if i did, i would not dedicate brainpower to them. Analyses and criticisms of media are fun and engaging and required if you wish to produce good enjoyable content. Now most of this should be already assumed and self-explanatory but people on the internet like to play morality roulette roll dice on purity culture and I rather have documentation that I am in fact not bullying fictional 14 year olds or a grown man. But alas, people get trigger happy whenever someone has less than 1000000% positive opinions on something they like and will throw out words they can't define (gaslight, baiting, toxic, problematic, gatekeep etc) in an attempt to defend their blind devotion, 

which is not needed, if you like something you never have to defend it, even if i don't like it. If you respond to anything I post saying you disagree with me, I will not argue with you. I won't debate back and forth and try to convince you that the things you like are wrong. Unless you are being absolutely tone deaf to what i'm saying, you wont get a negative reaction from me. So don't try to fish for a fight. Please. I got metaphorical hands for days and I'm mean, you don't want me hurting your feelings on the internet. Do yourself the favour. Difference of opinion is how we get diversification in media and is inherently a good thing. Now that that's out of the way, please don't ever let me have to say that again. I beg.

Now onto the fun stuff

I didn't know what I wanted as a first topic so my trusty internet friend @moonlitceleste suggested astruc’s writing… 

AND BOI do i got some opinions on ole tommy boi. Again I don't hate the dude. In fact, he has worked on a few shows that had defined my childhood, including but not limited to W.I.T.C.H. (all eps available on youtube for those interested, 2 seasons, general fun time all around).

So I don't think he’s scum of the earth but I do think his approach to writing mlb specifically has more misses than hits.

The first big miss is that he has no idea how to write 14 year old girls. At all. Almost every girl he has ever written feels like some terrible archetype built entirely for marketability and childish projection and pubescent self-insert (kind of). He has never been a 14 year old girl. I have. In fact when the show first aired, I WAS around the (assumed) age of the mlb characters. The behaviour he passes off as quirky or awkward or just the character’s genuine personality tend to perpetuate harmful stereotypes of teen girls found in the media and are never actually addressed as harmful. they just get swept under the rug. Marinette’s exuberant collage of teen heart throb model boi Adrien Agreste and her very painful almost fan worship she has of him (which flip flops like a paper sandal in the rain) being portrayed as a cute school girl crush uwu, Chloe being the y7 Regina George, Alya being the token best friend of colour with her ‘sassy’ personality (i want y'all to imagine me eyerolling so hard i bust a vessel in my eye), Kagami being the very damaging Perfect Asian Child stereotype. And before y'all get on your dusty soap box and defend going on about “BUT IT'S FOR CHILDREN”,,,, know this.

 i don’t give a solid fuck. 

Not one. 

Children arent stupid. Children are always going to remember the richy bitchy blonde who bullies the art kid, and the big kid, and the shy kid, and the non white kids, and was only nice to her equally rich white friend who she probably had a crush on or was only ever civil to her equally white lapdog. They're going to remember the half asian girl who was never allowed to actually be asian or the only black girl who existed solely as a soundboard for enabling bad habits or chastising the main character for the same habits she enables in the first place (boi aint THAT a topic for later). Like do i really need to explain that alya chastising marinette for taking max’s spot in gamer just to play with adrien rings absolutely hollow when she actively encourages her to sabotage the contest she’s in just so Kagami doesn't win?? Like I don't have to explain that right?? Again kids arent stupid and its quite something that Mari gets chastised for proving herself the best video game player regardless of her intentions just cuz it comes at the expense of max’s feelings/ego but is actively encouraged to sabotage not only kagami but herself by extension cuz kagami is ‘competition.’ Adrien is not a trophy to be won. And no I don't expect 14 yrs old to be perfect and to always make good decisions but these decisions are never addressed as being bad decisions. they get swept under the rug cuz those decisions were necessary for the ‘plot’ but astruc can barely keep characterization consistent and his characters suffer for it and it's the same children you preach are watching it that suffer as well. Cuz guess what? I KNOW 14 yr olds aren't like that cuz i've been there done that (this is the last time i'm saying that i promise) so I know astruc is just metaphorically throwing darts to figure out who says and does what without consideration for pre established personalities to drive the stalemate plot along. The same kids you say are watching this don't know that that's not how preteens work and will absorb and internalize those dynamics like baking soda and vinegar. Cata-fucking-strophically. 

And I haven't even gotten to the boys yet. Which honestly doesn't require much explanation anyways cuz they suffer the same fate as the girls. Tired archetypes with nothing to give them life. Nino falls into Adrien’s person of colour token best friend who dates the female lead’s person of colour token best friend so they can have cute double dates uwu. Except the plot goes nowhere and we have no inclination of romantic development beyond moments that only act to actively convince me to anti ship the lovesquare (i don't want to do that so i self indulge in fanon that actually cares about the characters and plot. may i interest you in True Sight on AO3?). Max is the residential nerd but it doesn't matter (cuz he and everyone are dumbed down for the sake of ‘plot’), kim is the sports jock (which interestingly subverts the asian comedic relief stereotype but only barely) and luka is cute older guy ™ that wears black nail polish and is in a band. The point of all this is to say there is no depth in the characters. It's especially blatantly obvious with the characters astruc doesn't like (chloe). Again, it being a show for kids is not an excuse to be absolved of putting effort into the characters you make.

This is one of the biggest misses astruc has. I haven't even gone into all the nuances of this particular miss. And i havent gone into how that works against him in the plot either. Mostly because the plot itself hasn't gone anywhere and partially because I wanted to go into the plot (or lack thereof) separately as its own miss. 

AND BOI is it a miss. 

SO home boy astruc wanted to reap the benefits of a serial show with ‘engaging’ plot without putting in any of the work to make a linear storyline and relying on the episodic format for, again, marketability. You can't have the best of both worlds, you are not Avatar: The Last Airbender. Which btw has a lot less episodes and a desired end goal that didn't involve top dollar. Legend of Korra did but that's not the point and it had its failings with that too. I challenge you, tell me how many episodes actually contribute towards a plot point or introduce new thematic elements to the show? Can you name them? I can and I'm going to include the plot points that moved the story in some direction if only temporarily. Yes only temporarily for some of these and i will explain later. (if you're in the server you already saw this list *wink*)

25/26. Origins- self explanatory, the beginning of the story, 

24. Volpina- introduction of the grimoire and Master Fu (kind of) and no, Lila is not a plot point,

28. The Collector- proper introduction of Master Fu,

37. Sapotis- introduction of Rena Rouge,

41. Syren- introduction of new aquatic power ups,

44. Anansi- introduction of Carapace,

47. Frozer- introduction of new ice power ups,

48/49. Style Queen- introduction of Queen Bee,

51/52. Heroes’ Day- introduction of Mayura and mass akumatization,

66. Startrain- introduction of Pegasus,

67. Kwami Buster- Marinette wears multiple miraculouses,

68. Feast- backstory as to how the miraculouses were lost,

69. Ikari Gozen- introduction of Ryuko,

70. Timetagger- introduction of Bunnyx,

71. Party Crasher- introduction of Roi Singe and Viperion,

73. Chat Blanc- alternate timeline that essentially means nothing but got a reaction out of fans anyways (myself included)

 77/78. Love Eater/Battle of Miraculous- Marinette becomes guardian and other heroes lose their miraculous,

New York Special- other heroes exist and there is an American miraculous box,

That's 21 episodes. 21 out of a heaping 78 plus 2 specials. Everything else was just your typical akuma of the day episode and everything that happened outside that had no lasting consequences on the plot thanks to the miraculous status quo. Was it entertaining to watch Lila stir the plot of the class dynamic? Hell yeah. Too bad it meant nothing by the end of the episode cuz we were struck with miraculous status quo. She literally doesn't appear again until Heroes Day. that is from episodes 25 all the way to 51, she means nothing and yet she is treated with the severity of a b-villain/rival thing. She means nothing by the end of Volpina if I'm being honest. She is only relevant for 20 mins of episode time she’s in then it's back to magic status quo that undoes any shift in dynamics and relationships. It's like Spongebob who can't get his driver’s license. The worst part is I actually like Lila and I wish the story treated her with the seriousness we as an audience are expected to treat her with. Despite being painfully inconsequential by the end of each of the 3?? 4?? episodes she’s in, it's entertaining to watch a character create drama just because. 

Too bad it means nothing.

Astruc is constantly building up suspense to something ‘important’ only for it to not deliver and fans are constantly having the rug pulled out from under us. Oblivio teased us with a reveal only that gets undone cuz memory akuma. Chat Blanc teased us with romantic development but that gets undone cuz time travel bullshit. Feast introduced more miraculous lore and the history of the guardians but that means nothing by the next episode or ever (i'm not including any reference to the season 4 trailer cuz i've been around the block a few times and im familiar with this lil dancy dance). Heroes Day teased us with a possible future team of heroes but that gets undone in Battle of Miraculous cuz ????? why?? (here's why; astruc was having a jolly ole time letting us know how irredeemable Chloe is at the expense of shooting his own stagnant plot in the foot. Again, discussion for later.)

Too bad anything that slightly swerves off course from the akuma of the day gets undone or ignored. Too bad nothing has any lasting consequence. I mean, if anything did, the episodes would have had a consistent order and release schedule so im not scrambling to watch the leaked ep in Portuguese or something while the french dub is two episodes behind while the english version hasnt even been dubbed. I really wonder how he plans to conclude the show when he’s so afraid to step out of the corner he painted himself in.

Again, not going into nuances. If you want you can ask for more specifics (i doubt anyone would) but this is really just a slightly detailed general overview of my opinions on astruc’s writing. 

I was going to include another miss in his approach to this show but imma save that for another time. 

How’s that for a ‘first’ post?

[syrupa]

Hey! Could I please get a bnha matchup?💕

I’m bisexual & pronouns are she/her. I’m a Capricorn sun (cancer moon and libra rising) I have brown eyes and blonde hair (bleached) i’m 5’6 with a slim build. I love art like drawing and painting, art history, and baking! & actually majoring in biomedical engineering lol.

I absolutely love to hang out with my friends and being spontaneous like just going out for coffee (im addicted to Starbucks and I’m lactose intolerant lol) or to a museum or just talking. I HATE bugs and I cry if one is ever near me lol.

I’m very empathetic and always trying to lighten the mood and make people happy. I’m very chill and don’t have problems with anyone (unless they’re rude or mean to me or my friends) I can’t stand people who are rude or think they’re better than everyone. I’m super indecisive and need a lot of validation.

I’m b l i n d so always wearing my glasses haha also I love having a sense of humor. I also have anxiety and can be way too emotional sometimes. I’m an ENFP & also I love tie dye clothes, makeup, and everything pastel.

My love language is probably receiving/giving gifts and words of affirmation. I absolutely love picking out little gifts for people and randomly giving them things that remind me of them. And when people do that for me I just love it! I can’t think of a specific favorite memory but like just over the summer after high school, hanging with friends at like 2 am in a parking lot or a McDonalds drive thru and just having no care in the world- those memories are my favorite

My ideal date would probably be going out to eat, and to a museum or an aquarium or something fun that we can explore. I also love just going to the mall and walking around and I might be addicted to shopping. I really don’t like to be outside too much bc of the bugs so no hiking or camping or anything like that.

Thank you so much💖💖

these can be seen as both platonic and romantic

I match you with...

Tsuyu Asui

You and Tsuyu met at a coffee shop. You were behind her in line and she heard you make a noise. She quickly turned around to make sure you weren't injured or anything. Turns out you just saw a bug. She scared it away when she turned around.

Tsuyu was about to turn back around before she noticed you were about to cry. She instantly went into comforting mode, asking if you were okay. After you've calmed down she insisted on buying you your coffee. Tsu was a determined girl and she wasn't taking no for an answer.

While waiting in line together, she listened to you talk about art of all sorts. She was very interested in it and wanted to learn more about art history.

When you got your drinks, you and Tsuyu sat down at a table and just talked for hours. You told her everything that was going on in your life and she did the same.

The two of you talked for so long the manager kicked you guys out since they were closing. You exchanged numbers before leaving. She also told you to just call her Tsu.

Tsu ended up inviting you to come hang out with her and the dekusquad a lot. When she was watching you interact with her friends, she loved how you were easily able to make it not awkward.

The squad joked about Tsu being your guardian angel and protecting you from all insects that dare to come near you.

She used to take you out to coffee a lot but stopped when you told her that you were lactose intolerant. "I can't believe i'm lactose intolerant and i'm addicted to Starbucks-" " Wait you're what?"

Tsu was quite literally the surprised pikachu meme when you told her that.

You drag her into a bunch of little activities. Tsu and you do those youtube DIYs that probably don't work. Tsu's not the best at makeup so she really likes it when you do it for her! Or at the very least teach her how to use it.

Expect her to give you tons of small pastel bows. Those remind her of you because they're so cute! If you bring her anything and tell her it reminded you of her OH BOY. Get ready to be pulled into the tightest hug ever. It lasts a while too.

She can immediately tell when you're not feeling well. Even if you aren't in the room. Tsu can sense it from miles away.

THERAPIST TSU

She is so good at comforting people. Whenever you walk away from a little therapy session with her you feel so loved. She just likes making sure you know you matter! <3

At the end of each month, she always takes you to these huge aquariums. Seeing you just run around all excitedly just makes her smile a lot much. Sometimes she'll take you to a museum but she prefers aquariums. No surprise that she likes all the water there. Tsu likes holding your hand the entire time! That way she could protect you if you were to get scared.

She really was like your own guardian angel. :D

[jjmaybanksblog]

Where Were You in the Morning?- John B pt 4

Summary: Based on 'Where Were You in the Morning' by Shawn Mendes.

Word count: 1,252

Warnings: None

You paced in your bedroom. 'Why did I leave him? I felt something there, but I was a little bitch and left.' You thought to yourself, combing your hands through your hair, noticing you were still in his clothes. 

You took a look at yourself in the mirror, suddenly feeling disgusted with your  actions. You had walked out on one night stands before, but in this case it felt as though you had a 300 pound weight on your chest. 

You never expected to care so much about someone, especially someone you had just met. You changed out of his clothes and folded them neatly, placing them on the bed. Staring at the items of clothing, you were unaware about how you would get them back to him.

You nervously nibbled on your bottom lip, until you realized there was only one thing you could do. Pulling out a notepad, you took a pen and wrote 'I'm so sorry. Whenever you're ready please text me.

Y/N xxx-xxx-xxxx"

Closing your eyes, you tried to remember where his house was. After getting a mental image of which way John B drove, you realized his house should be close to yours. You hopped into the car with the pile of clothes in the passenger's seat. You gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning a shade of white for a moment. You backed out of the driveway, and headed to his house, sitting in silence, but your thoughts louder than ever.

'I can't believe I just left him like that'

'He deserves so much better'

'Im such a whore. I'm disgusting.'

'But I'm also just another girl who got passed along.'

'He was so different from the others, why?'

Your thoughts wondered to imagining what it would be like to be in a relationship with John B, how much of an amazing person he is. 'He could treat me right. In that one night I got him, I felt much more than a physical connection. He understands me, solely from taking one look in my eyes. He welcomed me into his life so easily, like it was the easiest decision he has ever made.'

You squeezed a small tear drop out of your eye, quickly wiping it as you approached his house. Parking the car, you placed his folded clothes on his front step. You made a fist and was about to knock on the door, but abruptly stopped. 

Backing away from the door, you took one last look before heading back into the car. As you sat in the driver's seat, you slammed your head on the wheel, accidently honking the horn. Jumping from the noise, you turned on the car and drove away. Slowly watching his house leave your vision.

_____________________________

*1 week later*

John B turned around in his bed, and saw the blonde girl he had met last night at a Kegger. His eyes stared at the back of her head, not satisfied with how things went. 'She doesn't compare to Y/N, why did I even bother trying?' This was his 4th time trying to get over you, but something about you kept drawing him back.

'Y/N.' That was the only thought on his mind as he stared at the unknown girl. You left his clothes at the doorstep with your number, and he has been so tempted to text you. Tell you that he couldn't get you off his fucking mind. Fuck it. He reached behind him, grabbing his phone.

"Meet me at this park at 3 p.m. Keep walking till you get to the lake, there's one bench next to a rose bush. I'll see you there- John B"

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. The mystery girl shuffled, turning herself around to look at him. "Thank you for last night." She flirtatiously smiled at the attractive brunette.

"You're welcome." Was all he said before getting out of bed.

________________________

Your heart raced as you stared at the text. 'Am I ready to talk to John B face to face? Even if I wasn't, I can't just leave him, again.' It was 1:30, giving you plenty of time to get ready. Never have you ever been this anxious to see somebody. 

You showered for a bit taking your time thinking about what you would say to him, how to explain how you felt. Why you left him like that. You wished you didn't, he was the best guy you had ever come across, and you lost him because you were too worried about your own feelings.

__________________________________

You sat down at the bench, waiting for John B. Your leg began to shake as you got anxious, your stomach felt empty even though you had eaten before. Your heart was racing, hands were shaking, you felt like you were on the verge of throwing them. Rustling of leaves behind you made your nerves worse.

Faster than you knew it, the familiar scent of his cologne filled the space next to you. You didn't look at each other, instead simply stared at the lake in front of you two. 

For a few minutes, the only thing that could be heard between you was the sound of the wind, the bushes rustling, and birds tweeting every now and then. "I'm so sorry." Your breath hitched. "Leaving you there was one of the shittiest things I've ever done." 

"Do you know how much it hurt? Thinking that maybe we could've been more than a one night stand?" John B sighed, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

"I was scared of falling for you. I know that sounds so fucking stupid but please let me explain." For the first time, John B turned his head towards you, looking right into your eyes. You didn't want to blink, starting into his eyes was so intimidating. 

"I get so attached to it easily. With everyone I get attached to, they end up leaving me, hurting me. It's been that way since my childhood. It was like a lesson, every time I tried, I would get hurt. I'm afraid to let people in because the more I let in, the more it will hurt when they leave."

"I would never hurt you." John B mumbled to her, his thumbs fiddling together. "I know that now. And when, when we were in bed, even before that, I felt this connection with you and that scared me. Because it was so easy to feel something with you, I knew that this feeling wouldn't last and you would leave. When I woke up and you had your arm around me, everything felt so right. It was like a dream I didn't want to wake up from." 

John B reached over and held onto your hand. "When I woke up and you weren't there, I felt like I wasn't enough for you. I tried to stop thinking about you, I really did. So many nights I tried to find someone new, but they didn't compare to you, Y/N. I didn't feel anything next to those girls. But when I was with you something in my mind felt complete. I honestly don't know why but you're one of the only girls I have spoken to that haven't just used me for games or to get what they want." 

"What does this make us?" You asked, looking down at your locked hands.

"I don't know yet, but I would like to find out." 

[theolddarkmachine]

Imaginary - Chapter Fifteen

Midoriya Izuku’s life was turned upside by fate.

Eri’s life was turned upside down by circumstance.

And Bakugou Katsuki is about to learn that even imaginary friends need to grow up.

Also on AO3

A/N: I give up making promises about being better about posting, because it seems when I do, work takes it as a personal challenge to fill up ALL OF MY TIME. for real though im so sorry there were points when i was going weeks without a day off TToTT I DO promise this is getting finished though. Anyway, here’s another longer update that will hopefully make up for the wait. 

Also, consider this your NSFW warning.

********************

Izuku watches Bakugou closely as he smiles at Eri from where he’s kneeling before her and letting her try to fix a party hat over his unruly hair. It was almost a week since they had done, well, that, and he’d woken up confused and alone after what could qualify as one of the best nights of his life.

And it had hurt, in a way he hadn’t known something could hurt.

But then Bakugou had returned the next day, just as he had said in his note, and it he was almost inseparable from them since. Eri’s birthday invitation had evolved into more of an enlistment as Bakugou had found himself a prime part of the party planning, assisting the entire time in finding the perfect decorations, planning the perfect cake, and helping Eri with whatever various ideas she had that Izuku would catch them whispering excitedly about.

Yet, even with his constant presence in their house, it still felt like something was missing. Like Bakugou was more subdued, lost in observation in a way that made Izuku feel seen. Almost painfully so.

More often than not, he’d feel the weighted, burning gaze on his skin and when he’d turn to meet it, he’d instead find himself pinned beneath the scorching gaze with any biting retorts dying on his tongue.

It was strange, that was for certain, and it left him feeling like he hadn’t been let in on some kind of joke.

He’d often find himself wanting to ask about it. Dig deep into the meaning behind Bakugou’s sudden quiet, but every time he did, he would find himself cut off by a tempered smile, a softened comment, or his favorite, a sudden press of lips.

Izuku had finally written it off as equal parts stress working on Eri’s birthday party, keeping up with work, and the sudden realization that he had someone.

A person.

His person.

But the creeping feeling never left him, even now as he watches Bakugou’s head drop back with his loud laughter, causing the hat to fall helplessly from his head and Eri to cross her arms in mock frustration.

“Kacchan!” Eri admonishes as she reaches for the army of pointed birthday hats that line the table. Grabbing another one that matches the first, she fixes Bakugou with an expectant pout.

“Alright, alright, squirt,” he says, hands held up in surrender. “Let me see that, only a pro can defeat this hair.”

Gently taking the new hat from Eri’s hands, he stretches the elastic band to its limit before pulling it over his head with an exaggerated motion. Wiggling his head side to side as if testing its fit before he let the band snap loudly under his chin. His wince earns him a small giggle as he holds his hands out in a cheery tada motion.

“Am I party ready?” Bakugou asks, face serious as he watches her. Eri’s nose scrunched up in thought as she brought her small hand up to her chin and gave it a couple taps. Finally, after a brief moment, she shakes her head.

“No, I think you’re still missing something,” she replies, equally serious. Izuku bites down on his laughter at Bakugou’s confused look.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” He asks curiously. Her gaze flicks toward where Izuku stands, her smile growing wider before she looks back at the man before her.

“Your party buddy!” Eri says excitedly. Izuku watches as Bakugou’s shoulders tense ever so slightly. His shoulders stay rigid for only a moment, easing out almost as quickly as they’d stiffened, and for a second Izuku thinks he must have imagined it.

If he didn’t, Bakugou never lets the sudden anxiety reach his eyes as he returns Eri’s smile.

“But I’ve got my party buddy right here!” Bakugou says loudly, scooping her up into his arms and standing to give her a quick spin. Laughing loudly, Eri throws her arms around his neck to hug him.

“No, Kacchan!” She exclaims brightly, smacking at his shoulder blade until he stops their spinning so that they’re facing toward Izuku. Looking up from the young girl in his arms, Bakugou finally looks at him, that same tempered stare that he’s grown used to turning that gaze into twin embers.

Izuku can feel the heat of it in the middle of his chest, and it takes everything in him to stop from rubbing at the burning spot above his heart.

“Not me, Daddy Izuku!” Eri cheers, pointing towards him. Time seems to lapse as Bakugou’s grin turns sharp and hungry, wolfish in a way that strikes a shudder running down his back like a lit charge. Eyes flicking between Eri and Izuku once more, he stage whispers:

“Daddy Izuku can’t be my party buddy, he doesn’t have a hat.”

Eri’s gasp is a sharp punch of air as she struggles in Bakugou’s hold. His own laugh is a low rumble as he lets her down, coaxing the stir in Izuku’s chest as he shoots him another look.

“He’s right! Where is your hat!” Eri cries sternly, marching over with a bright multicolored paper cone in her hands.

“I was just waiting my turn!” Izuku replies, fake hurt coloring his tone as he tears his gaze away from Bakugou to look down at her. With her hair shining bright from the sunlight tangled in its silver, and the dusty pink brushed on her cheeks from her laughter, he feels an almost painful ache rock through him. She was another year older, and he almost couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that that much time had already passed.

“Well now it’s your turn,” she says matter-of-factly, breaking him from his momentary reverie as she taps on his leg. Taking the hint, Izuku kneels in front of her, fixing her with a smile as she pulls the band of the hat long like Bakugou had. Humming lowly to herself, she pushes the hat onto his head.

Even without looking, he knows that it’s lopsided.

“How do I look?” He asks, aiming his question to her but flicking his gaze up to Bakugou.

Izuku watches the way he swallows thickly before he gives him a quick tilt of his chin.

“You and Kacchan match,” Eri states proudly. “Now you guys can be party buddies.”

Chuckling low, Izuku ruffles her hair before he stands as Eri runs to a further table and starts to fiddle with some of the decorations.

A soft hush and a gentle breeze falls over the backyard as they both watch Eri in the comfortable quiet before Bakugou finally comes closer.

“Party buddy, huh?” Bakugou says lowly. He’s stopped beside him, but Izuku swears he can feel the heated brush of his words on his nape. “Haven’t heard it called that before.”

“Oh?” Izuku breathes, taking a moment to let the shudder rock along his nerves. After it settles out into his blood, he arches a brow and turns toward Bakugou. He’s not as close as he’d imagined, but close enough for him to see the different arcs of color trapped in the blonde’s eyes.

“And what would you call it?”

The question causes Bakugou pause, and the same searching look comes over him as he returns Izuku’s gaze. It looks almost like sorrow, and Izuku feels a sharpness twist between his ribs as he lifts a hand to reach out to the man before him.

In the same moment, Bakugou opens his mouth, his name just on the tip of his tongue when the doorbell rings.

“I guess I should get that,” Izuku says before he can really think it over, not missing the way Bakugou’s brows pull together. Turning over his shoulder to answer the door, he jumps slightly at the sudden heat of a hand catching his own. With a jerk, he finds himself pulled back.

Lips meet his in a momentary heated press, shocking a small gasp from him that Bakugou swallows down before he pulls away. It was brief, and chaste, yet Izuku still feels the slight daze that leave his mouth slightly parted.

“What was that for?” He asks breathlessly.

“Just because I could, Deku” Bakugou says with a short retort and a shrug, dropping Izuku’s hand as the doorbell rings again. Keeping his gaze set on Izuku’s face as if trying to memorize it, he tilts his chin toward the door.

“I guess you should get that.”

He should, but he doesn’t want to. The creeping sense that Izuku has felt the entire week is back again, stalking around them like a hungry predator and it raises the hair at the back of his neck. Pushing back against the feeling, Izuku nods, turning on his heel to head to the door.

The entire way he feels the weight of a burning stare pressed between his shoulders.

***

Izuku stands to the side by the fence, his back pressed against the wood as he watches the party before him. He isn’t sure they’ve ever actually spoken with this many people in his lifetime, let alone had that many in his backyard, and he finds himself slightly spent.

Needing a moment away from playing host, he had settled himself off to the side, just out of the way enough that he can avoid anymore conversation, but can easily watch over things. Mostly, so that he can watch Bakugou and Eri.

He can hear her happy laughter from where he stands, both of their smiles drawing a bright one across his own face. Tucking it nearly into the rim of his drink, he takes a long sip of his punch.

As he does, a warm presence sidles up next to him, heating his side as he emerges from his cup.

“So do I finally get to meet this mystery man that has become the apple of my granddaughter and son’s eyes?” His mother’s voice is teasing as she bumps his hip with her own. Or, tries to. She gets more of his thigh than his hip, a fact that has him swallowing a small laugh.

Turning his attention toward her, Izuku playfully rolls his eyes.

“Still trying to stick your nose in my business, huh?” He teases back, fixing his mother with a bright smile.

“Izuku,” she gasps, feigning shock as she reaches up to throw an arm around his shoulders and drag him down to her level. He goes easily, watching as she makes a show of looking around before turning back to him.

“I brought you into this world, and I can still take you out of it,” she continues, the mock threat heavy in her voice before she loses her composure and laughs. Unable to help himself, Izuku joins in as he gives her a quick peck on the cheek before pulling away.

“Alright, alright! As a matter of fact, he’s right over there,” he acquiesces, nodding toward where Bakugou had been playing with Eri just moments ago, only to find that he’s no longer there. Eyes widening slightly, he scans the backyard for the bright flash of blonde hair anywhere.

“Are you going to try and pass him off as an imaginary friend now, too?” His mom chuckles.

“He must have run to get something,” Izuku explains, shaking off the hush of numbness feathering at the center of his chest. It’s edged with the bright spark of panic, and he swallows down the sudden urge to go in search of the man.

Lost to his thoughts, he misses the way his mother nods along.

“Eri said he’s been here helping you out with everything this week,” she prods. Izuku hides behind another sip of his drink before he resurfaces with a nod.

“Yep,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ as he continues to trace his gaze over the crowded yard. That very same creeping feeling is spreading out along his shoulders, stealing his attention from his mother.

“Well, I’m looking forward to finally meeting him,” she says, eyes lighting as she catches the eye of one of her neighbors. With a quick wave, she looks up to Izuku, worry creasing her brow.

“Make sure to grab me when he resurfaces?” His mother urges, waiting just long enough to confirm her son’s preoccupation. Huffing lowly, she shakes her head and turns to head toward her friend.

“Yeah,” Izuku says, moments to late as his eyes finally catches on a familiar figure. Bakugou is back with Eri, his posture mirroring Izuku’s as he leans back against the fence, watching her play with some of the neighborhood kids. Lips quirking up in a secretive smile, he looks at ease in a way Izuku hasn’t seen before.

It looks good on him, he thinks.

It’s then that Bakugou’s gaze shifts, catching Izuku’s gaze from across the yard. His smile grows wider as he winks.

Mouth going dry, Izuku throws back the last of his drink.

***

Stars punctuate the dark night sky above them as Izuku pushes the last of the paper plates deep into the trash bag Bakugou is holding open for him. The party had gone one without a hitch, leaving him tired but satisfied, even if it had also left a plethora of disposable dish ware to clear up.

Though, he’d be a liar if he said having Bakugou around hadn’t made the clean up go far easier than it would have had he been alone. Izuku smiles up toward the blonde, not entirely unaware of the fact that his gaze hasn’t left him for the majority of the party. His stare had been gnawing at his senses the entire time, sending a thrill through him every time he’d caught it from across the yard.

“You have anything else, Eri?” Izuku asks, tearing his attention away to look towards where the young girl sits on the patio. She shakes her head slowly as she yawns for the umpteenth time.

It causes his to chuckle lowly as he gives a small shake of his own head.

“Thanks,” he says to Bakugou, taking the trash bag from his hold.

“Anytime, Deku,” he replies with a small shrug, as if helping with a kids birthday party was something he did on the regular. Though, Izuku supposes he just might given his line of work.

Making quick work of the trash tie, he turns attention back to Eri.

“Alright, it’s time to tell Kacchan goodnight,” he says, blanketing his voice with a thin layer of authority. This causes her to perk up slightly as her eyes widen, her stare jumping between Bakugou and Izuku.

“But he hasn’t given me his present yet!” Eri says, voice lit with accusation as her stare finally stops on Bakugou.

“Eri,” Izuku admonishes at the same time as Bakugou snaps his fingers. The sound is crisp and bright, cutting through the otherwise quiet night.

“I knew I was forgetting something,” he says with feigned shock, earning himself a pout before he leaves the two Midoriyas to go back into the house. It’s only a few moments before Bakugou exits the house once more, kneeling down several feet away and ushering Eri toward him as he keeps something hidden behind his back.

Confusion tickles at the back of Izuku’s throat as he watches Eri hop up and run over to him, their position just far enough that he can barely hear them.

He stays where he is though, as he watches Bakugou pull a small wooden frame from behind his back. Holding it out to her, he says something that Izuku doesn’t catch.

Eri reaches for the frame slowly, looking down at it for a moment before she throws her arms around his shoulders. Bakugou’s arms circle around her waist as he says something at her ear. Izuku can’t hear it, but he doesn’t miss the way Eri seems to hug him just a bit tighter before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

A staticky feeling rips through the center of Izuku’s chest as he finally moves towards them, reaching them right as they break apart.

“What’d Kacchan get you?” He asks, gaze shifting between the two. There’s a heavy quiet between them as Bakugou keeps his eyes turned down. Eri sniffles slightly, rubbing a hand at her nose before she looks up at him and smiles.

“Look!” She says brightly, holding the frame up to Izuku.  “It’s us!”

The staticky feeling only seems to blossom further as he traces the bright lines of the drawing in the frame. It’s a scene of the three of them, Izuku on the left, Eri in the middle, and Bakugou on the right, all holding hands with large cartoonish smiles.

And in the corner, in Bakugou’s scrawling handwriting, a small note that says: From your best friend, Katsuki.

“Did you tell him thank you?” He asks, trying to ignore the way his voice is almost breathless as he keeps his eyes trained on the drawing.

Eri makes a small sound of affirmation before she hugs the frame to her chest and whispers, “it’s my favorite, Kacchan.”

“You’re my favorite,” Bakugou laughs as he taps her on the nose, earning him a small giggle in return. The sound turns into a yawn as Izuku ruffles her hair.

“Alright, time to tell him goodnight for real this time,” Izuku says, still looking between the two as if he can decipher the odd air that has wrapped itself around them. Eri gives a quick nod before she gives another sniffle.

“Goodnight, Kacchan,” she says, her voice slightly watery.

“Goodnight, squirt,” Bakugou returns. It’s weighted like a goodbye, and the static opens into a gaping maw, tearing through his chest as he watches Eri head into the house, the frame still held tightly to her chest.

Turning a questioning gaze to the blonde, Bakugou just shrugs, his stare returned to its normal, heated crimson.

Nodding in silent reply, Izuku quietly assures that he’ll be right back before he follows Eri upstairs. She’s made quick work of brushing her teeth and getting into bed, her eyelids already drooping as Izuku finally pushes his way into her room. He can’t help the upward twitch of his lips as he sees the drawing tucked in beside her.

“It is a pretty great gift, huh?” He says, not expecting much of an answer as he picks the frame up and sets it on her nighstand.

Eri hums a tiny sound of acknowledgement anyway, her eyes closed as Izuku leans down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Goodnight,” he whispers lowly, turning away from the bed and flicking off the light. It isn’t until he’s almost closed her door that he hears her speak.

“Daddy Izuku?” She asks, her voice lost in the darkness. It wiggles between the gaps in his ribs, feeding the off-putting static that tickles the back of his sternum.

“Yeah?” He says, pausing at the door to wait for her reply. Met by another long pause of silence, he steps back to leave once more when Eri finally replies.

“Can you tell Kacchan goodbye for me?” Her voice is filled with a quiet, urgent pleading. As if she needed him to relay her message, instead of just mere want.

“Yeah,” Izuku replies back earnestly, his heart stuttering around a pain he isn’t sure how to place. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

There’s a sniffle in the darkness.

“Goodnight, Daddy Izuku,” Eri says lowly. Her voice is impossibly small, and it takes everything in him to not go back in and wrap her into his arms. He’s certain he’s letting his own emotions get the better of him.

“Goodnight, Eri,” Izuku returns, closing the door with an almost imperceptible click. Making his way back downstairs, he finds Bakugou waiting for him in the living room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The pose pushes his shoulders up around his ears, and for a moment, he almost looks bashful.

It would be funny if Izuku couldn’t taste the bitter taste of something off at the back of his throat.

Opening his mouth to ask if he knows what’s going on, he never gets the words out at Bakugou cuts him off.

“You put on some party for a nerd,” he says. The compliment fills Izuku’s cheeks with heat as he finds his mouth turning up around a small curl of a smile.

“It’s all thanks to you,” he returns, swallowing down his curiosity in exchange for the earnest words. They’re almost too sweet, even on the tip of his own tongue, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He means it.

The party, Eri’s happiness, his own, it’s all thanks to Bakugou.

A rush of emotions swirl like a tempest across Bakugou’s gaze as he flushes, his mouth turning down in a slight frown in a vast juxtaposition to his blush. He takes two strides towards Izuku, closing the distance that stands between them.

“Just take the damn compliment,” he says, raising a hand to run his touch over the crest of Izuku’s cheek. It’s almost like he captures the fire that has heated the skin along his fingertips, using it instead to connect the freckles that dot his skin. A small gasp parts Izuku’s lips as he looks up at the blonde.

Bakugou’s gaze flicks back and forth across Izuku’s own, a silent question buried deep within it as he searches for an answer. He seems to find it as he leans down, capturing Izuku’s lips with his own.

The kiss is a match, sparking to life with the slide of their lips.

It catches in Izuku’s veins, lighting him up like a fuse, and it consumes him. Moaning, he chases after the searing flare, deepening the kiss as he presses himself into the firm line of Bakugou’s form. His hands burn like brands as they trace down Izuku’s back, following the curve of his ass downward until they find a home at his thighs.

With a quick tug, he lifts him up, holding him firmly against him as Izuku wraps his legs around his waist and grinds down into him.

Swallowing down the hungry sound that rips itself from Bakugou’s throat, he smiles as he continues to chase the flame, all his questions suddenly forgotten as he gets lost in the burn.

Barely aware of their movement, Izuku doesn’t realize they’ve made it to his bedroom until Bakugou sits on the edge of the bed. Keeping him firmly pressed in his lap, Bakugou finally pulls away, his breath heavy as he looks up at him.

Those very same flames that Izuku is trying to reach flickers in the depths of his stare as he slides his hands up from his thighs and toward the hem of his shirt. As Bakugou’s fingers flutter gently across the skin there, Izuku can feel the tiny sparks popping through his nerve endings like cherry bombs.

Biting down on his bottom lip, he watches Bakugou with half lidded eyes as he starts to slowly push the fabric up over his chest. Bakugou’s own gaze is almost suffocating as he keeps it pressed heavily against him, not breaking his stare until he pulls the shirt over his head.

In the momentary blindness, Izuku feels the fluttering touch of a kiss right at his heart.

“Katsuki,” he breathes as the shirt falls to the ground behind him with a gentle hush.

“Mmm,” Bakugou hums, skimming his nose against his skin, he draws a line of goosebumps across his pec.

Izuku’s back arches, pushing him closer into his touch as Bakugou catches his nipple between his teeth before he pulls back. A gentle throb radiates over his heart as the blonde looks up at him once more, only this time his pupils are blown dark and wide with the depth of his need.

Losing himself to the pitch black tempering his stare, Izuku can’t help but capture his lips again as he twists his fingers into the hair at Bakugou’s nape.

Grinding down into him, Izuku mewls at the feeling of his fingers tightening at his waist.

“Izuku,” Bakugou hushes, breathing his name between them like a secret as he pulls away. It causes Izuku pause as he rests his forehead against his, his chest heaving around his gasping breath as he waits for what Bakugou has to say. It’s a quiet moment of indecision before Bakugou lets out a shaky breath and reaches behind his head to remove his own shirt.

His lips find Izuku’s once more with a slick, heated press as Bakugou flips them and gently pushes him back into his pillow. Fingers make quick work of his jeans, pushing them off his legs with deft movements before they’re discarded to the floor.

Sitting back on his haunches, Bakugou looks down on Izuku with a look of simmering admiration that settles itself low and heavy in his gut.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes. It’s a quiet admittance, one said so low that Izuku thinks he’s misheard it until he sees the bright red that colors the bridge of Bakugou’s nose. The admission takes him off guard, sending his nerves further alight as the only response he can think to give it to reach out toward the man before him. Izuku’s palm cups his cheek, fully intending to pull him back in, but instead he’s met by the gentle press of Bakugou’s lips at his palm.

The fluttering pressure stalls his breath, trapping it at the base of his throat as he traces his gaze across the pretty picture that Bakugou strikes before him.

Beautiful, his mind echoes before the sharp pinch of teeth on his palm shakes him of the thought.

An embarrassingly high squeak pops itself free from his teeth as he jump, his mouth turning down in a playful scowl. It earns him a wink before Bakugou settles himself between Izuku’s legs and swallows him down without preamble.

The sudden heat is searing as he throws his head back, mouth opening wide around a moan as he feels himself hit the back of Bakugou’s throat. Legs closing around his shoulders, Izuku is all too aware of the soft brush of hair between his thighs as Bakugou bobs his head up and and down over his length.

Izuku grips tightly at his sheets, fearing he might rip them as he feels Bakugou’s burning palms trace up the backs of his thighs.

Bakugou gives a sharp squeeze that pulls Izuku’s attention back towards him just in time to watch as he licks a lewd stripe from his base to his tip. It forces another deep moan from deep in his chest as he feels his lashes flutter at the sensation, the movement almost causing him to miss the way Bakugou flicks his gaze toward the nigh stand.

Swallowing down another gasping mewl, he answers the silent request by reaching into the drawer and pulling out a small bottle.

Handing it over blindly, Izuku falls back into the pillow, throwing his arm over his eyes in a vain attempt to settle his breathing as the burning heat of Bakugou’s mouth returns between his legs.

“Katsuki,” he starts, only to be stopped once more as he feels his tongue roll against him. “Katsuki, I’m not going to make it.”

Moving lithe and quick, Izuku barely registers Bakugou sudden ascent until he feels his mouth pressed hot against his ear.

“Hang in there for me, won’t you, Izuku?” He hushes as his slick fingers trace around his entrance, enticingly slow. Izuku swallows another harsh moan, biting into the full of his lip to keep it trapped.

“You can hold on for me, can’t you, baby?” Bakugou continues, voice going gruff over the pet name as he rolls his unclothed hips against Izuku’s. The sliding friction of their lengths against one another almost sends him over the edge as Bakugou gently presses a finger in.

“I can’t,” Izuku whispers, eyes still clenched shut and pressed against the crook of his elbow.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” he mewls as Bakugou slows works him open. It’s treacherous and delightful, slow in a way that’s picking him apart in the most pleasant form of torture Izuku has ever known. The pace of it leaves him all too aware of the different point where their bodies meet and he thinks he’s going to combust.

The last time had been like a spark to gasoline, but this, this was a much slower burn. One that oozed slowly like magma through his veins, destroying everything in its path so languidly, he hadn’t even realized everything he was had already caught fire until he felt like he’d just turn to ash.

It’s almost like Bakugou is trying to burn himself into his skin.

A hand slowly brushes along the line of his arm, razing the skin in its wake before it gently pushes Izuku’s arm away from his face.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met by Bakugou’s gaze and it cuts through him in a way that hurts. The sudden realization that Izuku doesn’t want Bakugou to be anywhere else steals his breath, leaving him dizzy as he tries to imagine returning to the life that they had once known.

He doesn’t understand where the intrusive thought comes from as it worms its barbs between his ribs, filling his chest with a sharp pain as he thinks about how much the blonde had done for him and his family, and he wants nothing more than to hold Bakugou close and never let him go.

A hand cradles Izuku’s face, pushing back the invasive concern as Bakugou’s thumb brushes along his cheek and collects the tear he hadn’t realized he’d shed.

“You can,” he affirms, leaning in slowly to catch his lips once more with a simmering kiss as he pulls his fingers from inside him.

It’s reaches deep, and feels wholly different from any other kiss they’ve shared before. As if Bakugou is trying to convey something he could never say aloud.

Doesn’t want to say aloud.

Izuku reaches up and wraps his arms around his shoulders to hold him close to his chest, reveling in the feeling of their hearts beating in time. Opening up into the kiss, he breathes a startled huff between them as Bakugou uses his hold to flip them.

His confusion at the sudden change only lasts for the breadth of a moment before Bakugou pushes up into him. The slow slide runs an even slower shiver up Izuku’s spine.

Breaking the kiss, he places a palm over Bakugou’s heart, noting distantly that its thrum is like a hummingbird’s as he uses it to press back into him until he’s fully sheathed. The heat pitches higher in his veins as he gives an experimental roll of his hips, earning a low moan from the man beneath him.

Another thrill shoots through him, electrifying his blood as Bakugou’s hands circle his hips and hold him in place as he looks up at him reverently.

“Beautiful,” he breathes again, and Izuku feels it break something free from deep within his chest. Grinding down into him with more fervor, he traces his hands along Bakugou’s forearms, following their path up to his wrists before he slowly pulls them away from his hips.

Twisting their fingers together, Izuku presses their joined hands down on either side of Bakugou’s head as he gives another sinuous roll against him, meeting each of his thrusts with his own.

They push against each other, meeting like the shore and the tide as their panting breath mingles in what little space still lays between them.

“Katsuki,” Izuku whispers against his lips before he chases the name and seals it against his skin. Bakugou’s hold grows tighter on his hand as he hums, pressing up into him and catching against the exact spot that makes him see stars.

It punches the breath out of him, the taste of his whines turned saccharine as he presses them to Bakugou’s mouth.

“Katsuki,” Izuku tries again, the pace of his flexuous thrusts quickening as Bakugou hammers continuously into that same spot. With each push, the heat in his stomach grows, and he fears the words he longs to say will turn to ash on his tongue before he can push them through the gap between his teeth.

Pulling away just enough to see the vast expanse of Bakugou’s deep stare, Izuku’s eyelashes flutter from the press of another well placed thrust.

“I love you.”

It’s what Izuku wants to say.

Only, he wasn’t the one who said it.

Eyes going wide, he pushes back, balancing his weight on one arm as he looks down at Bakugou. He’s watching him, dusting his skin with the gentle hush of his gaze as if he��s committing every one of the emotions flickering across Izuku’s face to memory.

Time feels frozen, only he knows that it can’t possible have stalled, if only because the flames within him continue to build to an unspeakable pitch.

“Say it again,” Izuku hears himself plead, his fingers tightening around the hand that he still holds.

“I love you,” Bakugou replies without hesitation.

A small sob falls from Izuku’s lips as his vision blurs, turning the already dark room darker as he feels himself flipped. Pushed down once more into his pillow, Bakugou’s heat is everywhere.

He is everywhere.

He’s at his mouth, between his legs, and in his heart. He’s pressing himself into Izuku’s bloodstream as he hammers into him, as if he wants him to commit this very same moment to memory as well. Clutching at his shoulders, Izuku can feel the burning tracks of his tears along his cheeks as Bakugou’s name falls from his lips over and over like a quiet prayer.

It all comes to a head with the sudden bright implosion at his core, burning away everything as his release pants the space between them. Bakugou’s low, fevered moan is an answer to his own as he comes within him.

They lay there, frozen for some time in a suspended moment of afterglow that leaves Izuku feeling weightless, as if he isn’t even present in his body anymore. He’s barely even aware of Bakugou’s lips as they brush across his cheek, disrupting the tear track that has marked his skin.

As Bakugou gently pulls away, Izuku makes a small sound of protest.

“I’m just going to clean up,” he thinks he hears Bakugou say as his mind continues to drift, leaving his boneless form to be tended to. Lost to the gentle tide of the lingering iridescence shimmering through his veins, he thinks he feels the soft brush of a warm cloth along his skin.

It only serves to lull him further into his lucid state, and the dream that waits for him glows like the same warmth buzzing through him. There, he sees Bakugou, watching him closely from where he lays beside him.

Izuku hums to himself as he feels the man in his dream brush the hair from his eyes.

“Izuku,” Bakugou whispers gently, letting his caress trace back and forth along his temple. The lingering touch sendings tiny aftershocks through his system.

“Katsuki,” he whispers back, his name turned into a soft purr as he presses into his pillow. Izuku can almost swear he sees a sort of sadness color dream Bakugou’s eyes, and it fills him with a heavy melancholy. His fingers twitch slightly as he thinks about how he wishes he could just reach out to him.

No matter how hard he thinks it, his hand remains where it rests atop the mattress, and for just a moment, he no longer likes this dream.

If it was such a nice dream, Bakugou wouldn’t look so lost.

“I love you too, you know,” Izuku hushes. And it should be the right thing to say, he thinks. Except it doesn’t seem to be as he watches Bakugou’s eyes turn a shade darker. The moment is fleeting as he moves in close to press a kiss to Izuku’s forehead.

He lingers there, and Izuku wants to ask what’s wrong, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he feels Bakugou say, his breath brushing across his skin.

It’s then that Izuku’s eyes snap open, the sunlight blinding as he finds the space beside him empty and cold.

“Katsuki?” He asks out into the emptiness as the creeping feeling suddenly explodes around him, folding around his shoulders and weighing him down with the heavy weight of dread.

It only takes minutes for him to get out of bed and head downstairs to see that this time, there isn’t a note.

*******************************

[act-addict-actors-matchups]

@anonymous said,

hello !! can i get a matchup? im a pisces, infp & a ravenclaw. i am 5'0.5 and have medium length black wavy hair and brown eyes. i like to try new things though i can be shy & hesitant sometimes. i like things to remain light-hearted but i can be serious too when required. i have a different type of persona for every person,, if im comfortable with someone i get really really talkative and bubbly. (1)

also im like super addicted to my phone,, it's hard for me to even function w/o it. im pretty much a night owl and my sleeping schedule is messed up. i really like fashion, listening to music, travelling, photography, video games & SWEETS. I don't think im very good at comforting others but im a great listener. I'm super lazy & a big procrastinator. (2)

I cannot call or text anyone at all without dying like every second unless we're close. Usually, if i don't get my space i get really annoyed. I'm really stubborn too. I don't really have a hobby except listening to music, reading manga, webnovels or drawing? im so sorry this was so long thank you tho!! (3)

✧ Thank you so much for requesting a matchup anonnie. I don’t know when you send this but I hope you’ll see this and like it. 💓

I’d match you with: . . .

➜ HOW YOU TWO FIRST MET ; You were an intern at his company. One day, while everyone else was at lunch break, you were struggling to finish the assignment you were assigned which was due tomorrow and it didn’t help you at all that the person who was supposed to help you weren’t doing their jobs at all. With a groan, you pushed yourself off your office seat and made your way to the kitchen to get yourself a cup of coffee. It looked like you were staying overtime anyway. While walking towards your destination, you heard the background music of your favorite game and stopped in your tracks. At first you thought you were imagining the sound since it’s been a while since you last played it and there was literally no one else in the building aside from you but after listening more carefully for a while you were sure that someone in the office was indeed playing your favorite game. Careful not to make any noise, you basically tiptoed to the source of the sound only to be greeted with dark blonde locks. The celebrity of the company himself, the person who earned the trust of his coworkers and superiors alike like it was nothing, the one and only Chikasagi Itaru was playing YOUR favorite game. His pink eyes, which reminded you the stone Star Ruby, was glued on the phone in his hand deep in concentration under his bangs. You didn’t even realize you were in a daze until a curse left his lips and he threw his head back in frustration. That is when Itaru noticed that you were here and saw the whole thing. Now, don’t get him wrong, normally he wouldn’t even think of gaming while he was at work but there was this rare event he absolutely had to participate and rank. His game addict instincts basically took control over his mind. With a small smile on your lips you approached him and offered to help while he was desperately trying to think of any excuse to get him out of this situation. You knew you weren’t going to participate in this event no matter how much you wanted to anyway so you might as well use your skills to help someone in need, right? After convincing him to lend you his phone, which took a lot of effort ngl, you cleared the level he was stuck on with ease and handed him his phone back with a smug grin on your face. That was the moment when you became a gaming goddess in his eyes and as a thank you, he helped you with that assignment and miraculously, you managed to finish it before the deadline and started a new friendship with the hardcore gamer.

➜ PERSONALITY COMPATIBILITY ; First of all, you two compliment each other in a “we’re so similar I get why you’re like that”-way. You two can relate to each other with pretty much everything. He also has two different personas although it’s a bit different from yours but whenever Itaru is in professional mode, he is gentle and charming like a prince who genuinely cares about others but he somewhat maintains his distance and likes to keep his private life to himself but when he’s in home mode, he is not afraid to curse and be rude who also starts to get a bit lazy and outright competitive. I feel like he’s the type of person who would procrastinate as well so i’m just imagining you two lying down and telling each other that you should get up soon but none of you actually makes an attempt to do so.Cue you two rushing to finish whatever you were supposed to do afterwards. Don’t worry about not getting any space because Itaru is not the clingy type unless he’s like, really tired from work but who wouldn’t want to cuddle with their lover time to time? Also, I feel like he can manage your stubbornness because he’s a pretty chill guy.

➜ SHARED ACTIVITIES ; Like I said before, you two are basically two peas in a pot so if you really want to you can manage to do everything together. The fact that you like video games is a big plus in the relationship. Sometimes you two just game until the sun rise on your day offs since both of you are night owls and your sleeping schedule is basically nonexistent. If you’re in need for an extra player, Itaru personally drags Banri in your gaming sessions as well so you’re also good friends with the high-spec delinquent. Of course, he will take you out from time to time on normal dates like a mall, arcade, fun fair or a expensive restaurant, but this generally happens when you’re celebrating an important day like anniversaries or birthdays. I can picture you two sitting at a bakery, enjoying whatever you’ve ordered and passionately discussing if the newly released gamer keyboard is actually worth buying or not or going to an arcade and compete to see who can get the most tickets at the end of the day. I can also picture him dropping by your house with your favorite desserts after you’ve accomplished something amazing at work. In short, you’re literally the only person he’s willing to go all out for and he wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

➜ ZODIAC COMPATIBILITY ; Itaru’s birthday is on April 24 which makes him a Taurus. The connection between a Taurus and a Pisces will be built on sheer love and adoration for each other. The earth sign and water sign are complementary to each other. They are both caretakers of those around them and will thus nurture each other, and their relationship, with immense devotion and absolute dedication. Taurus helps Pisces to stay grounded and to focus on the reality. Pisces, on the other hand, soothes the rigidity of the Taurus to unwind themselves from the constant stress of expectations. This aids the bull breathe a little lighter and infuses their with self-assurance and optimism. This relationship will survive the test of time if both parties involved have unbreakable trust in each other and nurture that connection they have painstakingly built over the years. They must remember to be honest and committed to their partner through all times. If natural communication flows between them like clockwork, this will be a beautiful love story with a prominent tag of 'happily-ever-after' pinned right to it.

[snickletastic]

A Fake Mustache {Jason Todd x Reader + Dick Grayson}

warnings~ minor sexual assault, creepy older men, cursing, alcohol

summary~ dick and reader must go on an undercover mission to retrieve information for bruce, but come across a few dilemmas along the way

a/n~ hey guys! ive been getting some pretty crappy writers block recently, and i ended up writing two versions of this story, but ultimately decided this was the winner. im not quite sure if this idea had been done before, so im sorry if it bears any accidental similarities to anybody elses work. i really enjoyed writing this one, so i hope you guys like it :)

Jason tugged at the hem of your dress inadvertently, tuned out of the conversation you and Dick were having. The tug made you stop mid-sentence and turn to look at your boyfriend. His hair was scruffy, his jacket collar crooked. He looked like a disheveled 12 year old, despite being the giant he is.

“What’s up?” You questioned him.

“..Huh? Oh, nothing...” Jason muttered before leaning closer into your ear so Dick wouldn’t overhear, “Can we go soon?”

You gently rolled your eyes at his request, “Sure, Jay. Let me finish talking to your brother first.”

Jason groaned, turned, and walked to the nearest seat to wait for you to finish talking. Dick side-eyed his younger brother and continued the conversation, “So this mission will only take one night, but it’ll be a few hours.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yup,” Dick nodded, “Iceberg Lounge, 9 p.m.”

“Works for me, I’ll see you then,” You began to walk away.

“Wait!” You turned around, “Wear something nice,” Dick said cheekily, earning a loud scoff from Jason, who didn’t appreciate the comment.

You gave Dick an awkward thumbs up and took Jason’s arm, leaving the manor before Jason got too unruly. While walking out to the car, Jason dragged behind you.

“Will you pick up the pace?” You whined.

Jason stopped in his tracks, “I don’t want you going on this mission with him.”

“Why not? It’s perfectly safe, there won’t be any fighting involved. It’s just an undercover mission,” you shrugged.

He crossed his arms, “I should be the one you go undercover with. Not him.”

“I love you, but you know he’s a bit more charismatic with the bad guys...you just speak with your fists.”

“Yeah well,” Jason awkwardly tramped past you, “It works.” he murmured.

You checked the time on your phone, 8:58. Dick still wasn’t there, and you were standing outside of the lounge in the freezing cold. The music was blasting so loudly that you could feel the vibrations on the sidewalk. The line of shady individuals was beginning to get longer as the peak party hours crept up. A loud engine echoed from blocks away, making you shutter. Loud cars are so obnoxious. It seemingly only got more and more boisterous before you realized it was driving towards the club. A bright red Corvette pulled up along the curb, and the window rolled down revealing non other than Dick himself.

“I thought I told you to wear something nice,” he sneered. You choked at the bluntness of his comment, about to defend your dark purple cocktail dress. “Relax, y/n, I’m just screwing with ya. You look beautiful,” he winked and revved the engine, making the crowd outside of the club stare at both of you.

“You’re drawing too much attention! I thought this was meant to be a low-profile mission,” you complained.

Dick raised an eyebrow, “How isn’t this low-profile?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Is this Bruce’s car?”

Dick scratched his head, “....Yeah...um...don’t tell him I borrowed it for the night....please?”

“Only if you stop being so flashy with it,” you crossed your arms.

Dick got out of the car and tossed his keys to the valet. The crowd was still looking at him, and the women were especially captivated by his presence. You cringed at all of the eyes set on you, but Dick bathed in the attention. He wrapped his arm around your waist and led you to the door, giving the bouncer a wad of cash in order to skip the line. When the club doors opened, the music deafened your ears.

Dick continued to steer you through the crowds, shoving through creepy men who stared at you and shimmying past rowdy women who were throwing themselves at him. Finally, the two of you stopped before a red rope and a booth filled with older men in suits smoking cigars. Your mouth gently dropped at the sight, it looked like it belonged in a movie scene. There were two young women squeezed in between the group of men, whispering into their ears despite being more than half their ages. You shivered at the sight and squeezed Dick’s hand unwittingly. He quickly turned his head towards you, scanning your face for danger. You just scrunched your face and mouthed, “sorry.”

A large man interrupted your silent exchange, “Who are you?”

“I am John Booth, this is my, er- partner,” he looked around the area, then motioned a hand towards you, “Beth...Macanudo.”

The bouncer raised his eyebrow and scoffed, “Beth Macanudo?”

You half smiled and bounced upwards on your heels, “That’s me!”

The bouncer looked at the both of you brazenly, seemingly in disbelief that you belonged behind the rope. Before he turned you away, a voice piped up from behind him, “Let them in.” The bouncer didn’t testify, immediately unhooking the rope to allow you in.

You avoided eye contact with the large group of criminals, looking at the floor as you moved into the booth. Dick sat on the outside, unwittingly pushing you close to a creepy old man who was eyeing you up and down while licking his lips. You felt nauseous, but decided to stay quiet to avoid blowing cover. 

Dick scanned the table, then let out an audible groan. You looked up to see no one other than Jason on the other side of the booth- wearing a fake mustache. You immediately covered your face with your hands, shaking your head at the situation you’ve now been put in. He had a blonde woman awkwardly squeezed between him and a crime lord, but he was clearly ignoring her; staring at you. His poker face convinced you to play along with the scheme.

Dick cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at his brother, clearly angry that he didn’t trust the two of you enough to do the mission alone. It bothered you, too, but you should have expected nothing less from Jason; who once slashed a mans tires and smashed his car windows for catcalling you while you both walked past him. His jealousy could get reckless, but his protective side could borderline loony. Now, he sat with 7 playing cards in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other, staring the both of you down.

“What are your names?” He stayed in character.

“John Booth,” Dick slyly wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “This is my girlfriend, Beth Macanudo.”

Jason let out a laugh, “Macanudo? Like the cigar?” He lifted the box sitting in front of him, “Which just so happens to be the exact brand we’re smoking? Brilliant.”

Some of the crime lords laughed, some looked suspicious, examining the pair sitting at the end of the booth with ridiculous names. “What are you getting at?” Dick squinted. 

“Oh, nothing,” Jason leaned back into his seat, “Listen, fellas, I know these two. They’re legitimate.” He assured the group, who seemed to mellow out at the verification. 

Dick stiffly took his arm from your shoulder as Jason’s glare become harsher. Was Jason really ridiculous enough to blow the cover? You considered it for a moment, then decided he wouldn’t put you in danger like that. You twiddled your thumbs on the table, trying not to look at Jason, displaying resentment towards him for being such a child. In the middle of your thoughts, you felt a pair of hands clutch yours. “What are you so nervous for sweetheart?” The old man to the right of you licked his chapped lips again.

“Er-um, nothing. Just...tired, is all,” you uncomfortably murmured, trying not to draw attention from the meeting. 

“If you’re tired, we could head back to my room upstairs,” the old man inched closer to you, his breath hitting you face. It smelled like booze and smoke, making you choke up. Jason immediately noticed the man's hand on yours, and you trying to pull away. He felt his temper rising as Dick was oblivious to the interaction next to him, rambling on about drug trades. He shifted uneasily, trying his best not to lose character. 

He tried to catch the attention of Dick with eye contact and small nods towards you, but he clearly wasn’t catching on. That is, until you yanked your hands away from the man so hard that your elbow hit Dick in the arm. 

“What’s going on?” Dick questioned the man grabbing at you. 

Jason bounced his leg, trying to keep himself quiet.

“She just wants a little love, is all!” The creep grinned and reached for your thigh.

You backed further into Dick and pushed the man away.

Jason rubbed his temples watching the scene play out, trying to stay calm.

Dick didn’t want to blow your covers, but he couldn’t sit there as you writhed towards him trying to get away from a pervert. “Don’t touch her,” Dick pushed his arms away from you, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Who the fuck d’ya think you are? If I wanna fuck your bitch then that’s what I’ll do, understand?”

A gun cocked and the three of you stopped quarreling, turning your heads towards Jason who was now standing up with a pistol aimed at the creep. “One more word and I’ll fucking kill you.”

The criminal gulped, “Don’t be so brash, son. It’s just a whor-”

Jason leaned across the table and pushed his gun towards the mans temple, “Remove your hands. Now.”

The old man let go of you and leaned back into his seat, avoiding the gun.

Jason motioned his head towards the exit for both of you to leave, and he finished speaking to the group before joining you guys.

“That...was...um, eventful,” Dick rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Did we even get the information we needed? Was that a waste of time?” You questioned the two men.

“Trust me, princess, we got all the information we will need to take those men down.” Jason put his hand on the small of your back as you exited the club, passing the security guard. “We just need to get it back to Bruce.”

Dick nodded, “Alright...I’ll go get the valet to get me the car.”

Jason blinked, “Valet? Dick, there’s no valet here.”

“Yeah there is. I gave him the keys to the Corvette,” Dick assured Jason.

“Trust me, man, I frequent this place for the criminals. There’s no valet.”

“Shit!” Dick shouted exasperatedly, “Bruce is gonna kill me.”

“I didn’t bring a car, I came here on a bus...best not to leave tracks,” Jason scratched his head, “Call an Uber?”

Dick was still agitated at the loss of the hundred-thousand dollar car, but took his phone out and dialed a number, walking to a quieter place to speak.

“So, you didn’t trust us, huh?” You crossed your arms at your boyfriend.

“What? No. I mean, yeah. I trusted you guys; it’s the criminals in there that I don’t trust,” He pointed a thumb towards the club, “I know these assholes too well to let you come here without me.”

You couldn’t argue with him, knowing he meant the best in his own way. “Well, the mustache is a new addition. You grow that overnight?” You chuckled.

Jason brushed his mustache like a villain, “All it takes is some willpower and good genes,” He joked before taking it off, then sticking it on your arm.

“Ugh! Ew!” You peeled it off of your arm and examined it, “How did they fall for this? It looks like a small hamster!”

Jason laughed at your comment before becoming suddenly serious, “Oh...um, by the way,” He leaned closely into your ear, his hot breath making you shiver, “Don’t tell Dick that there actually is a valet here.”

You laughed and slapped his arm before Dick came back, bewildered. “I reported it to the department. Apparently it’s the funniest joke when a cops Corvette gets stolen from right under his nose, as if it doesn’t happen on a daily basis.”

masterlist

[the-walking-daryl]

The Walking Winchester Chapter 9

Summary: After being kidnapped Daryl feels like it’s best to take you on a hunt, just the two of you. 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: talk of child maltreatment, feeling unwanted, violence 

AN: I know that the timeline doesn’t actually match up to the show’s timeline, at this point I am trying to more the story along because I feel like it has been stuck in the same spot for too long if that makes sense. 

It had been some time since Maggie, Carol, and yourself had been captured and you were still shook up over the whole thing. Sure you have been captured before, but you never felt remorse for killing them. These were actual people, you could still remember all the blood each and every time you close your eyes. That’s why Daryl decided that you needed a little time away from the rest of the group and dragged you out into the woods to hunt with him.

You weren’t complaining since you got to spend alone time with him, you just knew that at some point he was probably going to make you talk about how you feel. And you had an odd feeling that that point was going to be coming soon due to that fact that the sun was beginning to set and the two of you were comfortably seated on a log. 

“You good?” he asks gruffly after a few minutes of the two of you just sitting there in silence. 

“Yeah, this is just nothing like being a hunter,” you reply lost in thought about what was waiting for you in your world, “give me a demon, a vampire, anything out of a lore book and I can probably kill it without much of a fight. But other people, that’s unfamiliar territory.”

“How long have you been doing it for?” Daryl asks you in a curious tone.

“I don’t even remember how old I was when called my dad and begged him to come get me. He never wanted this life for me, my mom was just some chick he got pregnant while he was in that town for a hunt. He never really loved her, but he still took care of me nonetheless. He would come by once a year while his boys were at their uncle’s and spend time with me.

It was the only happiness I had when I was with my mother. She never wanted kids, so when she ended up with me she made sure that I knew she wasn’t a willing participant in my life.. I mean my dad wasn’t a willing party either, but he never made it as known as she did,the worst thing he did was leave me with her three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year. After awhile I couldn’t take the way she treated me anymore and begged my father to take me with him. I barely knew what he did, all I knew was any life was better than the one I was already living.”

A heavy silence settled between you both for a couple of minutes until Daryl decided to speak again, “was it hard once your dad took you?”

“It was hard yeah and my dad was ten more strict than he was before. I knew why though and I understood. My father wasn’t raised into the hunter life, his wife Mary was, but she gave it up for him and her family. It worked too, until a yellow eyed demon killed her one night. After that my father trained there two sons to hunt as best as he could, then some time later he did the same with me. It is long nights and a lot of rules but it’s all for our own safety, I mean if we die then there is no one to kill the monsters.”

“Wow,” the quiet man beside you mumbles some time later. 

“It’s a lot, I know,” you say quietly before adding with a laugh, “don’t even get me on how my brothers are the vessels of two archangels who were destined to start an apocalypse.”

“What?!” 

“You heard me.”

“Is your dad still around with you guys now?” 

“No,” you reply sadly with a shake of your head, “he sold his soul and was dragged to hell a long time ago to save Dean’s life after a really bad accident years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“There is nothing anyone can do to bring him back, I’d know since I tried. No demon or angel would help me, no matter how much I bargained. I went to every crossroads the had in the country while my brothers were throwing themselves into case after case. I prayed to every angel from the lowest cherub to god himself but never once did anyone answer my calls. And all I wanted to do was bring my father back because I knew my brothers needed him a whole lot more than they would ever need me.”  

“Im sure your brothers need you Y/N,” Daryl tries to argue but you shoot him down with a firm shake of the head.

“They accepted me for my father’s sake but they never truly wanted a sister. And the especially didn’t want someone who agreed with every rule set in place no matter how much it felt like our father acted more like a general than our dad most times.”

Just as Daryl was about to argue with your statement three men came out of the shadows and closed in on you both causing the two of you to tense and instantly draw your knives.

“Now, there is no need for those,” the man in the middle with long blonde hair and half a scarred face announces with a chuckle,” the boss just wants to have a little chat with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you state definitely while never lowering your weapon.  

As I finish speaking Daryl voices his own opinions, “what are you doing here Dwight?” 

Before the man in the middle, who you are assuming is Dwight, had a chance to answer the man to his left step forward to smack you. He however doesn’t get the chance to because you block the hit before slicing his arm with your blade. As the man releases a yell in pain distracting everyone you attempt to use it in hopes of gaining the upper hand. 

You decide to lunge for Dwight since he was the closest one two you in hopes of somehow injuring him as well. The plan backfires since he was expecting your attack and instantly gains ahold of you. While you are attempting to fight him off Daryl is busy trying to break free from the other two men as well. Knowing that for the moment you were trapped you stopped fighting and saved your energy in hopes of the men taking you far enough away that they would get tired and give you both a chance to escape. 

Eventually you decided that you had been walking enough for the man to be losing energy and decide now is as good a chance as any to make your escape. Dropping all your weight as fast and hard as you can to the ground you bring the man with you before tucking in on his arm so he flips over your back. While him and the other two men are in shock you swipe out one of the mens legs on your way up causing him to release Daryl. With only one man holding him it was now easier for Daryl to fight back against the other man and before you knew it the two of you were making your way towards a clearing that you hoped would bring safety.

TWD Forever Tags

@mrstellerwinston @phasma-trash @moonchild1507 @just-afann @babypink224221 @his-paradox @strangewhovian-blog @sexyvixen7 @oncemorewithfeelingg

Daryl Dixon

@nikki082489 @fuzzy-panda @hells-mistress @leather-mommy @apocalypse-haven  @melancolizando-o @kathieycarrerarosshley @dovies666 @raven-black102 @marjoriey @jodiereedus22  @xxboesefrauxx @hp-hogwartsexpress @characterobsessed @sourwolf-sterek32 @dietothemusic @hurricane-abigail @adventurous-blob

The Walking Winchester

@namelesslosers @sexyvixen7 @nikki082489 @hana-song137 @sourwolf-sterek32 @scarletpines @fuzzy-panda @charlottie2998 @Noots4Jesus @nsggmc @raven-black102 @futuristicallygeneralballoon @darylandhiscrossbow @anomiatartle @pockerfacechick @darxetta18 @seninjakitey @adventurous-blob

[mqttsun-writes]

Hi!!! Could I have a matchup please? For haikyuu!! thank you so so much! I am 1.65m, I have blond curly hair, hazel eyes and I am latina! I am bi! I am suuuper hard working, determinate a little stubborn and I can even be a little hard on myself, I am nerdy as hell and I like to think I am kind and sweet!, I really care about those close to me. I have big feelings and usually show them unless I'm mad, if I'm happy I let people know and I cry very easy! I am not afraid to show who I am! (Part1:3)

I am a people pleaser but if people use me I cut them off, I love meeting people but I am terrible at it bc I am shy, however if I resonate with people I become motherly and open to them, I am mature but can be silly and dorky. My hobbies include writing, and drawing (I’ve gotten rather decent!) I like to randomly sing. I love cats, plants and music, I looooove reading and I daydream frequently, I am studying medicine!. I love cuddles a lot, and quality time is crucial, but not a fan of PDA (pt2) Thank you so so much again! Also! The matchup would be for haikyuu if possible! You are so so nice thank you so much!! I really like how you write and I hope you enjoy doing so! Have a nice one :3

tysm bab!!

✰ ─ i match you with…

sugawara koushi!

this boyo loves u sm like SM. 

your hard working and determined nature motivates him to motivate you and vice versa. you guys make a great duo in supporting each other to do things.

he doesn’t mind your stubbornness for the most part, learning when to let you have your space and when to give you affection.

he will not tolerate you being hard on yourself >:( he understands where it stems from though, but he will do anything and everything in his power to make you understand your worth and your perfections

he absolutely loves your kindness and sweetness, making you two the sweetest power couple ever - tooth rottingly sweet

he enjoys your expressions and how open and expressive you are about your feelings, preferring it over someone who would be quite stoic. he finds it adorable and it helps to form a more trusting relationship between the two of you.

if you cry he may panic a bit at first before his motherly instincts kick in and he does his best to soothe and comfort you. if you want him to just sit there and be there, he’ll do that. if you want him to listen to you rant about your problems and get it off your chest, he’ll do that. if you just want him to get your mind off of it, he’ll do that.

he understands that you’re a people pleaser, but what he absolutely loves is that you know when to cut them off and can come off as independent because of that. he finds this trait to be very strong and gives him a better view of you.

he’ll try to introduce you to his friends and teammates, but if he notices any discomfort he’ll immediately help you get out of the situation. he won’t force you into anything you wouldn’t be comfortable with.

he likes to tease you about your motherly nature as a joke, knowing he can also be considered motherly after being referred to as the team mom. you can be referred to as the mom duo too, but expect bad puns from him occasionally.

he prefers your silly and dorky side over your mature one, liking the feeling of being able to vibe with you and just mess around and forget that he’s a third year with responsibilities, even if for a brief moment.

if you wanted to show off your talents of writing and drawing to him, he’d gladly take a look and then he will be in absolute awe because lemme tell you he tried art and its big difficult. he was never much into writing, focusing more on volleyball so to see this kind of talent to him was extraordinary.

if you start singing out of nowhere, he’ll do one of two things: he’ll either join you and belt out dorkily or laugh and support you, letting you have your moment.

suga lowkey loves cats too so if you decide in the later future to adopt one, you bet he’s gonna cuddle it 24/7 with you. he finds them soothing and an anxiety reliever whenever he’s stressed, but he never grew up with one. he doesn’t understand your enjoyment of plants but he won’t mind, being a rather open minded individual. if you decide to buy like 2000 plants, he’ll help you keep them alive.

if you start daydreaming while studying together, he’ll kiss you to get you out of the daze to get you back on topic. either that or he’ll decide for a break and to pull out some snacks and relax.

!!! he’s super intrigued that you’re studying medicine!! he knows how hard the course and curriculum is and holds so much respect for even considering taking the field. he’ll be more understanding when you become stressed or if you need some time alone, he’ll be a bit bitter but it’s inevitable. he’ll do what he can to support you without distracting you since he chose a different major.

he absolutely loves cuddles with you pleathe give him cuddles. embraces and physical contact, even just hand holding, is something he enjoys a lot and to cuddle while just watching tv or some random videos is a great way to start or end the day.

if you’re not into pda he’ll be 100% understanding!! he’ll try to restrict giving you soft kisses on the cheek but sometimes he can’t hold back. he’ll be content being by you and saving all the kisses and soft times for behind doors in private.

[yojiro-kimura]

Chapter 1

The green-haired girl was lying on the bed, reading some books that had been found in the library, after reading some, found one of a black color, it did not seem striking unless it was orange or an emerald green, but she decided to give it an opportunity. It contained some obscure things and among them the instructions on how to invoke demons.

Emi: This has to be a joke. -She laughs and continues reading- Let's see if this is true.

The young woman takes bright red paint, some old candles inside her kitchen, as well as salt that would serve as protection.

After drawing that star in the book, she place the candles on each end of it, likewise surrounded with salt.

After igniting them and repeating that prayer between laughter. Unexpectedly, a smoke began to invade the room. A demon with pale skin and dark hair appeared with a bright crimson gaze.

Shota: Another naive human who gave his soul in exchange for something stupid. —look to the girl— What are you going to want, silly human? money? Fame? Many sell their soul for that last thing.

Emi: Honestly ... —laught— I didn’t think this would work ...

Shota: What? —look the room surrounded by happy faces— You don’t look like the person who would give up his soul ...

Emi: No ... but you can take it ...

Shota: So, do you ask for something? —Laughs—You're human after all ... — he take a sit—tell me what you want?

Emi: First of all ... I must make sure that you will give me whatever I ask ...

Shota: I'm a demon ... —Smile—Don’t expect much from me, but I'm forced to comply anyway.

Emi; Then. —Laughs—I want you to be my boyfriend.

The devil laughs, thinking it was a stupid joke, but when he saw that she was still smiling, without reacting, he thought she was serious.

Shota: are you serious? —he blushes— b-but ... it's not possible, oh well, it's not right.

Emi: Why?

Shota: Well, you‘re human, I‘m a being of darkness.

Emi: I still don��t see the problem. —She crosses his arms.— Will you comply or not? Or it’s that I should speak with administration?

Shota: Don’t do that, please!

Emi: T-there is administration in hell?

Shota: Of course ... a very difficult to keep happy. -blow-Well, you win. I will fulfill what you want ... but your soul is mine from now on.

Emi: If you want it, you can also take my body.

Shota: You’re a very weir woman, do you know it?

It had been a week since he had been invoked in the human world, he saw the young woman doing her homework at the desk.

Shota: Hey, if you don’t mind ... I'll go see how things are down there ...

Emi: Mmm ... -Writing-You're going back for dinner, right.

Shota: Hmm ... yes, of course .... -This is wrapped in flames and then appear in hell. -Tch ... what annoying ... Why she want a boyfriend if she’s just going to be doing his fucking homework?

Two guys appeared behind him so this tour surprised.

Shota: What are you doing here? That they do not know that it is rude to listen to someone else's conversation?

Hizashi: W-Well, a conversation is between two people, so you may have talk some of us. -Expressed- And where have you been, Shota?

Shota: Hmm ... - He scratches his neck - In the human world.

Toshinori: Oh, that's ... great ...but, I heard you mention the word "boyfriend", do you have any courtship with any human?

Shota: w-well ... she has forced me to be her boyfriend, but I don’t see it as interesting, I don’t understand why humans take the trouble to look for another being with whom to share their miserable life.

The two blond demons look at each other and then return to see the dark haired man with a smile.

Hizashi: It's because you're "testing" the wrong side. —Expressed the green-eyed demon.

Toshinori: Of course, long ago I had a relationship with a beautiful human woman, she had a big heart but she was also a wonder to give pleasure. —The blue-eyed blonde commented while his cheeks blushed.

Shota: Pleasure? I don’t understand anything.

Blondes surrounded him to start whispering the things they had experienced with their respective human partners, the black haired away from these after finishing the conversation.

Upon returning to the human world, he leaned back on the green-hair girl bed.

Shota: Tch ... I don’t think those "pleasures" are the great thing ...

The girl went up to her room and found the young demon on her bed.

Emi: Wow, I thought you would not go back.

Shota: Well yes I did. -Bufa-Hey, girl ... —He look away — What things are done as boyfriends?

Emi: Mm .. well several things, why the question? — she sits next to him.

Shota: Tch ... —he moves away a little—W-well ... simple curiosity, we've been with you for a week and well, I've only been in this room watching you write.

Emi: I'm sorry. I had been busy with my homework, but I am already free. — Start caressing the young man's leg —This is the same as petting my dog, even though the hair is longer.

Shota: Tch ... Nice comparison.

The young girl laughs to then take the young man's chin and turn it towards her to kiss him.

Shota: Tch ... at least let me know when you do that ... —Expressed blushing.

Emi: Hey, Shota ... there's something I want to ask you ... you, demons, how they make their babys?

Shota: Well, our queen uses her blood and flesh to create us, leaves her a few years in a sphere of amber until we are ready. What about you? How do they do their babies?

Emi: do you really want to know? —She blushed.

Shota: Sure, if it's not annoying.

Emi: -She trow the creature to the bed —i want to know, do you have that thing?

Shota: What thing? —He question confused.

Emi: You know. —Low her hand to reach the abdomen of that creature— A penis.

Shota: Ah ... -flushed-Y-yes ...

Emi: That’s good ... —she continues until she feels the belt and the cloth that covered his crotch.—Can I see?

Shota: i-I think so. *This is different from what those two said, I didn’t think that she was wants to do this ...*

Emi: - This low of the young man to be placed in his crotch - mm ... — Discover the fabric that covered the genitals of the demon, they felt velvety except the organ that began to harden in their hands — It‘s the first time I touch one ...

Shota: W-what does this have to do with what I asked you?

Emi: Well ... I'll show you ... —This begins to lick carefully around the penis, causing it to shudder.

Shota: Tch ... —sight, without losing sight of the young girl-girl— W-what are you doing?

Emi: Enjoy it ... —Expressed by taking that member out of her mouth for a moment.

This began to lick that organ and to suck it with desire. She slid his hands caressing the hair of the young man's legs. He moaned while watching her.

Shota: W-What is this supposed to be?

Emi: Don’t you like it?

Shota: Y-yes ...

Emi: That's what matters ... —He pulled the organ out of his mouth and leaned on the edge of the bed.—Come on, come here ...

Shota: -stands up and approaches her—w-what happens?

Emi: —point out her mouth—now try to put it you, as if you fuck my mouth ...

Shota: F-fuck ... is it human thing?

Emi: Y-yes ... now just put it ... —This leaves your mouth open.

The young man was surprised at the disposition of the green haired girl. He gently took his head and began to introduce his member into his mouth.

Shota: Ah ... it's .. it's so warm ...

Emi: Now move from the back to the front-Little barely understandable.

He obeyed by starting to thrust his throat, as he raised the intensity.

Shota: I-it's delicious!

He instinctively scratched the ground with his hooves as it fitted more and more into the young woman's throat.

Shota: G-girl! I feel weird ... —He shuddered to the point of letting out a roar as his organ delivered its fluids into the green-haired throat. After this, he ended up moving away until he fell to the floor— that felt very good.

Emi: -Expel from your throat white residue on the floor— This that has come out, by leaving it in my belly can give us a child.

Shota: —It feels a little agitated— In your belly? And how do i leave it there?

Emi: —open her legs— Around here. —This separates her underwear and points her genitals.

Shota: —It approaches with curiosity— Here? Is not the entrance too small?

Emi: -Smiled- T-that you think?

Shota: - Try to introduce his fingers but the girl stops him- What? what's going on?

Emi: well ... I'm not ready for that yet.

Shota: I understand.

Emi: And ... — She blushes and plays with her hair— H-how have I done it?

Shota: -He blushes- F-felt very good. —Look at the scratches on the wooden floor—Im sorry, I think I could not control myself

Emi: Awwww—Hugs him—Seriously, I can‘t believe you're my boyfriend. — kisses his lips.

Shota: I-I still think you should not go out with me.

Emi: Why? You don’t like me?

Shota: You're so cute and kind and i ... well ... Did you see who I am? I'm not like you. You should go out with someone ... of your kind.

Emi: You promised that you would go out with me.

Shota: I know, but ... I don’ want to hurt you.

Emi: You do it by telling me these things.

Shota: Sorry, I don’t know much about these things, but I can assure you that you make me feel good. —he approaches to the girl slowly to give a kiss on the forehead— I will continue with you until you don’t want more, you understand?

Emi: Okay. —She clings to him as he stands up.— I need some sleep.

Shota: -He get on the bed- Sleep well, girl ...

Emi: My name is Emi ...

Shota: Nice name ... -think a moment- it's funny that you allowed me to do that to you and I didn’t even know your name.

——-

Sorry, my english is so bad xC

[readingwebcomics]

Analyzing Questionable Content: Pages 201-250

Marten’s closer, Dora. Of course she’d go for his first.

Okay, I’m just going to be upfront and honest with you guys. I’m just really not feeling it for this batch of comics, and that’s part of the reason why I had taken the previous week off. That’s not to say this batch is bad or anything, it’s just... I feel like I have a lot less to say about it than I should. So I apologize ahead of time if this feels too short or if it’s much more dull than usual. I’ll try hitting the high points and give you the proper character analysis I can muster here - the fact that what you see right now, with Marten and Dora going on a date and Faye’s reaction to it, will provide quite a deal of character insight.

For example, right here. Not even a single page later and Faye’s genuine irritation over the situation is showing, despite what she has to say about the situation.

Ignoring for the moment the stupid contraction thing (which, if memory serves, will thankfully be dropped after this batch of comics), do Faye’s eyes look... different to you guys? I don’t know, it feels like Jeph’s making an attempt at a slight tweak in his style here and I mostly notice it in Faye’s eyes. I could be looking way too deep into it though, I’m willing to accept that.

They have some light banter, part of which includes Faye continuing to press on the fact that Dora is hyper-sexual and will jump Marten’s bones the second she gets the chance, Faye goes on and continues her nice streak with Marten by offering to make him dinner. Now, I could take this time to point out the obvious, that Faye is clearly doing this much for him not just out of a sense of guilt over how she’s treated him but also bolstered by the fact that, even if subconsciously, she does NOT want Marten to be with another woman and is vying to keep his attention on her... But Faye doesn’t give us a chance to ponder that for very long.

I don’t blame her, the rims of cans are fucking horrifying. Not as bad as the edges of an outlet box, but thin slices of metal ain’t fun let me tell you.

Despite this, there’s really not much to say about the outcome - we learn that Faye’s last name is Whitaker and that this city has a “punching intern” for the local hospital.

That... can NOT be legal. Then again, if this city held itself to any standards of legality I’m certain the Irony Cafe would be closed already due to false advertising. Plus, this is taking place in America and Faye isn’t freaking out more about not being able to afford the hospital bills than the fact she was injured, so maybe that’s the trade-off to having a halfway decent medical facility.

Oh, and when everyone gets back home, we get a bit more insight into the mechanics of Pintsize.

That raises some questions. If this is unique to this particular platform Pintsize’s AI is housed in, how was he able to taste the cake mix in his previous body? If this is universal between Anthro PCs, then why didn’t Marten already know this if he’s been with Pintsize as long as has been implied thus far? I mean I get it, Jeph’s using this as an outlet to create some lore behind the funny robot people in his comic’s universe, but... I dunno, it just feels like this makes Marten seem more incompetent than anything if he didn’t know this about his own Anthro PC. Maybe if he helped explain it alongside Pintsize to Faye to showcase that he knew about this as well? I dunno.

The next day, Steve gives Marten a call:

Faye, your irritation over the situation isn’t exactly subtle. Also I’ve said it before but I’ll keep saying it - sarcastic Marten is best Marten. I like this Marten a lot.

And so, as a wise Skeleton once said... DATE: START!

We’re already off to an amazing start with Ellen kicking off! And, oooh, it looks like she tripped and injured herself in the initial play! Can she recover, folks? Well before we find out, we have another comic involving a drastic art shift deliberately invoked from Jeph:

In all seriousness, the art shift isn’t... bad, per-se, it just looks so drastically different that it catches me off guard. As is what usually happens with Jeph in these situations, it takes the next comic for him to reel himself back and find a happy medium between his original style and the new one he wants to experiment with:

Marine Biology is not for the weak of heart. You knew what you were getting into when you took on that major, Ellen. But yeah, while I’ll get more into detail as to what I think about the art shift at the end of the post, I’ll say here that I like it as a natural evolution. It seems like every time Jeph improves, the face is the bit that gets the most focus every time. Remember just last post when I was complaining Jeph wasn’t talented enough to portray the silent emotion he wanted to in Faye’s face? Now, I feel like he probably could.

The date goes well enough, and the evening comes to a close:

My bet is that Steve’s like the Pied Piper of arachnids. I’d believe it were that the case, at least. Also it was mentioned to me that Marten probably did have the eye-shine like the rest of the cast did, but his eye color just made it harder to spot. In this page, that becomes clearer - still hard to see, but much easier than previously.

Oooh dear. Steve’s in some hot water now. Also I just realized that as of yesterday I’m as old as Steve is. Good God, I’m an actual full-blown adult. Christ.

...I’m going to put off thinking about that for too much longer as we move onto the rest of this batch, okay? Okay.

Anyhow, Dora invites Marten into her apartment for some coffee where she cuts right to the fucking chase:

It’s probably for the best you read the conversation yourself, they’re pages 226-228. I say this mostly because I really don’t have anything to add or comment on here - Dora’s a smart lady who gives good advice here, makes it clear that while she’s interested in Marten she wants him to be happy, and all-in-all is one of the coolest people ever. Go Dora!

Go... Dora. Oh. Well, I still think you’re cool. Let’s give this woman some time and cut back to Steve and Ellen!

I have some things to say about this situation that I’ll touch on a little bit later. Marten gets home and makes it clear to Faye that nothing happened between himself and Dora. While quite clearly relieved, she’s a touch confused.

So I’m not the only one who feels strangely sad whenever I eat a s’mores Pop Tart? Oh who am I kidding, I’ve got depression, I’m always fucking sad. And hey, speaking of sexy times, Pintsize throws his proverbial hat into the ring!

Honestly, I kind of knew I should’ve kept track of that pink Anthro PC, but would you believe me if I told you they never got a name? Also could AI fuck over IM? My bet is that 2004-speed internet wouldn’t exactly make it smooth. But man, imagine having sex over the ‘net on Fiber.

...too much? Too much.

The night ends, Steve parts from Ellen telling her he needs a couple of days to sort his head out, and Faye comforts Marten...

...in, erm, a very Faye way... oh hey, Faye, Fae! I wonder if that was intentional on Jeph’s part. Probably not, Faye isn’t quite a Maniac Pixie Dream Girl. For one thing, she’s better written.

If memory serves, I think Dora mentioned she was a blonde previously? Either way she’s crystal clear with it now. Also, while I complimented Jeph before on his faces... I’m not going to lie, he could stand to improve drawing skirts. I don’t blame the guy, I imagine skirts are fucking hard to draw.

Oh, and here we begin an annual tradition of Questionable Content:

I’d like to start a petition for all Questionable Content fans to go by the fan-name “Turkeys” now. You with me, fellow Turkeys?!

...no? Eh, fair enough.

Here we get some interesting information. At least, it gets interesting in the wake of what comes up later - the timescale is more-or-less confirmed here that this takes place around the early to mid 2000s, likely 2004 or so since that’s when the comic was written. I always assumed, considering we have walking AI around, that the universe of Questionable Content took place in the near future... but rather, it seems more like it takes place in an alternate version of history where our technology is slightly ahead of the curve. And yet a lot of pop culture phenomena remained as it did in our version of history, if what they’re saying is true. Again, this doesn’t get super relevant until later comics where we see just how far advanced the technological level in QC has become.

Ellen drops by the Coffee Shop for some advice:

Faye’s gotten a LOT more open recently. Back near the beginning of this comic she would never, never openly admit to giving into any kind of carnal need, and now here she is candidly talking about private shower times.

And while they’re discussing things at the Coffee Shop, Marten and Steve are having their own conversation back at the apartment:

Now here I need to put in my two cents. The characters make a point of saying how they don’t really think the age difference is that big of a deal. Were she legal, which she will be in less than a week, there’s no real problem with an 18 year old dating a 24 year old. I know this is entirely a matter of personal opinion and I fully expect people to disagree with me here. I also suspect this is going to make me sound like a prude, but... yeah, I think there is a problem, there.

Ellen’s a freshman in College. She’s JUST turning 18. While she’s shown to be intelligent enough to get into college early - and good on her for that - she lacks the emotional intelligence or maturity to really strike out into a relationship with someone six years her senior. And Steve, for his part, is too old to get anything out of a relationship with someone so much younger than he is. There’s no real connection there, the difference in emotional maturity is going to make itself evident before too long and the relationship is more prone to self-destruct.

Like I said, feel free to disagree with me there. If you feel like there’s room for a relationship in such an age gap, let me know. I wouldn’t mind starting a conversation or changing my mind, but that’s where my mindset is there - it just wouldn’t work out.

Remember that last line Dora said. It’s going to get much funnier later, to the point where part of me wonders if that was deliberate foreshadowing on Jeph’s part.

And here we welcome Ellen’s roommate, Natasha. My oh my, characters are building up, ain’t they? Just give it time, guys. It gets so, so much worse.

(Also am I the only one stuck on that first panel? Just... I know they already made the joke about her dual-major but there’s something so surreal to that I kind of can’t escape it)

And now, to round out our batch of 50:

Wow. It seems like Dora’s a touch more insecure than she lets on, huh? She seems so cool and in-control of herself that moments like this where it’s surprisingly easy of her to accept that she may have weirded the object of her affections out are much more blatant.

Now that we’ve reached the end of the batch, let’s do our usual beginning and end comparisons:

Like I said before, Jeph has clearly put more detail into the faces. He’s taking steps in the direction of “realistic cartoon” if that makes sense, further details in the wrinkles of their clothes, their bodies looking more defined, that sort of thing. I can’t really decide if I like this newer style better than the older one, but it’s no question that the newer style is a technical improvement. Nice work!

So what’d I think of this batch? Eh... plot happened, I suppose, but it feels like not much ended up happening. I dunno, for my money this felt a lot slower than the last batch... but then again, last batch had Amanda drop by for a visit, so that may have something to do with it. Either way, we have outright confirmation if we didn’t think so before that Dora is super into Marten, but it’s also made clear she’s not going to step in between the dance he and Faye are partaking in right now. Whether this is a good or a bad thing is entirely up to personal opinion, I suppose. I dunno, I feel like having Dora as a potential wild card offered the possibility for drama to shake up the dynamic going on, and without her I fear the dynamic may stagnate.

I mean, I know exactly how the dynamic’s going to go because I’ve read it, but you get the point I’m trying to make here.

Anyhow, you know what time it is now - data analysis time! In this batch of 50, we have...

Marten: 34/50 – 68%

Faye: 29/50 – 58%

Dora: 24/50 – 48%

Ellen: 15/50 – 30%

Steve: 12/50 – 24%

Pintsize: 11/50 – 22%

Natasha: 2/50 – 4%

Miéville: 2/50 – 4%

 Grand Total:

Marten: 200/250 – 80%

Faye: 192/250 – 76.8%

Dora: 75/250 – 30%

Pintsize: 61/250 – 24.4%

Steve: 34/250 – 13.6%

Ellen: 18/250 – 7.2%

Amanda: 12/250 – 4.8%

Sara: 7/250 – 2.8%

Jimbo: 5/250 – 2%

Turing: 4/250 – 1.6%

Raven: 3/250 – 1.2%

Miéville: 3/250 – 1.2%

Scott: 2/250 – 0.8%

Natasha: 2/250 – 0.8%

Ell: 1/250 – 0.4%

Personally, I won’t be satisfied until Jimbo overtakes Sara in his number of appearances. You can do it, Jimbo! I BELIEVE IN YOU!

...erm, in any case, tune in next week for the thrilling next installment of QC! You ready for more backstory on our main characters? I know I am! See you then.

[peachyhyvck]

some of my favorite pics of mark lee

author's note: yes bitches, I'm back with another!! this one’s a tad bit different from the last, and its got almost double the amount of pictures,,, but I hope you still enjoy it, nonetheless! this pic set includes waayyy too many categories to list off so you're just gonna have to look through them and see for yourself! (’; sO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERe are,, my favorite pics of mark lee:

cute mark:

okay, but mark’s selfies are always so damn precious and they never fail to put a smile on my face

I LOOOVVEEEEE THIS PICTURE WITH ALL MY HEART!!!!! THE WAY HE GRADUALLY COVERS HIS FACE MAKES MY HEART MELT HOLY MOLY

everything about this picture is just perfect... his smile is so facking cute, and do you sEE THAT LIL DIMPLE???? ADORABLE.

I honestly don't know what the hell is going on in this picture, but his facial expression is so fucking cute that I'm squealing like a damn pig rn so,,,,

never mind -  E V E R Y  FACIAL EXPRESSION HE HAS IS JUST SO PRECIOUS AND I REALLY NEED TO FIND SOME NEW WORDS CAUSE IM JUST REPEATING MYSELF OVER AND OVER AGAIN AT THIS POINT!!!

I remember watching this for the first time and,, I kid you the fuck not,, I actually threw my phone across the room

wow..... I've never been sO soft!! for someone in my entire life.......

these might just be my 2 favorite pictures of mark lee....?? I mean, I say that about every picture, but these 2??? utterly flawless.

candid mark

I looovveee his damn hair so so sooo much in these last 4 pictures and if sm fucks with it in any way, shape, or form,,, you best watch the fuck out........ (lmaoo this was before sm went and fried his hair aGAIN but tbh I expected nothing less from them,,,)

he looks so smol and innocent in this picture and I'm barely keeping my shit together!!!!

he looks like a motherfucking prince in these photos!!!!!!! I mean, am I right or am I right ??!?!?!!?!%@$^&

idk man I just really love his smile and it truly brings happiness to my poor, dysfunctional, bitter soul

these pictures are THE definition of ethereal!!!!!!

I'm gonna take a moment to interrupt the ““cute”” theme I've got goin on to insert this (?) gem because idk what the fuck he’s doin but it really made me laugh so I thought I'd share

I think I just heaved the biggest content sigh in history because I just really, really love mark lee

disrespectful mark

idk who gave mark permission to be this blatantly rude but it sure as hell wasn't me!!!!

alright I'm really gonna need him to stop because I feel all shaken up and I'm Not okay with this at all

props to the camera person for holding their composure cause I sure as hell would’ve dropped Dead under such an intense gaze

“mark” and “tough” don't really fit together all that well, but looking at this picture I'm absolutely, 100% positive he could beat the living shit out of me

I HATE THIS PICTURE WITH EVERY DAMN OUNCE OF MY BEING!!!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF TORMENT AND CHAOS THIS FUCKING PHOTO PUTS ME THROUGH??!??!!?!? IT IS THE HIGHEST FORM OF DISRESPECT AND I DEMAND THAT IT BE PUNISHABLE BY AT LEAST 5 MORE YEARS IN NCT DREAM!!!!!!

dunno what he’s doin but veins really fuck ya girl up and his arm in this photo is really testing me,,,,,,

he looks so good???? but like,, too good?????? idk. I disapprove. NEXT

these polaroids are both a blessing and a curse and the fans who got these are honestly the luckiest bitches on earth cause damn y’all really snatched yourselves a couple of winners!!!!

no no non no on Ono nono. what do you think you’re doing. stop it right now and put the fucking jacket back on!! and no more tank tops..... my heart can't handle such things........

honestly, I don't even know anymore..... I'm literally speechless......... I just don't know how its humanly possible to look That FUCking gOOD!!!! everything about this picture is messin with my head and he’s reaalllllyyyyy startin to test a bitch,,

boyfriend mark

well, damn. he’s really out here just servin us these boyfriend looks, isn’t he???

tbh it might just be because his back and chest look so Broad in these photos, but I'm pickin up some major boyfriend-ish vibes!!!

awww boyfriend mark impatiently watching the clock tick by as he counts down the minutes until he gets to see your beautiful face ((((’:;;::;

oh damn,, boyfriend mark waiting to pick you up outside your job :^]

can you just imagine walking next to mark and looking up to find him staring at you like this I'd funking DIE!!!!!

boyfie mark carrying your backpack for you as the two of you walk home from school together (((((((’’:

boyfriend mark staring at you from afar while another guy shamelessly flirts with you ;o

tbh this is how boyf mark would look whenever the two of you get into a pretty heated argument... expect the silent treatment and some intense glares

“oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! I'm late for our date!! gotta run, gotta run, gotta ru-”

shopping with boyfriend mark!!!!! (peep dat arm doe,,,,)

yeah, yeah. I know it’s just a picture of his back - but like... just picture yourself walking up to that and giving him the warmest, tightest, most affectionate backhug you could......... cause same

boyfriend mark goin to pick ya ass up while trying not to draw too much attention to himself,,, shhhh!!

pre-debut mark

okay but mark was the cutest damn child, and like,, that's a fact

LOOK AT THE INNOCENCE IN HIS EYES!!!!!!!

I just wanna tuck him into bed and read him some bedtime stories )))’:::

k I think we can all agree that mark’s mirror selfies are LEGENDARY. NEVER LET THESE DIE. EVER.

why does his outfit remind me of something justin bieber circa 2012 would wear lmao

don't come at me but like,, why do these 2 pics remind me of seventeen’s vernon......... i mean im jus sayin........

this picture? is so? precious??? caN I JUST SWADDLE HIM PLEASE??????

oh look!! this must’ve been right around the time when sm stopped allowing mark to get even the slightest bit of rest!!!

he looks like such a lil man here dear lord

the many hairstyles/colors throughout mark’s career

starting off with the 7th sense debut, we have marks.... questionable.... black, choppy, bangs-cut-too-short hairstyle!! it truly is one for the books....

moving onto fire truck era, sm kinda dropped a bomb on us with the multi-colored hair. but as crazy as orange and purple hair sounds (and kinda looks) mark actually pulled it off pretty damn well???

buT THEN IN THE MIDDLE OF PROMOTIONS THEY DECIDED TO DYE HIS WHOLE HEAD PURPLE AND BLESS US ALL!! like, I have a hard time picturing mark with extremely bright and extravagant hair colors (like hyuck or chenle) but lemme tell ya mark looked so damn good with the purple holy shit sm brinG THAT BACK!!!

and then at the end of promotions (obvs prepping mark’s hair for dreams debut) they decided his scalp hadn’t been through enough, so they bleached it and made him blonde (((’::::

dreams debut!!!!! whoop whoop!!!! they dyed mark’s hair a rose gold tinted color and honestly?? he looked hella good???? idk what I was saying earlier about not being able to see mark pull off bright and extravagent colors cause my boy absolutely slayed orange, purple AND pink!!!

now we come across the holy period that was mark’s dirty blonde hair during chewing gum promotions,,,, let’s all just take a moment of silence because of how damn Good this look was..... the color and the haircut itself were so fucking nice and tbfh i have a special place in my heart for this look

whelp..... here comes limitless!!! the BOP of the century, but also the fucking disaster of the millennium that was marks perm........... sm did my boy so dirty with this one..... as if his hair hadn't been through enough torture, they go and do THIS? sickening.

NOW WE’RE BACK ON OUR GOOD STREAK!! after the perm settled down a bit they finally realized that they needed to make up for their horrendous mistake, SO they put a lil pink in the mix and BAM!! we got our lil cotton candy baby (^=

and then the pink started to fade )))’:: leaving him with cute little pink tinted curls!!!! (((’::

MFAL (what an era.....) if im being completely honest, mark’s mfal hair is my religion. it’s not nearrlllyyy as poofy and untamed as it was before, and the little blonde curls really worked for him rip...

not to mention when they straightened it and we got our royal prince lookin ass mark lee!!!!

head shot pop,, cherry bomb was another holy era for marks hair. it had been sooo long since we’d seen dark haired mark that it pretty much threw the whole fandom into a frenzy when it happened.

tbfh his we young hair took a little while to grow on me. i’ve always loved the longer, shaggier bangs on mark, and the short bangs were giving me war flashbacks to t7s era,,,, and the shaved sides were so!!! different that idk. it just took me a while to adjust...

but I would later come to Love his we young hair because it eventually grew into this fucking beauty - which is also my faVORITE DAMN HAIRSTYLE ON THIS BOY,, HOLY SHIT!!! HIS HAIR JUST LOOKS SO PERFECT AND I JUST WANNA RUN MY FINGERS THROUGH IT AND PLAY WITH IT AGGHHJJHBPWUEB

**sigh** but then sm went and did what they always do and fucked with something that was already perfect ///: I mean, although i am pretty distraught over the loss of quite possibly the best hair style of his career, he does look mighty fine with the honey blond color so its all good (((;;

anD THEN!! THEY LITERALLY BLEW ALL OF US OUT OF THE DAMN WATER WITH THE FUCKING BRIGHT, STOP SIGN, TICKLE ME ELMO LOOKIN ASS RED!!!!!!!! NAAaahhhh I'm just playin :”)) i’ve said it so many times already, but he really can pull off just about any color and i must say, the red is really workin for him,, uh huh, uh huh, yes sir!!

the lil duck face pout

idk why he Always does this but it’s fucking hilarious and it never fails to crack me tf up

cute stage persona

LOOK AT THAT BIG ASS SMILE!!!!!!! THIS IS THE KINDA SHIT I LOVE TO SEE!!!!!!!!!! HE JUST LOOKS SO FLUFFY!!!!!!!!

y’all, i dont even know. he’s in the middle of dancing but he just looks so cute and squishy!! i had to include it

again... I have no words other than his smile is fucking. flawless.

I SHOULD BE CRINGING (AND TBH I KINDA AM) BUT HE’S SO DAMN PRECIOUS THAT I DON’T EVEN CARE!!!!!

I can totally picture in my head the dorky lil dance move he did along with that face to whoever was taking the picture and honestly,, I can’t help but smile

WHY DOES HE DO THIS?? DOES HE WANT ME TO SUFFER??? CAUSE HE’S LITERALLY MAKING MY INSIDES TURN TO MUSH!!!!!!

I have no clue what the hell he’s doing, but i could care less!!! i’m just gonna go with it!!!!!!!

omfg he’s like that one nerdy friend who tries to act all cool but just ends up embarrassing himself ((and looking hella cute while doing so)) gaAAHHhHHH

rude stage persona

mark is always facking adorable!! but the few times he decides to act all rude, he makes sure to have absolutely zero fucking mercy on us, and its Not fair!!

don’t give me that face istg imma smack the shit outta ya!!!!

he’s literally just rapping but i feel highly offended and i would appreciate a sincere apology

mark is smiling 95% of the time, but the other 5% that he’s not, he’s making faces like these^^ and im real fuckin tired of the blatent disregard for my feelings!!

I don't approve! I don't approve at all!!!! the look on his face is throwin me off and I'm confused!!!!!!

BOIII THIS MIGHT BE THE RUDEST FUCKIN PICTURE I’VE EVER SEEN AND I SHIT YOU NOT MY DAMN STOMACH JUST DROPPED!!!!!!! MY ALREADY WEAKENED HEART CAN’T HANDLE THIS KINDA SHIT, MAN!!!!!!!!! I NEED TO GO LIE DOWN,,,,,

HE’S GOT NICER ABS AND NICER UNDERWEAR THAN I DO, GOD DAMN!!!!

THE FUCKING SLEEVES ARE ROLLED UP - ABORT MISSION! I REPEAT, ABORT THE FUCKING MISSION!!!!!!!!

mark + hats = A Look I'm here for

first up, we got them bucket hats!!!! if ya ask me, mark can pull off almost any hat, and he kinda looks adorable in the bucket hats (especially with his blond curly mops fallin out of em!!!!)

now onto the snapbacks! a very typical look, yet he still looks breathtaking ((’::::

and now we’ve got the floppy hats (?) and tbh he kinda looks adorable in them???

AND WE’RE AT BEANIES ALSO KNOWN AS MY FAVORITE FUCKING HEADWEAR ON MARK LEE!!!!!! BOY CAN PULL OFF A BEANIE BETTER THAN I’VE EVER SEEN ANYONE DO IT EVER!!!!!!!!!

and finally we've got..... whatever the fuck this thing is lmao kinda reminds me of a chef hat but my boy still looks hecka fly so its gucci!!!!

BONUS: MARK IN A HEADBAND!! HEY SM, PLEASE DO THIS LOOK AGAIN!!!!!

BONUS BONUS: THE HOLY LOOK THAT IS MARK WEARING A BANDANA!! HEY SM, MAYBE BRING BACK THIS LOOK AS WELL, K THNKS!!!!!!!

idk, but I need to rant about it !!

not only is ya girl emo as helllllll because he successfully graduated high school despite his fucking insane schedule, (yeah,, I'm lookin at you sm... fight me), but these grad pics are the definition of heavenly !!!!!!!!

this boy video took me for all that I'm worth.... he just looked so? fucking? good??? like I wanna know who the fuck he thinks he is just lookin all fine and shit,,,

y’alls..... i honestly didnt even know which category to stick this beauty under because i was honestly just?? blown the absolute fuck away??? with the perfection of not only this photo, but the boy in the photo, as well??????? like,, the dark, shaggy hair along with that lil smirk are really doin some fucked up shit to ya girl and i just dont know anything anymore (((’=

not much to say about this one.... I just think he looks hella adorable crouched down into a lil ball ((’:

maRK MOTHERFUCKIN LEE HIDING BEHIND RANDOM ASS OBJECTS WHENEVER HE GETS EMBARRASSED MIGHT JUST BE MY FAVORITE FUCKING THING IN THIS UNIVERSE!!! IT MAKES ME WANNA HUG HIM TO DEATH AND NEVER LET GO!!!!!

first of all: no

second of all: No

third of all: the hell you think you lookin at?

last of all: N O

(like for real, who gave you the right to look all grown and shit?? cause I'd like to have a few words with them......)

and last, but certainly not least, we've got this golden picture of mark dressed like a middle aged, white, suburban dad.... do with it what you will (((’:::::

**all pic creds go to their rightful owners