#so this was a great stroke of fortune lol

[that-one-fandom-girl]

So, I’ve been thinking about it; Marinette had only ever said she’d wanted three kids (Emma, Hugo, and Louis) but LadyNoir have four kids in the Jubilation episode.

I headcanon that Marinette was fine with the three but Adrien really wanted another one as he’d hadn’t had a loving family in a long time and then he had gotten the chance to have even more family.

Also, he’d be able to name the fourth kid ‘cause otherwise that wouldn’t be fair, and Marinette would want him to name #4.

I’d had an idea of what that kid could be named before and this post-

-reminded me of it;

I think if #4 is a girl, they could name her Felina. It’d be both a play on words on “feline”, based on Adrien being Cat Noir, and a way to name her after Felix. Plus, I just looked it up at this site and…

It’s just perfect 😊😄.

[olives-and-sunshine]

i mean since you asked lol

how about a malcolm x reader (gender non specific preferred if possible!) where malcolm is just like not having a great day (case gone wrong/jessica being even more overbearing than usual/rough session with therapist etc) and close to having an absolute breakdown but reader does their best to try to help without infantilizing him? even the toughest profilers need cuddled and their foreheads kissed while being told they're doing their best :')

love you and ty!!

"Difficult Day" - Malcolm x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.6k

Content and Warnings: No reader descriptions, the relationship between Malcolm was intentionally left to be ambiguous, 2nd person, no warnings, just hurt/comfort and fluff

A/N: Eeee my first request! I really enjoyed writing this <3 I hope you like it. Ft. me spreading my “Malcolm loves The Hogfather” propaganda 

Also sorry this was so late. School is a pain sometimes.

You knew something was wrong the moment Malcolm walked through the door of his loft. As Malcolm closed the door, he leaned forward against it, letting his forehead hit it softly with a light thunk. You turned from what you were doing on the couch to see him like that, your gaze softening slightly at the view of him.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to avoid startling him, even though he knew you’d be there. He turned around and looked up.

“Hi,” he responded softly and smiled at you as he stripped off his coats and shoes. It wasn’t a fake smile, fortunately, but it was a soft half-hearted smile that almost immediately had fallen as soon as it had gotten there. Like he had smiled because he was grateful to see you, because he was happy that you were here, but that the negative emotions of whatever he was dealing with was simply too much, and that happiness was washed away. It broke your heart.

You got up and walked over to him, standing in front of him. All you did was open your arms slightly as a silent invitation for a hug if he wanted it. He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, laying his head on your shoulder and gently nuzzling into your neck while holding you tightly. You quickly wrapped your arms around him and one of your hands went to stroke his hair. “You want to talk about it?” you asked softly, turning your head slightly to kiss his temple. 

He let out a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know. Today was just hard.”

“What do you need? We can just stand here, we can talk, or we can cuddle. We could even watch a movie and eat snacks. Even better, we can watch the Hogfather, I know how much you love it. We can’t watch all the movies in one go this time, sadly, but we can watch the first one. And, we even have red vines.”

His head perked up slightly at the sound of that. He pulled away to look at you with a slight look of excitement on his face. He obviously was still emotionally feeling raw, but it was an improvement and you’d take it. He smiled slightly, “I’ll grab the red vines and snacks, you’ll find the movie?”

“Of course,” you pulled away mostly, but lingered long enough to kiss his forehead. It was quick but gentle, a reminder that you were here for him. You walked over to the TV to set up the movie. “By the way, I already fed Sunshine and did some chores and cleaning, so you can just relax for the night,” You looked over your shoulder as you spoke, smiling lovingly.

Soon, Malcolm was curled up in your arms with his head on your chest and snacking on red vines as you laid on the couch and watched the movie. Sunshine was freely hopping around the living room and was preening herself. You looked down at Malcolm lovingly as you ran your hands through his hair, happy that he seemed more relaxed than before.

Malcolm looked up at you. “Thank you for this, I needed this,” he sighed. “Sometimes everything, my job, my parents, my past… It gets to be too much.”

You gently grabbed his hand that was starting to shake, holding it firmly but gently. “I know… But you’re doing your best, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

Malcolm teared up slightly, his eyes fluttering closed briefly when you kissed his forehead again.  You don’t know what happened or what goes through his mind most of the time, but you’re always here for him after a hard day to take his mind off it.

[ofbluesandyellows]

In Rainbows - TASM! Peter Parker / Reader

Summary: Peter Parker as the colors of the rainbow.

Word count: 5,191

Warnings: swearing, kissing lol idk, it’s mostly fluff. So yeah,

a/n: this is a little something that came to me two weeks ago, hope you enjoy it. Tried to edit it but maybe there are a few errors there, lmk if you see them. Have fun :)

Meeting Peter had been a happy coincidence. 

Red was all you could see while the photographs became from white pristine paper into an unknown image. Some were already hanging from the thread up your head while you waited. Fortunately enough you had chosen a moonless night to work on your photos at college. So when the door swung open there was no risk of ruining your work.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Thought it was empty.” A voice said at your back.

“It’s alright, I’m almost done.”

The person stood beside you, eyes scanning your work and you turned to him just in time to see a smile appear on his lips. 

“Those are great shots.” He nodded with his head at the photo that was already developing in the transparent liquid. “I was there that night too, they’re a powerhouse.”

The Strokes had an unexpected gig on Wednesday and you had the fortune to get tickets and stand right in the press area to snap a few photos of them. You were really happy with what you got. It made you fill up with pride to hear someone else appreciate what you captured.

“They totally are, you took photos too?” you asked, turning to him, fully looking at the tall boy by your side. 

He seemed quite familiar now that you noticed. 

“No, a friend got us tickets, just went to have a good time.” He shrugged, putting his backpack on the floor with a thud. “What’s your favorite song of theirs?” 

He hadn’t stopped smiling at you. He started to put all his things out on top of the table. His camera, strap still on, the rolls of film and his phone. The screen was crashed and the edges of it battered, it had personality just like him; with his jumper and his tousled hair as if he had run just to make it there in time, as if he knew you could be leaving soon and didn’t want to miss you.

Of course you wanted to pretend that was the reason for his sudden rush a moment ago. 

“Well, I’d say the classics of course, YOLO and Welcome to Japan are just gems but I guess from their last album I really enjoyed Ode to The Mets. What about you?” 

And it started a full on conversation on your favorite The Strokes’ songs, it was easy to talk to him about music, about art, about playlists and pastries. With each word exchanged you could feel him getting closer to you, arms brushing, laughs shared, eyes making excessive staring, heart beats speeding and hands sweating. 

The boy finished hanging his photos, you could see friends laughing, dogs and incredible landscapes of the city. He had a good eye you wanted to tell him but he beat you to it with a new thought.

Casually, he leaned his side on the desk, arms crossed over his chest, pushing his biceps out, yeah you noticed. 

“They are doing another show in Brooklyn tomorrow… I got an extra ticket if you… you know… if you wanted to go… I could—we could meet there… I don’t know.” He said eyes going from your face to the rest of the room. 

You weren’t sure how but you could notice his whole face going one or two shades darker. It was hard to see under the red lights but the invitation made you feel funny inside, matching with all the rest of your body reactions during the half an hour you’ve been there. You balanced the options; he was sweet, and he was nervous and you were nervous too and you had nothing to lose really.

“Sure, I’d love that.” 

And he beamed, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes twinkled. “Great! Cool, so it’s in Brooklyn Steel. There's a subway nearby. If you live in Manhattan I could wait for you there or outside the venue, you tell me, it’s your choice.”

“I mean you can come pick me up, I live in Greenwich… and if you like we could have dinner before.” You felt your heartbeat in your throat.

“Oh…Yeah! Yeah sure, of course I know a pizza place, if you like Pizza of course.”

You chuckled. “I do love pizza, so it’s a date?”

His whole body filled with air and sudden pride. “It’s a date!”

“Cool,”

“Cool…. by the way my name is Peter Parker.” 

He laughed, extending his palm, which got your smaller one wrapped perfectly. 

You told him your name. “Great to meet you Peter Parker.”  and he grinned boyishly. 

•••

Orange wasn’t a color you often found yourself leaning towards, it never meant much to you, but it had been six months since you and Peter started to date in a very serious way. So you wanted the day to mean something, an unconscious choice,that was being expressed in an orange outfit, you tried it on and unexpectedly it looked good on you. 

Still the color meant nothing much, nothing until he said: “I love you.”

His lips were on the shell of your ear as you waited in line to get some gelato. Peter had his arms wrapped around your middle, he squeezed you a little tighter as his words reached your ear getting seared in your brain, the moment was typical almost ordinary, but it was golden hour and the sunbeams were casting a film of orange peachy tone, your heart somersaulted, belly twisted, and your lips turned upwards in the widest smile you’ve ever given to anyone. 

“I love you too,” you responded, turning in his arms, and you kissed Peter on his soft lips, he tasted like honey and something completely Peter’s. 

The sunset was upon you. Cherry and choco mint gelato flavored kisses. Peter left a peck on your forehead as he turned up to the sky while you walked down the busy streets of New York, a grin on his cold lips. 

“Look, you match the sky.” He pointed.

Furrowing your eyebrows you looked up as peachy skies started to turn slightly bluish on the far end. Peter gave a light tug to the fabric covering your ribs.

You indeed were matching the clouds and the day. From that moment on, orange made you reminisce about the first ‘I love yous’. 

Meaning was found in color.

•••

One night as the tv showed the film ‘Big Fish’ Peter found you crying on the couch to the scene where Ewan McGregor’s character had finally found the girl he loved and showed her how much she meant to him by flooding the outside of her house with flowers. The most beautiful act of love you’ve seen in a movie. 

You gasped when on your birthday the rooftop of your building was covered in yellow flowers, they probably weren’t as many as the movie had but you loved how the variety of them left a scent of sweetness and freshness in the air as Peter settled a picnic in the middle of the improvised garden, daffodils, roses, daisies, you weren’t even sure how many of them were there but you loved it.

“Over here,” With a flourish he showed you the path to the picnic and you followed him, fingers intertwined.

“Peter Parker you shouldn’t have,” hands on your chest and inevitably your nose tingled, your eyes watering.

Peter gave you a sweet smile.“Of course I have to! It’s your birthday honey, you deserve all the nice, most beautiful things there are in the world and I know the quantity of flowers isn’t near as the ones in the movie but the budget’s a bit tight this week.”

His face went a bit pink as you sat down the plaid tablecloth. 

Your heart squeezed. Reaching for his hand, his attention fully on you. 

“I love it, everything, even the mismatched set of plates and the fact that you are wearing the most horrible pair of socks I’ve seen.”

Yes, they were also yellow, they had tiny bright green cars printed on them. You snorted as Peter sent you a sharp look.

“What!? These are my good luck socks, I wore them when I met you, that has to mean something.” He smirked, “They're special.”

“That doesn’t mean they are pretty nor cool.”

Peter scoffed, he threw a napkin at your face, “I’ll let it pass because it’s your day. And I love you and respect you too much to start an argument over my styling choices.”

Another snort on your behalf and you didn’t see it coming but Peter launched against you. You both laid on the cloth as Peter held his weight on his elbows to not crush you. Kissing the tip of your nose, then kissing your lips. Soft lips over smiles and low chuckles.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

“Thank you for being the absolute best.” 

And all you saw was Peter’s chocolate eyes, the light freckles forming on his nose thanks to the summer time and a halo of yellow all around you.

•••

Peter had been so scared, literally he thought of cancelling last minute but a talk with May served him well. He loved you and he needed to show a bit of support, especially knowing your family would be there and this was the first Christmas you two spent together. 

You two took the subway all the way to Queens. Your mom’s side of the family had this pretty lovely house with a huge garden and one of the biggest kitchens Peter has set foot on. 

Peter wasn’t into Christmas but knowing it meant so much for you he made an effort, besides he wanted the rest of your family to like him, to love him if possible. So when your cousin asked you both to babysit littler Tommy while she put her new born baby to sleep, Peter couldn’t say no, and there you three were in the middle of the kitchen decorating gingerbread cookies with the five year old Tommy who had found a liking for Peter very quickly.

Maybe he could feel his Spidey senses too, kids had that kind of ability too sometimes, to predict stuff and shit. Well, Peter read that once so maybe it was true.

Sitting on the kitchen island Peter handed little Tommy a cookie as you put different color frostings on display for them to start their artsy gourmet pieces. 

Peter went for something that made him feel too clever, you’ve known for a while anyway. 

Red and blue, black lines, white eyes.

“A Spider-Man cookie, really Peter?” your voice was a bit judge-y but Peter saw your smile as you shook your head, and it made him chuckle. “Smartass.”

“Well… It made you smile. But it’s not just a Spider-Man cookie, it’s a Christmas Spidey, right Tommy?”

You laughed as Peter showed Tommy his Spidey-cookie, a Santa hat badly shaped on top of the masked hero. Tommy let out that childish giggle that made the both of you beam at the kid.

“See, Tommy boy appreciates my art, you should do the same, baby.” 

Rolling your eyes Peter smirked and continued on decorating cookies with the little boy in front of him.  

It warmed your heart seeing Peter getting along with kids, it made you think of the future, and in that moment the thought of a little Peter didn’t sound so bizarre.

“Can someone bring the little bunny I left in the car?!” you heard your cousin call, and just as an instinct you turned to Peter.

“Go ahead, we have it under control right ,Tom?” the kid probably didn’t know what you were talking about but he still gave you a nod.

So Peter saw you leave the kitchen. 

At some point during the decorating session, Peter needed the color green to complete his Christmas tree cookie. He only found green frosting inside a transparent plastic bag. With a shrug he took it between his palms.

“It can’t be that hard right Tommy.” The kid with those big doe eyes, grinned at him.

“Do it!” Tommy squealed. 

Peter laughed and started doing the edges of this tree. 

But the doorbell rang, Tommy jumped in his spot startled, Kiki the dog started barking, everything happened within the same five seconds and Peter– with incredibly enhanced reflexes put a little too much pressure on the bag. 

The next thing he and Tommy saw was green, green splashed everywhere in the kitchen specially Tommy’s face and Peter’s shirt. 

“Oh,” Peter said in awe.

“Uh oh, you are in trouble!” Tommy said singsonging, pointing at Peter’s shirt. And a second later he started maniacally laughing.

Peter couldn’t help but laugh too. This was definitely not the way he wanted to impress your family but at least Tommy knew how to lighten the mood.

Steps were heard as the two boys in the kitchen cackled louder while they licked their green fingers.

You appeared on the threshold, agape as you saw the explosion of color, snorting you went ahead to try and help the little kid, who only laughed harder at your face.

That was a moment in time that your family always reminded Peter of. Peter felt like he belonged right there and then when everyone made fun of him and Tommy’s green face.

•••

Coney Island was shining prettily against the darkness of the night, Peter had texted you four times to meet him there. He went to check near the cotton candy stand, you weren’t there.

He had been working his ass off for Jonah the whole week, so now that he had free time, he wanted to do something different and fun with you, and what could be more fun than going to Coney Island and getting on those rattly dubious carnival rides? 

The carousel was packed with parents and screaming kids, as loud music blasted all around, you weren’t there either, so he kept on walking. A man with a bunch of blue balloons was falling asleep on his spot near a trash can. 

Peter’s brain had an idea. He brought a balloon and wrapped it on his wrist. Took his phone out of his jeans and snapped a quick selfie.

Sent it to you instantly.

Peter🕷

I’m the guy with the blue balloon. Hurry up baby I’m starving :(

Two seconds later his hand buzzed and there you were, another selfie you had a blue balloon too.

You 🍯

Matching, now let’s see who finds the other first. 

Loser buys dinner. 

Peter smirked, he had missed you so much the whole day.

Peter 🕷

Deal. You are so gonna lose,

Forgot I got enhanced sight x

You 🍯

Too much talking Parker

We’ll see about that.

Peter loved a good challenge, and meaning he was getting free food and probably a bunch of kisses was enough incentive for him to start looking.

Five minutes and Peter decided to cheat a little. Hopping on the ferris wheel had been the worst idea ever, his eyes tried to focus on blue balloons but the colorful lights caused the opposite effect, overstimulation to his poor eyes, Peter felt dizzy.

When his ride ended, shoulders slumped, and a defeated sigh escaped him but it didn’t matter. He ran to your arms. Balloons tangling between one another, and Peter didn’t care if he had to buy dinner, he was just so happy to see you there.

“I won!” you grinned, as Peter’s hands found place on the side of your face. 

“Yeah I let you.”

“Nah, I saw when you went in there,” you smiled, as he caressed your cheeks with his thumbs. 

Peter leaned in to kiss you, it was sweet and full of love. 

“I sabotaged myself with those lights, so yeah I let you,” you rolled your eyes and Peter chuckled. “Come on, let’s get rid of these,” he punched his balloon, hitting your face with it.

“Hey!” 

He snorted, and kissed your forehead, “Sorry.”

“Just because you are buying dinner, but let’s keep them. This was a good idea to find each other in the crowd.”

“Blue Balloons seem to be better than GPS, right?” 

Peter tried to put his arm over your shoulders but the threads of the balloons were too twisted, thread tugged at your wrist wrong, you yelped and Peter grunted.

“Not very practical when I want to hold you closer.” Peter quivered his brows, but neither made the effort to unravel the knots of ribbon. 

You simply intertwined your hands and walked down Coney Island ready to eat your weight on hotdogs.

•••

“But baby my love my everything, this is so cool! I can go to work, get there faster, pick you up. We can drive to visit May, your mom! We can go on a weekend trip!”

Your face was a mix of fear and curiosity. The bright motorcycle was parked just outside your apartment building, it was indigo blue and it sparkled when the sun hit the paint. You couldn’t lie to yourself, it was a pretty motorcycle, however…

“But it’s dangerous!”

“But it’s convenient!” Peter put out a helmet from his backpack. “Look, I even bought you one! Come on, let's have a little ride, it’ll be fun.”

“Peter-“

“Don’t Peter me, c’mon”

With his doe eyes Peter persuaded you to do the unimaginable. You hated when he swung you places, the momentum of the web slinging made you want to vomit and you didn’t enjoy fast rides so this felt like a mixture of both things. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably as you put the helmet on.

“Hold onto me, if I go too fast let me know, okay?”

Your hands surrounded his waist, you weren’t too sure about the motorcycle but you trusted Peter with your life, so you nodded against his back.

“I got you baby.” 

The roar distracted you from the sudden movement, eyes closed tightly you felt Peter’s abs clench when he made a sharp turn or when he had to make a stop.

“You okay?” 

“I guess… so far,”

“It isn’t that bad, try to enjoy it.” 

You both were speaking loud to hear the other through the helmets, but Peter could sense your shaky hands against his stomach and the way you tensed your body on the curves.

But a few minutes later you started to loosen your grip on his body. Your eyes wandered as you moved between the city… Some streets were less trafficked than others but it was nice to feel the wind and the passing by colors. You didn’t even notice when Peter added a bit of velocity, you were immersed in the sensations.

The Brooklyn bridge was ahead, the view of Manhattan was breathtaking at the hour, some street lights were already turning on but the sky still reflected itself on the skyscrapers, mirroring the view.

“Move in with me?”

“What?”

You weren’t able to hear him because of the wind and the helmet.

“That you should move in with me!” Peter shouted.

“What movie?”

“For fucks sake,”

Peter mumbled as he came to a stop. His motorcycle roared still, but the noise was a lot less. Taking the helmet off, he turned around and took yours too.

“I said… move in with me”

Your eyes grew big, a little shocked, “Oh,”

“I mean we already spend pretty much all the time together so I thought… um, never mind, it was just an idea.”

You grabbed his shoulder, “I’d love to. I was just surprised you asked me all of a sudden. But yeah, let’s do it!”

Peter felt relief and a wave of euphoria. He hopped off the motorcycle, helmets hanging from the handlebars. He nestled your face between his hands, kissing you deeply, he smelt like sun, leather and spandex, with a touch of lemon thanks to his shampoo.

“I have everything planned, we can move my desk to the other room and we can make that an office for when you work from home, we definitely need to throw out my mattress, yours is way bigger and more comfy. Oh and we could get a dog, you like dogs I like dogs so why not.”

You were beaming at your boyfriend as he kept on rambling about the new accommodations of the apartment, what breed of dog and if he even had to buy new cutlery. 

“It’s alright, we can figure that out later.” The wind swirled around you and it all felt right. Even the oh so horrible motorcycle felt less wrong, like it had to be part of your trip or this decision. “We can also get rid of this indigo monstrosity too,”

Peter furrowed his brow, “I just bought it, come on, it's so cool.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It is not, it’s dangerous and you won’t even use it.”

“Oh I definitely will, I look so hot on it.”

Rolling your eyes you gave him a good reason to not like the motorcycle, “that’s why I don’t want it, people will be looking at my boyfriend a little too much.”

Peter smirked, “oh so you agree I look extra hot on the motorcycle, huh. Knew you liked it, kinky.”

“Oh shut up!”

“You love me, don’t try to deny it.”

You grunted, but a smile slipped on your lips. Peter took the helmet and was about to put it on your head again. 

“Love you.” He kissed your forehead sliding the plastic thing, he gave the top of it two knocks, making your head rattle.

“Ouch.”

“Oops,” he put his on and there you were again on the road back to Peter’s apartment, your new home.

•••

Lazy Sunday, as Peter liked to call them. They were pretty much that, after a long night of patrolling, he finally slept until his body couldn’t stand being in bed.

There had been five months since you moved in with him and he couldn’t be happier. You threw a party a month after you were settled in. May made meatloaf as if an army was about to arrive at the apartment, you and he had to eat that for two weeks straight until the last bit disappeared. 

Peter didn’t want to see or hear the meatloaf again, like ever in his life.

So lazy Sundays for him consisted of sleeping, working on his laptop, kissing you as many times as he could, washing dishes and watching basketball games. Sometimes he would change a burned out light bulb or fix the sink’s pressure but that day Peter decided to do laundry, it was his turn so he put everything in trying to finish the task as fast as possible.

When you came back from the bakery, with a fresh baguette and a slice of lemon pound cake for Peter, he went into the kitchen to prepare milkshakes at noon.

“We should wait until after lunch time, Peter,” you pointed as you put the dishes in place.

Peter grunted, “we can have early dinner instead, come on you love my strawberry milkshakes.” 

And with pouty lips and twinkly doe eyes how could you say no to Peter Parker.

“Fine… but I want mine to be extra creamy!”

“Your wish is my command, baby” 

He kissed the top of your head and started to work.

Two hours later Peter was trying to fix some of the coloring and contrast of his photos to send to The Bugle. Kendrick Lamar played through his laptop speakers as he nodded along.

“PETER!”

And Peter flinched on his spot, he sank deeper on the couch, pretending he hadn’t heard you shout his name. Kendrick did a good job trying to make this more believable.

“PETER!” 

Shit shit shit

Peter was panicking, he didn’t even know what he had done to get that tone from you, but he wasn’t risking it.

Maybe that was a bad move on his behalf, because when you appeared in the living room with  puckered lips and flared nostrils he feared for his life. Not literally but he knew something was coming down.

“What did you do to the washing machine?” you asked him, pretending you were totally chill, calm, but it was obvious you were about to lose it.

“Uh… fabric softener?” 

“What else?” your brow cocked and Peter wasn’t sure what his answer should be.

“I—um… clothes…” you sigh didn’t help him solve the puzzle, “listen honey, I don’t know what happened, I just did what I saw you doing, what May taught me.” 

Peter half shrugged. 

Crossing your arms over your chest you pivoted on your spot, “come see what happened.”

Peter winced, knowing that whatever it was was worse than he imagined.

The little room where the washing machine and the dryer machine were, had all the clothes on display just for him to see. Peter’s eyes widened.

“Oh.” he said. Hands on both sides of his hip bones. 

“Yeah oh, now what are we gonna do?”

“I… don’t know, baby.”

Your eyes turned to him, seeing his whole face contracting as he tried his best to not laugh.

“Don’t dare laugh Parker, this isn’t funny, those right there were my best pair of shorts!”

But Peter couldn’t hold it, he snorted and started laughing, until tears were forming on the corner of his eyes. Immediately afterwards you let yourself get involved in the same stupid feeling.

The clothes were violet, not lilac or pink, bright violet. Peter’s suit was the only cloth item that remained in its true colors, red and blue. 

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Peter was trying to stop laughing but the more he looked at the scene the funnier it became.

“Yeah you shouldn’t have, but you did it.” a little smile tugged at your lips, “at least you’ll have to use violet shirts too, and socks, I mean you wear those horrible yellow socks anyway so I don’t think that would be an issue for you.”

“Oh, not this again,” Peter was grinning, “but yeah right, I don’t care about the socks, violet isn’t my color tho, but it’s what I deserve.”

“Next time wash the damn suit alone”

“I will…” Peter saw you collecting the clothes, his whole body—even when he felt a pang of guilt for the damage he cause—felt alive, happy and eased, this was the most mundane thing that could’ve happened to him today and he was almost grateful for it, because he loved having moments like that with you. Homey, normal and funny. 

He loved spending life with you, no matter what happened or what color his underwear was, his life was technicolor since you were in it.

“Did I tell you the same happened to me a couple years back, I told May I washed the American flag, just so she wouldn’t suspect of me being Spider-Man…”

Peter said this between laughs, reminiscing of the past.

“And why didn’t you put it in the washing machine alone..”

“I forgot… I’ll buy you another pair of shorts I promise!” 

“Ugh, shut up spider boy!”

•••

Black was all you saw, lying in bed next to Peter as the rain pelted on the windows. His chest was pressed to your back, you being the little spoon.

Peter kissed the back of your neck as his arms wrapped your middle, putting you as near as your bodies could ever be. 

You didn’t need light nor words to express how much you cared for him or him for you, it was all in the actions, in the deep breaths he took to inhale your shampoo scent and the still lingering perfume notes on your skin. 

It was in the way he made tiny little circles on your stomach, his hands finding a way under your shirt and his lips brushing the skin of your shoulder. You felt his heartbeat at your back and you smiled, Peter made you smile when he was falling asleep and all of a sudden he jumped on his spot, that feeling of falling off the bed when you are getting swallowed by sleepiness. 

He grunted and snuggled against you.

Of course he felt your belly wiggle with the silent laugh, but Peter didn’t care his lips only turned upwards, enjoying just the feeling of you between his arms. Your hands found his, fingers tracing the shape of his fingers and the edges of his hand, his trapped yours and it  made you giggle, his index and thumb found the new addition in your ring finger. 

In the darkness everything felt more personal, this was a reminder of what the future held for you two, secret actions no one needed to know, so you twisted to face Peter as he fixed himself to let you. 

The pitch black room wasn’t an impediment, on the contrary it gave you permission to brush your knuckles over Peter’s jaw where a stubble was forming. Your lips found his naturally, Peter was almost out but he let you kiss him, only his hand giving your hip a light squeeze.

Rain was the soundtrack you fell asleep to. Peter your comfort, and darkness, the witness of little moments of joy and love.

•••

White were the balloons, the tablecloths and your wedding attire. 

The flowers decorating the space were yellow, they had to be. 

Seeing Peter dressed in black with his bowtie and teary eyes at the altar, all you could think of was how fortunate you were, how much you loved him and how happy your life became the moment you saw him under red lights.

Forever promises were made, with more I love yous than one could dare to count, and a bunch of kisses once they let you kiss one another. 

“I’ll forever be here for you, you are the joy of my life, the light, the sun, the stars, the moon, my compass and my reason to be who I am.” Peter kept on whispering even after the ceremony. With each word your heart grew a size, you couldn’t believe you felt this strongly  about someone.

First dance with Baby I’m Yours by the Arctic Monkeys in the background felt like the right call. Peter made you twirl and you sang to him, as he hid his face on your neck, kissing it lightly.

You saw your mom and May crying at some point; little Tommy became the ring bearer and was even more fascinated by Peter when for his birthday he got a lego collection of none other than Spider-Man. 

Cake was lemon sponge and they served strawberry milkshakes along with other alcoholic beverages. Peter and you danced until your feet couldn’t take one more step. 

“I love you!” 

“No, love you more!”

“Lies,”

“I asked you out, remember? I have dibs.” Peter pinched your nose.

“But I accepted, so I have the last word.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, pressed his forehead on yours, eyes connecting with your own. He leaned in, eyes fluttered shut and there; lips collided with so much care, love and softness you could feel fireworks inside you, colorful, fiery, bright and alive. 

Loving Peter Parker was like every single one of the colors, everything merging together, forming a rainbow inside your heart.

[soahbee]

!!BIG UPDATE GIRLSSSS HELP!!😭😭

So I had my exam with him today. To be honest, I didn't sleep much yesterday, bc in the end he didn't reply to my "I'd like to see you during the holidays" message and there was never a time when he didn't answer! I felt so much that with this I just fucked everything that we had built with great difficulty between each other. I tried to avoid interacting with him all day and only looked at him when I entered the room, but I quickly sat down instead, tried to shut out my thoughts and focus only on the exam. I like his class, I like the way he teaches and I want to remain the best. Fortunately, I managed to concentrate and solve everything, so I think I will get a good mark.

However, after the exam, some of my friends still had an exam today, so I planned to go home as soon as possible because I remembered again that R is and I wrote him a stupid message yesterday, to which he did not reply, so I overthought it and thought that it must be unpleasant the situation for him as well.

But after I was on my way out of the class, R suddenly called my name quite loudly and I'll be honest, I was really scared. A few people also looked at us a bit strangely, everyone here likes dramas, you know blah. I went to him with great difficulty and stood in awkward silence by the table and just watched him pack his bag while everyone left the room and there were only two of us left. I tried to determine from his face what he was thinking, but his gaze was so gloomy that I had no good premonitions, so I panicked, and when I panic, I tend to talk nonsense, so I remained silent until finally he looked at me and said:

"I didn't want to ignore your message yesterday, I'm sorry, but I'm primarily your teacher now and I want you to concentrate on your exams."

I didn't know what to say at the time, so whatever came came. I quickly said that there is nothing wrong, I don't know what I was thinking, when I wrote it, it just happened, but forget it and yes, I will concentrate on the exams. After that, R smiled kindly at me and, just imagine, stroked my head and said: "Won't you let me finish?"

After that I almost bit my tongue lol He asked when I would finish all my exams and I told him that there would be one at the end of December and the first week of January. He said that he hopes they will turn out as well as the others and that he can't promise anything, but if he's home between two holidays, then we can talk about what I wrote.

I don't know exactly what this means, but I didn't really understand it then, and maybe even now I'm in a state of shock, so girls, help me, what does this mean?!! Now do you think he would like to meet me? Then I didn't cross the boundaries and he didn't misunderstand???

IDK IM JUST AHHHHH 😭😭

[cheolsfae]

Hi! Can I request an ideal type and future spouse post for Vernon pls! Thank you!

Sure thing! This is his future spouse one. I'm going to do ideal type this weekend when I have more time! 😭 when I finish it, I'll link it here ✨️

*Disclaimer: solely for fun! Please do not take this seriously. For entertainment purposes only!*

Past: 4 of pentacles, the star

I think this person has a tendency to hold on to past hopes. Things that they wanted to happen but just didn't. It didn't pan out they way they wanted, or it didn't happen at all. They might of had a bit of a habit of hovering over their partner. Almost like parenting them. Obviously, that wasn't working for them. They were being way too controlling for the other person to handle. Firmer boundaries were then put in place and I think that's how those relationships ended.

Present: 8 of pentacles, king of pentacles

They are working hard for that money, honey lol. They are trying to create a stable future for themselves. They aren't really focused on any sort of romantic relationships right now. They don't really care for them. They just want to focus on their career at this point in time. They are too busy busting their ass to make their future great. They feel like this whole work this is just something they are going to have to tunnel vision through and get 'er done. This feels like a huge obstacle for them at this point in time. It could be they are struggling with something like a coworker or their job could be really stressful right now.

Future: the wheel of fortune, 2 of wands (reversed)

I think when they meet, it's going to be almost like a stroke of luck. Or it's going to feel that way at least. I don't think this person expected to meet someone like Vernon and I don't think he expected it either. So when they get together, it's going to be really shocking. Almost like they met by the hands of fate (exactly what will happen but they don't know that haha). I think it's going to feel almost too good to be true on his future spouses end. Almost like a trick or he's hiding bad intentions. He won't be but it will make this person feel like that.

Bottom of the deck: 8 of cups

Over all, I think this person is in a little bit of a depressed state due to working so hard to secure a future for themselves. But they know they need to do this for their own good. They feel like this is the way that they need to pave for themselves. They need to start looking at different ways of getting through these obstacles. They'll get through eventually!

*Oracle deck was also used!

[queenlua]

Hi!! I’d you’re still doing readings I’m wondering about my love life (in general) and my career specifically if I should pursue music and/or theatre or not.

Both of these topics have been on my mind a lot lately so you can answer whichever you’re drawn to :)

Thank you so much you’re so kind !!

you will *also* get a reading from the Mystical Forest Tarot, because frankly i wanted to look at more of the bird cards in this deck lol

i threw these down & got more of a career vibe from 'em so that's what the reading is about

PAST—nine of swords: okay lmao this is what i mean about this deck being hard to read. like what is the iconography here. why is a sloth here to represent excessive fear/worry/dread/etc. i do not know the connection & the included booklet does not care to explain

ANYWAY THO. yeah man you were angsting pretty hard over your career in the past huh. trying to pick a direction to go. everything seeming hopeless. etc.

PRESENT—nine of wands: but hopefully you realized all that dreading was kind of a waste of time, a pack of paper tigers, etc, because nine of swords is "still standing upright and looking tbh kind of like a badass even after facing some pretty severe knocks." this has the vibe that you've chosen a direction, or at least a potential direction, and have a pretty good sense of your own abilities and also the difficulties you'll be facing

FUTURE—one of pentacles: a couple possible meanings. one: maybe a random rich great-uncle you never heard of dies and leaves you a bit of money that gives you a bit more financial freedom to pursue a path you're drawn to. two: maybe after those knocks you've taken, you're thinking about pursuing a more practical path. if you do so, you'll have some early strokes of fortune & certainly have material security in the near- to medium-term. three: could be a word of caution—pursue what you want, but make sure you've got a side gig / day job / concrete skill that you don't hate, as you'll need to fall back on it in a pinch. pick whichever one seems to vibe best with your sitch

[mneiai]

Um that crack pairing you did a drabble once: Joanna (Fem!Jon) Stark x Joffrey Baratheon, they make it work…sorta…there is definitely murder happening at the least

Sooo I started writing this, then got a few more ideas, then it ended up more involved then I thought it would be, but then I cut other POVs I had written because I didn't quite like them, and then decided I needed to post SOMETHING up and here we go lol

Here is the referenced fic

Joffrey/Jon time travel soulmate AU. GoT ages but more ASOIAF-y Jon. Just, y'know, in a fem!Jon's body. And hints of Young Griff/Jon.

XxXxX

Of all the traps he could have set, Bryden had woven the most dangerous one Jon could imagine.

He appreciated that about his great uncle,. He knew never to underestimate Bloodraven's ruthlessness when it came to the defense of House Targaryen. But just as he had sacrificed his honor and freedom, he expected Jon to sacrifice much in turn.

Being reborn the daughter of Ned Stark--posed as the trueborn twin to Robb, though Jon knew in his heart that fire resided in his blood--had seemed severe enough a payment for setting right the wrongs of the last timeline. Yet, at the age of six and ten, Bryden's true trap was revealed.

Crown Prince Joffrey's soulmark had arrived, to much celebration even before the revelation it matched Joanna Stark's own. There was no doubt that Robert Baratheon had celebrated, had claimed it fate and fortune. Already, Jon knew from the small circle of correspondents he had created with other young ladies of the realm (Lady Catelyn--Mother--thought him dedicated to finding a good husband and Robb a good match, Father joked that Joanna should have been born a boy so he might have become a Maester, pain brief in his expression when his words caught up to him), he knew the South had named him the new Lyanna Stark, called him beautiful and graceful without ever seeing him.

That he had Lyanna's coloring could not be mistaken, of course, but the beauty of his body when he looked in the mirror was surely Valyrian, traces of Daenerys and countless other princesses and queens in his features.

If he had to be a princess, he wished to be as Alyssa, to be wild and free. He knew that would not serve him well under the Lannisters, though, and so he became as once Sansa had been: on the outside, a little bird for the lions to mold. But birds could be predators, too, and his heart was a wolf, his soul a dragon.

Jon smiled with sweetness and light as he imagined his teeth were as Balerion's. Dancing in Joffrey's clutches, he imagined his words were fire roasting the lesser creature to eat.

He would torment House Lannister, would make the carrion house suffer for all its crimes. For they had committed many against House Targaryen and despite how hard Jon would try to avoid the conflicts of last time, he knew they would cause suffering where they could.

Joffrey was a cruel child, just as he had been, before, but easily led when someone was subtle. More easily, perhaps, because Jon was supposedly his soulmate (he imagined Joffrey would have never had one, that Bryden slotted Jon into an empty space).

Soulmates were made to love and help each other, to strengthen and support.

Everyone assumed Jon would calm Joffrey's worse habits, would make him a better king. No one thought Joanna Stark could possibly be a monster in her own right, not such a dutiful and sweet girl.

Slender, soft fingers slid from his hand to his wrist, stroking over his soulmark and making him shudder despite himself. There was a bond there, nothing as serious as what he would feel with a direwolf or a dragon, but something. Joffrey knew nothing about how to use it, prodding like a child poking an animal with a stick, but Jon did.

Twisting around Joffrey's presence, making him enjoy having Jon in control of the bond (if he even noticed that was the case, which Jon doubted).

"You'll look beautiful in gold, my lady," Joffrey murmured to him as they danced at the last feast before they would go South, Jon's eyes having started to wander over his family as he thought through his preparations.

He forced his attention back to Joffrey. "And black, too, I believe," he stated, humor that no one else could not understand tinging his voice.

"And black," Joffrey agreed, "and red." He meant the Lannister colors, Jon knew, but he couldn't help but smile to that, too.

Yes, he would look wonderful in black and red. As all dragons did.

At the high table, Robert stared at him with naked desire and Jon flinched, drawing Joffrey's attention to it. The hands around him became tighter, more protective, and Joffrey's jaw clenched. He did not like to share his toys, not even with the father he always wished would notice him.

Jon tugged at his grasp, inclining his head. "Perhaps a last walk through the glass gardens, your grace."

Joffrey agreed with relief, a pensive Jaime following them as they exited.

***

Sansa still came South, but so did Bran (healthy and whole, spry and happy). When not with the larger party, Joffrey spent his time with Jon, who used all the tricks that women had once used on him and other men around him to keep Joffrey's attention.

Their direwolves, too, came with them, and Joffrey was soon one of the only Southrons not wary of them. His soulmate, after all, had one, which to him meant he practically had one himself. He boasted about "their" Ghost, how large he would grow, how vicious he would be, the enemies that would be fed to him.

Ghost normally just laid nearby, thoroughly unimpressed, or at one point was in the background playfully chasing a butterfly.

The three direwolves that came to King's Landing were the most obedient, Ghost because he had been through so much with Jon, Summer because even if Bran was more or less unaware of his abilities he was too powerful not to inspire obedience, and Sansa because Lady took after her and she spent a good deal of time training her. He could not imagine what had ever possessed their father to bring Arya South, let alone Nymeria.

At the Keep, Joffrey had an area of the Godsweed turned into a sort of stable for the direwolves, though they rarely left their sides. It was surprisingly thoughtful, though, as were the tailors that appeared on Jon's third day, with many beautiful samples of black, red, and cloth of gold.

If nothing else, Joffrey was aware of court fashions and the statements to be made with clothing.

Cersei, too, helped where she could. Less condescending than she was to Sansa, who even without a betrothal to Joffrey was treated like some pet.

"I am glad to be with my soulmate, of course, but I miss Robb," Jon 'admitted' to her during one of her gatherings, sat at her side as a princess-to-be as the ladies of court tittered below them. "Being without my twin for the first time is like I am missing a part of myself."

Her soft hands ran over Jon's shoulder. "You poor thing, being away from Jaime is so similar." She looked towards the door where Jaime stood guard and gave a longing sigh, as if he was not right there. "But you have Joffrey and your soulmate will help fill that hole inside of you."

She did not need to point out that she had no soulmate, that Robert was a poor substitute. Even Ned had started to admit how much Robert failed at being a king, husband, and father.

If only he knew what Joffrey could become, if left free.

"Yes, I am so thankful for Joffrey, of course, and I hope we have many years before we must rule." He shared an obviously fake smile with Cersei, whose own smile became more sincere as she registered Jon's lie, surely thinking he wanted Robert out of the way so Joffrey would rule.

Brynden's plots wove through Jon's life like thread, but he was now used to that. And while he could play at being Joffrey's soulmate, Jon was one of the few blessed with two marks--unknown to everyone else. And it was the second mark, kept hidden on his other arm, which he truly looked forward to. Because while Bryden surely had plans for that, as well, Jon was not without his own.

***

It had taken some time, and a great deal of warging into Balerion the cat, to set up a private meeting with Varys in one of the hidden chambers beneath the Red Keep. Varys was incredible at not keeping to any habit or schedule in his excursions, but with Jon watching when he thought he was alone, he had managed to locate the path he took back to his chambers when he left through a specific other exit.

He actually made Varys jump when he stepped out into the faint light of the torch, his black clothing having faded into the shadows and his face kept hidden by his hair. It was the work of a moment to use that briefest distraction to get close and press a dagger against Varys' pale neck.

The blade had been a gift from Joffrey, the elaborate Valyrian steel that had once nearly ended his little brother's life and started a war. Jon couldn't help but appreciate the irony of owning it and even moreso of using it against Varys.

"Lady Joanna, what a surprise!"

"Who do you support, Lord Varys? Stags? Lions?"

His eyebrows rose. "Why, I am the Master of Whisperers--"

Jon's cold look turned vicious, giving a smile that was just a display of teeth as he kept Varys from taking control of the situation. "Is it dragons?" He saw the first hint of a crack in Varys' demeanor and pressed. "Of red, my lord...or black?"

Varys kept up his simpering act, too exemplary a mummer to fail, yet. "I serve the realm, my lady."

With a scoff, Jon stepped away, dagger slowly tracing down Vary's body, resting against his belly now instead of his neck. He had gutted men before, though "Joanna" was unblooded and the threat seemed less to Varys, he was sure, than it was.

"It is a shame that my uncle has died, I could have been his bride, in the tradition of our house. But my aunt, I hear, has dragons." Watching Varys' eyes widen was very satisfying, knowing how much Varys coveted information and loved being the one with more than anyone else.

He pulled away completely, sheathing his dagger and, with slow movements, unwinding the bracelet on his right wrist to reveal the mark no one had know of but he and Brynden. He did not miss the way Varys' eyes took on a dangerous gleam as soon as they alighted upon it and Jon knew he had guessed right, that it was Varys' pet across the sea who was his match. Technically, Jon should not have any way of knowing of the dragon boy that Varys supported, was simply showing that Joffrey didn't have his sole allegiance and that he would not die if that soulmate did, as people with only one often did.

"I will need a steady, and subtle, supply of moon tea after my wedding, Lord Varys. It would be shameful to mix the blood of a dragon with lion."

Varys' eyes darkened for a moment, flicking down his body, and Jon wondered if he was thinking of how close the wedding was and how Joffrey would take what could have been Aegon's. If he was imagining a Blackfyre cuckoo growing inside one of the last Targaryens, if that was what his boy was.

"But of course...my princess." The bow was what one might give the heir to the throne and Jon realized that, even as Joanna, that was what he would be--Rhaegar's daughter before Rhaegar's sister, if others were willing to accept that his second marriage was valid. "But might I ask, how did you know? Call it professional curiosity."

He hoped his own surprise at the bow didn't show, even as he mentally kicked himself for not figuring that out himself. It didn't matter, Aegon had an army and Varys' assistance, Daenerys had dragons and would eventually have an army herself. Whatever chaos that Varys meant to sow this time around, all Jon could do was keep the Starks out of it and hope that he'd be spared excessive pain.

Instead, returning to the cold expression of a Stark, he took a few more steps towards the exit he would take, opposite Varys' normal route. "Dreams can show many things, my lord, as history tells us."

Let him think it was dragon dreams, that would be Jon's excuse for many things if he was ever confronted with his foreknowledge. If that didn't work, he could always admit to being a warg, but Varys was one of the last people he wanted to trust with that information.

XxXxX

Notes:

So, the backstory is: Lyanna and Rhaegar had a daughter, not a son. Ned sends Wylla and the baby ahead of him, as a girl is under much less threat than a boy, so no one remembers him traveling with his supposed bastard, and Catelyn is less furious when the baby arrives since she's less of a threat to Robb and manages to think clearly and put the truth together. She sets up a lie that the baby is Robb's younger twin sister.

To this, a more or less canonical Jon Snow is sent back in time and is in that baby's body the whole time. Having gone through a huge identity crisis already (and one other death), he holds onto much of himself over the years and thinks of his current identity as more of a role he's playing than his actual self, so unlike with my chaptered series Potentiality, he isn't technically a trans man, mentally he's disassociated from the body he's in and treats it as a cis girl's body.

Bloodraven is a complicated character. I know many people assume he would hate the Targaryens, but I find that hard to believe. He was a pragmatist, he knew that Aegon V would need to punish him and distance his reign from him. If he was upset at not being executed, there's a hundred different ways to die at the Wall, especially for a kinslaying, oathbreaking, Targaryen loyalist (and if there was even just one Bracken there, that would be enough lol). I personally think that he would like a Targaryen Restoration and if not that, at least the final destruction of the Blackfyres (if he knew/assumed Aegon and/or Varys were Blackfyres). Whether he's actually against the Others, whether he's actually helping Bran, whether he's actually loyal to the Children, all of that is up in the air, but I think he would never hate the Targaryens (hell, he wasn't even the only one at the Wall, Aemon went with him).

[the-firebird69]

The Killers - The Man

ad his casio dive watch was the Rolex

his cars well ok mostlyw hat you see nope

firebird his first, was the first that year. he was the one affixing the bumper on the front of the car

his second car...was the maverick sorta and yes a first.  bja almost ruined it caa had him hve mr uhlman pump out the engine it ran ok

the for escort number one

bja had a secon run about two hundred thousand.  yup. the yellow one our son drove first not bja.  and it wa dropped there by the factory.  was not used eever.

the honda used by dad but driven by our son first at a dealer no school.  wentworth.  nope.  he drove it at a dealer.  liked it could not afford it.  his dad had a conniption.  

and the corrolla a first yes.  and his Fathers version and a Japanese look caught on here.  his Father afixed the rear bumber ad to protect him.

the ford truck new first a first and the first year of the new look and a 250 full sized.  new too.

the kawasaki he road when little on a farm, first. was a first he afixxed the last bolt.  on the handlebars. looked at it often

the rm 100 a sazuki nope.   Harley Davidson he and she afixed the rear tire and together.  bickered too. lol

dr125 and a suxuki nope.  modified the rm 100 same motor and used a four stroke well ok it was new a nd  a first.  not pwoerufl and they changed it.  good he says.

first we mean first productin bike and the first prototype to go into production.  yeh.  firsts. his rolex a first and the newest recent dive watch. some wanted it saw it ok.  tried for it.

his swiss army watch taken by tommy a worth 5000 if store bought and really billions for his a first and by his Father and Mother made by thier hands alone and sent in to make.  he was is hated.  and is gone shortly.

tons of clothes firsts. tons out soon.  the us army boots and us marines are his design. tons see it. too. konws it.

and yeh had ken run in boots...lol hahaha i made  a fortune he says turmp took it i know to where  his headquarters.  some suits  are ruses like in ga

and we know it too.

tercel no one and he drove it...and while in school took it out of a lot and bc and nope not enough money now. too small sorry.

the gmc one of his favs and had overdrvie fo gas and a 6 made good milage and ws  a prototyope for tons of small trucks.   had speed cut out at 97mph but can go 180.  brad knew said faster kid.  cant. cuts out.  they tried to remove it tons of times and the accident was due to that and him.  he is a clutz tommy f did it.  was astounded no injuries.  none.  and totalled it.  he is smooth too.  looked right at him said ok.  now he was in disguse ad used it no.  fell they heard it too. he is drunk or soething.  tested you verbally nope.  and the kid was silent cased it was arrested no . paid though. got ifired they saw he did it.  AND trump they repaired it we hit them  alot for it.  they are idiots and faiiled thier own.

kia optima his idea nad high mileage and good gas and affordable.  ran great.  had power and about40 miles a gallon a record.  better on hiway and overdrive.  it went about 140 and he never tried. had a limiter. ok.

new tires and tons did and it got better mileage some up to 50mpg a first ad some of his design components.  the engine especially.  fast ok.  new injectors and mechanical. fast.  got awards from us.  tons of th;em waiting for him.

and a first run first car off the line and the final prototype.  his. and you almost wrecked it several or many times.we  hat you want it now ok.

all of it

tons of new ideas, his reciever when using antena works great.  is great.  you suck ok.

kareoke too. adthe very fist

needds a table and chair so we use it.  firsts work for them....tons of them need furniture.  and the iditos wont.  we use that too

all of this stuff will work

the  firebird  is a special story.

Thor Freya

we used it on our trip.  ok it is our first car.  we were there.  and lost it.  

Hera okhoney

thats the deal

Zues ok

[thenighttcat]

a rundown of my chaotic journal from last year and a bit of this year

10 June

I am on my way to the Monopoly tournament when I nearly fall asleep while standing on the train and fall over. Fortunately, I catch myself in a startle just before I trip and end up on the ground. The spillover effects of jet lag have not yet been eliminated. Hopefully i’ll finally be able to fall asleep tonight and sleep till sunrise. i’m so tired inside that i’m even half hoping that i’ll lose the first round so I can go home early and hit the sack. Not quite the sporting spirit, I have to admit, but you’d be surprised what lack of sleep can do to a person.

I don’t expect to win, even though there’s always that tiny sliver of idealism within that believes that somehow with a stroke of luck (a very great stroke indeed) i’ll go away with the champions trophy and a hundred thousand bucks. Oh how id like to be a hundred thousand dollars richer!

 12 June

One of the most important traits, if not the most important, that a friend needs to have is dependability. Can you depend on him? He might be a kind-hearted, good-natured person. He could be extremely talented and tell the best jokes, he might be able to play the guitar and be willing to go on the craziest adventures with you. But at the end of the day, when you are in need, will he be there for you? Because if one day you find yourself caught in a thick fog that you cannot escape from, and when you call out but there is no response, no figure emerges from the smoke and appears, if at the end of it all when all's been said and done, if in times of trouble you have to walk alone, then what sort of a friend is your friend?

 Not the sort I am that is for sure.

 17 June

Emotions are all just smoke and mirrors

 28 Nov

 Free beer from mini bar. Full and bloated, poured a good deal of it down the sink. Wasteful, need to learn to say no. Endowment effect ruins us all.

  2 Dec

Back in Singapore from Vietnam Trip. Going to Laos on Tuesday, savouring this in-between rest in SG. Thinking of M, why do I fall in love so easily? I don't want to sleep.

 6 Dec

Dazzling sunset, muted purplish hues. Soul deadened to the beauty. Unable to feed awe. Thinking of Miss A.

 7 Dec

Sitting alone with my bottle of beer at a gorgeous beach bar. Strings of bulbs create a warm, relaxing atmosphere and in the middle of the beach they even set up a campfire. Wondering if I am relegated to a lonely, selfish life.

 25 Dec - went berserk on christmas day????

I have no idea why I am writing this. I'm just bored I guess. I used to write with pen and paper but now I decided to use the computer because at a certain point we must all stop clinging on to our anti-technology ideals and grow up I suppose. What should I title this? Hmmm let me think. Lol.

I have a rule when I write. I must keep typing non-stop and no matter what no hit the backspace button, unless there's some serious spelling error I guess. I try not to be strict with myself too much, but also not so not strict because either way you find yourself in an extreme and we all know that extremes are generally not healthy.

I wanted to talk about something that happened today. It was a very unfortunate happening and it scarred me for like, life.

So what happened was that I walking down the main street casually and in a cool, fashionable sort of way. I can't help it, I just have an effortless style, I was born with it what can I say. Some people say I'm an unreliable narrator but let's not get too caught up in that haha. Anyway, as I was saying, I was strolling down the street in a casual and cool, fashionable sort of way when I met this dude named Greg. He started telling me all about his life story. Spilling it loudly out like it was a bag of beans and he wanted the whole world to know it. I was like:  "Hey dude, whose name is Greg, who I never met before, why are you doing this? Don't you think that maybe it's not a good idea to randomly share your life story with strangers?"

And Greg was all tears and red-faced, because he was telling a sad and embarrassing story about his ex-wife who took his kids away from him. He said, "After forty years of living a phony lie, I have decided to become an authentic man. An authentic man, I dare say."

This morsel of truth rather shocked me. Why would anyone want to be authentic when they can be phony. I mean, who wants to bare their true selves, whether it be to friends, family or random strangers you meet on the street. It was unnatural and I would have told him so, but I'm not an authentic person as you can see and so I withheld that piece of information from him. Anyway, after he was done with his life story, which was tragic and full of bumps and plunges, he shook my hand in a very formal way and then we parted ways, never to meet each other again I'm sure.

As I was walking away, I began to think about what Greg said about authenticity, and found that it rather bothered me. Authenticity, authenticity, authenticity. What's the point of authenticity really? What we want is solutions ain't it right? We want to better ourselves and improve our miserable lives. Why be so caught up instead in being "authentic" when all that authenticity really is, is coming face-to-face with your damned problems and seeing how miserable you are and parading that misery around wherever you go. That makes no sense to me. And so I decided that I was going to write this Greg guy off.

I went back to my apartment.

Haha it isn't actually an apartment. It is a FACILITY. It is a facility for all the homeless failures like me. Except that I'm not a failure. I refuse to believe that I am. NOOO. I am just staying in this temporary abode, and one day I tell you I'm gonna get out of this dreadful place. Nobody will dare take pity on me then.

Anyway, the facility is empty because most people are at work. This makes me feel even more like a failure because even the other homeless failures have managed to get a job during the daytime unlike ME. There is one other guy in the facility at this time of the day though, and his name is Sarah. Or rather her name. Doesn't matter. I treat all the people who live here as guys because I don't want to fall in love with nobody, no way I'm not. That's pathetic. Genetics determine that failure + failure = double failure. And boy I don't my kids to turn out that way that's for sure.

Anyway, as I was saying, Sarah is mooching around the facility with a vape in her mouth. I wonder where she managed to get the vape from. I mean, it costs quite a big deal of money right. If she doesn't have a job and stays in the facility, what money does she have to afford all this? I ask her this and she tells me to mind my own business, and so I do. I go into the room and mind my own business, but the only problem is that I don't have any business and I am at a point where I can't even be bothered to switch on my phone because that just means hours and hours of mindless memes and looking at Instagram  and just feeling like crap because everyone's lives are shinier and better than mine. So no thank you. In the end I just decide to lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling and the blank walls wondering how on the earth I managed to finish up in this state. PATHETIC if you ask me.

  1 Jan 2023

I feel a pang of sadness in the knowledge that not everyone made it to the new year

 2 Jan 2023

All that accompanied me in my loneliness were my imagination; shadows cast by a flickering candlelight that vanished the moment the fire died.

 7 Jan

On the train ride home tonight I was thinking about how it will never work out with Faith, and it was a wearisome thought that spun off many more wearisome thoughts that I could not even comprehend myself. It then occurred to me that the thoughts and feelings of a person are such wearisome things, along with the opinions of others towards you and those you have of others.

I'm done with living in this sphere where there isn't very much that I can do. The creatures here are wild and cannot be tamed. No one lives forever, and it is time to stop wasting time. I'm leaving, and focusing on what is important - ACTION. That is something I can make up my mind and commit to.

15 Jan

 Me and JC are too stingy

 We meet our destiny on our the paths we take to avoid it. Defense is a poor strategy.

 Learning to let Miss A go. Realising that appearances are deceiving, and that love at first sight may really be an open door to catastrophe

[bruhstories]

neighbours from hell

summary: a prank war between you and porco begins, until you pull the ultimate prank

pairing: porco galliard x fem!reader, implied reiner braun x fem!reader (they're not actually together), armin arlert x annie leonhart

warning & content: smoking, drinking, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), edging (if you squint), praising, fingers in mouth, v fingering, enemies to lovers

word count: 7.7k (my longest fic so far lol)

a/n: this is a mess, i am a mess. good night

Every night, every single night, he'd have a girl at his place. At least you found out his name was Porco by how much they screamed it.

Hmpf. Porco.

Who the fuck names their kid pig?

God, it was infuriating to the point where you were a moan away from calling the cops. Your last resort and only sliver of hope was turning the volume up in hopes either he or she would be too disturbed by the music to continue.

In all fairness, you didn't care what he was doing, as long as he did it quietly, because damn it, you had work the next day. You weren't a saint, nor a prude, but really? There's quiet hours for a reason. Whenever you had a guy around, you either finished before 10 pm, or not scream your lungs out. Well, you didn't havea reason to scream, most men didn't fuck your brains out so you just faked a few moans and that was it. And you were pretty sure the girls Porco fucked were faking it. Either that, or he was some kind of a sex god.

He didn't like you either. Who the fuck blasts music at 6 in the fucking morning? That's when his sleep was most precious, but you just had to ruin it. Sure, you had great taste in music, he could admit that, but not at 6 am. He never once stopped to think that if he can hear your music, you can hear his sexcapades.

The layout of the building was simple — square, and your flats just happened to meet in a corner, giving him a nice little view into your living room, and every single morning, when your music woke him up, he'd catch you dancing by yourself, and what seemed to be screeching the lyrics. Fortunately he didn't hear that.

Your lives were different, for lack of a better word. His was random, spontaneous, chaotic, your was organised, tidy, peaceful. The only thing you had in common was how you spent your weekends — you with your friends, Porco with his. Every weekend you'd be at Eren's, or Connie’s, or your place, while Porco would chill at Reiner's or Pieck's, or his place. That was a rule that neither of you broke, unless there was a good reason to do so.

*

"Armin has a girlfriend!" Sasha screamed through the phone.

"Bullshit!" You almost knocked the cup of tea off the table.

"I'm serious! He wants us to meet her tonight at Eren's."

"Oh my God, so he's serious about her! I'm so excited!"

"Be there or be square, loser!"

"Are you kidding? I can't wait to tease him!" Sasha could feel your grin through the speaker.

Annie was so cool. You had a lot of things in common with her, especially the love for period dramas and music, and she seemed pretty comfortable around you, so it didn't take long for your group of friends to merge with hers. You were lowkey excited, because it's been a while since you met new people, and while you absolutely loved your friends, you didn't mind making new ones.

Of course, that didn't mean you stopped hearing Porco’s girls having strokes on the other side of the wall. You bought ear plugs to try and muffle the sounds, but you were beginning to think he was murdering them. One night, you decided to go out your balcony for a smoke. You didn't always smoke, but desperate times called for desperate measures, so you placed the cigarette between your lips, hoping this might kill some time until you could go back to bed. Leaned on the exterior wall of your flat, you blew the thick smoke. The moans seemed to stop, thank fuck, but you didn't expect him to come out for a smoke.

"Can I go back to sleep now?" You deadpanned, startling the shit out of him.

"Huh, didn't think you'd be a smoker." He inhaled the smoke and blew it in your direction.

"You didn't answer my question, Don Juan."

"Didn't think you'd be wearing lace lingerie, either." He ignored you, opting to stare at your figure.

"Fitting name, you are a pig." You covered yourself better with the bathrobe before stubbing your unfinished cigarette and going back inside.

Your unapproachable and cold attitude only fueled his fire, because after that exchange of words, Porco made it his sole purpose to annoy you.

And annoy you he did.

Sometimes he had two sexcapades in one day, those days you really wanted to relax, read a book, have your parents over. And it really pissed you off. In fact, it pissed you off so much that you installed Tinder just so you could hook up with guys and scream their names whenever Porco was nice and quiet. You would moan and mewl, whimper and chant the guy’s name even if you couldn't give two shits on who you were fucking, all in the name of war.

It worked like a charm. It infuriated him to the point that he ended up asking you to pipe down. And without a shred of empathy or care, you simply smiled and told him "no."

Naturally, this meant that Porco had to take matters into his own hands, and while he truly wanted to strangle you, he didn't want to risk getting arrested over someone so insignificant to him as you. Thus, he did the next best thing — pranks.

The first prank he ever did was smear shoe polish on your doorknob. When you left for work and touched the icky cream, you just knew it was him who put it there. Luckily you paid attention, otherwise you would have smeared it all over your white skirt, so you went back inside, washed your hands and wiped the doorknob. You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt and hoped it was just some kid, but you knew better than that. You knew Porco had the mental age of a thirteen-year-old.

And so did you, apparently, because the next thing you did was order a pizza on his name and address and laugh your ass off when the delivery guy harassed Porco for his money. He got his payback when he threw a bunch of fake insects into your balcony when you were out for a smoke. The way you screamed is forever stuck in his head — he even wiped tears from the corners of his eyes when you jumped on the purple ottoman, fear written all over your face.

Motherfucker.

You thought of a clever way to get back to him, but it required time, and it required patience, and your patience was running thin. Still, you went with the plan, you bought a bag of bird food and stored it in your pantry. Whenever Porco was asleep (which was usually when you woke up), you carefully scattered the seeds on the railing of his balcony, because he never came outside unless he smoked, and he only smoked after sex.

Jesus, you learned his fucking schedule for this petty prank, but it was worth it, because in a few days he woke up to entire flocks of pigeons, sparrows and even magpies shitting all over his balcony. And little innocent you just couldn't comprehend how this happened.

"Birds must really like you." You'd shurg whenever you caught him scraping the crusty bird shit from his tiled balcony floor.

"Fuck off, I know you did something to bring them here, you witch." He would tell you and you just pretended not to know anything about it with a smile so bright that would put the sun to shame. But behind that pure smile lay hidden your most devious and mischievous intentions. Fuck him.

*

Ding! One (1) new message from Eren:

7 pm, my place

It's Annie's birthday tonight and you're getting all dolled up for it. You're finally going to meet her friends, and honestly you can't wait to have a drink, relax, maybe flirt with someone. You need to get Porco off your mind. He did stop with his pranks, surprisingly, but you know he's probably cooking something big. You hear him slam his door, then you hear the keys and you know he's leaving. At least he won't be ruining your night of fun. Not today, Satan. You take a look at the time, 4 pm, and decided to take a shower and start getting ready. Normally you wouldn't waste this much time putting on makeup, and while you don't want to overshadow Annie since she's the birthday girl, you still want to look good. Who knows, maybe you'll meet the love of your life tonigh. You know it's going to be one hell of a party, because those are the only type of parties Eren hosts, so you pick a few outfits, take a picture of them and send them to Sasha.

First one, definitely.

But that one's so slutty, Sash.

And? Weren't you the one who said "i'm gonna get shitfaced and bang one of Annie's friends" or do i not remember correctly?

I was drunk when I said that.

Drunk you is better than sober you.

Fuck you too. I'm gonna pick the second one.

Fine, if you wanna look like a nun.

Bye.

There's nothing wrong with the second one. Sure, it's not as revealing as the first one, but the colour looks good on you. It's a simple sundress, and it would look good with your denim jacket and trainers.

Six pm and you're ready to go out the door, until you step on something that looks like an envelope. It's signed by Porco, and you're terrified to open it. Very cautiously, you tear it open, revealing a simple card that says sorry. Alright, maybe Porco canredeem himself. You open it and‐

Bam!

Pink glitter flies everywhere, especially on your face and outfit, and the inside of the card reads have fun washing this off, bitch-face.

This little shit. This was his masterpiece of a prank? It's evil, so evil. After muttering a lot of curses and insults, you vaccum as much of the glitter as you can and change in the first outfit. You don't have the time to wash yourself, and decide to just go with it. It's a party, after all, and at least you don't have glitter in your ass. You really didn't want to dress in the slutty dress, but it is what it is. With a shrug, you take the gift bag and leave. You'll deal with Porco later.

Music blasts from Eren’s house and you know he won't hear the doorbell, so you call him to open the door, which he quickly does. Giving him a hug, you walk inside the living room, and immediately you notice unfamiliar faces, including a few people with their backs turned at you.

"You're late, slut." Sasha sneers, her hand waving at you.

"Sorry for being late, my fuckface of a neighbour gave me a pop-up card with glitter and I had to change." You explain, and Porco Galliard in the flesh turns around.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

This has to be a joke. This has to be a fever dream. He's friends with Annie? You feel your blood boiling and a vein about to pop on your forehead.

"Me? What the fuck are you doing here?" You spit back, your grip around the gift bag tightening.

"I've been invited. Didn't know dogs were allowed in the house." Porco jeers and everybody audibly gasps.

"And I thought pigs were supposed to be out in the mud." You take a step closer to him, and Jean grabs your wrist.

"What, you want to hit me? I'll hit back, I'm all for equality."

"Yes, well, unlike you, I'm an adult and I don't want to ruin Annie's birthday." You turn to the birthday girl and hand her the gift. "Happy birthday! I'm gonna stay as far away from him as possible, if you don't mind."

"As if I'd want to be anywhere near you." Porco shouts back.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"If anyone's gonna kill him, it will be me." Annie guides you to the kitchen but not before introducing you to Pieck, Reiner and Bertholdt. At least they seem so much nicer than Galliard.

"Really, Porco? Y/N's the one you've been pranking?" Bertholdt shakes his head, a look of disappointment on his face.

"Hey, you don't know her like I do."

"We know her." Mikasa's angry, but she keeps her cool. "And we know she's petty, but you must've really pissed her off to get her to this point."

You could cut the tension with a knife. The last thing you wanted was to ruin Annie's birthday, or worse, her relationship with Armin, so after a few drinks you tell Porco that you're willing to be peaceful, just for tonight. He agrees. He cares more about his friend than this stupid war he has with you. And as immature as he is, you're pleasantly surprised to see him actually behave. The night progresses alright. Sure, you don’t exactly feel comfortable having Porco around, but you found yourself spending a lot of time with Reiner. He's the complete opposite of your unhinged neighbour — calm, reserved, nice, and sadly, a bit boring. Yes, the two of you have highly intellectual conversations, but you're here for a good time, not for a lecture.

"Wanna dance?" You eventually interrupt him, and he agrees, his hand placed on the small of your back to take you in the middle of the living room. He's not the best dancer in the world, but you're having fun, until you become bored again and slip away for a cigarette outside. Finally, some peace and quiet.

"Having fun with Braun?" Jesus Christ, his voice sounds like a fork screeching on a plate.

"Jealous?" You taunt Porco and he snorts.

"There's still glitter in your hair."

"Oh, really? Thanks, I didn't fucking notice." You blow the smoke in his face.

"God, I wish I could've seen your face." He laughs but you're not having any of his shit.

"What, you want a fucking reenactment?"

"You want another glitter card?"

"You want me to unalive you?" Venom dripping from your tongue, you stub your cigarette. "The only reason I'm not kicking your ass right now is Annie. You should thank her."

"You really think you can go toe to toe with me, doll-face?"

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall." You walk back inside, but your brain short-circuits. He didn't insult you? Worse, he gave you a compliment? Maybe he's just drunk. He is obviously drunk, but how drunk is he that he didn't insult you?

Around 2 am you begin to feel tired. Having to restrain yourself from physically hurting Porco drains you of every drop of energy, so when Reiner offers to take you home, you accept. When your uber arrives and you tell everyone goodbye, the last thing you see is Porco’s absolutely enraged face. You don't know what his problem is, but you get home and tell Reiner point blank that you don't want a one-night stand. He looks surprised that you even thought about that, but you tell him to sleep over, considering that ubers are more expensive at this time. After a little fight over who's sleeping on the couch, he wins, and you bid him goodnight, locking the door to your bedroom for good measure. You do have a stranger in your house, after all.

The smell of eggs and bacon wakes you up, and you wrap yourself in a blanket before unlocking the door and stepping out. The kitchen table is all set, a cup of coffee waiting for you, and Reiner humming a familiar tune.

"Did you put poison in the food?" You scrunch your nose when he hands you the plate.

"Who am I, Porco?" He snorts and you groan.

"Please, I don’t want to start my morning thinking about that pig." You take a bite of the toast.

"You know what, Y/N, I'm impressed. No one's managed to piss him off that much, not even me. And he hates me." Reiner sits down and you decide to take this opportunity to find out more about your enemy.

"Yeah, well, if he didn't have girls screaming at 3 in the morning, I wouldn't have any issues with him." You roll your eyes.

"He wasn't always like this, you know? He really loved this girl in college, but she cheated on him with his best friend. After that, he just became numb."

You choke on the piece of toast. Porco? In love? Jesus, this explains a lot. Then again, how were you supposed to know?

"He kind of vowed to never get attached to anyone anymore." Reiner continues.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but it’s not my problem.”

"Don't let this change anything, Y/N. If there's one thing Porco doesn't like, it's pity."

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m still going to insult him on every occasion.” You fork the bacon strip on your plate. “If I don’t, he’ll know why I’m being nice. Sometimes I wish I could unhear things.”

“Tell me about it.” Reiner sighs. “Thanks for letting me sleep over, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it. Sorry if you were expecting anything last night.”

“No, no. Besides, I kind of like someone already.”

Spending the first part of your morning with Reiner is something you never thought you would do. You’re not friends yet, but he seemed to be a dependable person, and it’s a breath of fresh air to know him. You let him take a shower before leaving, and walk him to the door.

“Go get your girl, Reiner!” You tell him before giving him a small peck on the cheek, right as the elevator dings and in stumbles an absolute wasted Porco. “And thanks for the food.” You smile, but your eyes linger on your neighbour for a few seconds.

“Don’t mention it. You alright, Galliard?”

“Fuck the both of you.” Porco tries to unlock his door but he keeps dropping his keys.

“Need help?” Reiner offers, but Porco just grumbles something that resembles a no, go fuck yourself. “Alright then, I’m off. Text me if you need anything, Y/N.”

“Will do! See you soon!” You wave until the elevator doors close and you’re left with a shitfaced Galliard. “You sure you don’t need help? Here, let me-“

“Didn’ I tell you t’ fhuck off?” He picks his keys up again and comes head-to-head with you, breath reeking of alcohol.

“Would you stop being a child for five minutes and accept my help?” You’re at your wit’s end with this man.

“Was’ the matter? Didn’t get enough dick ‘n want more?”

“Fuck. You.” You go back into your flat and slam the door so hard the hinges creak.

What a pathetic excuse of a human being. And how stupid of you to try and help him. Yes, you feel bad that his heart got broken, but this doesn’t give him any reason to be such a shitty person. Out of all the things he’s told you so far, this one takes the cake. You’re done with all the pranks and all interactions involving him. From now on, Porco Galliard doesn’t exist to you. In fact, this upset you so much that you decide to call Sasha and beg her to let you stay at her place for a week. You can’t cope having Porco in your perimeter, and fortunately, she says yes, and you pack your bags and go that same Sunday.

When he sobers up, Porco realises just how much of an asshole he’s been, and no matter how arrogant he is, he’s not an idiot. He has to apologise, so after washing up and changing his clothes, he knocks at your door. Nothing. He waits a minute, and knocks again. Still nothing. Maybe you went out.

Monday, he wakes up at 6 am expecting to hear you blast music, but it’s dead silent. It’s uncomfortably silent. Maybe you’re not going to work. He brushes his teeth and makes himself look more presentable, and knocks at your door. Nothing. Maybe you’re already at work.

Come Tuesday, and he waits by your door when you’re supposed to come home from work, hair gelled back and ready to apologise. And he waits. And waits. But you never come. Now he’s really confused because either you became a pro at avoiding him, or you moved out while he was asleep. Until he gets a text from Annie.

News travels fast, you dimwit. Do you have any idea how mad I am at you?

What did I do?

Oh, you asshole. You fucking asshole. You need to apologise to Y/N before I rip your head off.

Well, I’ve been trying but she keeps avoiding me. It’s like she moved out.

You’re not wrong about that one, wankstain.

What do you care, anyway?

Wait, what?

You’re prank war is affecting my relationship, and while your small brain might not comprehend what it’s like to be in a relationship, I need you to be on good terms with this girl.

Yeah, she’s staying at Sasha’s for a while.

In my defence, I was drunk and angry. The idea of her fucking Reiner, ugh ew.

She didn’t fuck Reiner, you waste of space. And even if she did, what do you care?

Oh no

OH GOD NO

YOU LIKE HER

I DON’T LIKE HER LALALALA CAN’T HEAR YOU

WE’RE TEXTING, DUMBASS

Holy shit, that explains A LOT

I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t like her. EW.

Wait, back the fuck up. She didn’t fuck Reiner?

NO, Jesus. Maybe if you didn’t jump to conclusions, you wouldn’t be an idiot.

Since when do you like her?

Blocked.

You can’t always run from your responsibilities, Galliard.

Double blocked.

Just apologise.

Triple blocked.

GROW UP!

If you want to redeem yourself, we’re all meeting up at Thorns and Roses Café tonight at 6 pm. Try not to fuck it up this time.

Fuck. Fine.

You don’t feel like going out, especially knowing that Porco will be there, but maybe he will man up and apologise.

Hah, as if.

Sasha acted kind of strange today when she told you about the gathering. You insisted on going back home to change after work, but she said you should all meet up at the café straight after work. Maybe she doesn’t want to waste time. You walk into the coffee shop, eyes scanning the tables to find your friends, but you’re somehow relieved no one’s arrived yet, because you need a minute to clear your head. You order yourself a cup of hot chocolate and sit down, and decided to read your book until someone arrives.

Porco arrives at the café and spots you from outside. Shit, maybe Annie’s right, maybe he does like you, because he finds himself unable to stop staring at the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, or the way you lick your lips after taking a sip of whatever it is you’re drinking, or the way you shift in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. But he can’t do this anymore, he can’t go through another heartbreak. He doesn’t understand people who can break up and move on with their lives. Sure, he moved on from his ex, but the betrayal that he felt took a toll on him so badly that he became a completely different man. He’d be willing to change for you, he thinks, but what if you crush his heart? He cannot risk that, instead he’ll just apologise and move on with his life.

You lift your head from your book when you hear footsteps approaching your table, and blood freezes in your veins when the person you look at is Porco. Why couldn’t it be anyone of your friends? Or Annie or Pieck? Literally anyone else.

“Hey.” He says and you try very hard not to get up and leave. “Can I sit here?”

“I don’t know, can you?” You put the bookmark between the pages and close the book with a slap.

He looks like a scared cat, his movements cautious and tactful so as to not enrage you. It would almost be funny if you weren’t so bitter and furious.

“Y/N, I just wanted to apologise for what I said last Sunday.” Porco stares at his palm. “That was very… irreversible of me” He squints. “Irresponsible.”

“Did… did you write a discourse in your palm?”

“No!”

“Bullshit!” You snatch his wrist and forcefully open up his palm. “I didn’t mean what I said.” You read out loud. “Are you fucking kidding me, you can’t even apologise properly!” The volume of your voice is a bit too high and you earn a few looks of confusion from others in the café.

“I’m bad with words!” Porco retracts his hand.

“Yeah, I figured that one out myself last Sunday when you more or less called me a whore. If anyone’s a whore, it’s you!”

“I deserve that.”

“No, what you deserve is a kick in the nuts. I thought, oh, maybe he’s not that bad, maybe he’s different, but the truth is, Galliard, you’re just like any other guy I’ve fucked — pathetic. You fool around with women because you have commitment issues, and not only did you put me through the misery of having to hear their fake screams, you’ve also toyed with their hearts and probably gave them false hope because, what? You got your heart broken? News flash, asshole, so did I, so did everybody else. Get off your high horse and realise that what happened to you, you’re doing to everyone else around you.” You finally breathe, no, pant, after getting up from your chair, and everybody in the coffee shop is staring at you. You made him angry, because if looks could kill, you’d be dead by now.

“Maybe If you weren’t such an uptight bitch and accepted my apology, Armin and Annie could live happily ever after in their perfect little relationship!” He mimics you by getting up. “And if you’re better than me, how come you’re not living your white picket fence life? Face it, Y/N, you’re just as bad as I am.”

“Takes one to know one. And don’t worry, Armin and Annie are going to be fine because I am out.”

“Out of what?”

“Out of your life.” You pick up your bag.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m moving out, Porco. You won. Congratu-fucking-lations.”

He's too shocked to say anything, instead he watches you exit the coffee shop and sits back down.

"Way to fucking go, Galliard." He tells himself, hand covering his forehead, temples pulsating. Ah, shit, you forgot your book. He could run after you, apologise again and maybe mend things. But he can't. That's something the old him would do, the nice him, the happy him.

But he's not happy.

Finally, Porco processes every single thing you told him, and damn it, you're right. He deserved everything you said, but you don't. The words that came out of his mouth were unnecessarily disgusting and hurtful, and he picks the book up and leaves. He doesn't know where Sasha lives, so he'll just wait at your door, no matter how much time you need to you come back.

He knocks, and there is no answer.

With a sigh, Porco sits down, back leaned against your door. The nice old lady across the hallway walks out to take the bin out, and he offers to help her.

"You need to be more responsible, son." She says, voice quiet but firm.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't excuse me. It's not just that sweet girl that has to put up with your noise, it's the rest of us, too."

"Sweet girl? She's blasting music at 6 in the morning!" Porco can't believe his ears.

"I wonder why? Oh, right, because you're rude." She spits her sass at him, and he's actually ashamed, being lectured by an elderly.

"Okay, maybeI exaggerated with my hookups, I'll admit-"

"And to think she likes you? Whatever does she see in you?" The lady trails off, dragging her feet to the elevator. Porco’s ears perk up. Either she has dementia or he's beginning to lose his hearing, because there is no way in hell you would like him.

"Could you please repeat that, ma'am?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, she was very flustered when she spoke about you. I'm an old woman, sonny, not stupid. I know love when I see it. Either get that girl or watch her slip through your fingers, like Richard, may God rest his soul, did with me.”

“Riiiight, thanks for the advice, I guess.”

And with that, she leaves. Porco wracks his brain, trying to come up with a way to fix this mess. He doesn’t want you to move out, he’s had fun until now, but he never imagined this would blow up so badly. And you don’t deserve to move out because of a prick like him. He doesn’t have Sasha’s number, he doesn’t have your number, he could ask Annie to talk to Armin. Ugh, since when does he care? Better yet, why does he care? Porco Galliard neverfalls in love. Yet, when he thinks of your smile, your eyes, your lips, your brains, hell, even your tits, he realises that maybe, just this time, Porco Galliard does fall in love.

Before he can take his phone out and text Annie, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open, and he has a severe sensation of déjà-vu, only instead of him stumbling down the hallway drunk, it’s you, dragging a suitcase after you and practically walking in zigzags. Porco gets up, a hand reaching to help you, but you slap it away.

“Get out of my f-fhucking face, fhuck face.” You babble, trying very hard to form coherent sentences, brows knitted together and keys falling out of your hand. You bend down to pick them up and fall head first into a wall.

“Let me help you.” Porco offers, but yet again, you dismiss him.

“Stop being stubborn, Y/N.”

“Don’ worry, Porcupine, I’ll be outta yer life in a wheek.” You put the key in the hole and rest your forehead onto your door.

“I don’t want you out of my life, I want to help you get inside.”

“I said I don’t need your-“ the key breaks “-help.” With wide eyes, you stare at the broken piece in your hand. “Shit.” You giggle, waving the metallic remnant of what used to be a key. “What a predicament.”

“Y/N, you… did you…”

“Lock m’self out? Apparently so. Can’t go back to Sasha’s, her f-family’s over. Mayhaps Reiner’s?” You talk to yourself, and Porco feels a rush of rage taking over his brain.

“No.”

“No?” You innocently ask, finally looking at him. Now he gets a better view of your face and your run-down mascara.

“Did you cry?”

“Yep.” You shrug, lips making a popping noise at the p.

“Why?” He searches the pockets of his bomber jacket for his keys and takes them out.

“Oh, this is a good one, you’ll love it.” You snort, index finger poking his chest aggressively. “I cried because of youuuu!”

Bad doesn’t even begin to describe the way he’s feeling. If he could go back in time and take back every single mean word he said, he would. Perhaps it’s not too late.

“I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m really sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but, please, don’t move out.” Porco sighs, and you’re so surprised by his apology that you can feel the alcohol wearing off. Your facial expression softens, and you chew on your bottom lip. “I promise I won’t bother you, but please, for the love of God, stay over at my place. It’s the least I can do after being such a dick.” He opens the door to his flat, waiting.

“My, Galliard, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re ill-intended.” You hiccup, kicking your suitcase into his apartment. “Shit, my laptop’s in there.”

“I know you think I’m the world’s biggest douchebag, but I’m not a fucking sex-offender. I don’t take advantage of drunk girls.” He locks the door once you’re inside and sighs, until he feels your hand snake around his arm.

“What if I want you to take advantage of me?” Suddenly your voice isn’t giddy anymore, it’s low and dangerously seductive.

“You’re drunk.”

“Want me to sign a contract? I’m really not drunk.” You whisper in his ear.

“You literally hit your head a minute ago.” His breath hitches when he feels your breath tickle his skin.

“Clumsy.” You pull him away from the door, and he doesn’t resist. “Consider this payback for the glitter card.” You chuckle, and finally Porco picks up on the fact that your speech isn’t slurred anymore.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. This was your payback?” He turns around, and there’s a hint of pride in his eyes, like he’s impressed of the way your mind works.

“It worked, didn’t it? I got you to apologise — the ultimatepayback.” You chew on your lip before lifting yourself up on your toes to reach his ear. “I meant what I said before, I want you to take advantage of me.”

If you drove him insane before, now you’ve completely pushed him over the edge. One hand trails down your waist before his fingers dig into the plush of your hip, the other tangles with your hair when he grabs you by the nape. His lips are so close to yours, you can practically taste the mint toothpaste.

“You’re crazy. Any last words?”

“I know we’re on good terms now, but please, fuck me like you hate me.”

That’s all the approval he needs to crush your lips into a sloppy kiss, so intense and electrifying, like molten lava flowing through your veins. It’s much better than you had hoped, it’s rough and unlike any kiss you’ve had before, so naturally, you kiss back, surprising Porco with a moan when he bites your lower lip. He half-expected you to back off or kick him, not enjoy it. You don’t want him to pull away, but you also need air, so when you inhale, he takes his jacket off, and like in a trance, you do the same, but waste no time jumping into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist. Porco carries you to the nearest place he can drop you, the kitchen counter (remind yourself to wipe it in the morning), and lift your skirt up. You don’t have the time, nor the patience for casualties.

“You in a hurry?” He jeers, taking his shirt off. Oh, wow, he’s a lot more toned than you imagined, defined muscles visible in the LED lights of his kitchen. Alright, you’re beginning to understand those girls, you too would scream like a teenager, if not for the crumb of dignity left in you.

“Sometimes it’s better if you don’t talk, Galliard.” Your fingers tug at his belt, pulling him closer. The bulge in his jeans is as clear as the light of day, and it doesn’t help when he spreads your legs with his elbows, his calloused fingertips bruising your thighs.

Porco takes offence at your snarky remark, and in response, his palm meets with your cheek, gentle enough not to leave a mark, but hard enough to make you whimper.

"Did you just slap me?" You feign sorrow, and he backs off.

"Was that too much?" Concern is written all over his face.

"Do it again but harder." Your shit-eating grin has him sigh in relief.

"Yep, you arecrazy." He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, your fingernails scratching his back like a maniac.

Every touch has a domino effect on you — the more you feel his hand on your body, the more you crave, like a starving dog. It doesn't help that Porco wants to take his sweet time, kissing your neck, your lips, your tits, in no particular order. With him, everything is chaotic and magnetic, and you wouldn't want it any other way, except you're getting impatient. And needy, which is why you push him back to take your dress off.

"Eager, aren't we?"

"Less talking, more fucking." You demand, and you receive. His jeans fall at his feet, the tip of his cock poking out of his boxers, already leaking precum. What a sight for sore eyes he is, but you're not too bad yourself when you take off your bra, and he can't stop himself from pinching your nipple, just to see how you react.

"Ow!" You yelp, nose scrunched and brows furrowed, and his brain is scattered from how perfect you are to him.

In all honesty, no matter how much Porco loathed you when your prank war started, he found himself wanting to know how you'd take him, chant his name, buck your hips, lust for more, and the feeling was precisely mutual. You, too, often caught yourself thinking about him, how he’d take his frustration out on you, tease you, how he’d groan feeling how tight you are. Now here you are, completely exposed, aroused and a look on your face that would make a priest jizz in his pants.

"You're so hot." His fingers graze over your unclothed cunt, and even the gentlest of touches has you quiver, goosebumps dotting your skin. You retaliate by pushing your hips closer, to the point his cock presses against your cunt, sending shivers down your spine. The stimulation has Porco growl, and he slightly bends over, his toned body towering over your frame as he practically rips your cotton panties off of you.

"In a hurry?" You mock his previous words, but he doesn't bother responding, instead he tests the waters by dragging his index finger up and down your slit. Blood freezes in your veins, and you throw your head back, a weak moan escaping your lips.

"Fuck, wet already?" Porco doesn't waste any time slipping a finger between your folds, your body quivering at the foreign yet familiar sensation. Clearly your fingers can't compare to his, because when he adds a second finger you already feel too stretched out.

"Mmmore..." You mewl when he fucks your cunt, fingers curling to hit that sweet spot. His other hand quickly moves up your abdomen and gropes one of your tits in a way that should have you ashamed. But you're far from feeling ashamed.

Your last shred of human decency? Gone.

Your apprehension? Gone.

Your decorum? Gone.

Any coherence? Down the fucking drain.

"Don't worry, princess, you'll get more." Porco’s voice is low, and if not for the sticky situation, you could take it as a threat, so it comes as no surprise when he gets tired of fingering you, because he alsowants more.

Swiftly and without beating around the bush, he finally releases his cock from the confinement of his boxers, pressing the tip onto your slit, but not sliding it in. Not yet.

"Maybe you don't deserve it." He suddenly tells you, one hand stroking his shaft, the other bruising your thigh.

"What?" Desperation can be read on your face, because you don't care about hiding your feelings anymore.

"You havebeen a little bitch, Y/N." He muses, but you just can't take your eyes off the prize. "Don't think you deserve it."

You know exactly what sick game he is playing, teasing you, taunting you, pushing your buttons until you break. But you won't let him win. Not yet.

“Oh, Galliard,” you smile, hand tentatively trailing down your body, going over every curve and dent before stopping between your legs, “two can play this game.” You innocently let him know before lazily rubbing your clit in a circular motion.

Well, that backfired. For him.

“As if I’ll let you have the satisfaction.” He not-so-gently grips your wrist, pulling it away from you. You think he’s about to fuck you, about to shove his fat cock into your cunt. He’s not. “Don’t forget to beg for it.” Porco tells you before poking his tongue out and greedily giving your clit one long but painstakingly slow lick.

It feels electric, and once he’s had a taste of your saccharine pussy, he cannot stop lapping at it like a thirsty dog. It’s driving you mad, sending you over the edge you wanted to cross so badly. You try not to beg for his cock, try to stand your ground.

But you don’t really want that, do you?

“Fuck!” You whimper out in pleasure and excitement when you feel his fingers slipping between your folds again, velvet walls clenching around them, climax so close. “Shit, I’m coming!”

“No, you’re not.” Porco removes himself from you, and you could cry right now, eyes already brimmed with tears. “Be a good girl and clean up your mess.” Fingers pry open your lips, but it’s not like you’re resisting, instead happily sucking on them, cheeks hollowed and eyes lidded.

“Mmpf-“ You try to speak, so he allows it. “F-fuck me, please!”

Porco can feel his blood pressure rise and his cock twitch at the sound of your sweet voice echoing in his kitchen. You were right, two canplay this game, but two can also lose it, and right now, he’s losing it. Losing his mind, that is.

Inch by inch, he bottoms out into your slick folds and- for the love of what is holy, you are tight.

“Jesus H. Christ-“ Porco doesn’t even know what to say when your velvety walls cling to his cock. You, on the other hand, are delirious from the very first thrust, mouth agape, head thrown back, fingers gripping the edge of the kitchen counter like you’re bracing yourself for a rollercoaster ride.

“Shit-“ Your breath hitches when his hips begin to move, not even letting you adjust to his size. It stings, no, it burns like a motherfucker, but the more Porco thrusts, the less it hurts and the better it feels.

Feral is the only way to describe the way he’s fucking you, rough touches, scratches, bites. You wrap your legs around his waist, and that only incites him more, thrust becoming more brutal as he’s driven by his instinct and instinct only.

“God, you’re tight-“ Porco groans, forehead touching yours as you try, and pathetically fail, to contain your moans. Yes, you feel slightlybad for your neighbours, but you really can’t stop and think about that right now when you’re getting pounded into oblivion.

There’s a fire in his golden eyes, something you’ve never seen in any man, no matter how much they said they adored you. Porco isn’t anywhere near loving you, yet he knows exactly what you want, when you want it, especially when he’s mumbling praises — “good girl,” “you’re doing so good,” “you take it so well.”

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ Your core is hot and pulsing with each of his thrusts, and, shamefully, you feel that sweet relief you yearned for, waves of pleasure and electricity rushing through your body, leaving you a quivering mess. You really hoped you’d last more, but you’re quite proud to feel his cock throbbing and his eyes squeezing shut as he’s nearing his climax.

He doesn’t pull out until the very last minute, when his grip on your thighs has you squeak in pain, and he’s babbling incoherent sentences. The hot milky-white ropes of his seed end up on your abdomen, and he pulls away from you, your hand in his.

“Woah, haven’t had a load like this since-“

“Don’t. Don’t ruin it.” You laugh as he throws too many paper towels at you.

*

Alright, maybe Porco was wrong.

Having you in his kitchen, hair dishevelled, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts while baking cookies at 3 am?

Maybe he could love again.

His eyes can’t leave your frame, and he’s almost afraid to touch you again, because what if he breaks you? What if he fucks up? What if-

“Pokko.” You break him apart from his sudden rush of anxiety with nothing but a word and a smile. “Talk to me.”

He sighs. It’s hard to talk about his feelings when he hasn’t done this in, what, ten years? And yet here you are, walking into his life and making him feel icky-lovey-dovey stuff again.

“I just- I can’t- Shit.” Since when does he stutter? “Can’t you ask me stuff and I’ll say yes or no?”

“Are you afraid?” The question breaks him.

Mentally, it breaks him because- yes! He isn’t just afraid, he is petrified and panicked at the idea of you abandoning him, or worse, him emotionally hurting you. Porco hasn’t been in a relationship since he had his heart broken. What if he can’t provide what you need? What if you get bored?

“Hey,” you drag a chair and sit down in front of him, a hand gently squeezing his, the other lifting his chin up, “I’m here, you’re here, we’re here together.”

“The cookies smell good.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I know, sorry. I really like you, Y/N. Don’t wanna fuck it up, I guess.” Porco rests his cheek into your palm and you give him a quick peck on the cheek before checking on the baked goods.

“Guess what, same here. I’m not perfect, I haven’t had a relationship in a long time, but I’m willing to learn, if you want me around.”

“Yes!” He replies, a bit too eager, and you smile, having never seen him so happy before. He’s never seen himself so happy until now.

You take the cookie tray out of the oven and slap his hand when he tries to snatch one because “let’s not go to the ER right now.”

“I need to call a locksmith tomorrow.” You remember that you can’t get into your apartment.

“Or you could move in with me?” Porco suggests, not knowing if he’s pushing his luck or not.

“I could, but I would still need to get my stuff here. Can’t really do that, can I?”

“We could break into your apartment!”

“No.”

“It’s gonna be fun!”

“Bye.”

“Where are you gonna go? Back to your apartment?” He chuckles, pulling you into his lap.

“Bitch, I’ll go back to Sasha’s if you piss me off.”

“And miss this dick?”

“I’m definitely going back to Sasha’s.”

Porco was definitely wrong. He can love again.

[gubler-me-up]

Easy Riders

Request: teasing spencer while you at are in the suv together. yall are heading to the hotel for the night and you decide to tease. so he pulls over into an abandoned parking lot and tells you to get in the back seat. he lets you ride him, but he is still in charge (i love dom spencer. 🥵🥵)

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, anon! This was my last smut of like four back-to-back smut requests, so I think I’m a pro at writing these now LOL jk but dom Spencer is *chefs kiss* Hope you enjoy the ride! (another pun imma stop y’all i promise)

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content warning: Swearing, slight handjob, penetrative sex, masturbation (female)

Word count: 1.7k

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

Cases could be so exhausting sometimes. Well, they were all the time, but cases in Florida specifically made you beyond tired. You would have completely dozed off if you were in the SUV with anyone else. Fortunately for you, you were blessed with the presence of Spencer Reid.

You loved riding with Spencer alone because it allowed you free space to do whatever with him without the team interfering. If you two were in D.C. right now, you two would be making a mess all over Spencer’s apartment. He would have probably had you bent over his desk before moving to the couch. If he wanted you to be comfortable he would probably lead you to his bedroom to finish you off.

Just the thought of him having his way with you got you excited. You looked over at him as he concentrated on the road in front of him. He always looked hot when he was so concentrated. You wanted him to look at you like that. You needed him to.

You reached your left hand over to his side and caressed your hand down the back of his head. As you reached the base of his neck, you gently scratched the back of his neck. He peaked at what you were up to from the corner of his eyes before turning his attention back to the road.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m just exploring,” you said.

Your hand caressed down from his neck and down his chest. He took his free hand to stop your hand from going anywhere else. You pouted at him stopping you, but the way he roughly squeezed your hand made you believe he wasn’t totally against what you were doing.

“I’m driving, Y/N,” he said.

“Then pull over,” you said.

“We have to get back to the hotel. If we stop the team will wonder where we are.”

You sighed as you pulled your hand away from his grip. He easily let it go and assumed the discussion was over. He put his right hand back on the wheel, but he had no idea you weren’t done trying to persuade him.

Your hand went back over to his side and you placed it directly on the crotch of his pants. You smiled as you felt a hard bulge. He was as horny as you were, he just could play it cool better than you. You gently massaged the bulge in his pants.

“How did you plan on getting rid of this once we got back to the hotel? We don’t even share a room for me to relieve you of some tension,” you said.

He ignored you as he kept his focus on the road. You moved your hands focus to his belt to loosen it along with the button and zipper on his trousers. You stuck your hands into his underwear just to get a touch of his boner. You looked at him and saw he hadn’t moved his attention away from the road.

You smiled. “If you drive slower maybe I can give you head.”

“Oh?” He said.

You nodded your head as you started stroking him. The expressionless look on his face made you want to give him sloppy head right then and there. You wanted to see his face relax in bliss, his eyes wide in amazement and his voice continuously letting profanities mixed in with his deep moans.

As you stroked his dick, you looked out into the road. You didn’t recognize the street at all. You paused what you were doing to him and looked at him confused. It didn’t seem as if you two were anywhere near the direction of the hotel.

“Where are we?” You asked.

He chuckled. “Now you’re paying attention to the road?”

“Well, it’s not as if you were paying attention to me, so I had to look somewhere,” you said.

He smirked. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be paying you very close attention soon enough.”

“What are you planning?”

“Planning? I’m not planning anything. I’m simply doing what you asked.”

You looked at him surprised. “I thought you said you were always the one in charge? Now you’re listening to what I have to say?”

“Only giving you the illusion of that fantasy.”

You smiled at his vague response. Before you could bother him for a real answer, he pulled into an empty parking lot. It was behind an old, large building you assumed was vacant. With no other buildings or cars around it was the perfect spot to have your way with him.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and positioned yourself to get closer to him. You were more than ready to give him head, but your fantasy was cut short. Spencer roughly grabbed your neck as he pulled you in close to him. His head was positioned at the side of your head and you could feel his breath graze across your ear.

“Get into the backseat. You’re going to ride me until I cum in you, do you understand?” He whispered.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He let go of your neck and watched as you quickly crawled over to the backseat. He followed behind you. He just sat there as you pounced on him. You pulled down his trousers and underwear to let his dick stand freely.

“Unbutton your top, Y/N. I want to see your breast bounce as you ride me,” he demanded.

He didn’t have to tell you twice as you immediately undid the buttons to your blouse to reveal your black bra. He smiled at them before leaning in and running sloppy kisses along them. You let out satisfied moans as you felt his hands slide up your thigh and pull up your skirt. He reached under to pull your thong to the side. He gave your right breast a love bite before  looking up at you.

“You’re a dirty girl, Y/N. Wearing a thong with such a short skirt. It’s like you’re begging to be fucked,” he said.

You nodded. “I do.”

You felt him yank your hair back. You let out a shriek at the sudden pain of him yanking your hair, but it only meant the sex was going to be great. Whenever he got into his dominating mood it was going to be a good night for you.

“What if someone other than me came along and wanted to fuck you? Would you let them?” He asked.

“No, I wouldn’t,” you replied.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I only ever want you to fuck me.”

“Well, prove you want me and ride my dick.”

Before you could lower yourself onto him, his free hand pushed you down onto his dick. You let out a loud moan as you felt every inch of his dick go inside of you. With his hand on your thigh, you didn’t dare move. You just stayed in that position taking in the feeling of his dick.

“You like the feeling of my dick inside of you?” He asked.

“I do,” you whimpered.

He then freed you of his hands. “Prove it.”

Without another second wasted you started to bounce up and down on his dick. With every motion you moaned as he watched you in content. You felt him grab your right butt cheek, squeezing it hard with his big hands.

“Grind on it,” he demanded.

You easily switched gears and grinned on him. You finally heard the sound of his deep moans as he watched you. He grabbed one of your hands and placed it where your clit was.

“Don’t be shy, pleasure yourself,” he said.

You started rubbing your clit as you continued to grind on him. He was definitely making every moment of this short sex session count. You then felt him buck his hips up into you and you let out a surprised shriek.

“Oh my God,” you yelped.

He continued to buck his hips up into you as you tried to maintain the speed you were rubbing your clit at. At this point you didn’t know which one of you was going to cum first. You got the strength to meet his bucks half way which led you to both let out loud, desperate sighs.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N. You’re doing amazing on your own,” he complimented.

You would have said ‘thank you’ if you weren’t so caught up in the moment. Your legs started to quack as you slowed your pace. You could feel your orgasm slowly creeping up. Spencer took notice of your decreased speed. He placed both his hands on your thighs and forced you to pick up back your pace by moving you up and down.

“Don’t you dare slow your pace because you’re about to cum. Ride me until the end and cum on my dick,” he demanded.

You pushed through to do what he said as you continued to bounce up and down on his dick. You felt his dick twitch inside of you which meant he wasn’t far from his orgasm. Perfect timing because you let out one last moan before you leaned your head back as you let your orgasm flow through your body.

“Are you ready for me?” He asked.

You gave him a weak nod. He slammed your body down on him. You screamed out a moan and in a matter of seconds you felt his cum inside of you. He placed his hands on your face and brought you in for a sloppy kiss. You broke from this kiss and looked at him with wild eyes. The way you looked at him made him look at you with a devious sparkle in his eyes.

“I’m totally sneaking into your hotel room tonight,” you told him.

He chuckled. “Don’t get caught by Hotch or else I might have to punish you when we get home.”

You smiled at him. “Now I’m hoping I get caught.”

He laughed as he brought you in for another kiss. You already knew the others were waiting for you two to arrive at the hotel, but it was hard parting from his lips. Just maybe the two of you could sneak in round two before a group of FBI agents sent out a search party to find you.

—–

MASTERLIST

[mypoisonedvine]

Exchanging Gifts | chubby!Bucky Barnes x reader

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KARINA!!! @ballyhoobarnes​ you’re such a sweet person and so talented and a great friend and ily and also ur hot, which is less relevant but still worth mentioning

summary: chubby!bucky takes you out for your birthday, and even though he’s inexperienced, he knows how to show you a good time if you know what I mean... listen it’s pretty much fluffy pwp idk what to tell you

warnings: smut!!, oral (m receiving), loss of virginity (his, of course lol), some fingering, overstimulation, creampie kink, praise kink, morning sex, bucky being insecure?? FLUFF it’s FLUFFY you guys but somehow it turned out filthy too idk i couldn’t help it.

word count: just under 4k, hot damn how did that happen

Even though you'd insisted he didn't need to do anything special for your birthday, Bucky had shown up with a dozen roses and dinner reservations.  "Get dressed up fancy," he instructed you the moment you'd opened the door.  "This place has a black tie dress code."

He was a true gentleman the whole night, until he walked you back to your place.  The second you were on the other side of your door, you couldn't keep your hands off of each other.  

"You're so wonderful," you murmured between breathless kisses as you stumbled back towards the couch.

"This better not be you thinking you owe me anything because I paid for your dinner," he chuckled, "on your birthday."

"Oh it's not that at all," you smiled, running your hands over his chest.  

"What is it then?"

You smirked.  He always seemed to need a reason, as if 'you're my boyfriend and you're hot' wasn't reason enough.  "Can I be honest with you, Bucky?" you asked quietly, licking your lips subconsciously.

"Always!"

"It's times like this that I'm just really in the mood to suck your cock."

He stammered a little, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Really?"

"Yup."

He laughed for a second, then got serious again, then just looked horrifically nervous.  "Oh, well I, uh…"

"We don't have to do anything about that, I just felt like saying it—"

"What if we did do something about it?"

You raised an eyebrow.  "Would you want me to?"

"Of course I want you to," he sighed.  "I know we've been taking things really slow— and I'm so glad you've been patient with me— I just… god, you're perfect," he laughed.

"That's far from the truth," you dismissed.  "But I've been happy to take things slow with you.  Even when sometimes it felt like I would die if I couldn't get my hands on you…"

You ran your hands over his chest, feeling how warm and soft he was beneath the shirt he was wearing.  

"Ah, I've been there," he replied wistfully.

"Really?  You relate to that?"

"I barely made it through dinner," he admitted with a laugh.  "All I could think about was… doing this…" he trailed off as he leaned in and began to lick and suck at your neck; his arms wrapped around your waist and you were like putty in them.

"Oh god, Buck," you moaned.

"Say my name like that again," he pleaded.

"Make me," you challenged.

He growled a little as he pulled you back to straddle him on the couch.  You couldn't stop yourself from grinding down on him, moaning again when you felt the hard shape of his cock rubbing right against your clit through your dress and panties.

"Mm, take this off," you purred, tugging at his shirt and tie.

"C-can I keep it on?"

You got a little more serious.  "Of course you can, if you want to.  But I'll admit that I wanna see you."

"And if you don't like what you see?"

"Unlikely, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.  I'll take mine off first if you'd like?"

"Obviously I'd like," he chuckled, "but that's easy for you to say.  You're, you know, sexy and stuff."

"As if you're not?"

"I'm not," he informed you.

"Bucky, I'm gonna level with you: you are so fucking sexy it's actually gonna be the death of me someday," you laughed.  "Don't you realize I think about you all the time?" you asked, getting a little more serious.  "Bucky, those times where you came over and we made out, or fooled around?  As soon as you left I was getting myself off right here on this couch— even when you'd already made me come while you were over.  That's how horny you make me— and when you're not here and all I can do is imagine you, I always call out your name when I—"

"Baby," he groaned, "you'd better stop talking like that or this is gonna end a lot sooner than I want it to."

You chuckled before you started to slip off the straps of your dress, loving the way he watched you do it: enraptured.

You were taken by surprise when, the moment your breasts had spilled from the dress, he leaned forward to suck your nipple between his lips.

With a gasp and a moan, you gripped at his hair and let your head fall back.  Either you were really sensitive, or he was really good at this-- probably a little bit of both, but fuck if you weren’t beyond needy and desperate at this point.

"Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"What is it, angel?  Anything you want, you can have it," he mumbled as he switched to the other side (symmetry is very important with these sorts of things) and you rubbed your hips against his absent-mindedly.

"Please, please, I need to taste you Bucky, oh my god please let me taste you—"

He nodded and you sighed with relief, beginning to slide down his body as you loosened his tie and opened his shirt.  With each button you exposed more of his body, lathing every inch of skin with kisses.

"How's this?" you asked him softly, looking up at him through your lashes.  "Is this okay?"

"It's very unfamiliar," he answered, "and much more than okay."

"Has nobody done this to you before?"

"Nobody's ever wanted to."

You smirked a little.  "Oh, I doubt that."  You palmed his cock through the suit pants, grinning when he jerked a little under your touch.  Slowly, you opened the fly and pulled it out.

Of course you'd seen his cock before, but not for very long and not up close like this.  It suddenly seemed intimidatingly big; you weren't sure you were going to be able to get much of it in your mouth… but you were excited to try!

You weren't sure you had the heart to tease him very much, but you wanted to give it a try at least.  You licked the head first, then down the shaft, then back up slowly.  He was quiet at first, too busy watching you to say anything, but you knew he was losing patience when his fingers brushed over the side of your face; you could feel his restraint, you could feel that urge to grab your hair and guide you.

"Go ahead," you encouraged, "tell me what you want."

"Put it in your mouth, please," he whimpered.

When you obeyed by pushing his cock all the way to the back of your throat, he made the most beautiful sound: like a gasp and a moan all at once.  His hips bucked up into your throat ever so slightly and the sensation of choking made you grow even wetter.

"Fuck," he sighed, "'s so good…"

You moved up and down, savoring every ridge of him as it slid over your tongue.  Each movement grew a little faster as you used your hand to stroke what your lips couldn't reach.

"Baby," he moaned, "oh my god, s-slow down, please— 'm so close, ah fuck yes—"

You stopped for a moment and used only your hand, catching your breath a little as you took a moment to appreciate how good he looked like this.  

"Is it okay if I make you come?" you asked.

"Is it okay if it doesn't take you very long at all?" he returned, already sounding positively wrecked.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” you decided.

“You should,” he confirmed, whimpering again when you took him back into your mouth and let your tongue explore whatever it could reach.

The taste of his pre-cum made you moan, and the vibrations of that moan made him grip your shoulder tightly.

“A-angel, please,” he begged, as if he was worried you would stop for some reason.  Your attitude was entirely the opposite, though.  All you could think about was how much you wanted to taste his orgasm and swallow it down.  Fortunately, that dream came true not too much later when he grabbed the back of your neck and moaned your name loudly— loud enough that you were a little worried the neighbors might hear.

But honestly?  You kinda wanted them to.

You kept stroking and sucking until every drop was on your tongue.  You smiled up at him and almost spilled some of it but thankfully avoided that fiasco.

“Show me,” he requested softly; it was a relatively mild show of dominance, but it still sent a shiver down your back as you stuck out your tongue and let his seed gather on it.  “Fuck,” he whispered, “that was… wow.”

You swallowed before answering, because it seemed like a good order to do things in.  The bitter taste as the back of your throat was a small price to pay for him looking at you like that.

“You look drained,” you informed him.

“I am,” he nodded.  “Oh, wait, you mean tired?  Yeah, that too.”

You laughed a little.  “Can we lay down for a minute?”

“It’s 10 p.m., I think it’s acceptable to lay down for more than a minute.”

Deciding to turn in for the night instead (and, of course, have a sleepover), the two of you got ready and changed into pajamas, snuggling up into each other’s arms.

It was an easy sleep after that, and a long one.  Bucky woke up first, the very early light of sunrise being less of an influence on his wakefulness compared to you bumping up against him.  He didn’t mind, though, he liked to watch you for a minute before you woke up anyways, to appreciate how peaceful you looked.

He heard you hum through your sleep, cuddling up closer to him.  It was just cute at first, but then your ass pressed back against crotch and goooood morning…

"Hi there beautiful," he cooed, gently kissing on your temple and down to your neck.  You stirred but didn't wake just yet, though you did smile; and he smiled too, loving the way your lips curled— he could remember how those lips looked wrapped around his cock, swollen and slick with spit and come.  It was a good memory.  

His hand slipped down to your hip, holding you firmly against him: by this point he was so hard he was worried he was going to injure himself somehow.

Finally you woke up, your eyes fluttering open as your sleepy smile turned to a wide, flirtatious grin.

"This might be my favorite way ever to wake up," you informed him.  

He chuckled softly, beginning to kiss along your shoulder.  "Agreed."

His fingers moved down at a teasingly slow pace; you unabashedly opened your legs, hoping to egg him on.  Thankfully, it worked.  He started to suck a mark onto the back of your shoulder as he slipped his hand into your panties, instantly discovering how drenched you were and how swollen and sensitive your clit was.

“Oh you poor thing,” he grinned.  “When’d you get so wet, angel?”

“It never stops around you,” you explained with a shiver.

It didn’t take much more until you were a begging mess, his fingers working their magic and making your whole body alight with energy.

"Bucky, please—" you whimpered.

"What do you need, angel?" he asked with only a hint of coyness shining through his tone.

"I just— I want more, please…"

"We've tried a lot of new things today," he reminded you.  "And it was amazing.  And I wondered what you would say if I told you I want to try something else…"

"Oh really?" you purred.  "What did you have in mind?"

"This might not be the, uh, most hip language but… I want to make love to you."

Your eyes went a little wide.  "Really, Bucky?  I mean, you're sure you want me to be—"

"Yes, I'm so sure, I've never been more sure of anything.  You've been so amazing and I can't think of a better person to have as my first."

I don't just want you to be my first, I want you to be my only, he added internally, too afraid to say it aloud.

"I wanna be your first, Bucky," you agreed softly, brushing your fingers through his hair.  "I'm really— I'm honored you want it to be me.  And also I'm very turned on right now."

He laughed and kissed you again, pulling you close.  As his body settled between your legs, you revelled in how warm you felt— not hot or sweaty (yet), just warm, and safe, and comforted.  He still gave you those butterflies in your stomach, sure, but for once that didn’t seem to just be a cute way of repackaging your anxiety.

With your panties pulled to your ankles and your shirt (which was, of course, actually his shirt that you’d stolen) tossed to the side, he kissed his way down your chest and stomach until his face was buried between your legs.

“Buck, I— fuck I thought you were gonna oh god just like that yes—”

“Wanted to return the favor first,” he explained, his words muffled.

“Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s rude to talk with your mouth full?” you giggled.

He smiled but kept going, almost gentle at first but quickly finding a few favorite spots and stimulating them mercilessly.

You didn’t mean to pull his hair so hard but he didn’t seem to mind, moaning every time you forced him onto you harder.  "Bucky, oh god, don't stop please!” you sobbed.

Of course he didn’t; he wanted you to come, he was a man on a mission and not much could stop him at this point.  Just as he began to suck on your clit even harder than before— just hard enough to make the threat of pain tingle up your spine— he pressed two fingers into your opening.  One little curl into your g-spot and you were gone, biting down on your lip as your body spasmed uncontrollably.

He moaned as he coaxed you through it; you tried to tap out but he went just a moment longer and for that one moment, you thought your body might just crumble into little pieces from the overwhelming pleasure.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was kissing you again.  Your taste on his lips was divinely filthy.

“Need to be inside you,” he explained with a whisper as he started to take off his boxers.

“Please,” you sighed, too weak to even put a full sentence together.

Even with a very thorough warm-up, you couldn’t help but gasp as he pressed into you.  Your walls fluttered and flexed as they made way for the intrusion, both of you moaning softly while you arched your back to take him deeper.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he whispered as his face buried into your neck.  Your arms wrapped around his shoulders— you loved how broad and strong they were— and he pushed up from behind your knees to spread you open for him, the new angle forcing the head of his cock to press right into your spot.

“Fuck!” you cried out.  He sat up slightly and looked a little concerned at first.  “No, it’s good,” you reassured him, “it’s so good, Bucky, right there—”

He pulled back only to quickly push forward again, setting a pace that wasn’t quite rushed but was certainly a bit desperate.  Even so, you were on the verge of begging for more, you needed him so badly.

“Harder, please,” you moaned.  Okay, maybe you were a little past being on the verge.

“Is that how you like it?  Rough?” he asked darkly.

“Maybe,” you grinned.  “Is that how you like it?”

“I don’t know yet,” he responded, his grip on your legs tightening until you were almost tempted to struggle against him just to see if he was strong enough to hold you down, “but I like you telling me how to make you feel good.”

“Then fuck me,” you demanded through your teeth, moaning louder when he obeyed and began to pound into you.  The slapping of skin filled the room, as did the revealing sound of your arousal, and it made your face burn even though you were pretty sure he didn’t mind at all.

You were so sensitive from the last time you came that you were already making quick progress towards the next.  Didn’t help that your swollen clit was brushing against his cock every time it speared into you.

“You’re— fuck— you’re squeezin’ me, angel,” he hissed.  “You gonna come already?”

You couldn’t even speak anymore, just nodding wildly.  He leaned forward to kiss you and you were nearly folded in half as he kept his grip on your legs.  You weren’t sure anything had been so deep inside you before; you were sure you had never made a sound like the one you made in that moment.

“Fuck, s’that good, huh?” he teased in reaction to the way you were nearly screaming already.

“God, you are the cockiest virgin ever,” you laughed, hoping you could delay the inevitable just a bit longer for the sake of your dignity.  You tried to angle your body so he wouldn’t be so deep, so it would be so much, but he held you firm and fucked into you even harder.

“Ah ah ah,” he corrected with a smirk, “no running away, angel.  Gonna make you come on my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, “fuck, Bucky, I’m close…”

“Me too,” he murmured back, kissing you deeply one more time.  You hadn’t even imagined how perfect it would feel to come around him with his tongue still in your mouth, your moans blending with his, his fingers digging into your thighs while your nails were sure to leave marks on his back and shoulders.  But even if you had tried to imagine how perfect it would feel, you couldn’t have ever come close.  The moment you were tumbling over the edge, he was right there with you; you could feel him flexing against your walls as he came, and you were afraid if you let your eyes roll back like you so desperately wanted to, they’d get stuck there or something.  

You just barely heard him murmur ‘angel’ as he kissed all down your neck.  His body relaxed a little on top of you, though you still felt sensitive and tingly from where your bodies were joined.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he admitted, looking down at you as his cheeks turned a little pink.

You couldn’t, though, and he sat up with a sigh as you smiled back up at him.  He held your legs up as he pulled out, watching with wide eyes as his come leaked from your hole.  You gasped when he reached down to push it back in with two fingers; your whole body jerked when he moved those fingers inside you and started to rub your g-spot again.

“Bucky, what are you—?” you asked breathlessly, but you were already subconsciously pushing back to ride his fingers.

"I wanna see you come one more time," he explained.  "You just look so perfect when you do it— and it's the best feeling when I'm doing it to you."

“We can definitely agree on that,” you mumbled.  He rubbed little circles over your spot, using his free hand to hold your hips down, forcing you to take all the sensation he was giving you.  Knowing that his come was the lubricant for all this made your head spin.  “F-fuck, right there,” you whimpered.

“I know,” he smiled.  “I can tell you’re close again.”

It wasn’t so much that you were close than that you never got a chance to come down from the high of the last one.

“You’re so perfect, my perfect girl,” he purred, watching you squirm from the praise.  “You wanna be my good girl, don’t you?  You wanna come for me again?”

“Yes,” you groaned, “god, yes, Bucky—”

He pressed against you harder and your moan quickly shifted to a slightly-embarrassing choking noise.  His fingers pumped into faster and faster and your sore walls burned but you still wanted more.  He didn’t let up until you were tightening around him with another orgasm, this one burning brighter but shorter, taking all the energy from you at once.  He watched your face as you came, loving the way you held your breath, the way your eyes fluttered shut, the way you bit down on your lip—

"Bucky— you said one more—" you whined in confusion when you realized his fingers were still moving, if a little slower, and his thumb was reaching up to press into your clit.

"I never said just one more…" he smirked.

"Fuck, I— I dunno if I can take it!" you sobbed, the sensation nearly too much to handle.

"Oh you can," he purred.  "You're so strong, you're so good for me— I know you can.  I know you can give me one more."

You literally squealed when he pulled out his fingers only to put his cock in you again.  You hadn’t even realized he was still hard.

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you cried out, gripping the sheets for dear life.

"You wanna call out my name like you did when I wasn't around?  I bet that's not all you did.  I bet you begged, and pleaded, screamed for me to let you come.  Am I right?"

You nodded feverishly; his laugh in response had just that hint of condescension, that edge of degradation.  Even though you knew he wouldn't judge you for it, admitting it felt dirty in a delicious way.

“‘Cause you wanna be my good girl,” he posited.

“I— I am your good girl,” you stammered, feeling a little silly referring to yourself that way.

He laughed a little, still rubbing your clit as he fucked you hard and fast.  “Yeah, you are, angel.”

The petname, even though you’d heard it a thousand times, was what sent you over the edge the last time.  You nearly kicked him off you as the pleasure finally reached the point that you truly were at your limit, but thankfully he got the hint before that and pulled out, giving you a much needed break.

“Dear god,” you chuckled through your exhaustion, your eyes falling shut, “that was— you are— I can’t—”

“Was it good?” he asked softly as he laid beside you and pulled you into him.

Your eyes shot open again.  “Was… was it good?” you repeated incredulously.  “Buck, it was incredible.  It was life-ruining.  I thought your first time was going to be about you.”

“It was!  Making you come four times is me spoiling myself,” he explained, kissing your shoulder.  “What’s about you is me letting you shower first.”

“You aren’t gonna join me?” you asked coyly.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, angel,” he warned.  “I think you need a rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you grumbled disappointedly.  The last thing you needed was to pass out in the shower from him doing that to you again.  “Is it really a whole year until my next birthday?” 

“Yeah, sadly that’s how those work,” he smiled. 

“What about your birthday?” 

“Not ‘til March.”

“...that means your half-birthday is just a week away,” you realized.

“So?”

“I think we should start celebrating those.”

He laughed a little.  “You wanna get me a half-present?”

“Yeah,” you decided.  “I think I’m gonna pay for half of your dinner.  Then I’m gonna fuck you halfway to death.”

[kunikinnie]

Hi!! can I request hcs for Kunikida with a couture model s/o? and his reaction to all that that entails (difficult moments, her stress, fame, the parades where she should be, etc.) and I'm sorry if my english is not very good, I still have problems with grammar t.t aaaaa I hope you have a good day/night and please take care <3

a/n: this was an interesting request HAHA I'm not familiar with the world of modeling in general, but I hope these headcanons are not too far off the mark!

dating a couture model s/o

Featuring: Kunikida

man had no idea how hectic your life actually was. fortunately, this is Kunikida we're talking about.

one of the best things about having him as your s/o will definitely be his organization skills.

got a casting? noted. oh and a fitting? squeezed it right here. problem is things don't always go as planned, so he's learned to create at least like, 5 backup plans

(which really are unnecessary, but that's how he shows you he loves you)

if he can come and watch you, he'll be there. his brand of moral support is quiet, just standing there with a content smile on his face

but he'll lowkey act like your mom rather than your s/o lol

food? extra clothes? towels? salonpas? bandaids? he'll be a walking convenience store

he just wants to make sure he has what you need at all times

i guess one weakness he has is he knows jackshit about modeling, but he's trying his best to learn

anything you do is beautiful anyway

doesn't really mind if you're famous or not. the only thing that'll bug him is if the two of you can't have some privacy

also he's just a biiiit more worried about your safety and welfare

since you're both busy, dates aren't frequent. but if you're living together, you bet he'll try to make up for it by doing the smallest things for you and if possible, with you

man loves cooking so if you're up for that, it'll be a common thing for you every couple of days

gives the best massages. his hands are big and warm plus his grip is firm

but during those tiresome and stressful days, you'll probably just be curled up on the couch or bed together, ranting about each other's day and stuff.

he's a great listener, so if you're feeling especially down don't hesitate to tell it to him.

he's not the best at comforting words so he'll stroke your back or your hair slowly and gently the entire time. will get you some food for you too if you'd like

he'll also try to remind you how stunning you are. if something about your body is the reason why you got rejected at a certain job, he'll say it's their problem and their loss, not yours

overall the relationship will be founded on the simple everyday and seemingly unremarkable things. all you need to do in return is show him your love and loyalty, and he'll always be by your side.

[hacked-by-jake]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Summary: The first time you all meet. It’s no secret that Jake and Phil don't like each other, but no one expected it to end this way.

Pairing: Jealous!JakexMC

Preview:  "Of course you’re right. A life with a bar owner in a small town is much more exciting than a life with a wanted and one of the best hackers in the country" Jake sneers. You like Phil, but he’s not Jake. You fell in love with him because he’s him, and damn it, running away with Jake is stupid but sounds like a lot of suspense in hotel rooms. "What’s your problem?" Phil asks hissing. "My problem is how you look at my girl" Jake replies with equal resentment and raises your folded hands to put them on the table for everyone to see. "All of a sudden, you’re a couple?"

--

Words: 6,9k

A/n:  Hi guys, back with a new story. Everbyte gave me the perfect template for my favorite Jake, jealous Jake. Please excuse the mistakes as always.Sometimes I am insecure with myself, so can we pretend they are not there? lol. I hope you can understand everything, have fun and you like it! #IamJake ❤️🌹🎭

⚠️"I’m better than you" will remain a oneshot and won't get another part!

Tomorrow the cancelled forest search should be done. You sit next to Jake in the passenger seat and look out the window and watch trees and houses pull past you.

That Jake is back, the others in the group know, but they don’t know he’s coming to the search. You and Jake found out that you only lived two hours away from each other so you took the train to him and together you now drive towards Duskwood.

When you told Jake you were going there, he didn’t say he wanted to come too. When you told him you agreed to spend the first night at Jessy’s brother’s bar, he suddenly thought it would be the best solution if he came with us. First he asked why you all want to meet in the Aurora. You told him you were doing this to get to know each other better. You know each other through writing and pictures and phone calls but the first meeting in real life is still a little different. So you agreed to meet there and have a nice evening. And for some reason, all of a sudden, Jake wanted to come too. Thanks to the action #IamJake, the pursuers of Jake could no longer track him down.It just caused too much confusion. Jake was of the opinion that because the others from the group also helped him, he should also be in the search for Hannah. You promised him he wouldn’t regret it. But you didn’t believe his pretext, but you don’t know the real reason he really wanted to come. And now you are sitting together in the car and the "Welcome to Duskwood" sign at the entrance of the city appears a few meters in front of you. You start smiling as you see it and look excited to Jake. He turns his head to you and gives you a little smile. "Are you happy to see your friends?" he asks and looks back at the street. "Yeah, I’m looking forward to seeing OUR friends, Jake," you answered and giggled. They’re his friends too. Both sides are still a little skeptical but they are also his friends. And if they don’t be in this moment, I’m sure they will. "At the moment there seems to be more going on at the motel" you explain to Jake as he drives to the parking lot in front of it. Lilly has told us that there have been very few people staying here lately, but fortunately it is getting more and more again. The situation in Duskwood is calming down again. People don’t think so much about the body has been found in the woods of their home city anymore. Luckily, nothing bad happened since then. Jessy’s brother said that the bar has more guests and more people going out again, which is a good sign. The man without a face must not manage to plunge an entire city into fear and terror. Jake parks his car near the entrance and shuts down the engine. "Ready?" you ask him. He nods his head and buckles up. You do it like him, and together you get out of the car. You didn’t tell anyone except Lilly that Jake was coming too. Why you told Lilly? Point 1: The situation would be very strange if the two would suddenly stand in front of each other without warning. Point 2: Lilly told you she owed you a favor because of the video she made. You actually told her it wasn't necessary, but she said that she will redeem it when you are in Duskwood. Next to each other, you and Jake walk through the front door of the Motel. At the reception Lilly is standing waving as she sees you. "Hi Lilly" you said. She comes up behind the counter and walks up to you. "Hi MC I’m glad you’re here" she grins wide. "I’m happy too" you giggle. You two break up. Jake stands a little off and watches you two. "Um, so, Jake, this is Lilly. Lilly, I’d like to introduce Jake".   They both say "hi" at the same time. Lilly went back right behind the counter. "So your room is number 22 on the second floor.It is not far from the elevator.In the room you will find all the information you need. Like when dinner starts and stuff like that. If anything wrong, I’ll be down here and help, "she explains. "Just one room?" asks Jake. You look at Lilly and pull up an eyebrow. You took care of the rooms and booked two. "Yes, I’m sorry, something went wrong with your booking and now we have no rooms available.Only one I can give you. I’m really sorry, I hope that’s not a problem," she explains. You look at her confused. "But there aren’t nearly enough cars outside?" Jake asks skeptically. "Yes, most of them have all gone away.Today the weather is nice, you can go swimming or shopping in the city center" "Is that a problem for you?" you ask Jake. Briefly he does nothing at all but then shakes his head. "Okay great, and I’m sorry again for the circumstances.Have a nice stay, see you in 3 hours at the latest." Jake has been walking slowly while Lilly gives you the room key. She winks at you, and now you understand that she lied. You have to holding back a laug and turn around quickly to follow Jake. "Is this really not a problem for you?" you ask again as you enter the elevator. "No problem, we can do this" he mutters. You have to giggle. "We can do this" you repeat his sentence. "You’re kidding about me again," he notes. "Oops" is your hypocritical answer. A "pling" sounds and the door opens. Together you’ll find your room. Excited you open the door and enter the room. It’s small but cozy. The walls have a soft color. A double bed is on the wall. Next to it is a bedside table with a small lamp. Opposite it is a table with two chairs and a TV hanging on the wall. "It’s beautiful here," you say and close the door. Jake agrees with you. In three hours, the meeting will take place. In between you talk about unimportant things or about the search, or new information in your case. After a while, you get up to get ready for the meeting in the bathroom. When you stand in front of the mirror, you look at yourself. You’re in Duskwood with Jake, the hacker boy who that drives you crazy, where you are excited all the time and your heart beats faster, and and with whom you will share a bed for the next few days. You’ve never seen him before, today is the first time and when you got in his car, you had half a heart attack. He’s pretty, not just pretty, but hot as hell. Just the type of man you prefer. "Thank you, Lilly! Thank you for doing this!" you mumble. "Did you say something?" you hear Jake calling. "Uh oh no, no all good" you answer quickly. You put on a little makeup and think about how to dress. At first, you thought about putting on a pair of jeans and a sweater, but you were here with Jake. And you want to dress up a little more special. Sure, there’s something between you both, but a little styling can’t hurt. You take off your sweater under which you still wear a plain gray top. There’s a little lace on your bra that you can see on your cleavage. So you leave the bathroom to go to your travel bag. You pick out two Tshirts. (Imagine your desire outfit. Please don’t choose a sweater because it doesn't match with the story lol) "Jake, I need your help!" He turns his head in your direction and pulls an eyebrow up as you hold the tops in the air to show it to him. "What is it?" he asks you. "Which one should I wear?" His look brushes both shirts and then your eyes. "Isn’t a sweater and jeans enough?" he asks. "Definitely not for tonight," you grin. "The Tshirt" he answers and turns back to his laptop. That’s not what you expected. "Why not that?" you ask. "You asked me and I told you to take the tshirt," he muttered. "That doesn’t answer my question," you look at him. "And you didn’t answer why a sweater wasn’t enough.I think you should wear a sweater." "All right, then the Tshirt" Not completely satisfied, you go back to the bathroom to take off your top and put on the Shirt. A look at the alarm clock shows you that you should start so slowly. "Did I really need that much time in the bathroom?" you ask yourself in your mind. "Jake? We have to go, are you coming?" you ask him. No reaction. "Jakeeeee?" Nothing. "Jakiee Hello?" You see his lips move slightly as he reads something. You walk up to him stand next to him. "Jake! Can you hear me?" You put a hand on his shoulder. Scared, he suddenly jumps up and grabs your wrist and holds it fast. His face looks shocked. You were also shocked by his quick movements and gasped. Briefly he looks up and down at you to realize that you are and nobody else. His gaze stays on your cleavage for a moment longer until he looks you in the face. His face is ten cm from yours. "Please don’t do that again," Jake breathes and stares into your eyes. "You didn’t listen to me, I didn’t want to scare you, I’m sorry, I should have thought," you apologized to him. "No, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to, did I hurt you?" he looked worried at your wrist. Carefully he strokes your skin with his thumb. "Don’t worry, it didn’t hurt, I was just scared too," you assure him. He’s letting go of your wrist. You just look each other quietly in the eyes. Unintentionally, you get closer. Until Jake suddenly shakes his head and asks "don’t we have to go?". He turns away to turn off his laptops. "Could have worked" you think  and reach for your bag in which your most important things are. Jake takes the car key off the table and comes after you. "Do you have the room key?" he harks. "Yes, I have," you answer his question. Together you leave the hotel and get into his car. You use Google Maps to find the way to the Aurora, and the journey is smooth. Only one song plays softly on the radio. -

I am Not Afraid Anymore Standing in the eye of the storm Ready to face this, dying to taste this, sick sweet warmth I am Not Afraid Anymore I want what you got in store I'm ready to feed now, get in your seat nowAnd touch me like you never And push me like you never And touch me like you never 'Cause I am not afraid, I am Not Afraid Anymore No no no

-

You notice how the mood in the car changes, and breathing is a little harder as you hear the lines of the song. You can see his jaw straining against each other and realize that he is also a little tense. For the same reason as you? You don’t know. His hand is cramped on the gearshift. "Just keep looking out the window" you think. Less than 10 minutes later Jake drives to the parking lot in front of the Aurora.

The others seem to be already there. Outside the door is Dan smoking a cigarette. “are you ready?” you ask the hacker before you get out again. "Yeah, it’ll be fun," Jake mumbles. He tries to smile but it doesn’t really work. You look up and open the door. After Jake locks the car, you guys head for the entrance. You can already see Dan pulling up an eyebrow. "Look at you, the Riddle Queen is here" he calls. "Hey, Dan," you laugh. How naturally he embraces you briefly what you return. "And this is definitely our hacker, right?" asks Dan and looks at Jake. Both look not at first enthusiastic but then Jake stretches out his hand. Dan takes his hand. "Hey, I’m Jake" he introduces himself this time. Dan looks suspicious, but then sighs. "Hi Jake I’m Dan, nice of you to join us, we can use your help" You were just worried about Dan saying something stupid but luckily he says nothing. "Then let’s go inside" asks the bearded and opens the door. “By the way, Lilly already told us that Jake is here. It slipped out of her a few moments ago so don’t be mad at Lilly that we already knew it” Dan explained. "We’re sitting in the corner over there so that we will not be disturbed by anyone" Dan explains. Curious you look around, you have already seen a few pictures but in real life the bar is much bigger. "Hey, MC" calls out a voice. Phil stands behind the bar, smiling. "Hi Phil, this is Jake," you say. You look behind you where Jake stands and doesn’t look happy at Phil. "Hi, sit down, we’ll be right back, my co-workers will be here so I don’t have to work tonight" You notice a hand that lies slightly on your hip and gently pushes you forward. Jake is still looking at Phil, but then at you. He’s smiling, but you can see it’s not real. "We have visitors" calls Dan to the group. Jessy sits with her back to you, looking backwards in a flash. "MCCCCC" calls her and jumps up. Jake quickly takes a step to the side so as not to be run over as Jessy throws herself into your arms. "Wow, I’m looking forward to seeing you too," you laugh. "Finally you are there I could not wait any more" "She really couldn’t, she's been annoyed me off all day at work" Richy laughs. You and Jessy split up so you can greet the rest. Unlike expected, Richy approaches Jake on his own. "You must be Jake, Hi I’m Richy beautiful that you are there, but MC you could’ve told us you were bringing your lover boy with you." Jake slips out a little grin and you hit Richy in the shoulder. "Yeah, next time I’ll let you know" "That was a hint that the next time you bring someone else," Lilly laughs. "No, don’t worry," you blink. "So you can sit there. Actually, that would be Thomas' place but he’s not there yet so you take the two chairs and I’ll tell Phil to get another one," explains Jessy. You go to the other side of the table and sit across from Jessy. To your left is Jake, and next to him is Richy. Dan sits next to Jessy, Cleo sits next to Dan and Lilly at the head of the table. You actually expected a very different reaction, that they’re skeptical of Jake. You’re looking at Lilly and she's looking at you, too. "You?" you speak silently to make sure that Lilly helped. She nods with a smile. "Thank you" you answer. "Now how was your trip here?" Richy asks you. "Long but it was okay. Fortunately there were not so many cars on the way" you take over the talk. "Well, then nothing can go wrong today" Dan answers and looks briefly at Jake. I hope there’s no argument. "Where is Thomas?" you ask in the round. "Maybe in the basement?" Lilly grins, making everyone else laugh. "He’s got something to do" Dan tells you. Jake keeps himself in the background but answers most questions without hesitation. It was clear that there would be many questions. After about half an hour, Thomas finally arrived, who was not even thrilled to see Jake. Thomas still thinks Jake and Hannah were having an affair. He doesn’t really want to realize it’s not true, but he’s probably just overwhelmed with everything. "So, what do you all want to drink?" Phil asks as he comes to your table. "MC, let’s have a glass of whiskey!" Dan immediately shouts. You look at him skeptically. "I do not accept a no" he grins. "Okay, two whiskeys, Jessy, Cleo and Lilly, you’ll have a cocktail as usual, and Richy and Thomas a beer?" What do you want?" Phil asks Jake. "A Coke" he answers. "All right, is coming" Phil grins at you and walk back in the kitchen. Shortly afterwards, a young woman with a apron comes to you with a tray and gives everyone a drink" "For a nice and relaxing evening" Richy takes a toast. Jake and Richy seem to get along quite well. "Finally, closing time" Phil shouts grinning as he comes towards you. He pulls a chair from the neighboring table to yours and falls elegantly on it in the same motion. "At least you’ll have free time tomorrow," Jessy answers and drinks a sip of her cocktail. Dan’s and your whiskey ran out pretty fast, so he ordered two more. You didn’t want to drink much, since you’re gonna sleep next to Jake. And you don’t want to do the smell of alcohol to him. But it was too late to stop Dan. Thomas told him not to drink so much today, but he just laughed. Phil hands you his hand that you accept and shakes it. "So now I have Duskwood’s celebrity finally sitting in my bar, it’s a great honor," says Phil smiling. "You’ll get your autograph later," you laugh. "I assume he’s the second kidnapper, right?" he means Jake. The hacker nods silently. "All right, whats going on here?" Phil asks interested and drinks a sip of his own glass of whiskey. "Spend a relaxing evening and talk about the search," Cleo answers. Phil has pulled back the house ban against Thomas and Cleo fortunately. Jessy said Phil changed his mind because of you. Jessy told him that they were going to another bar but Phil wanted to meet you. You didn’t think anything of it and were just glad the two burglars were allowed back into the Aurora. The conversations are moving towards the forest search and you go through all the theories you come up with. Make plans and consider how you would react in the biggest emergency. "Luckily there are a lot of men here, if something happens I’ll protect you," Phil laughs. "I think MC can take care of herself, that’s what she told me," Richy throws in. "Oh, you can take care of yourself?" Phil’s voice sounds amusing. "Yes, I’m sure I can, but I doubt that the man without a face will ever come near us," you argue." And even if he do, I’ll punch him." Dan raises his glass like a toast and then drinks a sip himself. "I’ll bring a crowbar" Richy looks proud. "Wow" giggles Jessy. "Let’s change the subject, we shouldn’t assume the worst" You look at the glass in your hand. "MC is right. If we’re going to be stressed out by now, we’ll be too excited tomorrow and maybe miss the real Deatils". "What kind of detail should you overlook in the woods?" asks Phil. "After the sign of the raven on the tree in the forest, you never know what else we can find" agrees Jessy. "You’re right," says Cleo. "You’re such little detectives," Phil scoffs. "We’re looking for a murderer and kidnapper of a friend of ours, so don’t make fun of it," you say seriously. "Hey, I don’t want to attack you with this, just a little fun, I mean you’re good at what you do," explains Jessy’s brother. You notice the undertone his voice always has when he speaks to you. It always sounds a bit like he’s making fun of you.His eyes never leave you alone. It feels like he’s watching every single one of your movements. Phil and Jessy are telling a story from their childhood when they had a fight. Again and again he looks at you and it seems to you that he only tells the story to you and not to everyone else. "And then I pushed her into the lake," Phil laughs. "That wasn’t funny, I was scared to death," hisses Jessy. "You absolutely have to come back and then go swimming in the lake.We have a secret place where no one comes. There’s a place for a barbecue and a bench and a table, so I can show you where I shoved Jessy in." Phil addresses you again. He has a crooked grin on his lips and leans back in the leather chair. "Yes I wanted to go with Jessy anyway, she wanted to show me the lake" "Well, I’m in," he winks. All the others are engrossed in conversation only Jake sits quietly on his chair. Until he leans over to you and takes the glass of alcohol from your hand and drinks it with a sip. Confused, you look at Jake putting the glass on the table. "Everything okay?" you ask him quietly. "Yes, it’s all right, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be" "If you want to go, you can tell me," you smile lightly. He smiles back at you. It’s one of those moments where you look at each other quietly. How you’d strongly like to kiss him now. "Phil, you should still make MC the cocktail I made up," you hear Jessy’s voice. You don’t want to take your eyes off Jake. "Right, I almost forgot, but then she has to come into the kitchen with me, I can’t show it openly yet. It’s not on the menu yet," explains her brother. "What is it?" you ask confused. "I made a cocktail the other day, and Phil thought it was so good that he wanted to put it on the drinks list. I told him that you should definitely try it and say your opinion," the redhead explains excitedly. Phil gets up from his chair and runs towards the bar. "Come on," he yells at you and disappears around the corner. "Let’s go," Jessy urges. Laughing, you get up and follow Phil. Jake’s talking to Richy and Lilly again, so it won’t be a problem. "There you are," you hear Phil collecting all sorts of ingredients. "I’m unsure if this tastes good" you share your opinion when you see the chili lying on the cutting board. "Don’t worry, he’ll be as sweet as you" he jokes and winks at you. "This flirt phrase was bad" you grin. "Yes, I agree, but did it still work?" "No, it didn’t, I’m sorry." "I notice you’re making fun of me," Phil mutters as he cuts a tomato. "Tomatoes? How did Jessy come up with that idea?" you ask. "She read something on the Internet and then had the idea. The bar was still closed when she suddenly stood in here and yelled at me that she had an idea, "smiling, he crushes the tomatoes in a bowl. Together with a small piece of chili, he packs both into a Mixxer. "Actually, the cocktail should be called 'Jessy's Special' but with the chilli it is as sharp as you look. Maybe I’ll name it after you, "Phil will make a new attempt to flirt with you. You want to answer but than Jessy come in the kitchen jumping. "And how far along are you?" she asks. "Jessy I’m not a magician," Phil murmurs. "Well, as the owner of a bar, you should be faster," she counters. Phil dumps two liquids in a glass with some ice cubes in it. He puts a straw and a leaf of peppermint. He’s pushing it over to you. You look at it skeptically. He leans relaxed against the counter and watches you again. "Come on, trust me, it tastes good," Jessy tells you. "All right," you give up and drink caution through the straw. "And how does it taste?" "I have to admit, it tastes good, but how much alcohol is in there?" you ask and wrinkles the face because of the bitter liquid. " Actually it’s not supposed to taste like alcohol, that’s the good thing about it," Jessy explains. You hold the glass so she can taste it too. Disgusted, she looks at the glass. "Damn Phil, you put way too much alcohol in there," Jessy immediately complains. "I’m sorry, I may have been distracted by the sharpness in this room," he winks at you again. "Ahhh yaaa?" she looks at her brother. The door is opened and Lilly sticks her head in." MC do you have a minute?" she asks you. You put the glass down and follow her out the door. Your first look goes to the table where you don’t see Jake sitting. "Where’s Jake?" you ask right away. "That’s what I wanted to tell you, he went outside, he just said he needs some air, I’m a little worried. But I don’t know him well enough to ask, but you do, "she explains. You nod your head. Without waiting, you make your way outside the bar. Jake is leaning against the car and looks at his cell phone. "Jake, all right?" you ask as you run towards him. "Sure, I just needed some fresh air," he explains, but he doesn’t sound happy. "Come on, I see something’s wrong, you want to go? We can go back to the motel," you suggest. "No MC it’s all right," he murmurs. "No MC it’s all right" he tries to convince you. "You’re lying to me" "No I do not" Jake looks around but dont look at you. "You need to talk to me or I can’t help you" you sound desperate. "I don’t need any help either, it’s all okay I just wanted some air," he hisses. "Wow okay if you get mad now I go back in. I don’t want to annoy you" you answer insulted and turn around to go back in. "Good idea, go back to Phillip," Jake growls softly, but not quietly enough that you can’t hear it. Immediately you stop and turn back to him "Wait WHAT?"You cross your arms in front of your chest and pull up an eyebrow. "No, nothing" he tries to save himself. "No no no! I heard exactly that! Did you just say I should go to Phil?" "Yes, yes I have" now he looks right in your eyes. You are outraged by this. "What does that mean? What does that have to do with Phil?" "You know it exactly" he prickly kicks a stone aside. "No, I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about." "Oh no? MC here, MC there and MC I really have to show you the lake" he speaks as if he would throw up. "Huh?" you put your hands in your hips. "He’s trying to impress you all the time! All the time! Don’t you notice that?" he hisses and comes one step towards you. "That’s bullshit! Why are you mad at me? Phil doesn’t do anything!" "You really don’t notice it, or you just like it so much that you don’t want to notice it!" "Oh, my God, what’s your problem, Jake?" "My problem is that Phillip flirts with you all the time even though you’re mine!" he throws his arms into the air. Suddenly you understand this strange situation. Whether you like it or not, you just can’t resist smiling. "Why are you smiling now?" he asks desperately. "You’re jealous of Phil," you giggle. "Pff" snapped, he turns away from you. He stands with his back in your direction, looks at the other side of the street and pretends that you are not here at all. He still folded his arms in front of his chest, which is why you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around his stomach from behind. You lean your head against his back and his smell surrounds you like in the car rides. "Oh, Jake, why don’t you say so right away?" you ask whispering. "What are you talking about?" his voice sounds like he doesn’t know what you mean. "You have no reason to be jealous of Phil," you assure him. "I noticed that" he answers ironically. "Richy says Phil’s a fuckboy, so you don’t have to take it so seriously, I don’t either." "You don’t have to think about it all the time, I've to" "You like me, don’t you?" you giggle. "Isn’t that proof enough?" he asks. "I think I need even better proof" you breathe and take another step towards him. "What proof?" he asks nervously. "I don’t know, Jake, be creative." You take another step towards him. Jake is a bit taller than you, which is why you need to look up at him. His eyes sparkle in the light of the lantern. "What are you doing?" he whispers. His facial expressions are a little insecure. "What are you doing?" he whispers. "I will give you a chance to do something" "I don’t know what you mean," he laughs nervously and looks across your head. "Kiss me, Jake" Immediately his gaze rushes back to you. "W-What?" he stutters. "Oh, Jake, that’s what I love about you," you giggle. "What? You love..." Before he can pronounce, you pull him to you by the fabric of your hoodie, stand on the tips of your toes and press your lip on his. Jake instantly stiffens and doesn’t move an inch, but he doesn’t pull his head back, so maybe he’s just too scared. You detach yourself from him and look into his wide open eyes. You just keep looking at him and not saying anything. "Fuck it," he suddenly mumbles. His hand lies down around you on your back and pulls you against him. He puts his right hand in your neck and your lips meet again. Fireworks explode in your stomach, making you warm and cold at the same time. You immediately close your eyes to focus only on his soft lips that move perfectly to yours. You put your hands on the collar of his sweaters to pull him even closer. Easily it turns you towards the car and directs you a few steps back until you feel the vehicle at your back. Your hands go down his neck and run through his hair. His left hand strokes under your tshirt and lies on your bare skin on your back.His hand is cold which is why you gasp for air. He takes the chance right away to steal a deeper kiss.

The kiss becomes more passionate and the hacker pushes even harder against the car.

You pull his hair lightly and a throaty growl escapes him. Your heartbeat stops for a moment and goose bumps form on your body. Oh God, he robs you of all your wits. He seems to know exactly what to do, as if you were meant for each other. Like your whole life was just a preparation for this moment. A wait until he comes into your life. Unfortunately, you are standing in the middle of a parking lot in front of the bar because of the owner you just had a little fight with each other. Your kiss becomes softer until it finally dissolves from you with a heavy breath. Also your breathing is difficult and your heart beats so much that it is unhealthy. "Damn," Jake breathes on your lips and leans his forehead against yours. "You are the best thing that could have happened to me," he adds quietly and without breathing. "Jake, I love you I think you already know this but I don’t want to stay away from you anymore" you explain to him quietly and seriously. It’s true, you don’t feel like pretending there’s nothing there, even though everyone knows there’s something between you that you want to be together. It is fate that your number was sent to Thomas and you learned so this hacker, who now stands before you. And that you got along so well from the first minute, just confirms it. "I tried to fight against that it was just too dangerous for both of us. But the way Phil looks at you and flirts with you, God damn it, i hate that" A small grin forms on your face. "It’s hot when you’re mad" He turns his eyes annoyed but can’t resist a grin. "See, you say a little sentence and I have to grin, it’s not normal," he mumbles. "It’ll be normal from now on," you blink. "We should go back in before the others come out and look for us," you say. "You’re right," he agrees. "Oh, and Jake? Remember, tonight you’re sleeping with me, not Phil. Only you" You just give him a short kiss and walk right the front door. "Um, MC, I think you made a misstake in your sentence" you hear his nervous voice behind you. "Maybe I did, maybe I meant it like the way i said" you turn your head to him and stick out your tongue. "You’re as naughty as ever," he murmurs. "Get used to it, babe, you can’t get rid of me." Before you can open the door, you will be pulled back at the wrist and pusches against Jake’s body. Before you can lose your balance, he holds you tight. "You play dangerous, don’t burn yourself," he breathes on your lips. Immediately your heart beats faster and you get dizzy with the sound of his voice. "Was that an offer or a promise?" you breathe. "It was a threat," he winks and kisses you again. Next to you, the door suddenly opens and a small group comes out. Immediately you break away from each other. "Look, I told you all the time that they are definitely a couple and the others don’t know it," one girl in the group says to another. "Yeah okay, you were right," the other one laughs and looks at you and Jake apologetically. You start laughing and look at Jake whose eyes are already on you. "Ups" you whisper against his lips and release yourself from his grip in opening the door. Immediately the warm air and the smell of alcohol comes to you. "Ah Bonnie and Clyde are back," Richy laughs. Bonnie and Clyde? Doesn’t sound so bad, even if you’re not so criminal, just a little bit. But only because of Hannah. "We thought the man with no face took you," Jessy giggles "Never, who can flee from the government can cope with the man without a face.This is a fool who has no friends!" Dan interferes and makes you laugh. "And MC, did you tell me about my cocktail?" Phil asks. "No, she didn’t, we didn’t have time," comes dry from Jake. "Oh okay calm down" Phil grins mean. "I am calm in person" Jake shrugs his shoulders and sits back on his chair. You sit next to him and steal a sip of his Coke. He looks at you with his eyebrow up." That’s my Coke." "Yes, but I have a dry mouth, it was cold outside," you answered and put the glass back on the table. He begins to grin and drinks himself a sip of Coke. Jessy clears her throat and you look at her. Inconspicuously she pulls up an eyebrow. She saw right through you. She’ll want to know everything tomorrow and text you tonight. "MC, if you still feel like it after the search tomorrow, we can go for a drink, not necessarily in the Aurora, also somewhere else", Phil suggests. Not good timing, Phil, not good. "No, we can’t, we don’t have time," you hear Jake next to you. "How well that I didn’t ask you but MC" "How good that I talked to MC and not you," Jake answers. Under the table you reach for his hand lying on his thigh. You fold your fingers together and squeeze slightly to maybe calm him down a little. "Now it’s getting interesting" Dan leans back in his chair expectantly. "I just want to have a drink with MC and not with you," Phil argues. "And MC has no time tomorrow" "Why not, you have to escape something again? Hacker, you’re a really bad guy." Disparagingly, Jessy’s brother looks at Jake. "I’m what you’d like to be" Jake reaches for his Coke to drink a sip. "Ouh that was good," Richy mumbles and trying to hide his grin by keeping his hand from his mouth. "Maybe everyone should calm down" Cleo tries to save the situation. "I think if MC doesn’t want to she can tell me herself"  Now he’s looking at you. "I’m sorry about Phil, but I really can’t, and tomorrow night after the search we will all be tired" you explain. "You’d rather spend time with a hacker than with a normal person who’s not a criminal?" "Ah exactly because a life in a small town is so much more exciting" Jake grins. "But a life with someone like you?" "You only want one night, Philipp, nothing more" "A night with me is more exciting than a life with you" "Of course you’re right. A life with a bar owner in a small town is much more exciting than a life with a wanted and one of the best hackers in the country" Jake sneers.

You like Phil, but he’s not Jake. You fell in love with him because he’s him, and damn it, running away with Jake is stupid but sounds like a lot of suspense in hotel rooms. "What’s your problem?" Phil asks hissing. "My problem is how you look at my girl," Jake replies with equal resentment and raises your folded hands to put them on the table for everyone to see. "All of a sudden, you’re a couple?" "We’ve been around for a while, but I don’t have to yell it out so everyone knows it, you understand?" "And then you don’t say something from the beginning?" "You know, up to a point, I can understand that you want her, she’s perfect, but from a moment I can no longer tolerate that. And this moment is now, I’m sorry my girlfriend doesn’t want anything from you, but do me a favor and accept it." And right now, Jake won the fight. "Statement" speaks Dan and pretends he has to cough. "And you’re saying that because you’re afraid MC might realize I’m better than you?" "No, I don’t care about that, I mean she sleeps next to me in a bed and not next to you. But I think you should have more respect now that you know you don’t stand a chance." "Crass, it's like kindergarten here. I'm gone, I'll see you in the search tomorrow," Phil hisses and gets up to go. "Oh, and MC?" he starts and turns to you, "if you can't sleep tonight, I still have room in my bed". You're looking the first time at Jake after the conversation . You see a twinkle in his eyes, and you know it's all because of you. "Okay, but don’t wait for it," you answer without looking away from Jake. You put your hand to his cheek and bend over to give him a kiss. Jessy, Cleo and Lilly do "awww" at the same time. Dan gives a choking sound of himself and Thomas and Richy still look confused about the situation just now. "So wait, how long you be a couple?" Jessy asks directly. "We’re not together," Jake answers casually." But how else would I explain it to your stupid brother?" "Stupid brother" repeats Richy laughing what Jake said. Everyone looks at him with no understanding, except Jake, who also grins. "Wait, we’re not together?" you ask. "No" "And why not? I mean, after the situation outside and now in here I thought it was us" "I agree with you, but you haven’t asked me and I haven’t asked you yet." "And why don’t you ask?" "Why don’t you ask me?" he grins. "Because until two minutes ago I thought we were already together" "I’m sorry, I didn’t think this could happen so fast" "Quick? We’ve known each other for months?" "MC, do you want to be my girlfriend?" he asks and grins. "I don’t know if I want that," you look away from him. "Either you say yes now or I take the question back" "This is blackmail," you’re outraged. "3..." "Okay is fine, of course i want" "finally" call the others happily in a choir while Jake stares at you.

"Okay, I really don’t regret coming with you" he whispers against your lips to kiss you for the first time as a real couple

"That took a long time" giggles Jessy.

Masterlist

❤️🌹🎭

[cafeinthemoon]

The Founders’ hairs and how take care of them 💕

(I’ve said I was going to be more active during weekend but here I am showing up only now shame on me)

So this blog has now +200 followers! Yay! To the ones who follow me since the start: thank you for being here with me!! And to the ones who just arrived: welcome to my blog! It’s good to have you here!!

So, to celebrate this conquer I decided to post this list of headcanons about the Founders’ hairs and how to take care of them lol This idea has been in the back of my mind for a long time but I didn't have the time nor the courage to write it. I feel like we don't talk about this as much as we should, so here it is 💜

Fandom: Naruto | Founders

Symbols: 💗 | ◻ | ▶

Hashirama 🌳

God just look at this hair 💜💜💜

You can’t just say you wouldn’t like to take care of it

And you’re lucky, bc Hashi would love to have someone to do this task for him, so if you’d volunteer the answer would be YES

Now, assuming that you’re his s/o: it’s not that he's unable to take care of his own hair, but he appreciates this gesture of yours

When you two have some time to chill at home, he likes to sit in front of you while you are on a chair or something so you can brush his hair

Hashirama has long, thin hair, so that it gets easily oily and dirty. It can be more difficult during summer or when he needs to leave the village to travel through arid places (and ofc after battles), because he can’t carry all the necesssary products with him (and he would never get the time he needs to use them anyway) 😢

 Because his hair is thin, it needs to be washed often, or it will get too sweaty and dirty and no one wants that. As I said before, arid environments are a problem, bc the dust can cling to the strands and it all can get messy

Lucky him that you are at home when he comes back ❤

Start washing his scalp. Maybe you’d need to do this two or three times, depending on the state of things. Do not scrub it or it will get sore (plus it will increase the hair loss)

Be careful while washing the length and the ends: thin hair can easily break when we apply too much strength against it

You can use a towel to remove the excess of water, but it’s better to let it dry naturally. It will not get too long, specially on hot days

His hair is straight, so there’s no need to use heat to style it. Just combing it is enough

If you want to use some product to protect it from heat, dust and to keep it hydrated, that’s great! But be careful: do not use much product or the oiliness will get worse. And of course, never apply cream, oils or anything in the roots 😉

About the cut: Hashirama has nothing against short hair, but the vision of scissors getting too close to his hair is terrifying to him. So if he ever lets you hold a scissor near him, he will only let you trim the ends (and he will definitely hold a mirror to see what you’re doing)

Tobirama 🌊

You wanna try and take care of his hair? Good luck bro lmao

I personally think that he never does anything with his hair besides washing it and passing his fingers through it before putting his happuri

And the reason for that is simple: Tobirama has thick, bristly hair and he doesn’t know what to do about it

Plus he doesn’t have much time to think of what to do

So when you suggested that you could take care of his hair, his first reaction was 😵 but then he thought about it and ended up saying yes

And ofc you were more than happy lol

First place: his hair is thick. Not textured, but thick. So you have to be patient

Sometimes it will be necessary to wash it twice to see the shampoo making some bubbles. But once you achieve it, just focus on doing a scalp massage

Tobi will love it. You know, he’s very stressed bean, so a massage will be welcome 💜

But be careful to not scrub his scalp not matter how much he begs you to do it

About fragrances, creams, etc.: he’s not against something that smells good and can make his hair softer, but do not exaggerate. He will not appreciate strong fragrances

Because his hair is thick, it will not get dry so quickly. Here you have two options: using heat or asking him to use his control over water to make it evaporate

The same principles of patience and gentleness apply to the brushing session: start with the ends and then go for the length. Never, NEVER start with the roots

Here’s an observation: in the first day, Tobirama’s hair will be more bristly than normal because the washing process removes part of the natural oils. But don’t worry, because everything will be back to normal in the day after

Madara 🔥

So, Madara’s hair. MADARA’S HAIR. Omg.

Taking care of his hair is something that happened just like anything else in your relationship: it started as an innocent favor, but now it turned into a serious ritual

You always knew that Madara loves his hair. It’s literally an extension of him. It represents much of the person he is, so he is very proud of it. It is the closest thing from vanity you can find in him

One day, still in your first year together, he came home and you noticed he had some small leaves and tugs clinging on his hair

It was a bit funny that given the amount of hair Madara has, it was something you should expect to see often, but you never thought of it until then 😅

Somehow you sensed that pointing out the current state of his hair would hurt his pride, so you acted careful: you approached him, hugging him from behind, and started stroking his front strands. You pretended you just found a leaf there and offered to take it and all the rest out. At first, Madara found it weird bc he always did it by himself, but he accepted it anyway. It was how it all started

It's like a domestic task that you take it more seriously than the others

You start taking the twigs, leaves and grass out, which takes quite some time. Bc of the knots, you can’t do it fast otherwise everything would become a torture session for you bb

After taking them out, you separate his hair in smaller sections to unravel some of the easier knots. You have to start from the ends to prevent the break of the strands. Only then you can actually wash it

Bc Madara doesn't like the deep fragrances they put in traditional hair products, you had to develop a homemade formula with some herbs you had in your backyard. You were afraid that you’d never be able to make enough product for the lots of hair on that Uchiha head, but fortunately you have a wide garden 🌿

It's probably the calmest moment of his day, when he just stands there sitting in front of you while your delicate hands do the work

Madara has thick, textured hair. And yeah, bc of its thickness, it is heavy (only someone as strong as him would be able to maintain it).You need to be careful on how you handle it even when it's wet

Btw it takes too long for it to get dry naturally, so some heat is allowed

I said some heat not a Katon technique for God sake

It’s better not having it 100% dry to brush it, so when it’s half wet you can separate it in thick sections and comb the edges of each of them slowly and patiently. Then you can divide it in smaller sections to brush their length

Bc it’s thick and long, it doesn’t get a lot for his hair to go back to its normal aspect once it’s washed and clean, so this is basically everything you need to do to take care of it. It might seem easy but this is just a summary: the truth is that you must be prepared to spend hours on this task

(But I don’t think you’d complain right)

[tuanyiems]

First Everything

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“Kun…pi…mook uh Bu—”

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

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

But Bambam has already zoned out. 

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

His name makes your cheeks dimple. 

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

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

…is what he had hoped. 

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

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

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

(You don’t.)

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Kim looks at Bambam pointedly.

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

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

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

“Ha-”

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

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

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

His heart catches in his throat. 

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you come here often?”

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

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

“Yeah, that Lisa, she’s a homie.”

You blink at him. “Wow, okay…cool.”

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

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

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

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

“Anything catch your eye?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good,” you nod curtly.

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

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

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

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

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

Your brows raise, “You? Nervous?”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“2A? That used to be my homeroom!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bambam rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

He looks at you skeptically.

“The uh, the…gourdine?”

“Bouchée à la périgourdine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m alright,”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bambam?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

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

“You didn’t like the food,”

“The food was delicious.”

“Then it was me. I was boring.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha-”

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

“But it tasted good?”

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

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

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

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

“Well, no.”

Your brows lift.

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

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

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

“Yoshitomo Nara,” he confirms softly.

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

“I do,” he smiles quietly.

“So you came here to bribe me?”

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

You smile, thumbs smoothing over the tickets repeatedly. 

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

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

And that is all that matters.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind if I play music?”

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

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

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

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

“Like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snorts. “When is your mixtape dropping?”

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

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

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

“Oh, thanks.”

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

Maybe photography isn’t so bad after all.

He snaps another photo. Click!

-

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

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

“You look beautiful,” he reassures you.

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

“Okay, but when am I not?”

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

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

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

Your giggles ring throughout the car.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have a good team with me.”

“I always knew you’d make it big.”

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

-

Yn_ig: This is amazing!

Bambam1a: Thx!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, nothing except, of course, you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His chest deflates and he nods meekly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Impossible, she loves you.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I get that,” you smile weakly. 

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

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

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

“Did Mark…”

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

You frown, playing with the strap of the seatbelt.

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take it!”

“What?”

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

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

“What’s there to get?”

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

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

“I like you. A lot. For a while now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night, Bambam.”

“N-night!”

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Bambam flushes, stuffing his cheeks with salad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your gaze lingers on him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no, that’s alright.”

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

It feels like a long time before the bus arrives.

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

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

You are disappointed and probably dislike him right now.

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“Y/N,” he starts hesitantly.

“The light’s green,” you interrupt.

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

“Cupcake!” he blurts, gripping the wheel.

Your head turns abruptly. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you laugh. 

“Sure, why not.”

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

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

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

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

You let out a quiet sigh.

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

“Fourteen!”

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

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

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

You blink up at him in surprise.

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

“Y-you’re giving me too much credit.”

He holds your hands tighter, shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

But then he sees it.

Your dimpled cheek.

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

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

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