#like what if they think this is an actual music contest

[iamthemaestro]

Oh boy. I have a lot to say on this. I 1000% think that one of the biggest issues in AWI reenactment is the failure to reach the younger generation and I also wish the article had talked more about this and how it intersects with the inclusion of historically marginalized groups within the hobby.

I’ll put it this way: as of 2024, the BAR has an article in their constitution that prohibits women in ranks. As a young, non-male, and only sometimes white-passing reenactor, this has caused me issues in the past. People from the BAR have complained about me—a young, fairly new, dedicated reenactor—being on the field as a musician. Now, I’ve had the good fortune to be part of a unit with significant influence in the hobby, who have gone to bat for me in these instances and allowed me to feel relatively safe coming to these events, but I still can’t take up a musket at a BAR event if I want to. Over the past year I have become acutely aware that if it weren’t for the fact that I do music and not hat company, I would not be able to interpret at these events in the way I have repeatedly proven myself capable of doing.

So you have the primary overarching association responsible for organizing large-scale AWI reenactments literally denying interested, dedicated people from the younger generation the opportunity to participate in the hobby. And this is just one official organization—this is to say nothing of the culture. At the end of the day, sexism, racism, homophobia and transphobia is rampant in these environments. I do think the culture is slowly improving with time, but still, there are spaces where I do not feel safe in the hobby, and I spend a lot of time considering what my future as a reenactor might look like if I ever decide to medically transition, for example. My love for this hobby means I put up with a lot, even within my own unit, but I cannot fault other people who take one look at this mess and decide it’s not worth it. Of course there are going to be less reenactors. If individual units and the overarching organizations are going to actively resist a new generation of young living historians, interest in the hobby is going to waver.

I also think there’s an important distinction to make between so-called “progressive” units and a broader sense of historical accuracy, because ultimately reenactment is a hobby. I strongly believe that no issue of historical accuracy should take precedent over actual issues of discrimination (if we were going to really pursue historical accuracy, we would be excluding probably 90% of the reenactment community as it is!). But I also believe that the spirit of this hobby is one that is educational and authentic: second to having fun and staying safe, of course, I think the priority should be pursuing as accurate of an impression as you can in the meantime. “Progressive” units often get kind of a bad rap but ultimately I think they have the right idea. They’re what’s going to keep this hobby relevant as an educational tool and pursuit, as opposed to just being a bunch of grown men running around playing war with each other. Progressive units are, in my opinion, the future of this hobby. And yet a lot of more conservative units have this weird resistance to this philosophy simply because they don’t… want to have to adapt to what it means, I suppose. But I really do think that if that philosophy prevails, we won’t have educational reenactment—it’s possible we won’t have much in terms of reenactment at all. Ultimately I want to believe this, too, will improve in time, but the fact that we have to violently contest, for example, whether British soldiers had to shave (which they did) just because some reenactors desperately want an excuse not to… does not bode well for garnering interest from historians and enthusiasts in time for the 250th.

Anyway, that’s been my experience. I should probably stop talking about this because I think about it constantly and could go on forever. But that’s my (admittedly rather scathing) two cents on why this is the case.

Who has Wall Street Journal access I heard there’s an article about 250th reenactors and I need the tea

[guardians-of-exo]

Also someone tell me again why we are letting the rest of the world vote when this is EUROvision! Like go find a different party to crash, this is our thing

[upsidedowngrass]

was looking at some wiki pages, and saw it noted that season one wouldve only had 2 episodes. and. that made me think about how, if THATS how one was presented, if those two had been given episodes on their own? as an object show, without any other context? i think thatd like. legitimately be extremely horrifying

(put under a readmore bc it IS a bit lengthy. notes are ALSO a bit lengthy bc i am talkative)

like, airy is already a terrible host, but hed be even LESS good at it than in the actual series. the plane in season one doesnt seem to even have the grass blades, so i imagine theres no trees anywhere, either (geographic details and weather, stuff along those lines, seem to have been hard to figure out, given that he seems excited to add the clouds, and likely wouldve added them already if hed already known how to make them), which, with the added realism to the characters, would probably be far more uncanny (assuming theres also a stinger showing one-two of the contestants Actual life). it doesnt stand out much in terms of object shows, of course, but if presented with the reality of how empty it is, and how odd it is compared to real environments? i think that it wouldnt seem Right

nobody would know why theyre there, and probably wouldnt want to be there. at the very least, airy had concepts and lines to tell the contestants in the series. judging by what he says in ep 17, though, they didnt get this. there is even less clarity. add to that that julien is likely Extremely Confused And Alarmed, the others would probably be more inclined to share that stress. there would be.. a Lot less clarity, and a lot more unease among the contestants. add to that, that based on what oscar says, airy kept almost accidentally killing them. without any reassurance that theyll be brought back

by the end of the first episode, nobody is dead, of course. but its unlikely that anyone is especially happy with the situation theyre in (even if airy brought up a prize, he wouldnt be reassuring, and there is far more risk than there was for the actual series’ contestants, so even a contestant who wants to compete would probably not feel especially safe). i cant imagine what a post credits scene would involve, but it probably wouldnt change much in terms of tone

the second episode would certainly start out normally. oscar would go home, cool. no new contestants are introduced, so airy starts the challenge. and then they all die. and the episode ends (there COULD be a post credits scene, but i dont imagine it could be reasurring)

and that would simply be the end of it.

[bubbless-s]

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆.Rain drops ₊˚.༄

Request: “Could you do slytherin boys + Pansy first time showering together?”

Masterlist

- ʚɞ genre: fluff+comedy

- ʚɞ warnings: a little suggestive

Tom Riddle

• Would put the water super cold but changes it when he sees that you’re freezing.

• Pins you on the glass door.

• Became slightly clingy after the shower?

• “Come here my darling.”

• Surprise surprises he let you wash his hair.

• Suddenly got urges to play with your ass.

• Lost his cool and asked why did it jiggle this much.

Mattheo Riddle

• Opposite of Tom he puts the water so hot that you almost fry.

• Uses all your expensive creams and products on his balls..

• Actually helps you with washing your body.

• Of course its an opportunity to touch you. Why wouldn’t he take it.

• Gets cocky and kisses your body while washing it

• Hands on your ass squeezing it as if its a stress toy.

• Without giving you love bites Mattheo isn’t Mattheo.

Theodore Nott

• Starts talking in Italian. Bro got so amazed he switched to italian dub.

• Can’t stop smirking it kinda looks stupid like a kid who just got their Christmas gift earlier.

• Singing contest with you and the shampoo bottles.

• Probably practiced his singing infront of the mirror to impress you or sum

• Kisses all over your collar bone.

• Would also help you with your hair like shampooing it and giving it a little massage.

• After the shower Theo would help you dry your hair.

Draco Malfoy

• WOULDNT let you touch his precious hair.

• Loud white girl 2016 music. (Also sings in your ear.)

• “Babe how do you not know the lyrics to señorita?”

• Hugs you from behind and lifts you up randomly.

• “Angel is the water fine for you?”

• Wants to kiss you under the shower to make if all romantic but as he was about to kiss you he um..slips.

• As a result you and Draco after the shower have a make out session. I don’t make the rules Draco does.

Lorenzo Berskshire

• Would be super duper careful and slightly shy since its the first time showering together with you.

• Kisses your whole face.

• Puts on music to ease the tension.

• After calmness comes,he scoops you up while singing some random songs he put.

• Would draw dicks the foggy glass door 😭

• Got confused why you have this much products and accidentally put shower gel on your hair thinking it was shampoo.

• “Love look Im literally Elsa.”

Blaise Zabini

• “GOD DAYUM.”

• Touches your hips and waist.

• Tons of small kisses while his hands rest on your hips for some unknown reason.

• Jokingly put the water on cold pretending something was wrong with the shower instead.

• Asks you stupid questions if you get shy.

• “Darling do you think fishes don’t know what wetness is because they always live under water?”

• Tried to snuggle up with you. (mission= unsuccessful)

Pansy Parkinson

• Is so excited to have her first shower with you.

• Would treat you like a royalty. Like she made up a new skincare routine for you in the shower.

• Queen Pansy would leave the water to your liking even tho she might not like it.

• Bought a bunch of new products to try out with you.

• “This shower gel feels nice on the skin but it doesn’t smell that good. What do you think sunshine? Do you like it?”

• If you DO like a product she will buy lots of it for you.

• Overall the showering experience with Pansy is 10/10.

[violenteconomics]

the first-years accidentally enter a Sage's Island singing competition, because yuu saw the words "participation money" on the poster and signed them up immediately because the vacation fund, you guys, THE VACATION FUND-- (different au from the restaurant, btw)

the contest is through video submissions, so yuu brings all the first-year together to pump out a semi-decent, story-driven music video (think "last friday night" by katy perry -- a mix of story cutscenes and actual dancing). they used to dabble in making original music back home, so they write up a quick, catchy song, and assign everyone their roles.

after the whole fairy gala thing, jack and ortho are very adept at making walking/flying look fabulous, and so they're the main stars for the acting segments. ortho is also in charge of the technical parts: providing equipment, editing, etc. jack is very embarrassed over the idea of being in a music video that a bunch of people will see, but after he sees leona eat a mouse off the floor because he was too lazy to pick up the plate of food ruggie left for him, he decides he really needs his vacation as soon as possible. same for ortho, except he had to watch idia heat up a cup of ramen, drop the whole thing on the ground, and then proceed to still eat it anyway.

since ace actually knows what people like, he's in charge of planning and directing the choreography and writing the story. he's a little bitchy about it, but he's good at what he does, and not nearly as bad as vil, so... little mercies.

being strong enough to carry the heavy equipment, sebek is the one in charge of actually recording the video itself. he's ALSO in charge of making the costumes, being the only one with enough determination to study for five nights straight on modern fashion trends and... y'know, being the only person out of the seven who knows how to sew, lol. being the emotional, sensitive guy he is, he's also in charge of the lighting and the overall aesthetic of the video, knowing exactly which elements will evoke what response in people (aka, he throws a bunch of things at the wall and sees which one makes him cry the hardest). don't worry-- yuu keeps him from plastering malleus's face all over it.

that leaves epel and deuce to be the dancers. luckily, the choreography isn't nearly as... bubblegum pop, i guess, as "absolutely beautiful", so it doesn't take a whole lot of convincing for them to do it. deuce, like jack and ortho, isn't entirely sure of being on camera, but then trey gets called back to the queendom by a family emergency, and the whole dorm goes to shit and somehow catches on fire, soooooo...

at the end, they submit their video, and grab their participation money. and they honestly think that's the end of it...

...until they get an email saying they won first place, the video blows up on TwistTube, articles start getting written analyzing the metaphors and complex story in the video, and now eric venue is coming to sage's island to see if they'd be willing to do a promotional music video for a movie he's producing.

uhhhhh... whoops?

[hfjonewiki]

a non-comprehensive list of my favorite brian koch cheese credit card answers

pickle wishes he never met taco

nickel needs balloon way more than he realizes

salt needs pepper way more than she realizes

if taco had the chance to do it all again differently, she would

fan's favorite game would be lego star wars

apple still has her pony from santa, which she named "dino brawler". this is presumably the toy she was holding in episode 16

knife tried harder to be good at video games than he lets on

suitcase is still a little annoyed with oj for eliminating her for no reason in episode 7

oj and bomb are on better terms now, but will never be best friends again

he sees soap and microphone having a more sibling-like relationship, since their voice actresses are sisters (judging by the 20+ private replies, someone had some opinions on this one)

mephone 3gs didn't know his crew very well. when he watched them die, he was surprised by how much he felt

pickle genuinely made taco laugh a few times during season one

evil paper liked playing checkers (this implies that this is a trait exclusive to him that paper himself does not share)

mephone x would probably use he/him pronouns, but cobs doesn't put that much thought or humanity into the mephones anymore

mephone4 wanted to impress cobs for a long time, but meeting 3gs recontextualized a lot of his negative feelings

if mephone4 wasn't hosting inanimate insanity, he would probably be a lost media archivist

taco doesn't have nearly enough hobbies. brian thinks that's part of the problem

nickel sees himself as more worthless than most would assume

mephone4 and oj's relationship is "honestly not great"

under the guise of "scheming", taco and mic would sometimes just hang out together when there wasn't anything game-related to do

trophy struggles to do push-ups

despite being an outdated medium, cobs still sends out discs with nothing but propaganda material on them

despite not sharing much screentime together, brian thinks knife and pickle are the best ii yaoi

yin-yang likes being in cars. yin will drive, and yang will pick the music

soap would play splatoon, since all of the messes are just virtual

mephone4 is iffy on physical contact due to his past experiences with cobs

salt genuinely thought her and oj were in a relationship

just like mephone4, mephone4s' favorite food is cookies

cobs doesn't see himself as evil, he's just giving the people what they want. "not what they think they want. what they ACTUALLY want."

if silver spoon and candle are occupying the same space, people will leave because they can't take seeing how silver acts when he's around her

for a long time, baseball was the only person nickel respected

if mephone5 could live an everyday life, he would be a public menace. (destroying property, going up the down escalator)

taco actually enjoys the taste of lemon

while characters like fan weren't originally written with the intent of being on the autism spectrum, he lines right up with it

on a scale of 1-10, the amount that mepad misses toilet is "off the charts"

toilet wanted to impress mephone4 like a son would want to impress a father. "the cycle repeats a bit."

lightbulb and paintbrush take turns feeding baxter, but paintbrush usually ends up doing it because lightbulb isn't particular enough about what she considers "food"

mepad's favorite colors are black and white. "very mesmerizing."

walkie talkie (and presumably other invitational characters) didn't attend the hotel oj party

knife doesn't need to work out. he's just naturally like that

when someone asked if fantube was canon, brian answered "what more do they have to do?!"

springy hasn't had their own cereal in a long time

microphone and taco have both never been closer to someone else than they were with each other

silver and candle are a bit more distant now, but they both agree it's for the best

when the eliminated contestants were still being kept in the hotel oj closet, mepad would "unfeelingly" deliver and check in on them at mephone's request

[burnthoneydrops]

Lavender's Blue, Dilly Dilly (c.b. x fem!reader)

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none? but let me know if i missed any!

a/n: Ah! the first of my "if i was a girl in a book" series is here with sound of music meets colin bridgerton! there will definitely be more parts to this (at least i think there will) but i wanted to introduce the idea of the series with this part first! hope you enjoy, let me know what you think! pt 2

The Bridgerton house is terrifying. Not necessarily the contents of the building, though you can not exactly speak for that as you had not entered the house yet, but the actual building is terrifying. It is beautiful and warm and spectacular and terrifying. You take a deep breath and close your eyes before marching up the front steps, placing your two bags down on either side of you, and knocking on the door. It takes approximately two seconds for the doors to open and expose the wide foyer and many footmen seemingly standing around waiting for your arrival. What ensues is the most awkward staring contest of your life; the man who opened the door stares seemingly into your soul, the blankest of stares on his face. 

“Good morning, my name is Y/N and I am here to see Lady Violet Bridgerton,” you finally break the silence, hoping he will stop staring at you if you say something regarding your presence. 

With his arms stuck to his sides and his neck turning only when his body does, the footman marches down the hall and announces your presence in the doorway. The shuffling of many feet against wood and carpet sound soon after, and you are greeted by two little heads staring from the doorframe. You wave delicately, readjusting the bag you had yet to put down in your clenched fist before deciding to put everything down in hopes of looking more welcoming and open. 

“Ah, Miss Y/N, what a pleasure it is to have you!” An older woman in a beautiful periwinkle dress makes her way over to you. Looking down quickly at your brown frock, you push any insecurity out of your mind before sticking your hand out to shake. “Oh no, we’re a hugging household if you don’t mind,” Violet interjects your inner monologue. “Oh, not at all,” you put your arm down and let her initiate the hug, feeling both increasingly awkward and welcome at the same time. 

“Your timing is impeccable, as all my children actually happen to be in the same place at the same time,” the woman laughs. So this is Lady Bridgerton.

“Well, when one has a home this exquisite, I would be partial to staying here as much as possible,” you compliment. 

“I have a feeling we shall get along quite well Miss Y/N,” Lady Bridgerton smiles at you, and you feel like you have gained a victory, if not a very small one. “Children! Come greet our guest!” Oh. You are going to meet all the children right now. Splendid. 

A cluster of frenzied bodies makes their way out into the foyer, the two younger ones that poked their heads at you earlier leading the charge. They soon formed a line, appearing oldest to youngest– though you could not confirm– and you hold back a laugh as the two littlest ones battle it out for a spot in the lineup. 

“Gregory! Hyacinth! Stop that at once, we do not want to be confusing your new governess on her first day,” the oldest–or at least the first in line– yells while leaning over the back of the line. 

“Apologies, they are not always like this,” Lady Bridgerton comments to you, standing by your side and looking disappointedly at her children. 

“Mother, do not lie,” the second in line crosses his arms over his chest as the third suppresses a chuckle with a cough. You try not to laugh along with him, and he catches your shared moment, smiling at you while rolling his shoulders back and tucking his arms behind him. 

“Well, I believe it is time that you should all introduce yourselves,” Lady Bridgerton waves her arm down the line in demonstration. 

“I am Anthony, the oldest and the head of the household,” Anthony starts, stepping forward slightly then stepping back like a soldier. 

“Very pleased to meet you,” you nod, smiling lightly.

“I am Benedict, second oldest,” he goes to readjust his vest and you notice the charcoal marks under his nails and the paint on his thumbs. 

“An artist too I see,” you comment, and his eyebrows raise in amusement and confusion. “Your hands give you away,” you explain, nodding to the signs you gathered. His mouth forms a silent ‘ah’ before tucking his hands behind his back. 

“Colin,” the third one nods at you with a sly smile on his face, “third, one and twenty, and without need of a governess”. 

“Though some may beg to differ,” one of the girls further down the line pipes up, causing the two youngest to giggle under their breath. 

“Well, I am sure we will get to know each other well on adult terms then,” you nod, trying to keep the situation light. 

The girls keep the line going, Lady Bridgerton informing you that Daphne, the oldest daughter, was to debut this year and that while you would mainly be watching over the smallest two children, it would be much appreciated if you were to aid the girls in their more accomplished skills as well. 

“It would be a delight ma’am,” you smile, and when Lady Bridgerton announces that you will need to be shown to your room, Gregory and Hyacinth (whose names you now have committed to memory) are quick to grab a hand on either side of you and drag you up the stairs. Eagerly waiting to get to know their new companion better, you are left to wave a hasty goodbye to the rest of the family as you nearly trip over the initial stair for the children are oh so speedy.

The first night finds you unable to sleep. The space is unfamiliar and the job so incredibly daunting. Though you have faith that you can achieve what you set out to do, it does not make the prospect of having to live with eight children, one mother, and who knows how many staff any less immeasurable. When the Bridgerton family had written to the greater community that they were in search of a new governess, you had never imagined that they would select you, but you were of course more than grateful. Coming from humble beginnings yourself, the cavernous environment and the sheer amount of people in it were enough to spike your anxiety. After tossing on your side for the 100th time, you finally strike a match, lighting the candle on your bedside table and grabbing your diary from beside it. Writing letters to family and friends had become a habit of yours when you could not sleep, which you are not eager to admit happens frequently. You begin writing a letter to your mother, the words spilling out of you as the ink bleeds through the page and onto your hands. Paying no mind to anything other than writing, you are shaken out of your mental tunnel with a quick knock on your door. 

“Yes?” You call through, quickly shoving your diary under your pillow. 

The door opens hesitantly, and Colin peeks his head through the frame. “My apologies, I saw the light under the door on my way down the hall and feared someone had left it burning in their sleep”. 

“Oh,” you laugh awkwardly, “do not fret Mr. Bridgerton, it was merely me”. 

“Were you unable to sleep?” 

“Yes, but not to worry, it was merely,” you pause and realise there is rain tapping at your window, “the storm”. 

“Ah. I know a few of my younger siblings are unable to sleep during storms as well,” he nods in understanding. 

As if responding to a cue, Hyacinth runs up to the door and Colin opens it wider. Her creased forehead and pouted lips are enough for you to open your arms, sending her flying onto your bed. She ducks her head into your pillows, covering her ears further as thunder claps outside your window. You rub your hand along her back, looking between her and Colin who still stands at your door. 

“My dear, did the storm frighten you?” It feels like an obvious question, but one must cover all bases when dealing with new children. Lest you forget when, two families ago, one of the middle children was not scared of the storm, but of the fact that his older brother was chasing him down the hallway with a fish head. How they had even come across such a thing you will never know. Hyacinth nods her head and you pat the space next to you, whispering quiet shushing sounds in her ear as you hear another set of feet approaching your door. Colin looks down the hall as Gregory comes to join the party. 

“Were you scared as well darling?” You ask, scooting your legs to the farthest edge of your bed to make more room. 

“No! I wasn’t scared…I was merely coming to check on Hyacinth,” he sounds unconvinced. You nod in agreement, muttering ‘of course’ to save him his image of masculinity when another round of thunder rolls through. That masculine facade is quick to fall as Gregory runs up onto your bed, taking up the space behind Hyacinth. Colin chuckles and you send him a death glare to avoid him making fun of his siblings. 

“Now now, the storm cannot hurt us inside. We have light, and windows from which to watch the storm pass if we so choose,” you try reassuring them, but it seems to do little good as the children keep in their tucked positions. 

There is suddenly a fourth Bridgerton entering your room when Francesca makes her way in, her head down in fear and shame. You open your arms wider, allowing her a safe space in which to take refuge, and she joins the cluster of Bridgertons on your bed. “Couldn’t sleep,” she mutters before wrapping her arms around Gregory.

“You know what always makes me feel better in times like these?” You look between the three closest to you. None of them give a verbal answer, but Hyacinth raises her head from the pillows, looking at you with the saddest eyes known to man. “My mother used to sing to me when I was scared of the storms. Would you like a song?” Francesca is the first to nod, then Hyacinth. Gregory is last, first trying to keep a tough illusion but quickly dropping it when lighting flashes into view from your window. 

“Lavender’s blue dilly dilly, lavender’s green. When I am queen dilly dilly, you shall be king,” you begin. When you aren’t watching, Colin closes your bedroom door, leaning against the closest wall. “Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so? Twas my own heart dilly dilly, that told me so”. He hadn’t been expecting much when his mother informed the family of the new governess that was to join them, in fact he had rather been irritated by the idea. The youngest children always found a way to scare them off and it seemed like a waste of time and money in his opinion, but his mind is slowly being changed. Watching you interact with his siblings in such a kind a heartfelt manner, especially with it being less than 24 hours since your arrival stirs something within him. He does not quite have a name for it yet, but there is something compelling him to stay in place rather than walking the few extra steps to his room. 

Perhaps he could get used to having a new member of the household.

[raytoebiter]

Tunes of your heartbeat ‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹

sypnosis; In which your fate somehow gets entangled into a jumble of mess between punk music in cozy cafés, intense rivalry, cherished yakults, parallelograms and quantum physics, competitions in contests and rainy days. Or in other words; the universe seems to fucking hate your guts for whatever reason and decided to curse your love life with your awful crass emo twink-a-fuck rival. The question is; did the curse work?

a scaramouche x f!reader SMAU

• Genre; hate at first sight, slowburn, intense rivalry, also intense rivalry in?? who gets to?? pamper each other more?? yeah, rivals to lovers, scara doesn't know how to love, punk music, yakult and swiss miss, senior highschool love, bonding through music, confessions through music, hanging out in ugly places vibes, senior-high typa thing?, late highschool, about-to-be graduatees, and etcetera:)

• Warnings; mommy issues, a fuck ton of curses (be warned), mentions of alcohol and probably a few panic attacks here and there, sewersidal mentions, kys jokes, vulgar jokes, like very vulgar. 18+ not for wattpad purposes but bc it's too inappropriate and vulgar😭

• Taglist is open! ask to be added or removed!

• Status; ongoing. no update schedule, and irregular hiatuses.

inspiration; from the sidelines bkdk fic ao3, sleeping sirens' songs omg and this one fic that i made over a year ago which is the root of this SMAU

— notes..

- let me know if you want to be added as a twt user in this SMAU too!

- feel free to picture yourself however you want:)

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╰┈➤ playlists; curse these feelings (scara's playlist) || fuck these feelings (name's playlist)

╰┈➤ profiles; the five horsemen of stupidity (name's group) || yacult (scara's group)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ PLAYING... FIRST BEAT ✰ .ᐟ

Prologue

I. Shut me up (by a punch)

II. Get it up

III. Situations

IV. Don't you dare forget the sun

V. Fake it

VI. I don't care

VII. Knives and Pens

VIII. Pretty Handsome Awkward

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ PLAYING... SECOND BEAT ✰ .ᐟ

tba.

AND... PAUSE!

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authors notes - i've been literally thinking of making this since uhhhhhhh idk last week ago? this fic was actually inspired by a bkdk ao3 fanfic. and what drove me to really do this smau is that—i really like the idea of applying real life things to fiction. like please tell me everytime u see yakult, it reminds u of this fic. or cafés. i want this fic to exude that vibe and by that, ill try my best to do exactly that.

(ask to be added in comments)

[charlessainzz]

A Maxie request where the wags take the guys on in paddle and actually win and they get all butt hurt ?

thank you for the request! hope it's similar to what you wanted :) also I've learned I really like writing for Max haha

Sore Losers

Max was a sore loser. He knew that and you knew that. So when he suggested you and Alex play against him and Charles at paddle, you had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well. When he suggested the “friendly” game of paddle, Max had no clue in his mind that he would lose. Both drivers thought this would be a fun game where they could show off their skills to their admiring girlfriends. Little did your boyfriend know, you were a childhood champion at tennis so this… it would be a cake walk.

“Prepare to face the master y/n!” Max shouted from across the court. He turns and gives Charles a high-five as he’s about to serve. You let out a breath, and knew it was time to get to work. As Charles served, you glided to the ball and hit it back over scoring a point. Both men froze in their tracks in disbelief. What had just happened! 

Blowing Max a kiss you shout, “Okay let’s do that again!”. Alex began laughing as both guys shook their heads and got back into position. Alex hardly had to put in any work except help keep an eye on the boys’ next move. You were a beast at paddle, and it was leaving the other three quite shocked. Each hit was precise and sent out like a shot. Point after point after point, you and Alex were about to beat two high performance athletes. They would never be able to live this down. 

You and Max were in a staring contest from across the court. Both with an intense gaze trying to intimidate the other. Sweat was trickling down your forehead, hands tightly gripping the handle, and your breath becoming erratic. There was one game point left to win. 

Alex serves the ball, and there is a brief back and forth with the ball. Max hits it back in your direction as you dive and whack it back. Just when you think Max is about to reach the ball, he trips and falls to the ground with a thud. The girls win!

“Oh shit! We did it!”, you scream as you throw Alex into a hug. You’re both hugging and celebrating that you just beat these idiots. As you turn back laughing, Max throws his racket on the court leaving it bent. Charles is seated on the bench with his head in his hands. What sore losers! 

“So what do the winners get?” Alex jokes with them. Both look up and roll their eyes as they walk back towards the locker rooms. You clean up your area, and say some awkward goodbyes. As you walk towards your car you try to grab your boyfriend's hand but he swats it away. 

The ride home was very silent. No music, no talking, and no touching. Every attempt you made at contact was ignored. It started to annoy you that he would get so butt hurt over a game of paddle. 

The rest of the night is silent. After an even quieter dinner, you thought maybe he’d watch that movie you had both been dying to see. However, Max retreats to his sim room to train. You decided you would not be the one to break. If he was going to be mad over something that was his idea, he was going to get himself out of it. 

After an hour or two alone in the living room you figured it was time to put yourself to bed. You change into Max’s tshirt and cuddle up into the covers. With your back turned towards the door, you can’t help but wish he was here with his arms around you. But you needed to be strong! It was his fault that you’re in this icy mood. 

Just when your eyes begin to shut, the door squeaks open. He shuffles around and slides into bed. You feel it dip and he moves towards you. Yet… he still doesn’t hold you like usual. You start to feel a lump in your throat, not sure how long you could go without his affection. When suddenly you feel his arms snake around your waist and he pulls you into his body. His hands slip under your shirt and you feel yourself relax. 

“Wearing my shirt huh?” he tries to joke. With no response from you he continues, “I’m sorry y/n”, he says muffled into your neck. A big smile appears on your face. 

“Ahhh the loser speaks”, you whispered. Max grunted pinching your side.

“Shut up… Charles and I already have plans to train for our rematch”, he boasted. You rolled your eyes and turned over to face him. 

“If you want to hang out with Charles that badly you don’t have to make up an excuse”, you giggle as you run your hands through his hair. Max wraps his arms around you as he rolls on top of you smothering his face into your chest. Both of you begin laughing. Gosh how you had missed that sound. 

Pulling his head up he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me how good you were at paddle?”. You begin tracing along his nose as you think. 

“Hmmm I can’t tell you everything about me… that's what keeps the relationship so interesting”, you say with a smirk. He shows you a big toothy grin and gives you a kiss. 

“What else don’t I know about you?” he says with narrowed eyes. He leans down and captures your lips in another kiss.

As the kiss ends you say, “Well… if you ever give me the silent treatment like that again, you’ll find out just how good I am at walking out that front door.”

Max’s eyes go wide and he takes a deep breath. “Noted”, he gulps. 

Satisfied you turn back over and lay into his embrace. Both of you cuddled up simultaneously thinking of how much training you’ll have to put in to beat each other at another game of paddle. You really were the perfect couple.

[hotvintagepoll]

Will Scarlett has lost his temporary lead in the Hot Medieval and Fantasy Man Melee, so I'm back with screenshots to prove my point that Will is the Hottest Boy in the Land. I normally avoid these types of long posts but I will do anything for my Slutty Merry Boy, so buckle in.

To introduce Will Scarlett—oh by the way here's the link to his whole movie—I think it's important context to know that when we first meet him, Robin is saving a man's life and Scarlett is staring at nothing in particular. His head is empty of thoughts. He looks this way the entire scene. I'm not sure he blinks.

As soon as the danger is over (a danger he did absolutely nothing to help with) he has a chuckle with Robin! Sunshine and laughter and roses!

The next time we see him (which is soon, because this movie loves Will Scarlett too), he is bitching because Robin had them sleep in the woods (???) and he got stabbed in the back by some acorns.

Here he is falling over a log.

Here he is getting smacked with a branch.

HERE HE IS AFTER GETTING SMACKED BY THE BRANCH.

He serves cunt continuously through the entire Little John sequence, and we don't have time for all of my screenshots, so just a quick smattering:

Here he is being hot and unsupportive when Robin decides to fight the biggest guy he's ever seen. (Scarlett literally says "your skull not mine" and then just stands there.)

Here he is getting in Robin's way.

Here he is, picking the hottest pose possible so he can be the bard and play little showtunes while Robin gets his ass kicked.

Oh my goddd fuck me.

Worth mentioning that Little John does loudly identify Will Scarlett as "a pretty fellow" and nobody contradicts this. In a world where all of Robin's men have one personality trait (big, friar, or tiny), Will Scarlett's is Slut.

Once we get out of the Will's Musical Singalong chapter and Robin goes in disguise to the archery contest, Scarlett does too, except whoever told him he couldn't wear his normal Versace didn't tell him what normal people wear because he shows up looking like this.

Absolutely nobody else in the crowd looks like that. That's just what he thinks the Normies are doing.

With Robin captured, you'd think it's time for Will Scarlett to contribute something. Unfortunately he is constitutionally incapable of not serving cunt at all times to the exclusion of all else, so Maid Marian thinks of the plot while he stands by looking really hot.

Here he is serving cunt as a monk. Jesus Christ.

HERE he actually does something during the climatic battle! I had forgotten but he does swing his sword around a little bit. He doesn't actually look hot while doing this which explains why he has never done it before.

i saved this screenshot with the caption "the beatles" and i'm not wrong.

here he is doing new things with blood eyeliner. very brat.

SUCH A SERVE THERE IN THE BACKGROUND AND FOR WHAT

in conclusion, Will Scarlett is a hot hot man who is clever (by his own estimation, never proven within the story) and extremely hot (by everyone else's estimation, proven twenty-seven thousand times over). He serves several different looks in the movie, all of them incredible, and is apparently brought along by Robin just for his charming good looks and lack of thoughts because he's certainly not good at anything else. He is the hero to all of us who want to hang out in this movie but not actually work out or hold a weapon, and the bard that every Sherwood story deserves. Vote Will Scarlett, my legend, my icon, my idiot.

@medievalandfantasymelee

[morganski-19]

part 1, part 2, part 3

Wayne stays at the hospital longer than he should. Rubbing his fingers along Eddie’s pick necklace like a rosary. Hoping that if he just prays hard enough, if his voice can be heard, Eddie will wake up. 

The prognosis isn’t great. Each day that passes marks another day where his chances of waking up get lower. Even though many people have woken up from medically induced comas much later than this. According to the doctors. According to the pamphlets given to him at the start of all of this shit. But those are just words. Words he doesn’t believe fully. 

Six days with no changes. No improvement. Just a tube to make sure he’s breathing regularly and an IV to make sure he doesn’t die of dehydration or starvation. The doctors say that his brain still shows activity, and his heart hasn’t missed a beat since he was last revived. Eddie’s alive, but just how much?

How much longer will Wayne sit in this agony waiting for him to wake up? Or how long until the string of hope just ends six feet under? 

Religion was something that Wayne dealt with sporadically. He was raised Catholic, sort of still is a practicing Catholic. Goes to church when he isn’t too tired, still prays, and goes to confession sometimes. Just didn’t always make sense. But now, it’s all he’s got. 

Eddie’s in God’s hands now. Whether that’s the God in the Bible, or some other deity of the many other religions in the world, Wayne doesn’t care anymore. As long as he’s heard, and this being knows his boy is good. That he was taken far too soon. 

Eddie liked to say there was nothing much for him past high school. That he was going to run out of town as soon as he could and fight to make something of himself. Be a struggling musician, find odd jobs. Anything to keep him out of the monotony of a corporate job. Get him away from the conservative views and stuffiness of this town. Somehow get big enough to prove them all that he wasn’t a failure. Or never come back to prove them all right. 

It would be a sad day when Eddie finally left for good. The trailer would seem empty without the life that Eddie brought. The peace and quiet that Wayne always asked for not bringing any peace because it was too damn quiet. He knew this now because it’s what’s keeping him here each day. 

The beeping of the heart monitor was like the heart beating in his chest. Some noise came from Eddie to prove that he was alive. Almost like he was acting himself again. The motel room he was staying in was too quiet. No music down the hall, no clanking around the kitchen, no yelling at the TV or a book. Just the occasional noise if there were neighbors and people driving to the hospital. It was all the wrong noise, though. 

“Excuse me,” a nurse says as she enters the room. “Visiting hours are over, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Wayne nods, getting up from his chair. Back screaming as it pops itself back into place. It’s his day off, or night off tonight, so he can actually sleep. If it ever comes to him. Might be one of those nights where the ceiling and him have a staring contest. He’s been close, but never quite won one of those yet. 

The Chief’s car sits outside of the motel as Wayne pulls up. It’s only been a day since they spoke last, there can’t be that many updates. Wayne can’t think of any other reason he’s here. 

Wayne invites him into the motel room, the urge to offer him a drink screaming at him, but he has none to give. Hospitality doesn’t come with the room fees. 

“I’m guessing there’s something new, that’s why you're here.”

“Not necessarily. I’m still trying, but until the one guy I normally negotiate with comes out of hiding, that’s when the real talking happens.”

Wayne sits down on one of the chairs, too tired to keep standing. “Why’re you here then?”

“To check on you. I know the hospital life well. It’s no picnic, especially if you’re doing it alone.” He pulls another one of the chairs over to sit down. 

There’s no lie in that. “I’m about as good as anyone could think.”

The Chief pulls two beers out from under his coat, handing one to Wayne. He takes it faster than any beer he has in his life. Pulling out his pocket knife to take off the cap. 

“How long till that friend of yours comes out of hiding?”

Hopper shrugs. “Don’t know. Sent him a few threatening letters, and he still owes me one, so we’ll see. If things were better here, I’d go hunt the man down myself.”

Wayne nods. The company’s nice, he can’t lie. Sitting in solidarity with someone who knows what you’ve been through. Making sure nothing’s going worse than it already is. Like a sponsor through the hospital proceedings. 

When the sun finally finishes setting, the chief excuses himself. Not before handing Wayne a slip of paper with his number on it, just in case anything happens. 

The more days go by, the more Wayne is reminded that he’s not alone in this. Not fighting this battle alone. People believe him, more than just kids. People with influence. It shows in how people keep coming in and out of the hospital room. Saying how they know he’s innocent. That he’s guilty of some things, but not this. 

It makes him think back to that afternoon, snapping at the Harrington kid. It’s so easy to be angry at people who are better off, in so many ways, that vision gets blinded. Seeing someone who went through something similar to Eddie get out, and be conscious while his boy is still asleep. Probably will never have to worry about hospital bills and medical debt. It makes him angry. 

Even if the kid doesn’t deserve it. Wayne has no clue who this kid is and how he knows Eddie. Why he claims to have been there in the week Eddie was missing. What it all means. It doesn’t make any sense. None at all. 

But then the next morning when he’s getting coffee, there’s the kid again coming in beside Dustin. Talking to someone at the front desk before heading down the hall. Right to the elevator, and up to the floor Eddie’s on. 

Wayne heads back to the room, ready to kick him out again or apologize. He’s not sure yet. But, the room is empty. Steve is instead down the hall, talking to Susan Mayfield. Looking serious as hell, and halfway ready to cry. 

Another kid comes out of the room, one who’s stopped by a few times to check on Eddie. Lucas, Wayne thinks is his name. Remembers it only because Eddie had ranted a few times about some kid named Lucas trying to be on both the basketball team and part of the Dragons club. 

The kid says something to Steve before he’s being wrapped in a hug and starts crying. Steve just holding him as this kid breaks down. Presumably about the person behind those doors. Wayne assumes it’s probably Susan’s kid. Remembers hearing that she was in bad shape. Hopefully, that didn’t get any worse. 

Wayne returns to his room, not wanting to intrude. A nurse comes in a while later and asks him to step out for a bit. 

“What for?”

“Eddie’s breathing has improved over the last twenty-four hours. The doctor came in to check on him early this morning, and said that if by noon it was the same, the breathing tube could come out.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Wayne’s hesitant to believe anything these days. 

The nurse nods. “As long as his oxygen levels stay, well level, then yes. It means that his body is well on the way to recovery.”

Wayne nods, taking his coffee to the waiting room. There, he just waits.

Next part

Note: The next part of this will get a bit interesting. I've been having ideas for a while now of making this duel POV between Wayne and someone else, maybe Steve. Mainly because I keep thinking of conversations that would happen, but Wayne would be nowhere to witness it. But I think what this fic needs is a POV not directly in the main relationship that will be happening, to keep it an outsider POV fic. So I'm thinking that the second POV would be from either Robin or Dustin. I'm currently deciding between the two so let me know what you think. I'm also going to start posting this to ao3, and will provide the link to that once I think of a title. I will continue to post the smaller parts here on tumblr, and you will not be missing out on any of the story if you only follow it on here. For now all of the parts will also have the tag #morgan's wayne POV. If that changes, as it probably will since this is no longer just a wayne POV fic, I will let you know. Also, Max is alive, they just got a heavy diagnosis that you will learn of later.

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77, @here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium, @resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly, @gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight, @devondepresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug, @greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake, @morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs

[gotham-daydreams]

Honestly, in a situation like not [] where they aren't willing to physically hurt the reader but psychologically mess with them? It's fucked but at the same time I have too good of an imagination. When it comes to neglect there's so many aspects of it that could happen and even if I'm pissed I could keep my mouth shut to the point I feel numb.

I mean they can't change you or break you if you just stay in your own head after all? Lil stories in your head to keep you busy, unholy amount of hours spent sleeping. I don't care if I waste away if it means not having to deal with people who won't even listen or admit that it's gonna take time to undo trauma and won't take the proper steps to undo it.

They take things up a notch and limit food or start doing things that prevent you from sleeping? Do it, at least the hat man will be a better friend. Can't break what's not there, the batfam always has this mindset that so long as they get their way that they would do what's necessary but that's entirely because they are all too selfish to actually really respect how you feel. And no amount of bugging me or yelling at me or trying to get a rise out of me will change the fact I can just slip into my mind and ignore it all.

The only way I'd ever stop being in my head and not even wasting time on them is if they actually tried to be genuine in fixing things and admit they fucked up and are doing it out of guilt. Either put down your pride or stay with a reader who will gladly stay tucked away in the crevice of their brain in an imaginary field of flowers with whatever lil character they make to enjoy the time in their head <3

Anyways I love your series and can't wait for more!! Please take care and hydrate!!!

I do agree! Especially in this scenario where they’re way more unwilling to physically hurt the reader, because... well, they want to hear your music! Like a little songbird, just tucked away from the public eye, just for them to hear you sing...

It'll definitely get on their nerves, and some will probably crumble under the pressure - but those that don't aren't actually the ones you should be worried about. I mean, of course they'll try to do everything else they can, and at that point - its a contest of willpower and to see who can outlast the other (and spoiler, most of them will definitely lose), but some are definitely more stubborn than others. After all, their 'love' is spawned out of guilt, obligation, and a messy mix of things that's turned into this ugly beast of a thing they see as love - if you aren't willing to take it, then that's fine, but you definitely aren't getting anything until you do.

Though, again, at some point the time and treatment definitely begins to effect them too. And that’s... not good, especially when some of them are known for their resolve, will, and general ability to withstand so much crap despite not even being superhuman (even if in all honesty, compared to the average guy, they may as well be). Them being insane does not help with that fact.

They'll begin to consider things they wouldn't have even thought of before out of sheer desperation and need. They'll think about it, plan it out a little, and before they even know it - they're losing hours of sleep trying to find ways to actually execute it. Hell - some may even act impulsively, and just flat out do it without giving it a second thought. Because they can't. They can't think. They can't sleep. Not without you - not after another month, another week, another day, another hour, another second without you.

They need it. Need you. Need your warmth, your presence - to feel like they're doing something right, even when its so wrong. Even if they've left you damaged beyond repair, some still want to feel like they can fix you, put you back together... and what better way to feed that delusion then to hold you in their arms? To do all of these things with you... even if you're not mentally there?

At that point, they'd sacrifice never being able to hear your music from you to get that. To have that fabricated connection. They'd give up that one thing that's been keeping them from harming you physically, and go all out.

[Which... descriptions of losing limbs, and general gore under the cut, it's not pretty but not super detailed either? Yes, it's towards the reader. Yes the reader is awake. There is no cut away, but some dancing around using some phrases repeatedly. Consider yourself warned and advised. Even if it's just descriptions - the family isn't playing nice.]

Maybe they'd start small... just a leg, maybe two, not even a foot- your legs from the knee down are going indefinitely. Maybe even the whole thing if certain people do it impulsively, and aren't thinking - aside from the fact that they need you close, but they just have to get these things out of the way. To lessen your struggle, to reassure themselves you won't run, of course - after all, you can't run if they just... take away that option, right? It's for the best, they'd tell themselves, they need to do this. They have to. You gave them no other choice- and now... now they had to make a tough choice. They have to do this.

If it's done impulsively, it's messy. I guess not having a lot of experience cutting off limbs or disabling someone isn't going to make things easier, who knew, am I right? Taking lives (for some of them), and beating people up is one thing, but cutting off arms and legs? It's weird to think about until you're the one doing it, and in a frenzy no less.

Some of the more impulsive ones you really have to look out for, because if they do it then it is painful, and that is no exaggeration. As much as they're thinking about you, they also aren't at the same time - at least not you in the present as they're doing the removal. You'll pass out from pain, or just the visceral sight right before you witness your leg getting torn off. Real messy stuff. It's not subtle at all, they barely hide it - if they even try to allow you that luxury. If anything, you see too much of it. Either way, you're out like a light, and left with whatever you saw as nothing is left to the imagination. Unless your fucked up mind makes it worse, to which- a lot is left to the imagination as that nightmare of a scene is messed with and mixed in your head like a toddler left in the kitchen.

Of course, the family will take care of the messy outcome, and get you to another room and everything (after all, they have one too many spar ones), but, well, that won't change the reality of the situation, will it? Hell, get one of the more rough ones pissed off or just do something one of the more impulsive ones doesn't like, and you'll lose your arms, and depends on who does it - you'll lose them just as you lost your legs, and you'll get to watch... before you pass out, of course.

Maybe they'll get you things to help, like robotic limbs and such, though its not that great and doesn't make things easier. Not even a little. They'll be able to control everything you do, essentially, down to what you can even touch or interact with.

You'll feel more trapped then you ever have before, as even your body, every limb attached to your torso is theirs. Theirs to control. To mess with, and just like before, they'll take it away if you do something that makes them upset.

They'll leave you more than just defenseless.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lack of Focus

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt comforts you when your forgetfulness seems to be ruining your life.

warnings: swearing, weepy reader, period mentions, Matt being adorable, reader's no good very bad day

a/n: this is heavily inspired by my own life last month where my unknown disability gave me such intense brain fog on my period that I thought I’d somehow gotten brain damage.  Thankfully, it’s passed but what the FUCK y’all. That has never happened to me before and it was terrifying. So here is a little emotional hurt/comfort based on that! Also it takes place in the "In All the World" verse, but it can be read as a standalone. As always, please reply/reblog/DM me feedback!

w/c: 3.7k

Elbows planted firmly on your wobbly desk, you tried to ignore the way the large gouge on the left side dug into your exposed skin. You could feel the splintering fiberboard prickling your flesh, but you were too exhausted to adjust your posture. Your body felt heavy, as if you’d been transported to a different planet overnight and hadn’t quite adjusted to the intense gravitational force. Invisible strings attached to every cell that composed you, anchoring your movements to a far away point, making it difficult to even sit up straight.

Lifting your chin from atop your clammy hands, you strained to reach the coffee cup that you’d stupidly left on the far corner of the desktop. The minuscule weight of the mug made your hands shake, your strength sheerly depleted even though it was barely 8:30 in the morning. The watery coffee slid over your tongue, leaving the gritty residue of undissolved powdered creamer behind. You were used to crappy break room coffee, but it tasted especially bitter today, like a poor consolation prize for a contest you hadn’t entered.

In a word, you felt…groggy. Which made no sense, since you’d been sleeping ten or more hours a day the whole week—if you included your frequent naps. Your period-exhaustion and raging brain fog were apparently in cahoots this month.

The heat wasn’t helping either. New York was currently jumping between excessive, brutal sun and pouring rain. Each day felt like a Greek myth, Apollo and his father battling it out in a wretched display of strength, leaving you and the other mere mortals of Long Island to cope with the muggy weather until their spat was over. Walking through the streets felt more like swimming, given there was so much water vapor in the air you practically needed gills to process oxygen every time you stepped out of your apartment. Nearly suffocating on the 15 minute walk from your apartment to work surely wasn't helping your inability to think clearly.

With a massive sigh, you hauled another box of sheet music into your lap, thumbing through the pages of crumpled and coffee-stained paper. The district had been especially aggravating this summer, trying to appease the school board with promises of low budgets and high rates of success. As much as you’d love for that to be your reality, you had yet to decide on a starting piece for either of your choirs, and the fall musical was barely on your radar. Your mind was plodding through quicksand, grappling for steady ground. The last thing you needed was added pressure from a handful of men who refused to understand the importance of the arts, let alone your career.

Fingers rifling over the blurry text of one particular song selection, you paused, considering the technical skills you’d need to rebuild with your students after their summer break. Removing the pages from the box, you set it aside to ponder further, turning your attention back to the endless stacks. Before you could feel too proud, having stepped incrementally closer to actually  accomplishing something today, a shrill buzzing sounded from your desk. 

You jumped at the noise, losing your grip on the heavy box which toppled to the floor, spewing its contents across the grubby tile of your office. “Shit,” You cursed, snatching your phone up to answer it as you bent down to gather up the sea of scattered papers. The former organization system you’d meticulously sorted them into was nothing but a distant memory. Add it to the growing list of “to dos”, you thought miserably.

Swiping absently at the screen of your phone, you crammed it between your ear and your shoulder, trying to uncrumple the ancient cardboard box that had collapsed during the fall as you greeted whoever had disturbed you. “Hello?” Your tone was less than upbeat, and you could hear a small, slightly-miffed scoff across the line as the caller came to that realization as well.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything ok?” Your hands froze around fistfuls of paper, embarrassment clawing at your throat as you registered your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Hey, Matty. Yah, I’m fine. Sorry for sounding like..that. It’s been a tough morning.” You explained, messily gathering the papers into your lap as you fell into a criss-cross position on the floor. 

“I can tell,” Matt chuckled sympathetically. “Are you still coming?” 

Forehead scrunching with confusion, your brain valiantly attempted to decipher the question’s meaning before you eloquently asked for clarification.

“Huh?”

Staring at the walls of your office dumbfounded, your posture became less relaxed as Matt explained what he’d meant. “To the coffee shop? You promised to meet the three of us for breakfast.” 

“Oh god.” You absolutely had. Matt had been moping all week about his busy schedule and the resulting lack of time you’d spent together, so you’d readily agreed when he’d suggested coffee. He’d even been sweet enough to schedule it on the one day that you didn’t have any early meetings so you wouldn’t be too rushed after meeting him. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot.” His response was patient, but even over the tinny speaker his hurt was obvious. Your eyes stung as you pictured his face falling, silently conveying your failure to his coworkers. 

“I’m so so sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. It’s the little cafe off of 7th and 42nd?” Clambering to your feet, your voice was slightly choked as your throat constricted—your disappointment and frustration squeezing it like a vice. 

“Hey, it’s ok, love. It’s almost 9:00, we have a meeting with a client in 45. If you’re all the way across town—“

“I’ll barely get to see you anyways.” You finished his thought, eyes falling shut as your hopes of not missing another activity were dashed. This wasn’t the first time this week something important had slipped your mind, despite being on your calendar. You’d already had to reschedule a dentist appointment, scramble home fifteen minutes late to meet with a student for a private lesson, and you’d filed the application for a grant three hours too late because you’d misread the instructions. The constant mistakes were quickly spiraling, leaving you to wallow in confusion and despair as your brain fog only grew. “I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. It happens,” Matt reassured you. He was disappointed, you had no doubt about that, but he wasn’t angry. A wave of gratitude for Matt’s endless compassion crashed into you swiftly, nearly bringing you to your knees. Your tongue felt heavy, cheeks dampening as tears began to fall. “I was just worried something had happened. It slipped your mind?”

“I don’t know what’s up with me, Matt.” You whimpered, dropping heavily into your squeaky desk chair with a shaky exhale. “I know my mind has never been a ‘steel trap’ but..I’m starting to think something might be wrong.”

Your voice broke off on the admission. Bringing a knuckle to your mouth to bite down on, you refused to sob into Matt’s ear over the phone. He didn’t deserve that after you’d stood him up.

“I know. I’m sorry the past few weeks have been so hard. Do you have plans tonight?” Matt asked softly, voice laden with concern. Even through the phone, his voice bundled you up in a comforting warmth, a layer of protection between you and the world. He was eternally patient with you, loving you endlessly despite your recent bout of ditsy-ness.

“Not sure I’d remember if I did,” You chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s ok, sweetheart. Anything on your calendar?” Acknowledging your frustration, Matt tenderly redirected you—trying to keep your mind from wandering without blaming you for it. God, you loved him.  

“Let me check.” You sniffled, drawing the phone away from your temple so you could flick through your schedule. “Not after 4:00.”

“Ok well I should be done here around 6:00. I can come over for dinner, if you’d like.” Your lips formed a tiny smile at Matt’s loving persistence.

“Yes please. Can we meet at yours instead?”

“Of course! You can go straight to my loft after work, if you feel like it. You can use the spare I gave you.”

“Are you sure?” You suddenly felt a bit timid, being handed so much trust after letting everyone down for over a week.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy you being there. Besides, I’ve missed you like crazy.” His voice was a rumble, making you feel far more loved than you thought you deserved at the moment.

“I miss you too, Matt. I wish my stupid brain would’ve remembered coffee so I could’ve seen you earlier.” Your vision shifted as saline flooded your waterline, tears wobbling as they fought to escape.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight.” Matt purred, definitely waggling his eyebrows even though he was not in your line of sight.

Laughing in surprise, you felt heat rush to your face. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that needs to be making it up to you.”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart. We’re going to go open the office, but I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” He lingered over the last three words, tone dipping into pure reverence—the exact pitch that made your stomach flutter as he revealed just how much he cared about you.

“I love you too, Matt. Apologize to Foggy and Karen for me? Tell them I owe them at least three bagels a piece.”

“Three? That’s a pretty steep fee, love. I think I can talk ‘em down.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you bit your lip. “Thank you for looking out for me, Matty. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too, angel. Call me if you need anything, ok? If I can’t talk right then, I’ll call back when I can. But I’m here if you need me.”

“Ok. Thank you.” Listening as the line disconnected, your heart clenched with disappointment as reality set in—you had an entire day of work to get through before you got to see your partner. Gaze dropping to the haphazard stacks of sheet music draped over your knees, you groaned, hefting them into your arms and dumping them on your desk to organize. Hopefully your sluggish mind could handle the repetitive task without too much issue.

Meandering up the stairs at a snail's pace, each bend of your knee took intense concentration. You were ready to keel over and pass out, letting the guilt and frustration and embarrassment that had amassed over the day fade into oblivion as if it had never happened.

After missing your morning coffee date, and ruining a week's worth of office organization, your day had not improved. Your murky brain had managed to sort the piles of sheet music into the correct songs, but it had taken every drop of your energy. In an effort to perk up before your hours of meetings, you'd thrown back a few more cups of coarse break room coffee—which tasted disgustingly similar to pond water as the day progressed. Each forced swallow stung with the reminder that your forgetfulness had cost you a decent latte and a much needed outing with your boyfriend.

Even four cups of the bog water masquerading as your beloved caffeinated drink couldn't solve your boredom when the administration started rambling on about test scores and parent satisfaction. Graph after graph flashed before your eyes, blending into a drab collage hung on the walls of your brain. When you hadn't shown enough enthusiasm for the new district mandates surrounding attendance and compulsory study hall, your principal had chewed you out—scolding you for not being a team player, for putting your own interests ahead of the success of your students. It took every ounce of resolve you could muster not to burst into tears right there at the conference table.

Finally, they'd dismissed you and you'd gathered your things to leave—only to be caught in a downpour on your walk to Matt's. Though your things were protected by the thick fabric of your messenger bag, you hadn't brought any form of poncho or jacket, so you were utterly soaked when you reached his building.

The fates were clearly determined to drag you down. And, given the exhaustion seeping out of your every pore and the harrowing tightness in your abdomen, you were ready to submit to their malevolent will. You wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate for a week. If nothing would go right, what was the point of squandering your energy day in and day out to achieve mediocrity?

Bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down your cheeks, you stumbled across the landing to Matt's door—sticking your spare key into the lock and wiggling it. The damn thing didn't budge.

”C'mon!“ You muttered, fresh tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you jiggled the key furiously. ”Open you stupid—“ As you pushed at the small piece of brass with your fingers, it slipped from your grip, your hand smacking against the door frame with the residual energy.

A sob escaped you, your frustration boiling over when your psyche was presented with another obstacle. Yanking the key out and dropping it to the floor, you slid down, back against the cool wood, your sopping jeans squelching as they hit the floor. With a heaving breath, you brought your shaking hands up to your face, trying to soothe your frazzled heart before deciding your next move.

Inhale for 7. Out for 11. Just like you told your kids when they got jittery on the night of a big performance. It wouldn't fix your mood, but it could help you get a grip.

Staring down at the offending hunk of metal on the carpet, your brain flickered with realization. It wasn't the right key. Your own apartment key and Matt's were the same color because you'd made copies together, but the bows were shaped differently. The key to your apartment had a rounded head, while the spare to Matt's had a pointed one. He'd suggested the difference in design to help him keep the two separate.

Heat creeping up your neck, you shoved the damn thing back in your pocket, pulling out your lanyard and singling out the correct key in the line up. 

Your legs shook tremendously as you clambered to your feet, barely functioning enough to keep you upright as you hauled yourself into Matt's apartment. With every step into the loft, your soggy flats squished with your weight, surely leaving a trail of sweat and rainwater behind you. Dropping your bag against the wall where it wouldn’t be a tripping-hazard for your boyfriend, you scrubbed at your clammy cheeks with a fist, padding into the bedroom.

It was quiet, beyond the sliding door. The brick walls and insulation muffling the New York ambiance into a gentle hum, barely noticeable over the buzz of the central AC. A soft, manufactured breeze whirled around you, raising the hair along your limbs. Your damp clothes did nothing to protect you from the temperature change, the frigid air sliding right through them, latching on to the thin layer of moisture against your skin.

With numb fingers, you fumbled for the buttons on the back of your top, ripping off your drenched blouse and replacing it with one of Matt's warm hoodies. As soon as you had shoved your arms into the garment, your discomfort began to fade away. It smelled distinctly of Matt, rather than the stale stench of wet cotton you'd been carrying around. Unzipping your pants, you stripped out of those as well, replacing your underwear with a pair of clean boxers. Mental breakdown stalled for now, you lifted the comforter strewn across the familiar mattress and sunk into the silk sheets with a fatigued exhale.

You were out like a light.

Matt’s lips quirked up at the sound of rustling sheets, his fingers still tapping away on his laptop. Momentarily pausing, he tuned in to your vitals, listening carefully as you roused. Your heart rate picked up, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving you as you wriggled about in his bed.

With a pitiful groan, you untangled yourself from a cocoon of his sheets, ambling out of his bedroom on heavy feet. He was pretty sure you thought you were alone–the tiny gasp as you opened his bedroom door confirming his suspicions.

“Matty?” Your lilted voice was dipped in precarious optimism. Baring your teeth with the tiniest smile, you readily accepted his lifted arm as an invitation to snuggle in beside him on the couch. Setting his laptop and headphones aside, Matt engulfed you with his arms, grinning into your hair as you went limp against his chest with a pleased hum.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?” You pouted at his teasing comment, grumbling against his chest. He chuckled, cradling the back of your head so he could plant a kiss on your crown. “I'm not judging you, pretty girl. I'm glad you got some rest. Seems like you had a bad day.”

“How did you know?” You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as Matt adjusted until you lay steadily across his lap.

“You missed breakfast and you hate the school's coffee, your clothes in my hamper are drenched, and I ran into Mrs. Gomez who warned me of an amateur burglar outside my apartment earlier.” There was a soft slap of skin against skin as you dropped your head into your hands with a moan.

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to relive that particular detail.”

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have stopped by the office. No need to commit a petty crime to get my undivided attention.”

“Ma-att” You groaned, jabbing him weakly in the stomach with a knuckle.

“I mean, I'm sure Foggy would agree to take your case, but seriously it would save a lot of paper if you–” He broke off into a genuine laugh when you shoved off the couch, pouting profusely he was sure. Chasing after you with ease, he caught you by an elbow, angling you back towards him so he could gently kiss your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. But the image of you trying to break in was too adorable to let slide.”

“That's mean, Matt. Kicking your girlfriend when she's down. Bullying.” You glowered, your arms loosening from their tight cross over your chest as he peppered your head with soft kisses.

“Mmm you're right,” Matt murmured, lips brushing over the bridge of your nose. “I'm sorry to bring it up. Do I need to worry about any broken locks or windows?”

He could practically hear your exaggerated eye roll. “I didn't break anything. I have a key.”  You grumbled, not seeing the humor in the experience.

“What happened, angel? Did you leave it at work?” His question was genuine, but his teasing smirk seemed to push you over the edge.

Tears pooled in your eyes as your chin dropped to your chest with embarrassment. “It just took me a few tries to open the door. I did manage to remember the one thing I needed to get into your apartment.”

You didn't mean for the comment to sound so snarky, but you weren't really in the mood to be picked on. Matt's banter usually cheered you up, enticing you into joking right back with him. Today, though? The idea that Matt expected you to have forgotten another important thing was far too realistic to be humorous.

“Hey,” Matt tutted sympathetically, his amused grin morphing into a slight frown while his brow furrowed with concern. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not being oblivious on purpose, Matt. I don't know why I'm like this right now.” You sniffled, hastily wiping away the tracks of moisture forming on your cheeks.

“I know, sweets. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun.” Swaying you from side to side as if he was comforting a fussy infant, Matt stroked your scalp as he shushed you. It would've been easy to see the change in his behavior as offensive, but Matt's small repetitive movements and hushed tone were comforting, so you leaned into what he provided.

“I'm tired, Matt. I'm so tired and I'm trying so hard to remember everything but I..I can't.” Lips quivering, you squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of tears pooled in them.

“I know, love. I know you're trying.” Matt assured you, scooping you into his arms and settling back on the couch. “It's just been a bad week. It'll get better.”

“What if it doesn't? What if this is how I am now?” You worried aloud, the hormones clouding your brain triggering a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Then we'll deal with it.” Matt shrugged, speaking as if this was the only possible outcome.

“I love you.” You whispered, nudging your nose into the hinge of Matt's jaw. His throat rumbled under your cheek as he echoed your declaration.

“I love you too, angel. Always.”

“Even when I'm scatterbrained and overly emotional?” You asked timidly, your own discomfort with your unusual period symptoms skewing your expectations.

“Without a doubt, my love.” Matt craned his head to kiss your hairline, frowning as you shuddered into the touch. ”Still tired?“

You nodded against him with a frustrated sigh. “I don't know why, I feel like all I've done this week is sleep.”

“You had a tough day, sweetheart. That would wear me out too.” Matt reasoned, tugging a knit throw off the back of his couch and tucking it around you securely.

“But I want to spend time with you,” You groused, the edges of your words muzzy as sleep tugged at your consciousness.

“There’s plenty of time for us to spend together, ok? Just rest. I’ll wake you when food gets here.” 

“You ordered food?”

“I did,” Matt murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten today, so I ordered Thai and pizza. Whatever we don’t eat tonight, you can take for lunch tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Matty.” You whispered gratefully.

“Anytime, sweet girl. I love you.” Repositioning so you were sprawled against his chest, the two of you fully horizontal, Matt rubbed circles into your upper back, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[quibbs126]

So I’ve been making this

So basically last night, I was listening to some music, specifically Not Gonna Die by Skillet, more specifically a version on YouTube with the intro (because I’m not the biggest fan of Good to be Alive where the intro actually is). Anyways, when it’s night, my imagination tends to be more active and I tend to have more energy. While listening to the song, I eventually got this mental image in my mind of this scene with Dark Choco, and the more it crystallized the more I wanted to draw it. I was going to go to sleep and maybe do it in the morning, but I realized that I probably would forget the vibe and not have as much energy, so instead I decided to power through and draw the idea

It was a bit difficult since I had limited references for the pose I wanted, and I suppose I can admit the sword looks a bit off anatomically, but it looks good enough I think, and lets me keep the eyes revealed

I did eventually have to stop drawing, because my iPad had been worked all the way down to 4% (and it was at 30% when I started, the poor thing), not to mention it was around 11:30 already which is pretty late for me, and my earbuds had been running nonstop for over 2 hours (yes I was listening to the same song, it’s how I keep the vibe). I was at least able to get the pose, base colors and lineart done, and I’m still pretty proud of where I left things last night

Today was mostly just doing the background and lighting, which admittedly I may have fumbled. I’m not very good at backgrounds and I didn’t know how to draw lightning. I tried my best, but honestly I don’t think I got the image in my head. Didn’t help that my brain was playing the wrong Skillet song this morning

Oh yeah and by the way, the background is supposed to be from this. That’s what I used as reference

The lightning both feels like too much and too little. Like, it’s crowding the picture, and I can’t have more because it’d be way too crowded with it, but also at the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough, like there isn’t as much power as I wanted

Actually wait, maybe I can add some small particle effects to like, enhance the lightning feel. That was in the original sketch but I omitted it in the final. If you see one with that, you know I did that

Edit: I did indeed do that

To be fair though, I don’t think I have the art skill to properly convey the image in my head. Basically the scene is that Dark Choco is using absolutely every amount of his power for this final swing down, so much that it’s too powerful and the Strawberry Jam Sword completely shatters. But also it’s too powerful that Dark Choco’s body simply can’t handle it, and he basically ends up exploding. The scene depicted would be the wind up to that final swing that destroys the both of them

This isn’t necessarily the first time I’ve come up with this scenario, and the setup would basically be that he turned on the Cookies of Darkness slightly earlier, because he didn’t want to destroy his homeland again, and he tried to get rid of them while in the kingdom but not yet at the Citadel, but he ended up failing, so with nothing to lose, he chases after them and decides to put everything into destroying them, even if it likely ends in his death. After this he probably killed Pomegranate and crippled Licorice in some way (I don’t think he’d attack Poison Mushroom), so his final act did have some effect, but he’s still dead by the end of it. And he and his father never got the chance to properly reconcile because Dark Choco thought that could never be a possibility anymore and he had resigned himself to his fate

But yeah, I just don’t know how to convey that sheer overwhelming power and emotion that this scenario suggests. I tried my best though

I also want to submit this to the Dark Cacao Forever contest, but I’m not sure if it’s good enough for it. What do you think?

[bbytamaki]

RIDE MY FACE, I DON’T WANT NOTHING IN RETURN

content: aot’s top 5 biggest munches, modern au, bed humping, spit in mouth, nsfw link in eren’s, face sitting, squirting, toys (vibrator), creampies, cum eating, consensual photography

genre: nsfw (MDNI)

note: self indulgent oops (〃ω〃)

1. hange

hange gets off on giving you head and there’s no doubt about it. after a long and tiring day they still don’t want you to lift a finger. just give them one taste and that’s all they need to relax (but they’ll definitely ask for more).

hange has your ankles pushed up by your ears and they’re steadying you by holding their hands just below your knees. they’re the type to grind on the bed uncontrollably while eating you out, and they tend to lose control of how tight they’re gripping your thighs. what can we say, hange just doesn’t know their own strength?

2. eren

dirty, disgusting, filthy. spits on it, eats it like a man starved, then comes back up to spit it back in your mouth and give you the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever had. he has absolutely no shame. even when you whine into the pillow that this position is embarrassing, it’s not stopping him from bending you to your limits.

if you’ve ever seen that one twt video of a couple 69ing and the guy is gripping and spreading her ass while he’s absolutely going to town, you’re looking at eren. sometimes he can be polite though. his favorite way is to wake you up with “good morning” clit kisses and take you out to breakfast <3

3. connie

he’s never been above begging. like actually on his knees groveling. but once he’s in there, he’s in there and he’s not coming up for air at all. he doesn’t care about size, if he tells you to take a seat you better sit all the way down.

if he thinks eating you out in the back of his expensive car is a good enough apology he is absolutely correct. complete with kisses all the way from the ankle to right above where you really need him. he’s desperate but he can be mean like that.

4. mikasa

“squirting contest!! let’s see who can squirt the farthest >:)” it’ll always be you. no question. she’s not satisfied until you’re tapping the bedframe twice to let her know you can’t take anymore. that “can’t do it mika” is music to her ears.

she uses every available resource at every opportunity. she’s switching between her tongue and your favorite vibe every couple seconds and evil laughing when she watches your body jolt when you make a mess on her whole upper body.

5. reiner

i had to decide who was taking the last spot and reiner’s here for good reason. as soon as he gets done stuffing you like a fucking twinkie he’s on his knees cleaning up your mess. he loves how you can just barely take all of his cum at once, and he loves tasting you and him together.

he’s bending you over the kitchen counter and holding you back against his chest when he starts slowing down to make a mess all in your insides before he lets you rest a little bit. of course he has to take a picture for your private collection before you’re on all fours on the counter, cumming over and over until he’s tired <3

[seospicybin]

THAT SONG.

PART I

Han x reader. (s,f,a)

A chapter of On Tour.

Synopsis: Han forms a rock band with a help from you, his muse who is so cynical of love. (17,4k words)

Author's note: This is for my On Tour enthusiasts. Hope you like it x

Click here for That Song playlist.

It starts to annoy him how the vocalist keep messing up the chords. Instead of focus on playing his guitar and sing the lyrics right, he's busy making eyes with the girls standing in the front.

Han recognized one of them is you, he knows you because he shares a class with you and your writing recently won the university literary contest. But why would a beautiful and smart girl like you making the eyes with such a lousy, ego bigger than his actual skill guy?

Sure, the vocalist has the looks but he wouldn't look that good if he's playing the music himself. He missed the chords and been singing off key on the last two songs, no one noticed but Han.

Han doesn't even know why he agreed to help to fill the bass tonight but at least he'll get free beers tonight as an exchange. He's ordering his second bottle even though his first one is halfway finished. He turns to the side and finds you making your way toward him.

Han knows that it's good to be true if you're coming for him but he turns to the other side finding the incompetent vocalist gesturing you to come up to him. It's so rare for him to intervene with someone's business but Han really needs to stop you from making the wrong choices.

Next thing he knows, he outstretched his hand to stop you from going to the lousy guy, "Wait a minute!"

Your forehead wrinkles in confusion and he completely understands why.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says with a thin smile and quick comes up with an explanation, "it's obvious that he likes to sleep with a lot of girls and you're probably going to wake up with a terrible rash."

You tilt your head and thinly smile at him, "Thanks for the tip."

Han quietly let out a breath of relief, "well, you're a nice girl. You don't want to be with that kind of guy."

You purse your lips then takes a sip, "that's where you're wrong. I'm not a nice girl."

You take a another sip of beer before talking again, "and you're cockblocking your friend right now," you tell him, pointing to the talentless vocalist at the end of the bar counter.

"Friend?" Han asks, offended that you think he's friends with that rockstar wannabe.

"He's not my friend. He's a dick actually and I'm just filling for my friend," he shortly explains and now that he gets rid of Bon Jovi look alike, he can smile again.

You snicker and put your bottled beer down, "You're cute," you tell him.

That gets him flustered, no girl ever told him cute before.

"But you reek of romance and good intentions," you continue.

That gets him baffled because isn't that what girls are looking for?

"As opposed to what..." he leers over to the lousy vocalist.

"He's handsome and emotionally unavailable," you fill his blanks and start walking away from him.

Han can't believe he's lost to the lousy vocalist. As his final effort, he grabs you by your elbow to stop you from going.

"Look, I'm not looking for a nice guy. I don't do boyfriends, I don't date," you bluntly tell him.

"All I hear is don't, don't and... don't," he says in a baffling tone.

"Don't waste my time," you sharply add.

Han is aware that he's overstepping and slowly lets go of you, you're an adult anyway, you can do whatever you want and that includes doing things he doesn't want you to do.

"See you in class then," he says as he returns to his beer.

You turn around on your feet, "we share a class?"

"Creative writing," he replies without looking at you.

"What's your name again?" You ask, even though you haven't asked before.

He looks at you and answers, "Han."

You take that information with a nod then clink your bottle with him, "see you in class, Han!"

Then off you go, doing the things he doesn't want you to do and making it clear to him that a guy like him doesn't stand a chance with a girl like you. - It's inevitable seeing you in campus, especially in the class you share together.

Since you knew his name, you'd wave your hand at the sight of him but it's probably some sort of joke to you to remind him how he flirted with you that night and you rejected him right away.

Han is relentless to change your mind because it annoys him so much that you would rather flirt with someone who doesn't even have an ounce of your worth.

A few weeks later at the same bar, he approaches you after he sees you send a guy away from disagreeing with you on an argument.

"Guess you scare him off," he comments as he takes the seat of the expelled guy.

You scoff in disbelief at him then sips your beer.

"Do you want to get out of here?" He offers, shamelessly taking another shot with you.

You laugh and wipe your upper lip with your thumb, "Didn't I made it pretty clear that I have no interests on going out with you?"

Han calmly looks at you and smiles, "you and I are going to be friends," he casually remarks.

"But I don't want to be friends with you," you shortly reply, not hesitating to reject him again.

Well, Han can only take two rejection in a span of two months, he'll try again a few weeks... or maybe this is a sign for him to give up and raise the white flag. He brings his beer with him and finds somewhere else where he can quietly drinks his beer. He stops caring about your presence the more intoxicated he gets.

To his short luck, Han gets lightheaded and since he's coming to the bar alone with no friend who can assist him home, he stops drinking. He exits the bar and realizes how late it is from how crowded that he has to go through sea of people to find the door.

To sober up a little, he stands outside with the brick wall supporting him, his head is clouded with smoke coming from a group of people smoking next to him. He pulls out his phone to order a taxi when he hears your voice. His head snaps to the door of bar and sees you drunkenly walking to the side of the road, hailing your hand for a taxi.

He's about to help you getting one when a man gets to you first, holding you from behind and opens the taxi door for you.

"I want to go home," you slur your words at him.

He forces you to get inside the taxi, "we're going home, baby."

You refuse to get in and jump out of the taxi, "not with you," you tell him.

"My apartment is close so you're coming with me," he insists, pushing you back into the backseat of the taxi.

You push him away when he's about to get in after you, "No, I don't want to go home with you!"

It starts to cause a scene outside the bar and it doesn't take a genius to know that this guy is going to take advantage of you.

Han shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and comes to take you away from him.

"She said she doesn't want to go with you," Han tells him right at his face, holding you steady with his hands on your shoulders.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man curses at him.

"I'm her friend!" He shortly replies despite he knows he got rejected to be your friend a few hours ago.

The man grabs you back from him and forces you to enter the taxi, "stay the fuck out of my business!"

Han shoves him back and he pulls you along with him as he's staggering to the back, sending you stumbling down the pavement.

"Ouch!" You wince in pain.

Han hurriedly helps you getting up and helps you get into the taxi.

"Stay away from you, you fucking prick!" Han warns him before getting into the taxi.

You whine in pain next to him, holding your scraped knee with your hand and lolling your head to the side, eventually resting your head on his shoulder.

"Where do you live?" Han asks, feeling bad if he has to grope you around to find for your ID or phone.

"I don't want to go home," you mumble to him.

You nuzzle your head into his neck and mumble again, "let come home with you."

Han has no other option but to take you to his messy apartment. Thankfully, you're too intoxicated to notice the piling dirty laundry or the pizza box he hasn't thrown out since last night. You run to the bathroom the second he unlocked the door and he uses the opportunity to tidy up his place, or more like, hiding the mess out of the plain sight.

He quickly grabs a clean towel from the dryer then knock on the bathroom door to give it to you. He hears the flushing sound then you open the door not long after.

"A clean towel," he offers.

You take it from him through the crack of the door and follow him outside.

"Can I borrow your clothes?" You suddenly ask.

It's like you speak a different language that he takes a moment for him to process such simple words, "my clothes?"

You meekly show him your clothes damp with drops of water, "I can't sleep in this."

"Clothes," he says with a blank expression and it takes him another moment to finally get to his closet, finding any proper clothes for you to wear.

He picks the most decent piece of clothing he has and he remembers his parents gifted him a pajama set, it's the perfect time to put it to use.

"Here," he accidentally startles you as you scan his records collection.

You take the folded clothes from him and not hesitate to take your clothes off on the spot. Han immediately turns his back at you to give you privacy even though he can clearly see you changing clothes from the reflection of the TV screen.

"Can I have a glass of water?" You ask.

"Sure," he dashes to the kitchenette and pours a glass of water which reminds him to grab the first-aid kit from the drawer.

"Thank you," you mutter as you take the glass of water from him.

"Can you please sit down?" He kindly asks.

The options are the bed or the worn-out couch filled with his books. You walk over to the bed and sits at the end of it. He squats down on the floor and looks up at you, "Do you mind if I take a look at your knee?"

You shake your head while holding the glass of water with both hands on your lap. He rolls up the obviously a size too big pajama pants and takes a closer look at your scraped knee. It doesn't look bad once he cleaned.

It's probably the alcohol that hasn't fully left your systems yet that makes you numb to the stings of alcohol pads make contact with your wounded knee. Next, Han dabs antibiotic ointment on the wound with a cotton bud and apply a bandage to finish.

"Thank you," you mutter again.

Wow! It's the first time he heard so many thank you in one night and it's coming from the person he didn't expect to hear it from.

"You can rest now," he says, gesturing you to sleep on the bed.

"And where are you going to sleep?" You ask.

"I can sleep..." his eyes drift to the messy couch and silently sigh, "I can sleep anywhere."

"Please, share the bed with me," you plead with eyes that shine for him as he stands towering you.

"Okay," he agrees but he promised himself to leave the bed once you're asleep.

The night is getting late and he can't lie that he needs to lie down after an eventful night. He is late to claim his side of the bed as you already lie there, getting yourself under the cover.

"What are you listening to?" You ask, looking at the record player on the bedside table.

Han puts it there because he likes to lay on the bed and stares at the ceiling while listening to music. Unfortunately, he happens to forget what record he was playing the last time. He peers over to your side of the bed, one glance at the record and he knows what it is.

"Uhm... Sonic Youth," he answers.

You turn the record player on and slowly put the needle on it, music starts to fill the space with riffs of one of his favorite songs.

"Spinning dreams with angel wings. Torn blue jeans and a foolish grin," Kim Gordon opens the song with her sleepy, crooning voice.

You get comfortable on the bed and turn to the side, seeing him still standing at the side of the bed.

"Come, lay down with me," you say, patting the space next to you.

It's so stupid of him that he forgot to take off his jacket, he gets ride of it before climbing onto the bed and awkwardly slouches down the bed.

He knows you're looking at him as Kim Gordon repeatedly singing, "Star power, star power, star power..."

You take a deep breathe and put a hand under your head, "Maybe I really should stop dating handsome, emotionally unavailable men," you draw conclusions out of nowhere.

Han only nods in agreement even though he can't focus knowing that he's under the same cover with you.

"Maybe we should go on a date," you come with another shocking statement.

This time, he doesn't nod even though he wanted to.

You softly sigh again and gets up from the bed to lean close to his side, "I think you'll be good to me."

He dares himself to look at you and catches you softly smiling at him. Your eyes locked in a gaze that feels more intimate than a kiss.

You slightly tilt your head to the side then press a gentle kiss on his cheek, "Goodnight!"

You settle back on the bed and close your eyes with a smile that slowly fades from your face as you slowly drift to sleep.

Han reaches for his heating cheek and touches the searing kiss you left on it, foolishly holding the back of his hand to it like it would help him reeling from the kiss. However, he can replay the moment in his head and close his eyes to make it vivid.

The song that is still playing becomes distant but he can faintly hears Kim Gordon softly sings, "Close my eyes and think of you. Everything turns black to blue." - It's like someone has just pulled him out of the water, Han wakes up from his sleep gasping for air. He expects to see it's still night and you're still on the bed sleeping next to him. Panic, he gets up at once and looks around his studio apartment with sunlight filling and brightens the place.

"Morning," you greet from the couch with a bowl on one hand.

The mess of your hair looking like a halo on the top of your head and you warmly smile as your eyes locked in a gaze with him, emitting the same warmth of the morning sun at him.

"I hope you don't mind I'm eating your cereal," you say.

Disoriented, he scratches the back of his head and unsure what to do first because he's usually will fall back to sleep, especially when he has no morning class like today.

"I–I'll just..." he barely finishes his sentence and breaks into a run to the bathroom.

Last night, he made a plan to impress you. He planned on getting up early so he can buy some nice breakfast to eat together with you. He plans on having some fresh baked goods and hot coffee with you, not his cereal and milk from his empty fridge.

"Oh, why did I fall asleep?" He asks himself and reaches for his toothbrush to, at least, make himself look presentable in front of you.

He changes into a clean t-shirt he picked up from the washing machine and walks to the kitchenette, "Coffee?" He feels stupid for asking when he can clearly you have put the coffee pot on.

"Yes, please?" You sweetly answer to him.

He fills two mugs with steaming hot coffee and brings them to the couch, he wince seeing the cluttering mess on his table that he has to put some stuff to the side to make room for the mugs of coffee.

You're busy chewing on your cereal to notice it and he peers over to see you're reading his notebook.

"Oh—" he stops himself from snatching it away from you.

You notice that he's looking at it and quickly flip shut, then put it one the top of stack, "I'm sorry but it's laying around on the table so... I didn't mean to read your journal," you apologize.

He bites his lower lip, not expecting you to read his journal filled with his writings in there. It's worse than letting you walk around his messy apartment but he can't blame you when he should have kept it somewhere safe.

"I'm sorry," you apologize again.

"It's okay," he says with a smile to convince you that it's okay for you to read the song lyrics he wrote about personal things.

"How come you never submitted your works for the literary contest?"

Han lifts his mug and watches the curls of steam from his coffee, "I don't I can compete with you."

You put your legs up and hug them in front of you, "but your writing is beautiful."

"They're not... they're lyrics," he says.

"Oh?" You lowly gasp, "so you write songs?"

"Kind of," he answers and carefully sips his coffee.

"Have you performed any of these songs?"

Han shakes his head to strongly deny, "I like writing them but not performing them."

"Why not?"

"Because I..." his word trails off once he realizes that you're getting too personal with him but it's too late to stop now.

"I don't think they're good," he concludes.

You take your mug of coffee and hold it with both hands, "Well, I never thought any of my writings are good," you share.

"But they are good," Han points out the obvious since your writings always won the literary contest for two years in a row.

"So you read them," you say with a satisfied smile.

Again, he's too late to back out now, "who doesn't?"

You take a small sip of your coffee then ask, "What do you think?"

His mug stops midair as he's about to sip his coffee, "they're good, great..."

The sound of the phone ringing from somewhere across the room interrupts the talk, after a few seconds you recognize that it's yours and it's ringing inside your purse.

"I'm sorry," you excuse yourself to get it.

Han silently drinks his coffee and catches glimpes of your conversation on the phone, it's safe to say that you need to go after hanging up the call.

"Sorry, but I have to go," you say just as he expected.

Han tidies up the place as much as he can while you're changing your clothes in the bathroom, your phone rings again as he puts records piling on his bedside table back to the shelf. He didn't mean to look but your phone is right there, lying on the bed and he can see the caller.

Alex, it's a very masculine sounded name. He doesn't want to assume anything and stops thinking about it as he hears the bathroom door swings open.

"Thank you for letting me crashing in your place," you return the clothes your borrowed from him.

"No problem at all," he sheepishly says.

You check your phone and shove it inside your purse after, "Thank you for this as well," you show him your bandaged knee at him.

"It's nothing really," he says.

It's been a long time that Han has someone over his place, especially of the opposite sex. He's been out of the dating pool for much longer than that, he doesn't know the code anymore, what he should do next?

He decides to keep himself busy as you collect your things from around the room. Han is putting the dirty dishes on the sink when you speak to him from the foyer.

"I'm free this Friday."

He turns around to see you standing with one hand against the wall and the other is strapping your shoes in place, "huh?"

"I'm free this Friday," you repeated.

He's not deaf but what he doesn't get is the meaning of those words. Does it mean you want him to take you on a date? Or you set the date for both of you? Or you want to casually hang out with him? Or you need his help again at the bar?

In other words, he's stupid when it comes to social cues.

"You want me to... uh—"

"Friday at eight?" You say.

Oh, okay, that means you want to go on a date. He stifles a nod, "sure, yeah."

"Okay," you smile seeing him being awkward.

Han may have wanted to take you on a date but you're so smart, so composed, so confident, you're everything he's not and it's impossible for him not to feel the slightest bit intimidated. He doesn't know how to impress you, he only has himself and it's not enough.

"Can you stay sober until then?" He blurts out.

You crack a crisp laugh that echoes in his studio apartment, "I'll try," you vaguely answer.

The initial thought is he wants you to stay away from drinking except when he's there with you but you took it that he was being playful with you. Well, either way, he's glad that he can make you laugh.

"I'll see you again," you say with a bright smile.

"See you again," He says back.

And Han hangs on to those words, to the promise that he can see your smile again.

-

It's eight minutes past 8 pm on Friday night.

It's past the appointed time for the date but there no sight of you yet. A few minutes shouldn't be considered late, you must be on the way here and things happen, you may forget something after getting out of the door or traffic or... there's just so many reasons why you—

Han feels a tap on his shoulder which makes him turns on his feet.

"Hey, have you been waiting long?"

He is not ready to see you, not when he's almost think that you'll ditch both him and the date. But here you are, looking at him with a smile that gradually fades into a confused one.

"Are you okay?"

He snaps himself out of it and clears his throat, "No, I'm just—" he forgot the question you asked him and try again, "I mean I'm okay."

You look up at the sign of the place he takes you for the date, "I've never been here," you comment.

Doesn't know what to do with his hands, he shoves them into the pockets of his jacket.

"Me too," he casually says.

"Huh?" You blink your eyes at him, confounded.

-

Consider both of you lucky that there's still one more table available, it's Friday night so it's no surprise that it's crowded with people. Upbeat music is playing in the big hall filled with rows of ping-pong tables mixed with the sounds of the ping-pong balls hits either the players' paddle or the tables.

You shake the jacket off your shoulder once you get to the assigned table, "I don't know how to play table tennis," you admit right away to prepare him that an accident or two is imminent.

"Me too," he innocently answers from the end of the table as he takes a paddle.

That explains why he never been here but still, why would he takes you here if he can't play?

"You're not serious, right?" You place your jacket on the empty bench on the side of the table.

"I'm serious," he says as he takes his jacket off.

You burst into laughter but he's just so clueless on why you're laughing.

"Most men would use this chance to show off that they're good at something but you..." you shrug and choose a paddle to use.

Han takes a ball from a box and bounces it on the table, "Well... I am not most men," he coyly says.

Not going to lie, that's so attractive of him, especially with strands of his curly hair falling over his face.

"Okay," you nod in acknowledgment.

You take your position on your side of the table, warming up your hands by opening and closing your hands before wrapping your hand around the handle of the paddle.

"Your serve," you give him the permission to start the game.

Han also takes his stance and throws the ball straight upward, he supposedly hits the ball when it's still hung in the air with the paddle but instead of that, his paddle flung across the table and caught by the net.

There's a dead air hanging between you and him as you both stare at his paddle stranded in the middle of the table. You look away to not embarrassed him more and see everyone is having a bottle of beer on their table.

You turn to look at him and ask, "beer?"

"Yep!" He shortly replies.

After two bottles of beers drained and a lot more failed attempts at serving the balls, you get the hang of it even though it's not to the level of what a proper ping-pong should be played.

"Another round?" You ask.

He doesn't wait but calls to order more drinks, "More beers, please!"

At the second round, your neck is moist with sweat and you can feel beads of sweat forming on your back, you plop down on the bench in exhaustion. Han gulps his bottle of water next to you, "another round?"

"I'm on a roll, sure!" You eagerly accept the offer.

"Loser have to pay for dinner?" He dares you with a lopsided grin.

It's a fair game since you're both terrible at it, you have nothing to lose except for your self-esteem. You offer your hand for a handshake at him, "deal!'

He takes your hand and firmly shakes it, "deal!"

The game is getting intense, you have your hair tied in a messy ponytail while Han has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow. Under the fluorescent lights you can see the evident veins coiling his arms, got you distracted more than once.

It's a tie, there's only one point needed to determine the winner. It's his serve so you prepare yourself to receive it even though your hand starts shaking.

"Don't go crying when you're lost," he teases you, bouncing the ball against the table with his hand.

"No problem. I look prettier when I cry," you shot back at him with a nonchalant shrug and a smile.

Han catches you off guard and shot a topspin serve. Fortunately, you reflex is still good despite your body is close to giving up, you shoot the ball back to him as hard as you can. He's heading to the right side to get it but too late to catch the ball right on time, it goes past him, bouncing to the wall on the back.

"Yes!" You jump on your feet to celebrate.

While Han just stands there and gives you an applause with a defeated look on his face.

"I WANT BURGERS!" You enthusiastically shout at him loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Okay, okay," he quickly responds and gestures you to calm down.

Since he's the one paying for dinner, you feel bad to order a lot of food so you take him for coffee and dessert after as a way to pay back for dinner, also because you're still hungry.

He lifts his cup of iced americano to make a toast, "To celebrate that we're no longer beginners on table tennis!"

Your hands are shaking when you lift your cup of cappuccino and he notices too, sending you both into laughters. You use both hands to lift it and carefully clink your drinks together to not slosh the content, "that was a good game," you comment.

"It was!" He agrees and drinks his coffee with a straw.

You share two slices of cakes together, he chose a cheesecake while yours is tiramisu, digging at it with forks and eating it between talks.

"Are you working on a writing at the moment?" He asks.

You wash down the spoonful of cake with coffee before answering,

"Kind of..." you vaguely answer.

"Is it for the upcoming literary contest?" He asks.

"I'm working on a lot of things at once," you share with a dry laugh.

Han nods and shoves a piece of cake into his small mouth. His cheeks are round and full when he's eating, you find them really adorable.

He catches you watching him eat and you hurriedly look away, "so..."

You remember the unanswered question on the last conversation you had with him at his place, you've been wondering what his true answer is.

"What do you think of my writings?"

"They're great. I like your choice of metaphors and yeah, they're great," he answers with mouth stuffed with food.

You sense that there's more than just great. You slightly tilt your head to the side and look at him, "But...?"

He stops chewing as you ask him that like he got caught lying. Maybe he is lying but with a good intention.

"You can be honest with me," you assure him while cutting a small piece of the cheesecake.

He sips his coffee to empty his mouth from food and properly answers to you, "There's nothing wrong with your writings," he begins.

He sits up straighter and looks at you, "it's just that... I get this impression that you're a bit... cynical?"

You lowly laugh and say, "wrong!"

You chew on the cake and stack your hands together on the table, "Not a little. I am cynical," you correct him.

Han licks his lips and presses them together into a thin line, perhaps feeling bad for analyzing your personality through your writings.

That only proves that he's not only reading for the sake of entertainment but he truly reads things between the lines. In that moment, you feel so bare and vulnerable in front of him.

"I witnessed two people falling out of love, breaking and tear each other apart until there's nothing left of them," you candidly share and put your hand around the coffee cup to absorb the warmth.

"Why would I want the same? I've seen enough for like... the last fifteen years of my existence so no, thank you, not interested," You conclude with a sad smile.

Han meekly nods as he sips the last of his coffee in silence. It's unclear why you decide to share personal things with him but deep down you know it's because he's not going to laugh at your pain.

-

With no sight of stars and the moon in the night sky, it only means that there are big dark clouds and it's going to rain soon. Han insists on walking you to your apartment even though he has to walk back to the bus stop to go home.

Notice that you're only a block away, you don't want this night to end with the tragic story you shared about your parent's divorce.

"I had a fun date," you comment.

Han smiles and he has the kind of smile that shines from the inside, there's nothing fake about it.

"It was a fun date," he says.

"I never had a date this nice before," you add to show him that you're not being phony.

"Me too," he responds.

He said those two words three times so far and you begin to wonder if you're actually suck at dates. You always skip this part and go straight to the sexual stuff, maybe that's why.

Once you both arrive at the entrance of your apartment building, you turn around and without thinking you ask, "Want to go upstairs?"

With another man, you wouldn't fuss much whether they want to come with you or not but with him, you have this force inside you to not screw this up. You look at him and can't tell if he's nervous, or surprised, or horrified. He's just standing with his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets even though the weather is pleasant.

"We don't have to do anything," you quickly mutter and immediately regret it because what if he wants to do something?

As always, honesty is the best policy. Well, that depends on how embarrassing the truth is. This one is still bearable, so you say, "I still want to talk to you."

The streetlight shines down on him, filling his brown eyes with dark glints and enthralling you to stare.

He nods and follows you inside. You feel awkward leading him to your floor, climbing the flight of stairs in silence but the echoes of your footsteps on the steps.

"Here I am," you stop in front of the door to your unit.

You rummage inside your purse for your key and push the door once you unlock it. The second you hear the song playing inside, you hurriedly close it again.

"What?" He asks you in a mix of panic and curiosity.

"Alex is listening to Sza," you answer.

"Alex?"

You forget that he doesn't know the context, you lock the door again and stand blocking him as if he would dare to barge inside.

"Alex is my roommate and she puts on Sza when she's having a guy over as some sort of code," you concisely explain.

"Ah..." he sighs in relief.

Is he relieved because he doesn't have to come inside or relieved because he doesn't want to talk to you? Is he— you never let your negative thoughts win so you find the alternative.

"How about your place?" You ask with a sly smile.

He considers it for a moment then says, "We should run then."

"Run? Why?"

"The last bus is in fifteen minutes," he simply answers.

"Oh?"

-

The two of you are drenched from running from the bus stop to his apartment in the rain, he lets you use the bathroom first to change while he prepares clothes you can borrow from him.

Han puts it on the end of the bed and you can comfortably change as he takes his turn to use the bathroom. You seem to have found comfort in his apartment which is a lot tidier after he realizes that someone could visit him uninvited.

Candidly speaking, the only person he thinks would come visit him is you.

You pull out a record from the shelf and put it on the record player, the music drowning out the sound of raindrops pattering against the window glass. As if it's your own bed, you sit with your back resting against the headboard, covering your legs with the duvet.

"Why are you standing there?" You ask him.

He towels dry his hair quickly before doing what you ordered him, sitting next to you on the bed.

"It's not like we haven't shared a bed before," you add and get comfortable by putting a pillow behind your back.

Whether it's the proximity or because he has run through the rain that makes him feel snug and warm all of a sudden, the raindrops pattering against the window supports this comforting atmosphere.

"How long have you been collecting?" You gesture to his shelf full of records.

It must be a headache to find a certain record because he doesn't organize them but you refrain from telling him.

"Some are my father's, I brought them with me when I moved out of the house and I started collecting two years ago," his fingers are playing with the lint on his sweatpants as he's speaking.

"You own some rare ones?" You ask in a curiosity.

"I have The Beatles White Album with printing number 0000523," he answers with a proud smile.

"Wow!" You exclaim in awe, you're familiar with the knowledge that the value of the album can go up significantly if it has a low printing number and he owns one.

"Just know that if I lost it, I'd know that you did it," he jokes.

"Dang! I was planning the whole robbery thing in my head," you joke back.

The rain has turned into drizzle and it gets quiet in the room, but the kind that makes him not feel pressured to fill it, a comfortable kind.

"What's your favorite song?" You ask out of the blue.

He hisses because it's like you're asking who is his favorite child. Not that he has any but he knows the dilemma.

"Don't think!" You tell him.

"Just one that pops on the top of your head," you offer an easy way to pick one.

There's this one song that automatically plays inside his head when he looks at you. It's one that he's unconsciously humming when he's in the shower, tying his shoes, or pouring himself a cup of coffee in the morning.

Not sure if you can catch the reference, he calmly answers, "Lovely Day by Bill Withers."

You nod in acknowledgment and smile, "That's a nice one!"

He turns to look at you, "and you?"

"Off You by The Breeders," you shortly reply as if you have waited a long time for this question.

Except that Han never heard of the song or the band. He feels bad for not knowing and you catch on it right away.

"You never heard of it?"

Han sheepishly shakes his head.

"You're lucky that I still have my Spotify premium," you playfully say and pick up your phone to play the song for him.

You set the volume to the highest setting then put your phone between you and him on the bed, listening to the intro of the song of low, minimal bass and guitar. The song somehow fits the moment, the singer sings like she's telling a story or a poem.

"I am the autumn in the scarlet. I am the make-up on your eyes."

That's such interesting lyrics and Han intently keeps listening to know why this is your favorite song. One thing he knows is this is one of the songs he can listen to while lying and staring at the ceiling.

"I've never seen a starlet or a riot or the violence of you."

He hears you sigh next to him and he looks to the side to see that you're crying, he knows it for sure as the tears on your cheeks reflect the lights at him. He leans and checks to see if you're okay, he puts your hair away and then tucks it behind your ear.

"Are you okay?"

You look at him with your eyes glassy and filled with sadness, "I don't want to get hurt," you croak

It must be scary for you to open up to someone when you've seen the worst thing love can do to a person. He understands the fear well because he has the same heart that lies and beats inside his chest.

It's vulnerable yeah but we are never fully broken to the point that we're irreparable.

However, Han doesn't intend to break it, he wants to embrace it, nurture it, and protect it with all of his might.

He cups your jaw with his thumb and gently wipes your wet cheek, "I'm not going to hurt you," he says with a soft smile.

More tears roll down your cheeks as you close your eyes, it's a heartbreaking sight to see.

To prove his words, he holds your face and leans in to kiss you, pouring all of his heart's content that strangely only expands in size the longer he kisses you.

Han lets go of the kiss yet holds a tender gaze with you, "I'm not going to hurt you," he reassures.

You hold the hand holding your face and softly smile at him, a smile that tells him that you've decided to trust his words.

For that, Han slowly sails into your heart and strands himself on the island inside your chest.

You rest your head on his shoulder as he puts his arm around your shoulder, welcoming you into his warm embrace. Both of you stay like that while listening to the rest of the song which encased you both in a bittersweet moment.

"I land to sail... Island sail. Yeah, we're movin'... Yeah, we're movin'..."

-

This is what he means when he says Lovely Day automatically plays in the back of his head when he looks at you.

Han has been watching you sleep for a few minutes now, leaning against the desk with arms crossed in his chest and he can vividly hear Bill Withers singing inside his head.

"Just one look at you and I know it's gonna be a lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day."

You're pretty when you cry but even prettier when you sleep with a hand under your head, so still and so quiet, looking like an angel lost in her dream.

"Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day," the song is playing in his head on a loop.

The sun is rising and he doesn't want you to wake up yet for he wants to stare at your face longer. The sight of the baked goods he bought from the bakery across the street is disagreeing with him, it was still hot when he bought it and it's more likely to get cold if you don't wake up soon.

Then again, how can he disrupt an angel who's peacefully sleeping and away from the harm of the world?

Well, the sound of your phone ringing can.

A crease forms between your eyebrows as you force yourself awake from slumber. The song playing in his head abruptly stops and it reminds him to stop watching you. Han gets away from the bed and pretends to be busy in the kitchenette. In his peripheral, he can see your hand groping around the bedside table for your phone and check it.

"Morning!" You sleepily greet from the bed.

He plays it cool and turns to see you, "Morning!" He says back.

"Coffee?" He asks with a clean mug in his hand.

"Yes, please?" You say with a delicate smile that soothes him like a morning dew.

"Can I stay on the bed?" You ask with a shy laugh.

"Yeah, sure," he replies, looking at you wrapped in a blanket.

Han brings your mug of coffee first and makes another trip to bring his and the bag of bakery on the other hand.

"What do we have?" You're eyeing the bag, not daring to look into it yourself.

"Breakfast," he casually says and opens it for you, the buttery smell of freshly baked goods wafting around the room.

You start with a sip of coffee then dig inside the paper bag to grab a piece, tearing at it and eating it piece by piece.

You get interrupted by your phone dings with a new message.

"Your roommate?" He wildly guesses.

"Yeah, she wants me to come home quick," you answer, "she needs the intervention."

"Huh?"

"That means she doesn't like the guy she's having over in our place and wants me to intervene, you know, an excuse to get him out of the house," you explain then lick the powdered sugar on your finger.

"I see," he says even though he wants you to stay a little longer.

Just like you heard his thought, you quickly add, "Not that I don't want to stay. She did it for me like two months ago so I kind of owe her one."

He sips his coffee and assures you, "It's alright."

You rummage inside the paper bag to get another piece and without looking at him, you ask, "I have something to ask you."

He suddenly turns rigid at the men of something to ask because it sounds intriguing, scary, and exciting at the same time.

"Yes," he grips the handle of the mug a little too hard.

You bite into the bread with a custard filling and gets on your upper lip. In reflex, he wipes it for you with his thumb and you giggle once you notice the mess around your mouth.

"And the question?" He asks, genuinely curious about what you're about to ask him before the custard gets in the way.

"Oh, yeah, uhm..." you drink your coffee and hold it with both hands on your lap, "Is it too early if I ask you on a second date now?"

That, he didn't expect to hear at all but it makes him feel the same way, intrigued, scared, and excited, it's a mixed feelings.

"No," he honestly answers with a shy smile. He's never been with a girl who's this bold and so upfront like you, he likes it though, it makes things easier for him.

"How about tonight?" You ask with hopeful eyes and even a hopeful smile.

When you asked if it's too early he didn't know it would be this early, the earliest he could think of is next Friday.

"To–tonight?" He stammers.

You tilt your head to the side and hold your mug close to your lips, "No?"

"No," he responds without thinking.

He immediately realizes you might have thought he answered out of pressure, "I would love to!"

A smile rises on your face as you bite into your bread again, "okay," you say.

Han makes the bed and then gets himself another cup of coffee while you're changing in the bathroom. He's already planning on going back to sleep after you leave.

Your phone rings again at the same time you step out of the bathroom, "Alex! Oh, my God!" You groan and accept the call.

"I'm coming!" You briefly speak into the phone then hang up.

You shove your things into your purse and put on your jacket, looking at him to say, "I'll text you about the date."

He nods and puts his coffee mug down to send you off, watching as you bend down to put on your shoes with your hair falling around your face like a waterfall.

You gasp as you stand right in front of him, "See you later?"

"See you later," he repeated, his voice tinted with excitement and intrigue but not scared.

He should have known that you're subtly hinting at a kiss as you look at him with a sweet smile on your face. This is why learning social cues is important, he missed a lot of things because of—

The next thing he knows, your lips are on his lips and your hand is fisting the front of his t-shirt, clutching at it as you brush your soft lips over his. You taste as sweet, as smooth as the custard cream you were eating earlier, he just can't enough.

Bill Withers' voice starts to fill his head again as you pull away from the kiss with a smile on your parted mouth.

"Okay, then," you hurriedly let go of his t-shirt and shyly fix your hair, "bye!"

The song keeps playing even after you leave and close the door behind you, he can hear Bill Withers singing the part where he holds the note for 18 seconds, endlessly playing in the back of his mind.

"Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day...."

-

Han doesn't want to be late so he leaves early but when he gets to the appointed place that is a museum, he sees the sign that says closed. Is he late or come to the wrong place? He checks the text you sent him and he's right, it's the only museum with this name.

He starts pacing and thinking of calling you, that way you don't have to bother coming here.

"You're early!" You say as you come from the other direction.

"I was about to call you," he blurts out.

You sense the panic in his voice and ask, "Why? What's wrong?"

He shows you the closed sign hanging on the glass door of the museum entrance, "it's closed."

Instead of disappointed, you break a laugh and gently grab his elbow, "it's closed because of the event we're going to attend," you explain, then link your arm with his to walk towards the entrance.

Despite the closed sign, the entrance is not locked but security is stopping both of you at the end of the hallway. You pull something out of your purse and show it to them, tickets.

They let you both walk through the scanner and enter the main hall of the museum, they keep the lights low but he can see people gathering around the small stage that is set between two large marble statues with a big painting decorated on the wall on the back.

"What is this?" He asks in pure curiosity.

You take two cups of beer provided for guests and hand one to him, "It's an exclusive music session, only fifty people are invited to this," you keep your voice low to avoid the chat echoing in the vast hall.

"How did you get the tickets?" He asks along with a sip of his beer.

"From a friend of a friend," you vaguely answer.

That's enough details, he's sure that someone like you has contact here and there. He shouldn't be surprised, he sips his beer and takes a spot on the back row of people getting ready to watch with the intro starts playing from the set.

"Is it a band I know?" He asks.

You scrunch your nose at him, "not sure."

The intro is building up and getting louder, the crowd welcoming the band with a wave of applause and patiently waiting as they get ready with their instruments. There are three of them, the vocalist takes center stage with a guitar slung across his chest, the one who greets the crowd is taking the left side with his keyboard and the other one occupies the right side with his drum kit.

It's one band that he never heard before but he likes how experimental their music is, the kind that is groundbreaking and atmospheric. They mix the sounds from their instruments with samplers playing from an electronic kit, the big hall helps echo the music back at him to create this grand sound effortlessly.

With only a small group of people watching and no one pulling their phones out, it's immersive and intimate. You ditch the cup of beer and turn to look at him, putting your hands on each side of his waist, singing the lyrics the band is playing.

"I just want to love you in my own language," you mouth every word of the lyrics to him.

With a smile, you lean in to gently kiss him in the dark of the room. You pull away from the kiss and put your hands around his neck, slow dancing to the song like two lovers left alive.

-

The taxi ride home reminds him of that night except that you're sober and you're sitting close next to him, holding his hand

"What do you think of our second date?"

He looks up from watching his hand clasped with yours on his thigh, "it was nice."

You nod, "Nice is good!"

It was more than nice that he can't describe it with words, Han feels the need to assure you that, "It's the best date I've ever had!"

A smile grows on your beautiful face like a blossoming flower, "our first date is still the best but this comes close to that," you half agreed with him.

Han is getting used to seeing you on his bed and wearing his clothes, smiling as you watch him getting onto the bed to sit next to you.

"Don't you want to play your songs like that too?" You ask out of the blue.

He wanted to but he's not confident if he is that good and there's another thing too. He shakes his head and shyly laughs at the brief images of him performing his songs.

"Why not?" You ask.

"I'm not that good," he shortly answers.

You scrunch your nose in disagreement and he likes it whenever you do that, "I don't believe that."

He hates to disappoint you but that's just the truth, the songs he wrote, he's not planning on letting them out to the world for everyone to hear.

You stack your legs to one side, facing him, "Can I ask you something?"

Another question, how thrilling! He nods in excitement at what you're curious about.

"Is the second date too early for us to have sex?"

Han chokes on his saliva and stifles a cough. A part of him wants to take things slow with you but another part of him fancies you so much he can't say no to you. He should choose to be wise and choose the former, right?

"Uh... I think we should wait until the third date," he says and his mouth feels bitter saying it.

"Ah, okay," you repeatedly nod.

A moment passes in silence then you turn to look at him, "I mean, we can start by sleeping naked together," you suggest an idea.

He swallows air at the mention of 'naked' and 'together', it seems impossible to him to do that without involving anything sexual in between.

"Or we'll wait for the third date, that's fine," you quickly add with an awkward laugh.

Things are moving so fast that Han is still having a hard time processing everything that happened in the last seven days. But why would he stop when things are going well between you and him?

You wanted this and he wanted this too, as long as you both are going in the same direction, why hit the brake and risk everything going off track?

"We can sleep naked together," he says with a plain tone.

"Yeah?"

He nods and turns to sit on the edge of the bed, volunteering to be the first to take his clothes off. The bed shifts and he guesses you decide to start taking your clothes off too.

Han hurriedly gets under the duvet and watches you unclasping your bra. He stops looking as you get up to remove your underwear. You crawl back onto the bed and get under the cover, slowly settling yourself next to him, putting your hand on his bare chest.

"You're shivering," you lowly speak with your face only inches away from him, then proceed to snuggle next to him.

He stares at the ceiling because he knows, if he looks at you, he wants to kiss you and a kiss will unlock the raging desire inside him. He can feel your nipples graze his side as your body overlaps half of his body, your leg drapes around his with your foot softly rubbing his shin.

You lean into his side and place a long kiss on his neck, your hand slides down his front, stopping right on his abdomen.

"How about now, mmh?" You softly whisper.

Using your fingers, you lightly touch his abdomen making lazy circles on the skin.

"I have condoms in my purse if that's your concern," you tell him.

Han is getting weak with every kiss you place on his neck and the skin behind his ear. He turns his head to the side and is about to tell you what his concerns are but you capture his lips in a rapturous kiss.

You gently lick his lips before pulling away, "I want to do this with you," you assure him.

He doesn't know how to tell you that it's not you, it's him and his low self-esteem. He kisses you again to brace himself to speak his worry with you.

"I'm bad at it," he says.

That gets you quiet for a moment, "says who?"

He's unsure of it too but mostly it's the anxiety talking, "Me?"

You lowly chuckle and put more of your body on top of him, "How do I know you're bad if I haven't tried?"

That's what confuses him too. It's not like he has a rating written on his head for his sex skill, "I—"

You cut him off with a kiss and shut him up for good as you keep kissing him, your hand sliding lower until you meet his hardening member.

You stimulate him with gentle strokes, lightly rubbing his tip with your thumb while lowly moaning against his lips. You pull away from the kiss to say, "You can touch me."

Hesitate for a while, Han rests his hand on the arch of your back, his fingers trailing down your spine as you continue kissing him. You know how to use your lips, your tongue, your teeth, he can lay there and let you kiss him day and night. He wraps his arms around you to fully feel you against his body, skin to skin.

"How are you so soft?" He doesn't mean to say it out loud but you smile hearing his words.

You give him a long peck on the lips before excusing yourself to get the condom from your purse. His eyes follow you as you climb onto the bed.

Sitting next to his body with all of your hair draped on one shoulder, you rip open the foil packet and carefully, roll the rubber down his length. You crawl over his body and slowly put your body on top of him, continuing the fiery kisses that kindled the fire inside him.

This time, Han lets his hands freely roam your body, trailing the curve of your body, and feels your flesh molds into the palm of his hands.

You place a long peck on his lips before getting up, kneeling with your body between your bodies. You put your hand on his chest and say, "Just lay back, I'll do all the work."

He swallows air and with his own eyes, he sees you taking a seat on his thighs and wrapping your hand around his swollen cock. You rub it against your wetness which he can see and feel, it takes everything in him to not let his brain shut down.

"Oh," you moan with your eyes closed as you keep rubbing his shaft between your folds.

You roll your head around while letting out a long moan and then look at him in the eyes with a sly smile on your face. Still holding it in your hand, you position yourself and align his cock with your entrance, then you slowly lower yourself down his length.

"Oh," you moan again.

It's the sight of his cock disappearing into you that gets his jaws hanging open, you moan some more as you take all of him and seated on his thighs again. A low laugh spills out of your parted mouth as you tilt your head back, then say, "Oh, my— oh, I need a moment!"

Han feels like he's having an out-of-body experience, he's getting turned on more from looking at you doing things to him than the feeling of being inside you. He believes it's because his brain has a hard time catching up, he can only look at you with eyes wide open.

"How do I feel?" you lowly ask with a peck on his open mouth, then kiss his neck next, "Do I feel good, mmh?"

His brain is so close to short-circuiting that he can't form a verbal answer, he stifles a nod and draws a big breath instead.

As you straddle him, you take his hands and put them on your body, touching yourself using his hands, smooth as silk that he whimpers under his breath. You drop his hands on your thighs and put your hands on his chest as you start rolling your hips back and forth, at times, you move in circular motions.

Han lets out a groan as you abruptly stop moving and take his hands away from you, "Give me a moment," you say with a hoarse voice.

You flip all of your hair away to the back then plant both feet against the mattress on each side of his body. You prop your hands behind you and against his thighs as support.

In this position, Han can see his cock slips in and out of you as you bounce on top of him with your head thrown back and moaning, filling the room with your lewd noises. He can feel it now, your walls wrapping and tightening around him. His hands flew to your hips, trying to slow you down but instead of that, he gripped each side of your waist until his nails dug into the flesh.

"Oh..." you breathless moan.

"So good, so good," you repeatedly chant as your hips pick up the speed.

He doesn't mean to cum first but watching you enjoying yourself and fucking him so good gets him so overwhelmed, it just happens.

Seeing you getting tired, he helps you by guiding you to move on top of him. Your skin is moist with sweat, your breasts are bouncing with every movement and your breath is ragged.

"So close, oh, so close," you tell him between your whines.

He draws you close until your chest meets his so he can start bucking his hips from under you. His mouth is pressed against your shoulder as you're moaning so close to his ear.

"I'm cumming, oh..." you muffle your scream by pressing a haste kiss on his lips.

You whimper against his lips as you're reeling from the immense pleasure, returning the kisses with tongue and teeth clashes in your mouth. You both gasp for air the second you let go of the kiss and slowly come down from the high by cuddling each other.

Han gets comfortable touching your body now, he lightly touches you and kisses the skin that he can put his lips on as you're lying on top of him.

"That wasn't bad," you say with your eyes closed.

He notices the blissful smile on your face that can only mean everything went well unlike what he thought it would be.

You lean in to kiss his cheek and kiss his lips next, longer than the previous one, "This counts as our third date," you remark.

It usually scares him that things are going so fast but this feels right. Maybe all these times, he was wrong trying to fit everything into everyone's standard when in fact, things should go at his own pace.

He wouldn't let this slide away just because the time it took from him knowing you to date you happens in a week.

"Okay," he agrees.

You smile and place a long peck on his lips, "we're dating now," you say.

"Yes."

"I am your girlfriend now," you inform with a sly smile.

He lets out a chuckle and puts his hand on the nape of your neck, "And I am your boyfriend."

"That's right!" You respond.

"We're boyfriend and girlfriend," he remarks.

Even though it feels foreign in his mouth, he likes the sound of it. You and him, boyfriend and girlfriend.

-

TWO MONTHS LATER

Han is so used to thinking that he's the only character existing in his life. Han shopping for groceries by himself, Han does his laundry himself, Han makes coffee for one, Han sleeps alone on his bed, and he thinks of those kinds of scenarios in his head often enough to prepare himself that maybe what his future would be like.

Never once did he think another character would enter his scenarios. But looking at you walking around his apartment in his clothes, eating food from his fridge, and sleeping together almost every night, he starts to think that maybe his future wouldn't be as bleak as he thought it would be.

He also used to be by himself, he can't stand being in a room with anyone else and it's strange how fast he can adjust himself to your presence.

He's happy as long as you're around him, just like now. He's sitting with his back against the headboard, a guitar on his lap, and been aimlessly playing it yet you remain unbothered, lying sideways with a hand propped under your head while reading a book, occupying the end of the bed.

Even sharing the silence with you isn't boring, it's comfortable and nice. How can it get boring when he gets to see your beautiful face as much as he wants?

"Babe?" He calls.

You look away from your book, "yeah?"

"Want to hear a song I wrote about you?" He asks with a sly grin.

You exhale and close your book, "Okay, let's hear it."

Han takes a breath and memorizes the chords he's going to play, he begins by placing his fingers on the guitar fret to form the A chord.

He strums and starts singing, "Spinning on that dizzy edge. Kissed her face and kissed her head. Dreamed of all the different ways. I had to make her glow.”

Once he finds the rhythm, he can confidently look at you as he continues singing and playing his guitar.

"'Why are you so far away?' she said. 'Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you, that I'm in love with you?'"

With such agility, his fingers seamlessly change their position based on the chords he's playing on the fret.

"You... Soft and only. You... Lost and lonely."

He smiles as he sings and stares at the expression on your face as you intently listen to him.

"You... Strange as angels. Dancing in the deepest oceans. Twisting in the water."

He raises the note at the end and croons, "You're just like a dream. You're just like a dream."

He aggressively strums the strings to end the song and lifts his guitar in pride.

"It's good, right?" He asks with a subtle eyebrow raise.

You turn and lay on your stomach, not sure if you know that in that position, he can see your cleavage as your breasts almost spill out of your black tank top. He shouldn't be seeing those but it's easy to tell you're not impressed with the song he played.

"Three things," you simply say.

"Go ahead and tell me," he allows you with a hand gesture.

"First, you think I wouldn't know that it's The Cure song?" You ask with a hand under your chin.

He looks up and shrugs, he can't find any reason why you wouldn't know such a widely known band, "Well..."

"Second is I don't like love songs," you share with an apologetic smile.

It hits him just now that he should know you're not a fan of love songs. He agrees with a nod, "Okay, noted. The third?"

"I don't want you to write a love song about me," you say.

"Oh, come on!" He groans in complaint.

"I haven't been dating anyone in a long time and now that I have a girlfriend, I have so much to get off my chest so let me be gooey and cheesy!" He rambles and runs out of breath at the end of the sentence.

"I'm not saying you can't write love songs," you say with a subtle eye roll.

"You want me to write love songs about... someone else?" He asks with confusion.

"Or about something like your faded and worn-out Supreme t-shirt," you answer.

Han can't tell if you're trying to mock him, make fun of him or completely joking, either way, he's feeling offended.

"Can I write a hate song about you then?" He asks.

You scrunch your nose and ask, "A hate song?"

"Yeah like things I hate about you," he says with a sneer.

He picks up his guitar and places it on his lap again, "You know what? I wrote one already just now," he says.

You stifle a laugh and lightly shake your head, "The stage is yours."

Han lies about making a song in his head just now but he starts by strumming his guitar and plays a combination of chords.

"I hate your hair..." he begins, strumming two chords in between as he thinks of another lyric.

"The way it always falls perfectly in place and makes you look like a girl in a shampoo ad," he tries to fit the melody to the chords he's playing.

"Hate it when you fix my grammar and insist that it's pronounced keen-wah instead of queen-noa," he continues while thinking of another thing he hates.

"I know you're right but god please let me be a man with pride."

You dramatically roll your eyes at that one while keep listening to him as he goes through a bridge which is just him playing the same four chords on repeat.

"Hate it, hate it that I'm your boyfriend," he keeps going.

"Now people going to compare us and say you have the prettiest smile," He slips two chords in between, "but that's okay... because I have the bigger brain."

You frown at that one and throw daggers with your eyes, he takes that as his cue to stop with his make-up song and ends it with a slap on the guitar.

"So..." he drags the word as silence hangs in the air, "what do you think?"

You tilt your head to one side and stay quiet for a moment. You rub your temple is never a good sign and he prepares himself for the worst.

Then you suddenly ask, "Want to make out?"

He repeatedly nods like a happy puppy, putting away his guitar as you crawl on the bed towards him. You put your leg over his body and sit on his lap.

You smile as you look down at his face with your hands holding his face, and then you slowly put your lips on his lips, kissing him with fondness.

He no longer hesitates to touch you, he puts his arms under and around you, angling your head so he can kiss you deeper, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he drags his mouth down the column on your neck.

"Han?" You softly call.

He hums and answers your call with a kiss because that's most likely what you're going to ask him which is to kiss you again.

The hand on his chest pushes him away and keeps a few inches between your faces, "I read your journal this morning," You suddenly confess and hurriedly kiss him, knowing that he's going to be mad about it.

It's his turn to push you away with his hands on your shoulders, "You went through my underwear drawer?"

There's a surprised look on your face, "Ew, no. It was lying near the window sill," you say.

It's his habit of forgetting things, where he puts them, and forgets to put them back in its place. He's bad with his memory but the thing is you read it.

"Another thing on the list of things I hate about you," he remarks.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," you sigh.

"I wrote about my most personal things there," he says with his hands resting on your shoulder blades.

"Like how you lost your virginity in the backseat of a car while Radiohead's most depressing song is playing in the car stereo?"

"Exit Music For A Film is not depressing," he defends himself.

"They wrote it for the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack and they didn't even play it in the movie because guess what?"

"It's depressing?"

You nod and put your hands on his chest, it's time to turn the conversation back on track, "No one wants to listen to a song about how you lost your virginity but your other songs are good."

"You should let them out to the world," you say with eyes that sparkle and make his heart leap.

He turns away to not let your charm win him over, "You know how I feel about being a singer, by myself on a stage... it's awkward," he explains.

You turn his head back to look at you, "Okay then let's make a band!" You simply solve.

"Unless you want to join then I don't have anyone who wants to be in a band with me," he says with a defeated sigh.

You turn his head back to face you again, "how about a one-man band?"

"That's even lame. I never heard a successful one-man band," he says with a chagrin.

You put on a shocked face and start to list all the one-man bands you know, "Paul McCartney, Prince, Phil Collins, Bon Iver, Tame Impala, LCD Soundsystem, M83, Sufjan Stevens... and Dave Grohl basically started The Foo Fighters by himself," you finish with a proud smile.

"Dave Grohl and I are different entities, he is in Nirvana and I'm just... me, loser," he gives another explanation that makes him not pursue music.

"Being dramatic again," you sigh and rub your temple again.

He slides his hands down your arms and squeezes your elbows, he understands that you're trying to be supportive of his passion but he's not sure of his talent.

He sees your disappointed face and lifts your chin, "I'm not that good," he says.

You don't even try to deny him, probably have enough of doing it for him.

"And I'm still mad about you reading my journal," he says with a pout.

You put your hands around his neck and draw him close, "How about I give you head to make up for it?"

That gets him hot and bothered in a second, he plays it cool as if your words didn't affect him at all.

"Well, if you insist," he says.

You chuckle and kiss him, continuing the make-out session that is put to a halt by an argument. Your hand swiftly works open his jeans and slips inside, palming his hardening member with your hand.

"I'll make you forget that you were mad at me," you whisper before kissing him down his chest and pulling his jeans down to let his cock out of its confine.

Han has already forgotten that he was mad at you the second you take all of his length into your mouth, you're lying between his legs and taking your time to please him with your mouth.

Not just that, he's slowly losing his mind as you keep sucking him and combining it with your hand pumping the rest that you can't take with your mouth.

"Are you close, baby?" You ask before putting his swollen cock in your mouth again.

"Uh-huh," he breathlessly answers.

You pull it out and gasp for air, pumping his cock slick with your spit as you ask, "Where do you want to cum?"

His brain is foggy to pick one out of so many options but you notice that he's eyeing your chest and understand it right away.

You let go of his cock to take your tank top off and let your breasts hang down your chest as you lean down over his crotch to continue sucking his cock. Your nipples are grazing his thighs and his legs twitch at how it arouses him in a newfound way, "close, baby?"

He repeatedly nods and watches you keep the stimulation going by pumping his cock at a quick pace, bringing your chest close as you're doing it.

You put all of your hair to the back, not risking any of his bodily fluid lands on it. You moan and sigh, looking into his eyes as you say, "I can feel you twitching in my hand."

With a few more pumps, the white arch of his seed erupted from the tip of his cock, painting streaks on your chest and breasts.

"You cum a lot, baby," you say with an impressed, sultry smile for him to think that it's a complaint.

You keep your hand going up and down his shaft, milking every drop of the pearly white essence. You use the tip of his cock to smear it all over and around your nipples.

Once you're done playing with his cock that gradually softens in your hand, you crawl over to kiss him.

"Are you still mad?" You ask with a sweet, sinful smile.

He puts on a dumb smile and says, "Me? Mad? I must be crazy to be mad at you."

-

Han is in the middle of his class when he receives a new text message, he should be thankful to whoever texted him because he almost falls asleep until his phone buzzes on his desk and startles him awake. He checks the text by putting his phone under the desk and smiles seeing your contact name as the sender.

"Meet me at the library steps after class," you wrote in your text.

The library steps are located on the steps of the building across the library but they call it the library steps because most students like to read or study while sitting on the steps. Not sure if you know that his class has ended, he looks around and can't find you, so he takes a seat on the steps with his backpack next to his feet.

The weather is cool and pleasant, he has an hour before his next class starts so he has time to wait and enjoy the weather. After a few minutes, he spots you making your way toward him and he gets up to welcome you, you're walking so fast and not slowing down even though he's only a few meters away.

Crash is imminent but that seems to be what your intention is, you loop your arms around his neck and pull him for a kiss. This marks the first time you kiss him on campus and it's nerve-wracking, he can't stop thinking how many people are watching him now.

He looks around the second he lets go of the kiss and finds that no one truly cares. Well, it's not like kissing on the campus ground is illegal so why should he worry?

"Oh, I have fifteen minutes before my next class so I'm just going to text you what I need to tell you," you explain everything in one breath.

"Why can't you tell me now?" He asks, perplexed.

"Because you're most likely to forget it so I'll just text you," you answer and fix the collar of his shirt.

"Then why did you ask to meet me here?" He asks again even with more curiosity.

"That's because I want to see you and kiss you," you simply answer and give him a quick peck on the lips with a giggle.

Han laughs, the kind of laugh that makes him shine from within, a part of him that he has never seen until you brought it out of him.

"Why? I can't do that?" You ask with a chuckle.

He puts his arms around you and pulls you close, "We can definitely do that."

Han takes his turn to kiss you, giving you a long, lingering kiss and trying to keep it appropriate. He endearingly brushes your hair after and tucks it behind your ear. The sun hits you right in the eyes as you look up at him with a smile that is as warm as your smile.

"I have to go now," you mutter.

"Okay," he says and presses a long peck on your lips before letting you go.

It's been months since he dated you and he can still hear Bill Withers singing inside his head.

"Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day..."

-

The address you sent is of the house of someone he doesn't know but he recognized some faces as he walked inside so he assumed it belonged to a fellow university. You said you'll be waiting by the kitchen but it's a big house and it's hard to navigate through the sea of people without bumping into one.

After getting lost in a maze of big and expensive furniture, he finds you in the kitchen like you said, nursing a bottle of beer while leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hey, you're here!" You exclaim as you see him coming to you.

You're going right into his arms to hug him, "Miss you," you mumble.

"You're drunk already?" He jokingly asks.

You scoff and look at him, "Not even close," you answer.

It's impossible to resist kissing you when you're this close and you're smiling at him, your hands are around him like his personal comfort blanket. Han leans in and gives you a short yet sweet kiss on the lips.

You giggle when he pulls away and hands him your beer, "I have someone I want you to meet," you say.

Han doesn't realize that someone is standing at the end of the counter until you gesture him to come. A small guy wearing a beanie and glasses perched on his nose, he dressed so casually for a party in a white t-shirt and jeans.

"This is Felix," you introduce him.

Felix smiles and offers his hand for a handshake, "I'm Felix," he says.

He gets taken aback by his deep voice, not expecting that it's coming out of this elf-like person, "I'm Han," he introduces back.

"I know Felix from my communication class, we're doing an assignment together and I found out recently that," you turn to look at Han before continuing talking, "Felix plays drums."

Now he gets your intention of inviting him to this party, you know he hates coming to things like this but he understands now.

"I told him about your songs and your dream of forming a rock band," you explain,  avoiding his eyes are you speak since you're doing all of it behind his back.

"Yeah, I'm interested," Felix says between his sips of canned Red Bull.

Han doesn't know how to explain to Felix that it's never his dream to form a rock band, it's mostly you and your steadfast conviction that that dream will come true.

"I don't—"

You cut him off by grabbing his and Felix's hand, "Now, come follow me," you say.

Han and Felix are trailing behind you as you lead the way to the basement of the house that he believes is off-limit to guests.

You open the door to what he guesses is a door to a supply closet, it's indeed that from stacks of sheets and towels on the shelf but on the back, there's another door. From the way you know that it's a sliding door, he believes you've been here but that's a question he'll ask later in private.

"Welcome to rich people's man cave," you announce.

It's a recreation room filled with fun and expensive stuff, it's a literal man cave because Han can imagine him spending most of his time here if he were the owner.

"Are we even allowed here?" Felix asks, being the only one with a conscience.

"I know the owner of the house and I've been here before," you reply but not really answering his question.

Han glares at you for now but something else behind you steals his attention away, a custom Fender Stratocaster. He goes to admire it with his hands.

"Felix, you may want to check this," you say, throwing away the white sheets covering the drums.

He gasps at the sight of it and not waste time sitting behind the drums, touching the surface of it with amazement in his eyes, "Why would they keep this sweet thing hidden in here?"

You stand in the middle of a room and watch them admiring musical instruments like they're historic artifacts. Having enough of being ignored, you say, "You guys can start jamming together, perhaps?"

Han turns to look at you and with his eyes widening, he asks, "You want me to play with this?"

"Yeah."

"Are we even allowed?" Felix asks again.

"No one can hear us playing," you reply and again, not really answering his question.

"How do you know people are not going to hear us jamming in here?" Han asks.

"Uh... I just know," you answer with a grin and a shrug.

"It's soundproofed," Felix adds as he touches the lined walls behind him.

"And it's soundproofed," you repeated his words.

Han doubts that your intention to help him form a band will go according to plan but he can't resist playing the guitar and there's no harm in playing one song.

"What do you usually play?" Han asks Felix.

"Metal, death metal, post-death metal, rock, classic rock..." he lists the genre instead of telling him the band names.

Han thinks of one famous rock song widely known by people but at the same time, he wants to test how knowledgeable Felix is within the rock genre.

"Let's play Black Hole Sun," Han says to him.

Felix thinks for a while, "Soundgarden? Yeah, okay," he agrees.

Now that the guitar is slung across his shoulder and right in front of him, he feels nervous to play it. He plugged the cable that connects it to the amplifier, he's tuning it while Felix is warming up and tightening the screws on the drums.

"Woohoo!" You cheer even though they barely started yet.

Han searches for the chords first on the internet to refresh his memory and warm up his hands, "Ready?"

Felix gives him a thumbs-up in response.

Han starts playing the riff then Felix comes in right after. It's a whole new experience for him to play a song with someone or just like what you called it, jamming.

"Black hole sun, won't you come and wash away the rain?"

with no mic, Han sings as loud as he can but it's impressive how Felix stays on the beat.

"Black hole sun won't you come, won't you come..."

He's too focused on watching Felix nailing the part that leads to the end of the song that he missed a chord, but quickly recovering from it.

"Woohoo!" You cheer again and Han almost forgot that you're in the room with them.

It was thrilling and exciting, he can feel his heart pounding with the guitar still hanging around his chest.

"That was fun!" Felix says with a grin.

Han is at a loss for words, not expecting that he'll love it this much. Maybe he's meant to form a rock band like you said. He holds his hand up at him for a high-five, "Good job, man!"

Felix excitedly high-fives him with a big grin on his face, he looks much more attractive without his glasses and Han can see freckles dotted his cheeks.

You wait until he puts the guitar down to jump at him and fortunately, he's strong enough to catch you, you press a haste kiss on his lips with an exaggerated smooching sound.

"See? I told you!" You tell him before pressing another kiss with your hands around his neck.

Maybe it's the adrenaline still lingering, he kisses you so passionately and ignores that there's another person in the room.

Another person comes into the room and surprises everyone that Han immediately puts you down, "Who are you guys?"

Han glances at you and you glance at him, there's a moment passed in awkward silence, then you make up an excuse on the spot.

"We accidentally stumbled here to get some privacy, you know," you purposely slurring your words and holding on to him to imply that you're drunk.

Han plays a long and puts his hand around your waist, drooping his eyes and putting a stupid smile on his face. He seems to buy it from the way he shifts his eyes to Felix.

"And what is he doing here?" The owner of the mancave asks.

"He..." you drag the word as you think of something, "likes to watch?"

The three of you are still laughing after getting out of the house and stopping to lean against a stranger's car, composing yourselves back from what just happened.

"You said you know the owner of the house," Han says.

"I know but we're not acquainted," you defend yourself with a sly smile.

You turn to Felix and pat his shoulder, "I'm sorry for making you a perv, Lix!"

"That's alright!" He responds with a coy shrug. He's digging into his pocket jeans to pull out his car keys.

"Where do you park your car? Mine is down the block," Felix asks.

You glance at Han before looking back at Felix, "We take public transport. We're a very eco-friendly couple," you say with a sneer.

"Ah..." Felix lowly gasps, "I remember you said your boyfriend is too nervous to drive a car."

Han wonders how much work you put into the group assignment because it seems like you shared things about him a lot rather than doing that.

"Let me give you guys a drive home," Felix kindly offers with a smile.

There's nothing phony about Felix. Han has met a lot of people in his life to know when someone is only putting up a good front but not with Felix, he can tell right away that he's a genuinely kind person.

As a way to get back to you, Han runs to the passenger's side before you and shouts, "Shotgun!"

That leaves you no option but to reluctantly get into the backseat of the car.

After turning the car engine on, Felix leaves it for a while to warm up while he connects his phone to the car stereo, "You don't mind that I put on some music, right?"

Felix is so well-mannered but Han doesn't find it obnoxious, he finds it adorable instead, "It's your car, do what you want."

Once he settles on a song, he backs the car out of someone's driveway and starts driving with one hand on the steering wheel. The song starts with a one-chord guitar strum and followed by a steady bang of drums.

"I AM IRON MAN!" You and Felix shout at the same time.

You lean forward between the seats and put your hand on his shoulder, "it's Lix's favorite band, Black Sabbath."

"Yes, I know," Han says with a snide smile.

"Why aren't you singing along?" You ask, cupping his chin with your hand.

Felix is focused on looking at the road ahead to pay attention to him and how you treat him like a baby, not that he doesn't like it but he prefers not to do it in public.

"Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind? Can he walk at all? Or if he moves, will he fall?" You and Felix sing at the same time.

Han is just too embarrassed to join in but he knows you won't stop teasing him until he sings. Besides that, he can see why Felix likes this band, it's the intense and fast-paced drumming. He's doing it now by tapping his steering wheel with both hands.

Han decides to join when the song gets to the second chorus, "Nobody wants him. They just turn their heads."

"Yeah!" You exclaim in satisfaction and raise your voice louder.

"Nobody helps him. Now he has his revenge," the three of you filling the space in the car with your singing.

The song reaches the climax of heavy riffs and an impeccable guitar solo that makes him feel alive as the car glides through the night.

-

Today will be the first time for Han and Felix to do a band practice together.

Felix regularly practices his drumming and he can use the studio, one of the facilities provided by the university but its use is limited in time, they can practice on Thursday and Saturday for two hours.

"We'd better get started," Han says even though he hasn't tuned his guitar yet.

Han and Felix are in the middle of playing a warm-up song when you come into the studio, carrying drinks for them in one hand. You sit in the corner and watch them until the end of the song before handing out the drinks.

"Iced Americano for the boyfriend," you say as you hand him his drink with a kiss on the cheek.

You walk up to Felix to hand his, "Super sweet latte for the drummer."

"Thank you," Felix mutters and takes a big sip of it.

"Okay, I'm going back to sit in the corner and watch you guys jamming," you say with a smile, sitting on the stool and sipping your drink through a straw.

After taking a break, Han turns to Felix to ask whether he has studied the song he wrote to start practicing it.

"Yeah, I have but I saw that it's not finished yet?" Felix asks while tightening the screws on the drums.

"Yes, I plan on working the rest of the song together with you," Han answers.

Sure, Han is capable of working on the rest of his song himself but he wants to be in a band so every decision he's making now will not be his own.

Felix is patient yet eager to learn, he has musicality that Han believes is above him but he's unaware of it. He's humble and easy to work with, he couldn't find a better partner than him.

Two hours passed without him realizing it and he almost forgot that you were there in the room until you come his way, "Can we grab dinner after this?"

Felix packs his drumming sticks into his backpack, "I second that!"

Since the practice turns out to be a great one, it's only right for him to let the good times roll.

"I'll treat dinner!" He announces and you share a celebration high-five with Felix.

-

The practice is going well but Han feels something is missing. He's reclining on the seat after finishing his meal earlier than everyone else.

"I think we need one more member," Han suddenly shares.

You stop shoving another French fry and ask, "Why? I think you guys sound great!"

Han shrugs, he can't explain it because it's just instinct, "Two-man band is not it. You know what happened to The White Stripes," he explains with an example.

Felix wipes his mouth with a napkin and gulps his cola, "but that's because they have a half-decent drummer."

Hearing Felix's comment, you put down the French fry you're about to eat and push the plate away, "Don't you dare to drag my girl, Meg White, into this!" you say with squinted eyes at Felix.

"That's just fact," Felix innocently says.

"Three things," you say and rest your back, crossing your arms in front of you before laying out the three things on why Felix is wrong.

That's one of the things Han likes about you, you're not scared to speak your mind. He knows very well that you have strong opinions about certain things, he just doesn't like it when he's on the opposite side of things.

Felix is the unlucky one to be in that position right now but Han is more than happy to watch it from the sideline.

"First, their marriage got in the way," you begin with an obvious fact there is.

"Second, Meg took the "less is more" approach and you can get more power when you have more space and give songs character," you eloquently state.

"And third, Meg's parts are full of choices most drummers wouldn't make and that what makes her a one-of-a-kind player."

When Han thinks you're done explaining, you continue while leaning forward on the table, "'Seven Nation Army' is a perfect example of how simple doesn't mean boring. How many drummers would be satisfied playing the same beat for an entire song?" You aim the question at Felix who's looking petrified sitting across the table and too afraid to speak.

"Exactly!" You say even though he doesn't say anything but you take his silence as an answer.

"It's worth sacrificing our egos for the good of music," you finally conclude.

Han can't decide if he should stop it and risk getting trampled in the process or let it be which is a safer option.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Felix stammers.

"Tell that to Meg White!" You tell him.

"Uh... I'm sorry, Meg White," Felix apologizes again.

"Good," you shortly respond and lean back to continue eating your fries, turning back into your normal self.

After making sure you're relaxed and tame, Han decides to continue the talk about looking for another member.

"Anyway..." Han lets out a sigh and uneasily glances at you to continue speaking, "I think we need a bassist."

Felix drags his cup of soda and meekly sips it through a straw, "I don't know any bassist," he says.

"I can play bass but then I can't play two instruments at once, right?" He says with a smirk.

You lean to his side and coo, "Oh, must be tiring to be so good at everything!"

He playfully kisses your lips since you're leaning so close to him and it tastes salty. You giggle as you sit back to continue eating.

Something must have popped into his head as Felix shouts, "Ah, I have a friend who plays guitar really well."

That gets his hopes up that Han feels so optimistic about it again, "Yeah?"

"But she lives abroad now so..." Felix sounded so heartbroken when he said it.

"That's very helpful, Felix," you say while stealing some fries from his plate.

Han draws a sigh but it's too early to give up now, he has just started the band and who knows he'll find a new member soon.

"We just have to keep looking then," Han says.

"Yeah, I agree," Felix responds.

"I'll help," you eagerly offer with a sweet smile at him.

He endearingly pats your head and smiles back at you, "Of course, you are," he can't help but give you a quick peck on the lips.

You're not complaining when Han is riding shotgun again, probably not letting go of the argument you had with Felix earlier. Thankfully, Felix knows how to win you over.

"As an apology to Meg White," he says and presses play on his phone.

The iconic riffs of Seven Nation Army blast through the car stereo followed by the signature thumping of Meg White's drumming.

You break into a smile and shout, "Yeah, Meg White rules!!!"

-

Once he gets the privacy in his studio apartment, Han wraps you into a tight hug and kisses you so hard that you squeal, almost running out of breath.

"You're so hot when you argue," he says with a sly smile.

You chuckle and hold him back, putting your hands around his small waist, "Oh, you want to argue with me?"

He shakes his head and says, "No, I don't want to be on the wrong side of things."

What he said implies that you're always right about things and he knows that will win your heart with it.

"Good choice!" You say.

As expected, you reward him with a long, lingering kiss that escalates things further.

Being inside you strips him away from his sanity. He's thrusting into you hard and he doesn't know how you stay so calm and composed under him.

Your eyes are wide and awake, so still that he can see his reflection in them. You're smiling as you affectionately brush his hair to the back and caress his face.

"You're fucking me so good," you tell him with an open-mouthed kiss and you know that he needed to hear that.

It feels inexplicably intimate and raw, he feels naked than he already is with the way you're staring deeply into his eyes.

"Stop looking at my sex face," he turns to look the other way.

You chuckle and turn his head to face you again, making him look you in the eyes while fucking you.

He can't lie that he's close to his high, can no longer contain his groans so he lets them spill out of his parted mouth.

"Oh, fuck..." he curses between his grunts as he launches his cock deep inside you.

You break into laughter underneath him while he's still reeling from his high and his cock still planted deep inside you.

"What's so funny, mmh?" He asks with a kiss on your jaw.

You shake your head with your hands still hanging around his neck, "Nothing."

"You're making fun of my sex face, huh?" He says with eyes closed.

You don't answer but keep laughing even after he collapses onto the bed next to you, "Stop laughing!"

That doesn't stop you from laughing, he crawls over and puts his body on top of you, pressing a kiss to stop you from laughing.

It's a fruitless effort that you're still chuckling when he lets go of the kiss, "I hate you."

He presses a hard kiss on your mouth again and with a conflicted feeling he says, "But the sex was so good I can't hate you."

When he returns from the bathroom, he sees you already dressed in his t-shirt and lying on your side of the bed with your eyes closed.

He dives right into your arms with his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, he puts your hands around him just how he likes it.

From the way your hand slips into his hair and softly scratches at it, he knows that you're still awake.

"So, how did it feel playing your song for the first time?" You ask.

A lot has happened in the last 24 hours but it's mostly good, practicing his song and getting to hear how it turns out is a feeling he can't describe.

What's important is this feels right to him, it feels like it's meant to be.

"It feels... amazing," he says with a dreamy sigh.

You hum in answer and place a soft kiss on the top of his head, "I just know that you're going to be great."

Your faith in him is unwavering and he starts to believe that forming a rock band of his dreams is possible and that he can create great things with this band.

"You know, Nirvana has this secret track called Sappy," you suddenly share with your voice low and sleepy.

"It's a great song and I wish that a lot of people know about this song," you say.

You pause to take a breath and quietly exhale it, "but at the same time, I want to gatekeep it."

You lift your head and search for his eyes to say, "That's you."

Han lifts his head to hover above you, putting inches between your faces, "You're saying I'm Sappy?" He jokingly says.

You sleepily smile and lick your lips before talking, "I want the world to know how great you are with your songwriting, your music, your wit, your unfunny jokes..."

He glares at you, feeling offended that you think his jokes are not funny.

"But at the same time, I want to keep it for you myself," you say with eyes that shine and show how honest you are with what you said.

It's a heartwarming analogy and he understands the sentiment in it. He hasn't shown all of his yet but you talk about his greatness like they're written in stones. Han appreciates you more for saying that and seeing through all of his shortcomings and weaknesses and unfunny jokes.

The sound of you calling his name, your laugh, your smile, your low snores, and everything that comes out of your mouth. Those are his favorite songs.

He places a soft kiss on your lips and murmurs, "You are my favorite song."

As much as he wants you to share your greatness with the world, Han wants to keep you for himself.

-

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