#as usual excuse the quality because i took them from instagram and the quality there is AWFUL

[wiha-jun]

TREVANTE RHODES

by DALVIN ADAMS for Netflix (February 2024)

[landinoandco]

Our Love is a Game

Lando Norris x Reader

Request from @jamieeboulos

Warnings: pinch of fluff, cute ending because they are the best

Word count: 2.7 k

Requests are open :)

It all started with a phone number, an innocent exchange that would subsequently change the world you knew; mostly for the better. When you had met Lando, as far as you were concerned you had just met a 21 year old who lived in London and had a passion for cars. How wrong you were. It was only when things started to get serious that he sat you down and explained everything that came with being a formula one driver; more importantly the fandom that he was involved in. 

You had always been a private person and admittedly this piece of information almost broke your relationship but after some time to think you had decided that he was worth it all. You both decided it was a better idea to keep your relationship as quiet as possible - you took every precaution to make sure you stayed a stranger to the fans.

For the past 2 years, you thought you had managed to stay clear of the cameras, the photos and the twitch streams but it wasn’t until a fan-made compilation caused your world to spiral out of control. 

You and Lando were out for a run, it was a part of your morning routine - a great way to start the day and it was time that you two could escape the motor sport world and act like a normal couple without worrying about who might be watching. It was time you both valued and appreciated. On this particular morning, Lando had decided to add to his Instagram story, a short video of his morning adventures - the mist still hanging around the trees as you ran under a heavily graffitied bridge, the early birds song chirping animatedly. At the time you didn’t think much of it as you were too busy tying your hair back up to notice. 

It wasn’t until you got home and looked at his story that your heart stopped, rushing over to the kitchen island you placed your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment but in the corner of his video - the last millisecond before it ended - there was a flash of a purple top (the purple top you had been wearing) and a swish of brown hair as you chucked it back up into a ponytail. 

“Lando.” You called out, trying to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t know why it had affected you so much - or why you were so desperate to keep your identity a secret. It wasn’t like you wanted to hide your relationship; you were the happiest you ever had been, everyday was exciting and offered new prospects - it was more that you were so used to being in this bubble with Lando, the idea of it bursting seemed rather unappealing. Usually you didn’t care for how others saw you but seeing some of the words that people used to describe him, it would be enough to trouble even the thickest of skins. 

Lando’s close proximity broke your thoughts as he stared down at your phone, pausing on the flash of brown and purple. “I am so sorry, love.” He almost whispered, his eyes widening at his carelessness. He picked your phone up to take a closer look. 

“It will be alright, won’t it? I mean, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it.” You had said, more to reassure yourself than Lando. He didn’t answer, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach because he knew exactly what he had started. 

The fan-made compilation didn’t go viral until a few hours later - as it turns out that flash of purple was the perfect cherry on top of an unappetising cake. Lando was sat on stream - not that this was out of the ordinary and Max had decided to join him, leaving you alone to rewatch Friends for the umpteenth time. 

The pair were sat reacting to videos on YouTube when a clip of a seal swimming into a shoal of fish started playing - the amusing part was that they kept quickly dispersing away from the seal in question. Unsurprisingly, they laughed and Lando spluttered: “This is me trying to find a girlfriend.” What the fans didn’t know was the apparent irony of that sentence and this was what caused the major meltdown; whilst Lando and Max were busy crying with laughter - that chat had filled up with the same link and references to the video you would be redirected through. 

Max was the first to stop laughing, tapping Lando on the shoulder as he pointed at the chat. Hundreds of the same message filled the screen: “That’s not what this compilation shows.” “Lando, what are you hiding from us?” “Lando and Max laughing knowing very well he has a girlfriend.” 

“Chat what on earth are you waffling on about.” Max chuckled uneasily, looking at Lando out of the corner of his eye. Lando sat with a forced smile, his nostrils flaring as he continued through the comments. He could only let out a tense laugh as he swallowed thickly - his throat feeling suddenly dry. You were still sitting, completely engrossed and unaware that Lando Norris was now trending on twitter. 

Max had come up with an excuse to end the stream not long after, Lando uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were with you in the other room, had you seen it? Did you know? How would you react? He felt as though he had lost all control, like he had failed you entirely - all he wanted to do was protect you yet he was the one to screw it up. 

“Hey,” Max nudged his shoulder, “It was bound to happen at some point. Let’s go and see if she’s seen it - if not then -” He took a deep breath, “We will watch it together. We need to know what we are working with here.” Lando nodded, unable to reply, his body went into automatic pilot mode and too quickly he was standing facing you. 

Pausing the tv, you looked at Lando - his jaw tightened and facial expressions set as though he had just seen a ghost. “Is everything ok?” You asked apprehensively. 

“There’s something you need to see.” Max reached for his phone, pushing Lando onto the sofa. You offered your arm to Lando, pulling him into a hug. Max pulled up the video and pressed play. A tense atmosphere held the room hostage - breath restricted and gazes fixed onto the tiny screen in front of you. 

It started with a clip from this year’s Goodwood - Lando preparing to drive his last hill climb - you remembered it well, a McLaren hat placed on your head mainly to cover your identity; knowing that there would be more than a few fans around. The clip moved to 3 separate stills - all of you in your McLaren hat. One with your back to the camera, you hand placed around Lando’s waist, the other two a side profile as you spoke to Max. 

The reaction was immediate, you slapped your hand to your mouth, Lando looked horror-struck and Max was watching you carefully. 

The video moved on, this time a clip from the quadrant video where Niran trains like Lando for 24 hours - Lando and Niran were in the kitchen preparing to eat their breakfast when once again the video moved to stills. This time they were of your reflection in the oven - holding the camera. You had thought at the time, if you were behind the camera it would stop every chance of you accidentally being caught on camera. Apparently not. 

The video had moved on again, this time to stills of Lando arriving on track - of course there was no way for you to get on track without being photographed and you were fine with that because you would just arrive after Lando either with Jon or Charlotte. Photos of you arriving with Jon and Charlotte flashed up - with them you were just another member of staff but put with those other stills and it really did yell out that you and Lando were romantically involved. Finally the flash of purple from Lando’s story. The game was up. 

“Oh my-” You stuttered as the video came to an end. Fortunately your Instagram hadn’t been shown but judged by how skilled you knew the fans to be - it would only be a matter of time. “I feel sick.” You admitted, wiping your hands across your face. Lando still hadn’t said a word, staring blankly at the floor. Max was the first to come up with something logical, turning to you and Lando. 

“It will blow over.” He started, “The fans will soon lose interest and move onto the next big headline. We just need to ignore anything we see regarding the subject.” He moved his attention to you. “Maybe avoid social media for a few days. Let everyone cool down -” Sensing your means to interrupt, he held his hand up. “I know you shouldn’t have to and I know none of this is fair but unfortunately people have no boundaries and believe because it’s on social media it is their business. If they were in our situation, I’m pretty sure they would be the first to complain. Let’s just go along with it for now. It will give you time to think about what to do next.” 

Lando cleared his throat, pulling you closer into him. “I’ve failed you. All I wanted to do was protect you.” At this, Max got up and left. 

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “You could never. Think about how long we kept it secret for. Besides, until we announce or admit anything - it isn’t confirmed.” You offered, trying to soothe his worries. He nodded, still not convinced. 

“Our love is like a game and it’s not a game I enjoy playing.” He croaked, lacing your fingers together. 

“I know, Lando, I know. Let’s let everything calm down and then we can think about what our next step is.” 

Weeks later and it was the night before you were due to leave for your summer holiday. You would be spending it with Lando and some of his friends and family. Due to the current pandemic, it had been so long since you had been away - even if it was a bigger group of you going; you were still looking forward to spending that quality time with Lando. 

Max had decided to take himself and Tom off to the streaming room - leaving you and Lando to sort out the remaining items you needed for your time away. 

“I have a present for you.” He said suddenly, his hands behind his back. You beamed, taking a step closer to him. He shook his head, “If you want it - “ He pointed at his lips. 

Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips then held out your hands like a child. Lando chuckled, “Close your eyes.” Hands still outstretched and eyes closed, you waited for Lando to present you with your surprise. He grasped your left wrist and attached something to it - “No peeking.” He added. A moment or two later, he dropped his hold of your wrist and said: “You can open them now.” You could hear the smile on his lips. You opened your eyes and looked straight to your wrist - he had given you a pink watch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, his eyes twinkled as he then pointed to the orange watch on his wrist. 

“Watches?” You asked, confusion laced your tone. 

Nodding, he said, “We all have matching watches but in different colours - they are for our holiday away.” 

You gave him a lopsided grin and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love it. Thank you.” 

In the streaming room, Max was having to ignore the majority of the comments because they were all asking the same thing: “Who was the girl from the compilation.” He was trying his hardest to keep moving off the topic, instead showing off the watches - it had been his idea, blue for him, orange for Lando, a child’s watch for Tom and a pink watch for you. He had listed off all of the colours and said who they belonged to: “And then pink-” He paused, mentally face palming. He looked over to Tom for assistance - he hadn’t meant to say pink at all. “And pink is for someone.” He cursed his poor excuse but as if by magic - Lando walked through the door. 

Distracting the stream from his slip up. 

Croatia was a dream come true, the hot summer sun on your back and the time to just relax and recharge. Days spent with Lando sunbathing on the boat or stuck in a tense game of Uno. Not being the only female was brilliant as well - as they got to go off and not feel guilty about leaving you on your own. 

Currently, you and Lando were standing in each other's arms - the afternoon drawing into the evening as the sun began to set. You had your arms around his neck and his arms were around your waist, sighing contentedly you broke the silence: “This is nice.” He pressed his lips into your hair, a sign that he agreed with your statement. In that moment, it was just you and him - everyone seemed to disappear from around you and all worries vanished. It was the simple yet affectionate moments that had always meant the most to you. You felt as though you could relax every muscle in your body, listening to his steady heartbeat - you wished for this moment to never end, to forever be in his arms and to not worry about who sees you there. 

Ever since that compilation had been made, the thought had been on your mind a lot. Were you ready to go public with Lando? At the end of the day you were both happy and surely that was the most important thing. 

Later that night, you were sitting eating your meal when a phone was handed to you, displayed on it was a picture of you and Lando - in each other’s arms. 

Instantly you knew what this meant, looking at Lando you were met with the same expression. He did as well. 

You and Lando had decided it was time to announce your relationship, there was no point sneaking around anymore if people knew and were looking out for you. You had agreed that the best way to do it was if you joined him in a stream, that way they got to know you a bit more for who you were. 

“Is it ok to feel as nervous as I am?” You asked him, pulling up a chair beside him. He was setting up the stream, two mugs of tea placed in front of you. It seemed completely unnatural to sit facing the camera. 

“I mean, this is kind of a big deal so yes I would say, it’s completely natural for you to feel nervous.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Nodding, you took a deep breath. 

“Ok. I’m ready.” You said, your heart beating at a million miles an hour. The corners of his lips turned up, leaning in to leave you a kiss on the lips. 

“I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He admitted quietly, as though you were the only person in the world, his eyes flickered with complete adoration. 

“I love you too. Now, shall we start it?” 

Lando went to press the start stream button but paused. He turned back to face you, his eyes wide and offered an apologetic smile. 

“What did you do?” You asked, a smile toying at your lips as you had an idea of what it might have been. 

“Stream, meet my girlfriend.” 

He had already started it...

[sunarinluvr]

|| haikyuu boys finding you asleep on the couch after an argument ||

includes: kuroo tetsurou, miya osamu, & oikawa tooru

a/n- hello! sorry for posting so late, but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and i was actually in the mood to finish it so i hope yall enjoy! oh and im not really sure about how i feel about it,,, might take it down later we shall see.

warnings: none ( lmk if there’s anything! )

KUROO -

last night you saw a post kuroo’s “work wife” had made on instagram with her kissing him on the cheek, and it didn’t make you feel the best, so you decided to bring it up to him the next morning. and you did, just as he was getting ready for work you talked to him about it.

you were standing in front of him filled with anger arguing about how it made you uncomfortable, “can you please listen?! i dont feel comfortable with your “work wife” kissing you?” you yelled. “Y/N it was on the cheek its not a big deal!” and to be honest you just wanted to cry. 

finally, he walked past you and opened the door. “i don’t have time for this y/n, stop being so insecure! at least she wouldn’t argue over something so small!” and with that, he slammed the door and you stood there stunned. kuroo knew that he shouldn’t have said that, instant regret and guilt filled his gut.

 but he already said it, he can’t do anything about it now. with a frustrated sigh, he went to work. hoping to fix everything when he gets home. you stood there speechless, as you realized you still had work so slowly you made your way to the bathroom. 

after getting ready and grabbing a quick snack you were out the door with a heavy chest. once you get home, tired and feeling worse than before. you trudged to the couch and plopped down letting out a shaky sigh remembering the argument and the words he said repeating in your head. 

you broke down crying, and before you knew it, the exhaustion from today took over and you were sound asleep on the couch. kuroo got home an hour later, he felt guilty and was already practicing how he’d apologize to you as he walked in.“y/n? kitten?” no answer. 

he called out again, and was met with silence, he made his way over to the living room where he found you sleeping on the couch. gently walking towards you he knelt down, and saw your tear-stained face which made his heart sink. “i fucked up” he said to himself.

giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead he softly apologized and carried you to the bedroom. you ended up waking up when you felt his body weight dent the bed. “tetsu?” you said softly squinting at him. relief rushes through his body at the sound of his nickname. looking at you with guilt in his eyes

“im so sorry kitten, i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t mean to hurt you” he said gently. at that tears started flowing again and he was quick to hug you and wipe your tears with his other hand. “it’s ok, i shouldn’t have been so insecure anyways” 

he shook his head with a frown “no it’s not your fault ok? i didn’t mean anything i said. i love you so so much and i’m so lucky that you’re mine” you look up at him and gave him a small smile “okay” before cuddling closer to him. giving you a soft kiss on the lips he hugged you tighter as you both fell asleep.

OSAMU -

osamu was just having a horrible day, his head was pounding and the customers he had to deal with today were just plain rude. then he had to do most of the work since one of his employees called in sick, and for some reason, everything just annoyed him.

you on the other hand did not know about his day at all and thought it would be nice of you to make a surprise visit. walking in with a huge smile on your face stopping midway when you realize he wasn’t at the counter. “where’s samu?” you asked sweetly to the employee

“he’s in the back, i think he has a headache,” she says giving you a small smile. you can tell something was off by the way she spoke but decided to just brush it off and make your way to the back. “hi samu! surprise!” you exclaimed cheerfully as you make your way towards him

he just kind of looks at you, which you thought was weird, but you decided to hug him anyways. when he doesn’t hug you back and groan, you pull away and look at him “baby i heard you had a headache. i didn’t bring any medicine, but we could eat first and i-” 

you couldn’t even finish your sentence since osamu just stood up. he was infuriated and had no clue why, usually loved listening to you but today he was just annoyed. “look y/n a don’t mean ta be rude, but a don't have the energy for this right now. please just go home.” he said coldly staring right at you.

“excuse me? i came here to surprise you and this is what i get??” you said in shock, voice a little louder this time. rolling his eyes “Oh wow am so surprised! now will ya please go home? a don’t wanna argue right now!” he yelled. with tears forming in your eyes you quickly wiped them and left. osamu knew he shouldn’t have said all that, but he was too mad to run after you in front of all the customers. 

you rushed home and sluggishly made your way to your room to change into something comfier, making your way to the couch, curling up into a ball allowing your tears to fall, and somehow falling asleep, after getting tired of crying. he gets home a few hours later, guilt building up in his stomach as he mentally slaps himself for the things he said. 

walking into the living room he opened the lights and you were the first thing he noticed. seeing you curled up into a ball on the couch made his heart drop to his stomach. you on the other hand woke up because of the sudden change of lighting. 

gradually adjusting your sight you see him and switch your gaze onto the floor when you saw him look at you too. seeing your puffy eyes he walks towards you slowly and sits beside you giving you enough space. “am sorry, a shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on ya.”

you look at him with watery eyes and his heart sinks “yea i was just trying to be nice, sorry i didn’t warn you before coming” he opened his arms and you instinctively scooted closer to him, he sighs “no a love it when you surprise me a was jus having a bad day a love ya so much ok?” finally hugging him “okay i love you too” giving you a quick kiss he offered to make you food and of course you said yes.

OIKAWA -

you love oikawa, and you’re very supportive and understanding especially when it comes to his career. but he has an awful habit of overworking himself and as much as you love him you can't bear the fact that you couldn’t even see him anymore.

he goes home late at night -as in you’re already sound asleep late- and when you do stay up to see him, he’s too tired to even keep a conversation. then the next morning he’s gone before you could even wake up. you’ve spoken to him about this many times, but alas nothing changed.

you woke up to an empty bed as usual, but today was different though, you’ve planned a dinner for about 2 weeks now. you were very excited because it’s been so long since you both spent some quality time together and he promised to come home early. 

getting up you send him a little text reminding him of your dinner tonight, with a smile you head on over to the bathroom to get ready for work. once work was over you made a quick visit to the grocery store to buy the ingredients you’ll need to make tonight’s dinner. 

quietly humming to yourself while going through each aisle, and double-checking your list to make sure you’re not missing anything while checking your phone here and there. oikawa still hasn’t replied “he must be busy,” you say to yourself as you send him another text about the dinner just in case. after about 30 minutes you get home rushing since it was already late, and immediately getting started on dinner. 

once you're done you sat down and waited, and waited, and waited. it's been 4 hours. dinners cold and still no sign of your boyfriend. you decided to call him pissed off that he couldn’t even show up to one dinner, “hello? y/n i can't talk right now i still need to practice” 

he said as soon as he picked up. “tooru? did you get my texts? what about dinner, we’ve made plans for this 2 weeks prior! i even-” you were cut off “look just eat without me ok? we can eat again somet-” now it was your turn to cut him off. 

“oikawa tooru, you leave the house while i’m asleep and come back when i'm asleep. i just wanted to spend time with you..whatever good luck at practice,” you replied as you hang up. his heart sank when he heard the crack in your voice rushing to his car on his way home to you because he knows he fucked up. 

buying your favorite flowers for you on the way home cursing himself and the world for making it traffic at that exact moment. when he got home the first thing he saw was the food and you fast asleep on the couch. he felt a pang of guilt about being late. 

“y/n chan?” he said while gently waking you up. you stare at him with red puffy eyes and he hugged you giving you the flowers “im sorry baby, i should’ve prioritized you and our dinner. i promise ill do better” you saw how genuine he was being so you accepted the flowers and hugged him tighter as he offered to reheat the food you made.

reblogs are highly appreciated!

[meowlayn-art]

💜 💀Someone reposted my work on Pinterest, and I am NOT happy. 💀💜

So it has been brought to my attention by a dear fellow artist that someone uploaded my Lucifer piece on their Pinterest.  I wrote it on EVERY bio of EVERY social media I have : DO. NOT. REPOST. MY. ARTWORK. Anywhere. PERIOD. 

The person who uploaded the artwork told me they got that image from a different source than my social media (not an excuse, btw, and again, my watermark says ‘do not repost”) but funny enough, they do not remember where. (°◡°♡) And it was in good quality meaning someone either took it for Tumblr, or Twitter in the first place.

SO.

I already explained it in great length why it is extremely damaging to repost someone else’s artwork when I reblogged this very important post from @otonymous​.

But I guess it wasn’t enough. So here are a few lines and doodles, in attempt to explain why it is damaging for content creators to get our work stolen (and I very much insist on this word) and then reposted without our consent and knowledge, especially when some of us are relying on it as a direct or indirect source of income.

Shady argument #1 : “it’s free to use”

This argument is often used and actually comes from a conversation I had with a (former) follower of mine on Instagram that reposted (and unfortunately, still repost) artwork found on Google and Pinterest (this is another case, and it wasn’t my own work, but sadly enough, it proves my point).

I won’t enter too much into details regarding copyright infringement laws (since every part of the globe has a different way to protect content creators: in the US you have the DMCA, in France and most european countries we have basically le “droit d’auteur” or “author’s rights”) but basically finding a content on the internet DOES NOT give you permission to reuse / repost this content elsewhere. NEVER HAD. Usually if you find artwork on Google Image or Pinterest that’s because other people stole them from social media / websites and put them on another platform.

Shady argument #2 : “the watermark”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA no. It doesn’t work like that. (plus what type of monster would remover a watermark, uh ?)

This amazing tweet from GraphicFighter explains in very simple and educational words why reposting never benefits the artist (they even gives statistics), and why it is overall very bad for illustrators, watermark or not.

Not only because watermarks can be hard to read (especially if an alphabet / symbol system you don’t know), but also because almost no one bothers to click on our social media links when they exists – that’s basic web user behaviour.

So do you really thing they’ll have a look at the watermark and bother looking for the artist ? Nah.

  Shady argument #3 : “hey artist, it’s your fault”

This one also comes from a conversation I had with someone who kept reposting artworks, and I quote their words :

the fact that the photos are freely available on Google means that they are open for use. If this is not the case, then the artists themselves have to limit it in some way, so this is the problem with them.

Needless to say, I nearly choked when I read this last sentence. It is 2020, aren’t we past always blaming the victims ?

In this day and age, Internet is the most efficient way for us to gain visibility and have a chance to get hired for jobs, so of course we post on the net. That doesn’t justify ANYONE reposting our content.  

As of today, I have seen ONCE (and only ONCE) an artist put a Pinterest pin creator on their website (a tool that helps you create a pin from whatever content from their website). That is their PERSONAL CHOICE, and one that enables them to have control and redirect directly to their website once someone see their work on Pinterest. I can with confidence say that this is an exception that proves the rules and that shouldn’t justify reposting other’s artists content without at least their consent.

So again, we artists, in the vast majority, DO NOT choose to have our content put OUTSIDE of our social media. We cannot track it to see if it wasn’t linked to something shady, we cannot make sure people see our websites, we basically DO NOT HAVE CONTROL OF OUR CONTENT ANYMORE. If you found it on the net, it is probably because some other people TOOK IT, and put them “in the open” on the internet without a care in the world so no, it is NOT and will never be an artist’s fault.

YOU REALLY WANT TO REPOST ?

Don’t just assume every content creator is ok with reposts because a few content creators allow it with credit (and they do as they please, I am not here to judge them for that). 

If you really, really wish to ASK if you can repost someone’s artwork and want to contact the artist but don’t know how, you can google their name (if the watermark hasn’t been cropped), make the effort to look for them on social media, or even use Reverse image Search on Google Image.

If we, content creators, spend hours and hours on a piece that you enjoy, the very least you can do is spend a few minutes to look for our name.

And if you don’t manage to find the source of a specific content despite your efforts ? Do. NOT. Repost it. Anyway. Is it frustrating for you ? Yes, it might. But not as frustrating and devastating as it will be for the person from who you steal their work and often, their livelihoods from.

💜 WHAT REALLY HELPS 💜

Reblog, retweet (without comments), reshare in your Instagram stories : show your favorite creators your love THE RIGHT WAY - a way for them to keep creating content and getting rewarded / paid for it.

Thank you.

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

As it turned out, Tony did make great pancakes. Peter woke up the next day to the smell of them, and shyly headed in the general direction it was coming from, until he reached the kitchen. Tony was standing there, wearing impeccable gray dress pants, a crisp white shirt and a green tie, as he added batter to a frying pan. Peter supposed that was what heaven would look like when he died.

“Oh, hey, kitten, you’re up.” He grinned at him, who smiled in return, nodding. He had put his clothes from the night before back on, and he was glad he did, because Tony was dressed to the nines and it would have been awkward if he had shown up in just his boxers or something. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thanks.” And it was surprisingly true. Peter hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in a while, he supposed he missed sleeping next to someone. He did share a bed with Beck for two years, so it felt awfully lonely to sleep by himself. “Are you headed to work?” He asked as he sat on a stool by the kitchen island and Tony nodded guiltily, fixing two plates of pancakes.

“I’m so sorry, I tried to make arrangements to get the morning off, but duty calls.” To his credit, he did look genuinely sorry, so Peter thought maybe it wasn’t just an excuse to get rid of him. Maybe.

“It’s okay, I have to be home soon, or my friends will worry.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but not exactly a lie either. They wouldn’t notice he was gone until lunchtime, since they both had work or class in the morning, but when they did notice, they would freak out.

“I thought you lived by yourself?” Tony sounded interested as he sat beside him by the kitchen counter and pushed a plate his way. Peter thanked him, taking a bite of the surprisingly good pancake.

“I do, but we live in the same building, so we’re always checking in on each other.” Tony hummed, nodding, and they were silent for a little while, until the older man spoke up again.

“Can I ask about your relatives?” He felt his eyes on him and knew that, much like the night before, he was testing the waters, making sure Peter was comfortable with that subject.

“Sure. I don’t have any, though. I’m an orphan, I’ve lived in foster homes for most of my life.” Peter didn’t really mind talking about that period – it was basically all he knew. He was too little when his parents died and was only ten when Ben and May passed away, so the foster homes were where he made most of his memories.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Tony winced, maybe thinking he had touched a sensitive subject after all, but Peter smiled and shrugged.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. My friends are like family to me now, so I’m good.”

“I’m glad you have them.” Again, he gave him that genuine smile that made Peter believe he was actually glad to hear that. Like he actually cared. “So… Can I see you again? Or was this just a one time thing?” The older man turned his body to face Peter, who froze for a second with the mug held to his lips, mid-sip.

“Oh, uhm…” Peter almost chocked on the coffee, not quite believing his ears. He honestly thought that the older man would slowly disappear from his life. Or maybe not even that slowly. Peter figured he had gotten what he wanted, so why would he stick around? “I mean, sure. If you want.” He said, like an idiot, and Tony raised a brow.

“I really do, but I don’t mean to pressure you, so if you want to say no and just go back to what we had, that’s okay. Or not even that, if you prefer. Just say the word and I’ll get out of your hair.” He sounded honest enough, but Peter quickly shook his head, eyes wide.

“No, it’s okay, I definitely wanna do this again.” He assured him, and Tony seemed satisfied with his answer, expression softening as he nodded.

After breakfast, the older man insisted on driving him home and when they arrived at his building, he felt a little awkward as to how to say goodbye, but Tony made it easier by simply leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips, one hand stroking his knee in a gentle caress.

“I’ll call you later, kitten.” He promised and Peter just sighed quietly, feeling dizzy.

He was a little out of it for the rest of the day, both Ned and MJ asked what was wrong with him in separate occasions, but he just said he was tired from his new routine. They had dinner together and when he went back to his apartment that night, he was just mildly surprised that he actually got a call from Tony. It was an innocent, sweet phone call, too. He did not expect that, to be honest, they had been sexting for two months and they had actual sex the previous night, so he kind of expected Tony to just go for it.

But no.

He asked about his day, about his friends, he told him about his own day, then somehow they ended up talking a little bit about Peter’s childhood, his parents, aunt May and Uncle Ben, it was just a really nice chat, which he appreciated. Not that he didn’t enjoy talking dirty to Tony, but the fact that he called just to have a normal conversation with no second intentions was, well. Nice.

He didn’t really know where they were going with that, probably nowhere, really, Peter was an ex-porn star, Tony was an A-list celebrity, a billionaire and a fucking Avenger, so there was literally zero chance they could evolve to something else. They would probably just go out a few more times, have mind-blowing awesome sex, and then go their separate ways. And Peter was okay with that.

It was fine. Really. It was just fine.

And it was for the best, otherwise how would he explain to Ned and MJ that he was dating Tony Fucking Stark? It would be a nightmare. MJ would kill him and lecture him on how big corporations like Stark Industries were destroying their way of life and Ned would pass out – and possibly die – so, yeah. It was a good thing they had no real future together.  

That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted, though. Tony was really nice, a true gentleman, a good conversationalist, a great kisser and an amazing lay. So whatever he could get out of those moments they had together, he would. Everything was perfectly fine and under control. And did he mention fine?

The next morning, he woke up early and went for a jog around the block. He had been experimenting with different types of workout routines, but he thought he might stick with jogging and yoga for a while, he was even looking for a yoga studio close to his building so he could start training more seriously. When he got back, he took a long shower, made breakfast and spent a few hours answering people on Just4Fans, then posted a few pictures there, linked it to his twitter account and let people know on Instagram.

Tony texted him mid-morning and Peter blushed like a teenager when he read his message.

“Just saw the new pics, you look stunning as always, baby, but I have to admit I’m spoiled now, pictures are not enough. Can’t wait to see you again. Dinner tomorrow?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, sir, keep it coming.” He smiled to himself and bit his lower lip, excited by the prospect of seeing Tony again so soon. “Tomorrow sounds great, where are we going? Should I start stressing about the dress code?”

“I was thinking you could come over. Did I mention that I’m a great cook? Pancakes aren’t my only specialty.” Peter felt butterflies in his stomach. It was stupid, of course, but he just found it endearing that Tony wanted to cook for him.

“I’d love to. I’m curious about your cooking, your pancakes did taste fantastic.” Just the thought of that morning and, more importantly, the night before that, made his mind wander, as a quiet sigh left his lips.

“Prepare to be blown away.”

“You’re so humble, I love that about you.” The young man smiled to himself.

“Thank you, kitten, it’s one of my many qualities.” Peter laughed at his antics.

They settled on a time and Tony insisted on picking him up, even though it was obviously inconvenient since they were having dinner at his place, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so Peter gave in. They talked a little more, but soon Tony had to go back to work and now that the younger man knew exactly who he was, he imagined it was a lot of work.

He went on with his Saturday – in the afternoon, he took a few pictures and videos with different sets of lingerie he bought with MJ when they went to Victoria’s Secret, and that should be enough to last him at least a few days. At dinnertime, he went down to his friends’ apartment, as usual, and they were both home.

“What’s up, nerd,” MJ greeted from the couch, but didn’t raise her eyes from her phone.

“Hey, Pete, dinner is almost ready,” Ned called from the kitchen island.

“Want me to set the table?” He walked over to where Ned was fishing a plate out of the microwave.

“Sure.”

Peter knew his way around the kitchen, so he got to work, placing the plates and cutlery on the small, square table by the counter.

“Hey, are you up for a Star Trek marathon tomorrow night? I don’t have any classes next Monday morning, we can stay up late.”

“Oh, uhm. I –“ Fuck, he hadn’t really thought of an excuse for why he wouldn’t be having dinner with them. “I can’t, because…” He noticed that MJ had finally raised her eyes from her phone, only to stare at him suspiciously. “I have this thing, uhm, on my Just4Fans… Tomorrow night.”

“Can’t you just schedule the posts?” MJ asked from the couch, because of-fucking-course she knew about that.

“Uhm, yeah, I can, but – uhm. It’s a live stream. I’m live streaming tomorrow for the first time. It’s good for tips and stuff, so. Yeah. I’ve already let everybody know, I can’t cancel.” He gave them an apologetic smile, trying to look convincing, but he was pretty sure he just looked like a nervous wreck.

“Oh. Ok, then.” Ned shrugged and didn’t seem bothered at all, but MJ kept staring at him from the couch, like she could smell his bullshit from a mile away. She didn’t say anything, though, for which he was grateful.

The next morning, he woke up early and decided to skip his usual jog around the block and just did a short yoga session in his living room, warmed by the morning sun that flooded his apartment at that time. He had lunch with his friends and spent the afternoon with them, but left early with the excuse that he had to get ready for his “live stream”.

When the older man texted to say he was waiting outside, Peter was already showered and dressed and skipped downstairs two steps at a time. He didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to a billionaire’s house, but he decided casual was probably fine, so he put on a pair of light blue jeans and a light pink, thin sweater.

Tony was driving a low-profile, black SUV and he got out of the car when Peter stepped outside the building. He had a baseball cap and tinted glasses on, dark blue jeans, a Metallica t-shirt and sneakers, and if Peter didn’t know it was him, he would never have thought that was actually Tony Stark.

“Hey, gorgeous, looking good.” Tony didn’t think twice before reaching out to pull him closer by the hips, stealing a chaste kiss from his lips. Peter blushed and completely forgot he should be worried that Ned or MJ might see them if they came downstairs for something, or even if they looked out the living room window. He wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck and deepened the kiss.

“Thanks, but you should get your eyes checked.” He joked as he let go, taking a small step back.

“Yeah, I think so too, I think constantly staring at such beauty is taking a toll on my eyesight, I’m an old man, after all.” Tony pulled him by the chin and stole yet another kiss. When he pulled away,  Peter shook his head and laughed.

“Oh my God. Seriously, do you practice these lines in the mirror or something?” He had a feeling that if it was anyone else saying half the things Tony said to him daily, he would find it corny and possibly annoying, but somehow the older man made everything sound charming, sweet, sexy, endearing – hell, everything at once. And he always knew what to say to make Peter’s knees go weak, it was unnerving sometimes.

“No, you just inspire me daily, baby.” He gave him a charming smile, as he opened the door and gestured for Peter to get in the car.

The ride to Tony’s place was filled with the sound of the older man humming along to the music playing. Peter didn’t recognize any of the songs, it was a classic rock playlist, but then he heard a familiar beat and thought it was a great opportunity to stick his foot so deep inside his mouth he almost choked.

“I love Led Zeppelin!” He didn’t exactly love Led Zeppelin and he was quite sure he had just heard a cover of that song, not the original version, but he thought he’d sound cool if he said that. When he looked over, though, Tony was laughing his head off. Peter blushed a deep crimson, eyes widening as he realized he must have said something incredibly dumb.

“Oh, you’re not joking.” Finally seeming to realize that the younger man wasn’t laughing along with him, Tony turned down the volume, as they approached Stark Tower’s garage entrance. “That’s Back in Black by AC/DC, kitten. But hey, I love Zeppelin, too, who doesn’t?” He smiled warmly, looking at him sideways, and Peter nodded.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Of course.” Fuck his life. Of course he had to make a complete fool of himself right at the beginning of the night. He wanted to jump out the window from embarrassment, but it would only add to his humiliation, since Tony had already parked and got out of the car.

The older man opened the door for him and Peter avoided eyes contact, as he led him to the elevator. He could still feel his cheeks burning on the ride up, his head was starting to hurt from shame. Was that a thing?

“Hey, don’t be like this.” Tony pulled him into a loose hug, kissing his temple with a soft smile on his lips. “It was an honest mistake. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to identify whatever it is you kids listen to these days.”

It was oddly comforting to hear that. Even though he knew Tony wasn’t trying to be mean to him back in the car, it was hard not to feel attacked in situations like that. Beck always tried to make him feel dumb, inferior and juvenile whenever he got the chance.

So he rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and nodded slowly. He was going to say something like “don’t worry, I’m fine” but it got lost somewhere in the back of his throat when the older man held him a little tighter and stroked his hair.

The whole interaction lasted merely a few seconds, soon the elevator doors opened to the familiar sight of Tony’s living room, looking just as impeccable as it did a couple of nights earlier. The older man gestured for Peter to lead the way and he did, paying closer attention to the details, since he was a little too nervous to do it the last time he was there.

What he realized when he took a look around, was that the penthouse didn’t look lived in at all. It was all glass and metal, shiny floors and sophisticated furniture, black and gray decoration – it looked ready to be featured in one of those shows that listed the most beautiful houses in the world, but it didn’t look like a place he would like to go back to at the end of the day.

“You don’t spend a lot of time here, do you?” Peter asked, as Tony led them in the direction he remembered the kitchen and the dining room were.

“That obvious, huh?” The older man winced and Peter flushed, realizing he might have been a little rude in his observation. “But yeah, when I’m home, I spend most of my time down in the workshop.”

“Ah, the famous workshop. I suppose if I were to visit right now there would be pictures of me hanging on every wall?” He joked, remembering that Tony had once told him that he would hang his pictures in the workshop and never get any work done.

“I mean, not every wall…” He turned to him and winked, leaving the younger man a little unsure if he meant it or if he was just messing around. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the man’s sarcastic sense of humor. “I’ll give you a tour after dinner.” He promised, when they finally reached the dining room.

The table was set in a simple manner, for what Peter was glad, it made him feel more comfortable and at ease. Tony pulled out a chair for him then headed to the kitchen, which was separated from the dining room only by a long, wide counter, where the had breakfast the other day.

The man came back with wine, pouring two glasses for them, then he started placing the dishes on the table. There was mashed potatoes, grilled veggies and roast chicken, and the smell was to die for, Peter’s stomach rumbled and he wasn’t even that hungry.  

“Voilà. This was my favorite meal as a kid, my grandma used to make this for me all the time when I spent summers with her.” He took a seat across from Peter, looking at him expectantly. The younger man found his enthusiasm amusing, so he fixed a plate under Tony’s eager supervision. “Tell me what you think. But be nice, I haven’t cooked this in a while, it might be a little dry.”

Peter took a bite of the chicken first, and it took him a few moments to feel the explosion of flavors on his tongue. The meat was tender and juicy, cooked to perfection, and the seasoning tasted inexplicably like home – it didn’t taste like something he could order at a restaurant, let alone a frozen meal he could buy at the supermarket. He then tried the mashed potatoes along with the grilled veggies and almost cried.

“Tony, this is so good, have you considered dropping everything and starting a restaurant?” he gushed, taking another bite of the chicken only to confirm that, yes, that was probably what paradise tasted like.

“Don’t exaggerate. I already like you plenty, kitten, you don’t need to flatter my cooking skills.” Tony smiled, shaking his head lightly, and if Peter didn’t know any better, he might think he was blushing.

“I’m not, this is seriously the best homemade meal I’ve ever eaten,” he insisted and Tony cocked his head to the side, with a confused smile and a frown

“What the hell have they been feeding you, kid?” He asked and Peter chuckled.

“Well, I spent most of my life in foster care and I was never lucky enough to end up in a family that liked to cook.” The families he stayed with weren’t bad – not compared to some of the horror stories he heard from other foster kids he met in the past – they just weren’t good. They provided him with the bare minimum for survival, so water and enough food to avoid starvation. “And uncle Ben and aunt May, dude… They couldn’t cook for shit.” He laughed, remembering Aunt May’s date loaf, which was probably the worst thing he had ever tasted in his life.

“Well, now I feel obligated to feed you properly,” Tony announced, and Peter quickly shook his head, feeling his face grow red for the hundredth time that night.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to, I wasn’t–”

“I want to, if I’m your only source of good, homemade food, then I’m taking this seriously, kitten.” He pointed a fork at him as he spoke. “And you can help me cook, what do you say? That way I can teach you a thing or two so you won’t starve to death.” Again, the idea that Tony wanted to cook for him was too sweet. He was an incredibly busy guy who probably didn’t even cook for himself, but he was willing to waste that kind of time on Peter. It just–

“Sounds amazing.” He smiled, nodding, and the older man’s face softened when their eyes met.  

“Good.” He took a sip of wine and topped off both of their glasses. “Did you tell your friends you were coming here today?” That seemed like a polite way to ask if they knew about him, and Peter wasn’t sure what kind of answer he was expecting.

“No, they think I’m home.” He watched the man’s face, waiting for his reaction, but there was none, so Peter felt like he should explain himself further. “After my ex – they’re just a little too overprotective, so, you know. I just don’t want them to worry.” Tony raised his eyebrows and Peter’s eyes widened, realizing what that might have sounded like. “Not that I think you’re my – that we’re – I mean, I’m not assuming anything, I just meant –“

“Hey, it’s okay, I know what you mean.” He reached across the table to squeeze one of his shaking hands. “Your friends sound like good people, by the way. You’re lucky to have them.”

“Thanks.” Tony smoothly changed the subject and started talking about his summers with his grandmother and how she taught him everything he knew about cooking. He said that was the reason why his repertoire consisted only of comfort food and Peter thought that was the sweetest thing he had learned about him so far.

Once dinner was done with, Tony kept his promise and gave him a tour. The place looked like a labyrinth made of glass and steel, there were five floors, several rooms with various purposes, but everything seemed sterile and impersonal, like nobody ever stepped foot in any of those places, which somehow made them look lifeless and even a little scary – like a ghost town of sorts. Peter couldn’t help but think that his tiny, mostly empty apartment felt more like a home than all five floors of Tony’s.

Well, all except for one.

“And this is the workshop,” Tony declared with a flourish when the glass doors slid open, revealing a wide, open space filled with worktables, holographic screens, robots, cars, Iron Man suits, and so many other things he had never seen before in his life. “Sorry about the mess.” He didn’t sound sorry, though, he sounded happy and proud, and Peter thought it was the only place in the penthouse that felt weirdly cozy and homey. To his relief – and secret disappointment –, there were no pictures of him in lingerie hanging on the walls.

“This is amazing…” Peter breathed out, realizing that that was Tony’s actual home. There was even a kitchenette in a corner, and next to it there was a small, cozy couch in front of a reasonably sized TV and a fluffy rug. He supposed Tony took naps there, too, because there was also a blanket draped over the back of the couch.

He walked over there, followed closely by the older man, and took a seat, sinking into the soft pillows.  

“I think this is my favorite room.” He blinked up at Tony, who regarded him silently for a few moments, and Peter started to think he had fucked up again. “What?” He whispered, but his answer came in the form of a kiss. He immediately melted into it, all worries flying out the window as he opened his mouth to taste him better.

Tony pushed him gently until he was lying on the couch with his larger body on top of him, and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

It was a tight fit, but they made it work, as pieces of clothes were thrown to a pile on the floor; as skin met skin and made the room feel unbearably hot; as hands explored and mouths danced together and teeth left secret claiming marks on eager necks; as he felt, once again, full and sate and whole, and then spent and lax and dazed in the best of ways.

Suddenly, what had been frantic and passionate became slow and soft, what had been loud and messy became quiet and wholesome.  

The room was silent then, as their bodies slowly cooled down. Tony was lying on his back on the couch and Peter was lying on top of him, chests flush together, breathing in and out in sync. He felt a blanket being draped over his shoulders and he all but melted into the body underneath him.

“Can I ask you a question?” He whispered quietly into Tony’s neck, after several minutes, not sure if the older man had fallen asleep, his breathing was slow and constant.

“Baby, you could ask me anything right now, there’s no way I’d say no to you.” He answered right away and Peter giggled, pushing himself up on Tony’s chest to look down at him.

“Why did you want to meet me? For real?” Tony, whose eyes had been closed until that moment, opened them to gaze at him. He was quiet for a while, as one of his hands found the small of Peter’s back under the blanket and started rubbing circles on his skin.

“I liked talking to you.” He answered quietly, eyes locked on his. At first, Peter thought that was all the answer he was getting, and he would have been fine with that, but Tony kept talking. “You made me feel alive again.” His heart raced and his breath hitched in shock. He blinked down at the older man, who raised his free hand to tuck some of Peter’s curls behind his ear. “You see, things were… rough. After Thanos.” He remembered the funny story Tony told him in the restaurant a few nights earlier and was surprised to see such grief in the man’s eyes. “I had these nightmares. Anxiety attacks. Couldn’t sleep most nights.”

Peter reached out and ran a finger across the man’s forehead, trying to smooth down the frown that had formed there. Tony smiled, grabbing that hand to give it a little kiss.

“Pepper wanted me to give up the suit for good, said it was killing me and she wouldn’t stand by and watch it happen. On top of that, my relationship with some of the Avengers was strained, to say the least. I thought retiring from the Avengers would be enough to solve most of my problems, but I was wrong and everything just kind of snowballed from there. So what I mean to say is that by the time I met you, I was… Fucking exhausted.”

“Tony...” He frowned, heart clenching, because he could hear the pain in the man’s voice and how much he meant every word and it was devastating.  

“I looked forward to talking to you every night, you know. Still do. I don’t why you got under my skin like that, but you did. So when I said I needed to meet you, I meant I needed to meet you.” He smiled and Peter’s heart skipped a beat. The whole confession was almost too much to handle, too much to believe. At the same time, he knew what Tony meant because he had also been in a very dark place when they met and, somehow, talking to him brought some light back into his life. “My turn?”

“Sure.” Peter smiled, entwining his fingers on Tony’s chest and resting his chin on top of them, looking at the older man’s face.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, I have a feeling this might be a bit of a touchy subject for you.” He cautioned, and Peter gulped. He knew what was coming and he thought about not answering, but Tony had been honest with him, so he took a deep breath and nodded.

“O-okay.”

“How did you end up doing porn? Not that it’s bad or anything, you just sounded so uncomfortable the other night... Like you’re ashamed of it, or regretful.” Tony asked carefully, one of his hands was still rubbing soothing circles on the skin of his back.

“Hm… Well. It’s complicated. I guess the short answer is: I was young and dumb and my older boyfriend convinced me it was a good idea. Then he left me and took all the money and everything we’ve ever built with him and – and now the only thing I know how to do is porn, so… Yeah.” It was a very short version of what happened, but very accurate as well. Tony frowned, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean he took everything?”

“He told me to pack a bag and leave. Whatever I couldn’t fit in my bag stayed behind, as well as the social media accounts, the channel, the money… He locked me out of everything.” Peter’s voice grew weaker as he spoke, because he felt so fucking ashamed. Of everything. Of admitting he let a man like Quentin into his life, that he made so many terrible decisions just so he could stay with him, only to be treated like that in the end. It was fucking humiliating.

Tony sat up in a haste, forcing him to do the same, until they were both facing each other on the couch. The older man’s eyes were wide, he looked so shocked it was almost funny. Almost.

“Peter, that’s – why – wait, and what do you mean he convinced you to do porn? Is it not something that you want to do?” Peter dropped his gaze for a second, not really sure what the true answer to that question was. If he was honest with himself, most times he just avoided thinking too much about what he was doing.  

“Well… I don’t hate it anymore, I guess,” he settled on that, after a few minutes of silence. “Sometimes I even enjoy it now, like… Like when we talk,” he mumbled the last part, raising his eyes again to look into Tony’s warm ones, and the older man looked back at him with – what? Worry? Regret? Guilt?

“So you hated it? Before?” He insisted, and Peter knew he could still choose not to answer if he wanted to, Tony wouldn’t force it out of him, but still – Peter wanted to tell him. He wanted Tony to know.

To know him. All of him. Even the parts that hurt.

“I did.” He whispered, holding back the tears that filled his eyes when the confession left his lips, because that was something that he never wanted to acknowledge. It took all he had to hold Tony’s gaze and not look away in shame. “I just felt… kinda shitty sometimes. Like… I wasn’t even human, just an object to be used and abused and disposed of.” He continued, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t read Tony’s expression, but his eyes were gentle as always, there was no judgment there. “I didn’t feel like my body belonged to me anymore.” Saying that aloud came almost as a surprise to Peter himself. He always tried so hard not to think about those feelings he almost believed they didn’t really exist, even though they were always there at the back of his mind.

“Pete...” Tony cupped his face in both of his hands, he looked so torn, it almost made Peter regret telling him.

“I’m doing okay now, I promise. I’m in control of my body, my choices, my money. I’m fine now, really,” he vowed and Tony pulled his head closer and pressed their lips together – it wasn’t even a kiss, just a caress.

“I can help you.” He offered with determination, holding his face in his hands, looking straight into his eyes and they were burning with anger, but Peter knew it wasn’t directed to him. “I can help you get everything back, I can make his life a living hell for doing that to you, I can –“

“Please, don’t,” He winced, shaking his head firmly, lifting his hands to hold Tony’s wrists, feeling his pulse and how fast his heart was beating. “Okay? It’s in the past. It’s over now. I don’t want to – relive it, I just want to forget.” His heart raced when the older man closed his eyes and started shaking his head. “Tony?”

“Peter, you can’t ask me to –“

“I am asking you leave it alone.” He insisted, a little desperately, but Tony’s face was locked in a frown and panic started creeping up on him. He couldn’t bear to think about confronting Beck, having to see him again, maybe talk to him again, he just wanted to move on, to forget he ever existed. His eyes burned and he closed them, trying to get his breath under control, but he could feel his hands shaking. “Please, please, don’t make me –“

“Hey, no, no, no.” Tony gathered him in his arms, rubbing his shoulders in a soothing way. “I’m sorry, no, I would never force you to do anything, okay? It’s your choice.” He cupped his face in his hands again, peppering kisses on his cheeks and forehead. Peter started calming down slowly, and even laughed a little when the man’s beard tickled his nose. “You know that I see you, right? And I mean I see you, Peter Parker, not the persona in the videos or the pictures, and you sure seem pretty fucking human to me, kid. You know that, right?” Tony kept holding his head in between his hands, forcing Peter to look back at him, which wasn’t necessary, he couldn’t look away if he tried.

He smiled, nodding slowly, leaning in to kiss his lips. The older man lay back down, pulling him along, until they were back to their original position. He rested his head on Tony’s chest and closed his eyes, sighing in relief.

He felt Tony wrap his arms around his waist, holding him tight, and he thought to himself that if heaven looked like Tony making breakfast in the morning and tasted like his cooking in the evening, it certainly felt like holding him at night.

-x-

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list):  @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud @staticwhispersinthedark @bluestarker

Sorry for the long chapter, guys, it really got away from me 🥴 Only four more chapters to goo ✨✨

[a-detraque-barista]

How They Mark You

Mentions of mental illness, suggestive themes, stockholm syndrome (only in one of them), yandere themes, and prescribed drug use

This...This was A LOT longer than it needed to be. Like I am so s o r r y

Seokjin

Jin had never really had a reason to mark you. He always figured you being next to him whenever you went out was enough. Until today. The two of you were in the grocery store when Jin had noticed the same person down every aisle you two were in. He couldn't help but think that they were following you. Why would they not? It's possible that they see the same endearing qualities in you as he does. But of course, he wouldn't let them have you if they think they could.

He brushed it off until you were checking out and the same person was right behind you in line. From here, Jin could tell that they were a male, around six foot, and coming alarmingly close to you.

"Darling, what's my pin again? I keep forgetting it," it was all Jin could think of for you to come closer to him and type it in for him while he glared at the man. He supposed the fact that he was near wasn't enough for people to get the picture. So, he quickly brought you home.

After putting all of the groceries away, he turned to you, "Did you notice the creep that was following us in the store?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to say anything cause I knew that would upset you," you shrugged before sitting on the couch before patting the spot next to you for Jin to sit.

Having an idea, Jin leaned his body into yours to push you down with a grin on his face, "I think I know just what to do to keep people away from you."

You tilted your head which gave him room to lean down and start leaving small bites along your neck and collarbone. You had to stay like that for almost a half hour before he finally deemed it enough.

Yoongi

Yoongi was only really jealous before he ruined your life. Before he made you completely rely on him he was always possessive to the point where he wanted to mark every inch of your skin. But now that you're hear with him, he never had that feeling again.

He rarely let you leave your room let alone the house. Although, every once in a while he would let you go out to the back yard for a few minutes.

It was one of those rare days as you laid on the grass and felt the nice summer breeze on your face. Yoongi had to take a call and went back inside when the neighbor had accidentally threw his ball into your yard. He peaked over the fence to see you laying there, not too far from his ball. He had never seen you before, only the man that he thought was living alone.

"Hey, can you pass me my ball back please?" he called out to you causing you to startle awake.

You hadn't even realized you were dozing off until the man said something. Getting up you walked over and handed him his ball before turning around to lay on the ground.

Curious, he started to talk to you. Asking questions about who were and why he hasn't seen you around. You began to enjoy it before Yoongi came out and grabbed your hand to drag you back inside.

Never had he been more furious than in that moment. Not only had someone dared to talk to you, but he even had the audacity to look over the fence at you.

The next day Yoongi let you sit out wearing a necklace with his initials and a shirt with his name on it for the neighbor to see.

Hoseok

Well...Hoseok has already marked every inch of your skin during your daily cuddle sessions. So it baffled him when someone cat called you while walking past. Your neck was covered in dark purple and red marks. How could he not see that you were taken????

The voice that has been living in his head for years gave him a few notes on how to handle it. It ended in you having to hold Hoseok back by his arm until he finally let up on beating the man's face in. You immediately took him home and locked the door.

This wasn't the first time something like this has happened. Last time the police got involved but with Hoseok's history of mental illness he was able to get out of it quite easily. Just a new prescription of medication that he refuses to take unless you personally give them to him.

So deciding on skipping lunch, Hoseok lead you straight to the bedroom and pinned you down on the bed.

"I'm sorry, jagi. But we're going to have to wait until dinner to eat," he sighed as he kissed his way down your chest.

He kept his promise and you didn't have dinner until almost midnight with a fresh layer of hickeys and cum threatening to drip down your thigh.

Namjoon

You weren't even allowed to leave the house, let alone come in contact with someone. Namjoon was always the one to go out and get whatever you or he needed. It definitely wasn't your preferred living style but what else could you do? Namjoon was able to convince you who you needed and didn't need in your life. Leading you to live with him without anyone knowing.

You were sure nobody knew of your existence except for the people you used to associate yourself with. Which also meant you getting lonely most of the time while Namjoon was out doing whatever he was doing.

But today, you wanted pizza for dinner and Namjoon didn't feel like leaving the house. So Namjoon called and ordered it for delivery. Normally, Namjoon would be the one to answer the door in any situation. However, he had gone to the bathroom right before the delivery guy knocked on the door.

You had thought that it would be no harm to answer the door and pay for the food. You didn't want the delivery man to end up leaving and you would have to wait another hour for Namjoon to cook dinner. So you grabbed the money off the counter and opened the door. Smiling, you exchanged the money for the pizza and was about to close the door when the man began to talk.

"You're really cute. Are you single by any chance?" his question made you freeze and stare at him wide-eyed.

"Uh-"

"Sorry to burst your bubble but I'm the boyfriend. Now, if you'll excuse us we're going to enjoy our dinner and each others company. Have a nice night," Namjoon had been smiling the whole time, up until he closed the door. "What have I told you about answering the door?"

"To not answer it."

"And what did you do?"

"Answered it." Namjoon always did this when you broke a rule. It made you feel small and immature when he spoke to you like this.

"Sit down so I can give you your punishment."

That's exactly what you did. You've learned what happens if you don't. The last time you were disobedient you woke up the day after and you could barely walk and you had scars from the knife he used.

You were surprised to feel Namjoon's mouth on your neck after he pushed you to lay on the couch. Usually you would feel some sort of sharp object. But the closest thing to sharp was Namjoon's teeth nipping at your skin.

"I almost forgot how it felt to be jealous."

Jimin

Jimin rarely let you out of his sight, even if you didn't know he was there. He was the most obsessive out of all the boys. He was more lenient on letting you leave the house, but he almost always followed you. The only time he didn't was when he had to take care of important matters.

And because he was so obsessed, he always had something on you that showed you were his. Either the necklace he bought you or the marks from the night before. Or even his hoodie that was so adorable on you he was running low on his favorites to wear outside.

Yesterday, you had accidentally broken the necklace with Jimin's name on it. You were too scared to tell him so you hid it and pretended like nothing happened. You were just hoping he wouldn't notice before you went out with your friends in an hour.

If he did notice, then he didn't say anything. So you tried to forget about the guilt and anxiety that built up inside you to enjoy the little time you had. Jimin may be okay with letting you see your friends, but it wasn't often. He usually guilt tripped you so you would stay home. And it always worked.

Jimin noticed right away that you didn't have your necklace. So before he followed you he looked for it in your shared bedroom. He found the multiple pieces hidden in your drawer beside the bed. He was hurt and furious at the same time.

Quickly, he put on his black hoodie and snap back to where he knew you and your friends were. He may have been livid but he can't let you find out about him following you everywhere. You would be upset with him and he could never live with himself if you got mad at him. He watched for the two hours he allowed you to be outside.

The two hours were almost up and he was going to head home when he saw someone walk up to you in the cafe. He wasn't an employee, so why was he approaching you?

Jimin pieced everything together when the guy handed you a piece of paper that no doubt had his number on it. Before Jimin could storm across the street and into the building, he watched as you dropped the paper in your water and grabbed your things.

His heart was pounding as he walked up to you and grabbed your arm. He spun you around and kissed you on the lips passionately.

"That's my jagi."

Taehyung

Taehyung had always loved taking photos of you. He had a special collection of photos of just you. First, it started in his closet where he would just tape them onto the wall. Then, it escalated into him having to clean out the spare bedroom and use that for the growing number of pictures. He still kept it up even after becoming friends with you. Of course, he would make sure the spare bedroom was locked whenever you came over to his apartment. He didn’t want you to get scared and leave him.

Once the two of you had started dating, he began to take photos of you with his phone whenever you spent time together. Most of the pictures ended up being posted on his Instagram account.

The two of you had a shared account so Taehyung could keep track of who you talked to and what posts you liked. 

That also meant he knew if someone would comment on a pic of you. Usually either you or Taehyung would ignore it and delete it. But there was a certain comment that made his eye twitch in annoyance.

The photo was of you in a tank top and sweatpants while cooking something on the stove. Taehyung loved that photo. You had been making bulgogi with rice right when he had gotten home from work. He couldn’t help but to pull out his phone and make the shutter go off, causing you to side-eye him.

It wasn’t until the next day when you were mindlessly scrolling on Instagram and you had gotten the notification. Taehyung was still at work so you were just laying in bed. Curiously, you clicked on the heart at the bottom of your screen and tapped on the notification.

i wish she was my girl. at least if she was with me her hair would be a mess and hickeys covered her neck. lol

You internally go Ooohhhhhhh shiiiiiit. You had tried to delete the comment but Taehyung had just walked in so you quickly turn your phone off and tossed it to the side.

“Hey babe, how was work?” you asked.

“Could’ve been better. How was your day?” he began to change from his work clothes into just a pair of black sweats before coming to lay down with you.

“Boring. Why’d you lay down? Don’t you want dinner?”

“Not at the moment.”

You looked at him, confused as he straddled your waist. His hand came to rest on each side of your head on the pillow. He leaned down to start leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jugular and shoulder. Biting and sucking lead to him leaning back from his work. 

Taehyung swiped his tongue over his bottom lip before biting it. He reached into his pocket and brought his phone out to take a photo of your neck. After he tapped his finger a few times on the screen he turned it around to show you. He had posted the picture on Instagram with the caption Mine ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Jeongguk

He was...constantly possessive. There wasn’t a day that went by without him marking your neck or staring at you endearingly with infatuation. You could be sitting there watching tv on the bed and you just see Jeongguk’s head up from the side.

You giggled as you went back to watching the show that was playing. This was the only time you got to watch tv so you ignored him. You had been scared when Jeongguk first kidnapped you and brought you to his family home in the country side. 

He was violent and intimidating, especially when you spoke out. It’s been eight months since then and Jeongguk has proven to be one of the most caring people you’ve ever met. He didn’t talk very much but when he did he spoke words of adoration and compliments. On the rare occasion, he would mumble about things like “she’s mine”, “you can’t have her”, and “you deserved this”. Those were the times you worried about when he left and didn’t come back for a few hours. 

Right now, you were still trying to ignore Jeongguk as he slowly inched his way onto the bed. It took him about ten minutes to get on the bed and closer to you to the point where he was laying on his side only an inch away from you. You tried to keep the grin off your face but failed miserably.

Finally looking at him you asked, “What?”

His round doe eyes stared into yours while he gathered the courage to ask you a very important question. He took a deep breath and the exhale blew a baby hairs from your face.

You gave him time as his shyness usually kept him from talking openly about what was on his mind.

“Can-can we get-get...uh tattoos? Together?” his voice was quiet as he held his stare onto yours.

Your eyes widened a bit as you processed what he had said. He had almost a full sleeve of art tattooed into his right arm while you had only had a few here and there because of how expensive they were.

“I don’t see why not,” you turned back to the tv and squinted at the fact that it was now a whole new show. Your lips turned into a pout as you grabbed the remote to change the channel.

Jeongguk grabbed the remote out of your hands and tossed it across the room. You decided not to comment on it and look at him expectantly. 

“I want to get each other’s names over our hearts.”

That...was definitely not what you were expecting but it wasn’t surprising. Jeongguk had been tracing shapes into the skin above your heart for the past week. You supposed it was his name that he was tracing.

“Do you...still want to get them?” his voice was almost a whisper now as he began to trace over your heart again. 

You stayed quiet as you thought about if you wanted to really get his name tattooed into your skin for the rest of your life. Thinking about it, you smiled and began to trace over Jeongguk’s shirt where your name would be inked into his skin.

“Yeah, I do.”

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Three Hearts

Jared x Jensen x OFC Elle 2700 words of Valentine’s Day fluff in the Everything-verse that belongs to @there-must-be-a-lock​. Thanks for letting me play in your world again, friend!  Enough  Road Trip 

Valentine’s Day. 

Elle was torn. On one hand, it was a totally commercialized excuse for companies to sell chocolate, overpriced cards, and giant bears. At the same time, she liked flowers and sweet treats as much as the next person.

The nice thing about her boyfriends was that neither of them needed a day on the calendar to be romantic. The three of them celebrated together on special occasions -- birthdays, anniversaries -- but had just as much fun in the everydays, when there was nothing to celebrate but each other. 

Since moving in with them a little over a year ago, she had enjoyed their thoughtfulness and generosity for every special occasion. The two of them gave good gifts, and frankly, she felt almost spoiled. But her favorite presents were the ones they all enjoyed together -- vacations, spa days, gourmet meals. She hardly wanted anything for Valentine’s Day because they had left her nothing to want.

Buying gifts for them -- now, that was the hard part. She didn’t have their deep pockets. While she didn’t mind letting them pay for their lifestyle, she felt like they shouldn’t buy their own gifts. On top of that, this year, so many of the things they all enjoyed -- trips, concerts, fine dining -- were out of the question. 

Elle brought it up one weekend in late January, when they were enjoying a lazy Sunday brunch after a very enjoyable morning all together in Jensen’s bed. Each of them had their own private space, but more often than not, they ended up in one bedroom, especially on weekends. Jared had made each of them omelets to their liking while Jensen made espressos and Elle chopped fruit. 

Between bites of the delicious food, she asked casually, “So have you two given any thought to Valentine’s Day this year?” Both of her boyfriends looked at her wide-eyed, so she hurried on. “Not that I’m expecting you to get me anything! I mean, you’re always very generous. I just -- wondered.” 

Jared looked at Jensen as if he was asking for permission, and when Jensen nodded, he pulled out his phone. 

“So you know how we love watches?” 

“I’ve heard about it once or twice.” Elle nodded, her tone teasing. The two of them collected watches like some people collected cars. 

“There’s this new Rolex - Jay and I have been on the waitlist for a year. We should be getting them just in time to be our gift to each other. Look, isn’t this a beauty?” He turned the phone to show her while he continued to list for her the features of this particular timepiece. 

It looked to Elle very much like any other watch. What caught her eye was the price at the bottom: $30,000 and up. And they were buying a pair of them. The boys continued to chatter excitedly, voices overlapping, as she sat in stunned silence. 

$60,000. That was more than she made in a year. What could she possibly give that would compare to a gift like that?

“You okay, sweetheart?” Jensen’s voice cut through the buzz in her brain. 

“Oh, yeah.” She forced a laugh. “You know, you lose me with all this watch nerd talk.” 

“Don’t worry, that’s why I keep him around.” Jensen pointed a thumb at Jared, who leaned over and playfully nuzzled into his neck. Jensen turned, and the two of them kissed, and Elle wondered for the millionth time how she ever got so lucky. 

Jared stood up first, and kissed her, carrying her plate with his to the sink. Jensen followed, and brought her a kiss along with a top off for her coffee. When they left the room, she stayed at the table, savoring her coffee with a smile on her face. 

Hot, romantic, and thoughtful. How did she get so lucky to end up with both of these wonderful men?

Then the thought crowded back into her brain: what could she get them for Valentine’s Day?

*** Elle loved shopping online, normally. She enjoyed hunting around for the best deals on things. Usually, Jared was her Amazon shopping partner. But not for this. She browsed what felt like every list on the internet looking for the perfect Valentine’s Day gift. Most things were either too cheap or too expensive -- or they already had them. 

There was the additional problem that a lot of cute, romantic gifts were clearly aimed at a two-person couple -- not a lot out there for two boyfriends. She did find some cute cards on Etsy, but she was still at a loss for gifts. 

Finally she gave up and flicked over to Instagram. She was scrolling through her usual content -- friends, artists, food blogs -- when an ad caught her eye: Dead Sled Leather Co. The photo showed a watch with a beautiful leather band, paired with an embossed wallet. She clicked. 

Custom belts, wallets, key chains - all of the goods were beautifully crafted. She got more and more excited as she scrolled until finally she found it: the Gentleman’s Valet Tray. “Need a place to put your watch? This handsome leather valet tray…” That was all she needed to read. She could even get a custom design on the bottom! And it was in her price range. 

Her heart sank when she clicked to the order form. “Orders shipping about four weeks out.” That was too late. Well, what did she have to lose? She called the number on the site. 

The man who picked up the phone spoke in a slow Kentucky drawl, and she could just about picture chewing tobacco in his mouth. All of her words came out in a rush: how this was the perfect gift for her boyfriends, how she just needed a pair of them in time for Valentine’s Day, and could he help her?

Boyfriends. She definitely hadn’t meant to let that slip. She waited, breathlessly. 

The line was silent for a moment and then he spoke. There would be a rush work fee, and she would have to pay for express shipping, but he could do it. Now what design did she want for her lucky fellas? 

Elle decided to keep it simple -- three hearts entwined, stamped in the leather. She picked a deep red brown for Jared, and a honey tan for Jensen. The man didn’t question any of it, just promised to have them ready and shipped to her in time. 

Her heart was light when she hung up. It wasn’t an expensive gift, but it was special. Thoughtful, perfect for them. And her Texas boys would appreciate the leather craftsmanship. Excited, she clicked onto one of her favorite clothing websites to pick out some lingerie. 

*** It was the day before Valentine’s Day, and the gifts still hadn’t arrived. They had been completed -- the maker had sent photos -- and mailed as ordered, but there was some kind of delay with the post office.

All the other things she had ordered were already there -- some quality bourbon, cards, and of course, her lingerie. She had put so much hope into having the perfect gift, and as the afternoon wore on, she grew increasingly anxious. 

The boys had gone out together to pick up orders at the grocery as well as the wine store. When they returned, they found Elle pacing the kitchen, nervously picking at a dish towel. 

“Whoa,” Jared spoke first. “What’s wrong?” 

She shook her head. 

“C’mere.” Jensen pulled out a chair at the breakfast table for her. The boys sat down on either side of her. “Something’s going on. Why don’t you let us know what it is?”

“It’s stupid,” she protested, but they knew her too well to believe that. She looked from one to the other -- from Jensen’s candy apple green eyes to Jared’s kaleidoscope hazel gaze. Both of them were radiating so much trust, so much love. Finally she took a deep breath and let it all out. 

“I’ve been so worried about what to get you two for Valentine’s Day. You have everything you could ever need, and you’re getting each other these beautiful watches, and I couldn’t afford one if I wanted to, and I just feel kinda useless and --” 

Jensen held up one broad hand. “Sweetheart, we get the watches because we like them. And, okay, they’re kind of an investment piece. But we don’t expect you to get us anything like that?”

Jared chimed in. “The best things you’ve given us haven’t cost much at all. Like when you got me the sweets of the world subscription box? Or the coffee of the month for Jay? You give gifts that have a lot of thought, a lot of heart. The price tag isn’t what matters.”

“More than that,” Jensen picked up the thought seamlessly. “It isn’t even the gifts that matter. We’re both so fuckin’ lucky, every day, to just have you.” He looked at Jared, and they both nodded. “We love the things you give us, because we love you.”

“Even if you never gave us a damn thing, you’re the best gift we could ever have.” Jared’s face was so earnest, his brow furrowed and his eyes wide, Elle couldn’t help but smile.

“I feel so lucky to have you, both of you.” She looked back and forth between the two of them. 

Jensen reached across the table to brush her cheek with outstretched fingers, and she leaned into his touch. Jared, always the more physically demonstrative one, sprang up and swooped her into a hug. He squeezed her tight, rocking her back and forth until they were both laughing. Jensen stood up and walked over with a fond smile on his face. Jared drew him in with one long arm so they were all together in one loving embrace. 

Elle lifted her face to first one, then the other, for a kiss. This was where she belonged, with these two men who made her feel wanted and cherished and loved. Gifts and holidays faded from her mind in their arms. With them she felt safe, secure, forgetting about everything but being with them.  

*** “Shh, don’t wake her up.” 

Jared’s decidedly un-quiet whisper woke Elle the next morning.

“What are we supposed to do with breakfast in bed if we don’t wake her up?” She heard Jensen respond. 

She sat up and opened her eyes just in time to see both men squeeze through her bedroom door. She should have been used to it by now, the way they insisted on sharing the same space, the way they moved in sync. It still made her smile. 

Jensen was carrying coffee and a maple bacon donut. Jared was balancing a tray with eggs and bacon, mmm, so much bacon. She ran a hand through her hair delightedly, ruffling the short pink strands. 

“Breakfast in bed? How does a girl get so lucky. Thank you!” She looked from one to the other eagerly. “I only see food for one. Aren’t you joining me?” 

It took no convincing for them to go grab their own food and coffee. 

The three of them were still on the bed, laughing and talking and trading breakfast-flavored kisses when the doorbell rang. At the same time, Elle’s phone chimed with a notification. She shoved her cup at Jensen and leaped out of bed, pausing only to grab a robe, before she hurried to the front door. 

It was the mailman, delivering her gifts for the boys. She was so happy that she did a little dance in her pajamas, right there in the entryway. That’s where the boys found her, hugging a priority mail box. 

She was so excited, it was all they could do to convince her to wait until after dinner, but they promised her it would be worth it. 

“But it’s so long until dinner! What will I do between now and then?” she teased.

“Oh, I have some ideas to fill the time.” Jared looked at her, the wolfish look in his eyes at odds with his dimples, and she giggled. 

Jensen snapped his fingers before starting up the stairs. “Bring her, man.” 

Next thing Elle knew, she was scooped up in strong arms and being carried upstairs towards the bedrooms.

***

Jared and Jensen did know how to make time pass in a very enjoyable way, Elle thought, hours later, as she dressed on shaky legs. They had all showered together, but the boys were ready more quickly.

Jensen had picked out a slinky knit dress for her -- comfortable and sexy -- as well as a pair of heels. She took her cue from the outfit, adding jewelry and taking time for some sparkly eye makeup. 

She made her way downstairs, carrying her wrapped gifts, and saw light in the formal dining room. She walked in slowly to find the room awash in candlelight. 

The table was set with their finest dishes and laden with food. A vase of deep red roses sat in the center. Behind it, boxes and bags of her favorite chocolates -- hazelnut and caramel -- were stacked in a glittery pile. 

The boys both stood up, one on either side of the table. She took both their hands and let them lead her to her seat between them. 

The food was amazing, course after course delivered from their favorite restaurant: french onion soup and salads, crab cakes and shrimp cocktail, followed by perfectly cooked steaks with loaded potatoes and veggies sides. Neither of them let her lift a finger to so much as pour a drink. 

They lingered over dinner, talking and laughing, sharing food and kisses. When they were finally done, the boys cleared away the plates. When they returned, Jared was carrying champagne and three flutes, while Jensen had a cheesecake topped with strawberries and chocolate. 

Elle’s eyes widened. “That looks amazing, but I’m too full to eat another bite. Can we exchange gifts first?” 

Jared and Jensen went first, handing one another identical boxes. They all knew what was inside, but that didn’t stop them from opening the watches with delight. Jensen got his on first, and then rounded the table to kiss Jared just as soon as he finished with the clasp. 

Elle looked on, beaming. It was something they shared, and they deserved it. Now that they had talked it out, she didn’t feel inferior for not buying luxury gifts. Plus, she knew her presents would be a perfect compliment. She grinned as she handed them the parcels she had carefully wrapped. They tore into the paper eagerly. 

Jensen looked up first, a question in his eyes. 

“It’s a valet tray. It sits on your dresser so you have a place to put your watch.” 

He threw back his head and laughed, that full laugh she loved so much. “Of course! It’s perfect, love, thank you.”

Jared was still tracing the three hearts on the bottom when he looked up and grinned. “Yes, thank you.” Then he turned his gaze towards Jensen. “Three hearts, Jay, did you see?” 

Jensen nodded before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silky drawstring bag. He shook it into his palm and then held it out. 

Elle drew in a sharp breath as she reached for it. She saw that it was a puzzle ring.

“Three bands in one, just like us,” Jensen said softly. 

“And you can fidget with it. We know how you love your fidget rings,” Jared added. “But look.” He took the ring back and turned it so she could see inside the band. Stamped inside -- three interlinked hearts. 

Elle looked from one to the other. Jensen’s hand closed over Jared’s as they slipped the ring onto her index finger. It fit like it belonged there. She looked from one handsome face to the other, and her eyes welled up as she whispered, “How did I get so lucky?”

They kissed her one at a time, and then together, until she was breathless and laughing. 

“How did we ever get so lucky?” Jensen echoed.

“You’re the best gift we’ve ever had, and all we could ever want,” Jared said. 

“All? Even with that cheesecake sitting there?” she teased. 

“Well, now that you mention it--” 

Long after they had eaten their fill of cheesecake, they were still trading sticky sweet kisses, laughing and lingering around the table, three hearts in love. 

***

AN: Dead Sled Leather is a real company founded by a local artist who does amazing work. I don’t know if he chews tobacco and I don’t know how he feels about polyamory, but he makes beautiful leather goods.  Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for working with my feverish brain to get this into some kind of readable shape, as well as pointing out some of the really cute poly gifts there are on Etsy! You’re the best.  Thanks again @there-must-be-a-lock​ for letting me have fun with these three, and taking a last-minute submission to your Three(k)some Challenge! 

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @the-chocolate-moose  @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

[isabeladraws]

Do you have any hcs for your Lil and Bryce?

sorry it took so long to answer! these are very random but they’re very fun to write so thank you 💖

there’s a slow build up of bryce’s clothes in lilith’s bedroom

it started with a random sock, then a pair of gym shoes, a sweaty shirt

at some point jackie jokes he should pay for the laundry products with them

lilith caught feelings first

it hit lilith by random, they were just talking inbetween shifts and she just knew... her heart sank and she felt out of breath. bryce got so worried. lilith was saved by her pager 

she freaked out because she knew bryce was not ready to open up just yet. and she was falling hard when they had barely scratched the surface of bryce’s real self 

she tried to not see him for a week to figure her feelings out but it did not work. lilith kept bumping into him - on her way to lunch, inbetween shifts, on her way home. she can’t shake him. 

he somehow remembered she only drinks plant milk (without lilith even telling him) and dropped off a giant latte late at night for her which made her want to jump off a bridge than deal with the feelings she had.

they text a lot at night. it’s when their conversations spark up

bryce and lilith often use the excuse of “studying” to meet up

obviously they do not study. sienna learnt the bad way, too many times. she’s seen way too much

lilith is the better cook for sure. she doesn’t mind cooking but it’s always a 50/50 chance it’s gonna suck

at some point lilith smells like bryce after he left his favorite perfume in her bedroom 

they take rounds for who pays dinner. they usually eat dessert in another restaurant or pick up ice cream from a local pop-up. bryce never lets her pay for it and lilith got genuenely upset with him. she had the calculated change in her pocket since they order the same flavors everytime (lilith has a mix of vanilla and mango, bryce has a very generous scoop of cookie dough). once bryce saw the money in her hand he grabbed her hands and swiftly got the bill out of her grip. “you know the rules, valentine” “give it back, bryce!” “nah uh” they playfully wrestled each other, bryce won, she can’t get past his smirk. “you’re so annoying” “you like me that way”

(this is more book 2 territory but i do want to have a “fight” where they spit out their feelings and they can’t do much about it because there’s anger and confusion in the air OR MAYBE just full blown sex after realising their feelings are reciprocated. (hopefully keiki is not at the apt lmao) maybe bryce even gets mad by lilith not seeing how in love he is with her. her mind is so fogged with worries and fears and she doesn’t see the obvious while everyone else does. the jokes that insinuate they’re a couple messes her up because yeah they look like one, but there’s never any comfirmation from either that’s what their relationship is like. she’s dense and bryce finds it hard to say the words since he never had or wanted to.)

when lilith goes to his apt for the first time, she finds a little stash of vegan products in one of the cubbards. she thinks it might be for keiki so she asks her what is it that she can’t eat. keiki answers “i don’t have food restricitions” “so what’s all this vegan stuff?” bryce shyly answers he’d buy something vegan from the store that reminded him of lilith since she’s sensitive to milk. “i always forgot to bring it over your house so it kinda just sat here for when you came by”

when. not if... when

lilith smiled, and barely contained the urge to makeout with him right there.

bryce put lilith on the good quality pricey shampoo train. she got upset when she had to repurchase them because they’re over 30$ but lilith’s never going back

bryce doesn’t help at all with impulse-puppy-adopting-control. lilith tries to rationalize they don’t have a lot of time to raise a puppy but they keep scrolling through websites. they do this for almost a year until they finally bite the bullet and adopt a puppers. 

the puppy also forces them to realise they should just move in together instead of living in different places. 

lilith is more scared than bryce is, which surprises him because he’s the one that was afraid of committment. 

they enjoy buying furniture and decor together. they have similar taste which helps. some of their dates make up of going to thrift stores and looking for cool nicknacks. whoever gets the best item gets to have a special massage.

i don’t see them with kids 

even before they’re official, they have scheduled dates in one of the supply closets for pep talks and rants. sometimes they just sit there and hold each other because they’re so tired and just need a minute.

bryce cannot stop posting about lilith on instagram 

ethan made a snarky comment once about it. lilith just said “you can unfollow him, you know”

he looked appalled. “i could never.” “then, it’s above me, dr. ramsey”

they love to watch tv shows together. they have fun with very tacky reality tv.

when lilith’s starting to want a real relationship, craving him more and more, she gets scared he’ll pull away if she tells him how she feels

bryce is a good dancer. he loves latin music. do whatever you will with this. don’t @ me I’M RIGHT. he has the ass range 

they love to go to concerts together. the gang usually tags along too, which they don’t mind. 

AGAIN: sorry for typos, i don’t feel like proofreading this. i wanted to do more but i need to go back to uni work. i hope you like these 😌

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 5

Catch up here AO3

~*~Sebastian~*~

I make playlists for everything. I've talked several times about using music to get me into a character. I use music to regulate my mood too. I have ones for working out anger, songs to make me cry, things to meditate too, songs to help me sleep and give me good dreams, and good start to a morning songs. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there's a sex playlist. There's really two. One is labeled romance though. Maybe it should be called “foreplay”. It's the glass of wine and quiet conversation playlist. The one called sex could also be rightfully called “fucking”. Every last one of those songs are for slamming balls deep into someone. That Puscifer song is on that playlist. I have a deserted island playlist too. That's where the question came from. I think you can learn a lot about people from what they choose to fill their brains with and why.

It would be an easy thing to reduce Emma's choices down to songs that make her feel. What I got from her list is she likes words. She gave me a line from every song she picked. She didn't even have to stop to think. The words just rolled off her tongue like they were waiting to be said. Again, it would be reductive to think that's all there is, but I bet words are what hook her. She listens.  Most of my choices were tied to an activity. Air guitar, dancing, working out, sex. I watch. I notice how things happen. Process is more important to me. That's how I get into a character, the feel of things. Mannerisms. How they walk. How they talk. How they do things. Current example ~ I remember Emma asked if she could help me find the chocolate chips, but not the exact words. I can bring up the exact feel of her hand on my arm when she said it. When I put my hand on her back leaving her house I noticed she leaned back into the contact. Had she jumped, tensed, or leaned forward I would have know I was violating her personal space. But she didn't. She's given me her hand and didn't move away when I put my leg against hers while we ate. All of this is good because I just can't seem to not be touching her. I don't mean in a sexual way. I mean attraction. I like you and I want to feel your warmth. Accepting my hand on her back has absolutely nothing to do with accepting sex. Neither does kissing. Or touching. Hell, being naked in bed doesn't even equal consent for sex.

Wow, I've drifted way off topic. Maybe not. Back to the music thing. Her liking words and me liking activity. Neither is the superior way, just differences. I'm curious about books and movies, but another night. I have no doubts there will be other nights.

As planned, deserted island playlist propelled us into more music. Eventually we're rattling off songs and giving them thumbs up or thumbs down. It was really good. We laughed and told stories, sharing memories. She hit upon one of those songs that you think no one else ever heard of, but was really pretty popular. Usually it’s a breakup song that you get so lost in the rest of the world didn’t exist. This was one of those. I immediately threw up the thumbs down, then up, then down again.

She grimaced, “Break up song.”

She’d shared hers. I didn’t mind sharing mine, but this was my least favorite. “Sort of. It was later. I had a hard time getting over her. We’d been together awhile. Things were good until they weren’t. First she started saying she didn’t know who she was apart from me. Then it was she didn’t know what she wanted. Then it was she knew and it wasn’t me. I’d been doing the things she wanted, making changes, and it turned out she was making them up. I didn’t handle myself so well. I was hurt because I felt like she’d used my better qualities against me. She’d manipulated me into making changes, doing things, that meant nothing. It was like she was playing with me and she knew me well enough to know better. I really internalize that shit. In the end I’m the one who looked like the asshole. I wasn’t perfect, but I kept trying.” After dropping the lyric that had hooked me, I stopped for a second and focused on our hands. God, I was young back then. Both of us and we’d fought with secrets to hurt each other most. I just had more to work with. Emma’s nail tickling my palm brought my attention back to her and I smiled. “I was pretty pitiful for awhile. I couldn’t get past it, past her. That song got me in touch with how angry I was. Not just at her, but myself for getting so stuck in being victim and feeling guilty for mean things I’d said. So, I raged for a while. Took it out on my liver and my lungs . . . mostly. Then I was better.” The smirk on her face let me know she understood my particular healing methods. I wasn’t very original. Sometimes you have to get high, drunk, and fuck someone out of your system.

Emma excused herself to the bathroom. I leaned back and finished off my beer. I looked out at the dark water letting everything sink in. Not thinking, just letting the good time feel good. Even telling the ex story felt good. Well, her reaction to me getting a little lost in. Another round of beers showed up a little before Emma. As she sat down she knocked hers over.

She jumped out of the way as it poured onto the deck beside her, “Fuck!”

I grabbed the bottle before it could empty and Emma stemmed the flow with extra napkins. “Easy clean up with the deck.”

She laughed, but her cheeks were red. Our server showed up to take away the napkins, wipe up the remnants, and bring Emma another beer.  She shook her head, “I have an unfortunate habit of knocking over drinks. Even sober.”

“It’s good to have a hobby.” We laughed again and got back to talking.

I was so wrapped up in conversation I didn't notice a group of three guys approach our table. I jumped a little when one of them spoke. They had beers in hand and introduced themselves after one apologized for startling me. I wanted to tell them it was really uncool to interrupt my date. They seemed like the kind of guys who would understand. I stood up because I don't like talking up to people towering over me. Gives me a little more control over the situation too. Most people will read the social cue of me sitting down again as ending the conversation. They were nice enough and the short interaction ended with a picture so they could post “beers with The Winter Soldier” on Instagram.

Emma was smiling when I sat down, “Happen a lot?”

“Um, depends where I am. Sometimes one turns into many. Fingers crossed.” I patted my chest without pockets. “I don't have a pen.”

She chuckled, “I've always thought autographs were the excuse to approach someone when all someone really wants is a minute of your time. Or your phone number.”

There's my opening. “Can I have your phone?”

She gave me a strange look, but still pulled her phone out of her purse and unlocked it before handing it over. Luckily she's got an iPhone and I know how to navigate those. I get that people like the customization you can do on an Android, but for barely tech literate people like me I find comfort in the limitations of ways I can fuck up my iPhone. Also makes it easier when I'm trying to sneak my number in someone's phone. I'm not very sneaky. I put my number in her contacts, saved, and handed her phone back. “Now you don't have to ask.”

She was doing something and a second later my text notification went off. “You don't either.

I put in her name and was reaching for her hand when our server walked up, “I'm sorry, Mr. Stan, but we'll be closing soon.”  She laid the black folio containing our bill on the table.

What the hell? It couldn't be after eight o'clock. I glanced down at my phone. It's 2:45.  “Oh shit!” I showed the time to Emma who looked as shocked as I did. I looked up to our server. “I'm sorry. Shit. We've fucked you out of half a dozen table turnovers. I'll take care of you.”

“Don't worry about it. I'm glad you had a good night.”

I quickly pulled out my credit card and tucked it in the plastic sleeve. She walked off and I turned to Emma, “I'll be right back. Gonna get some cash for her tip.” Since Emma had worked in a restaurant I knew she'd understand. Even if they cashed her out they might withhold some of a tip to cover the card fees or make her wait for the full amount. I had some cash, but not enough to cover shorting her all the turnover while I sat my ass here talking. By the time I got back from the ATM she was back with the receipt. I asked her to wait while I quickly scribbled my name. I tucked the cash in the folio and handed it back to her. “Have a good night.” She thanked me and was off. I downed the rest of my beer and reached a hand out for Emma, “Ready to go?”

Emma took my hand. As we walked I twined my fingers with hers. I wanted to walk like this for hours. The simplicity of holding hands is something not be overlooked. Fingers laced, palms pressed together, and the necessity of walking a little bit closer. This feeling. The newness. The thrill. The anticipation. I love them all.

The sky lit up with a streak of lightning in the distance. I looked around, unsure of my bearings. “Is that coming or going?”

“We'll be driving toward it.”

The next flash was closer and the thunder rolled loud. Walking hand in hand by the river was out. “Better get you home.”

In the SUV I waited for my phone to hook into the entertainment center before handing it off to Emma with Spotify open. “Play me your five songs.”

After listening to her five songs I had her search for mine. She did like the Puscifer song. She thought it sounded like stripper music. She's not wrong.

I can not believe it's three in the morning. We talked for nine hours. This has to be the longest first date ever. Unless you count the one's that go overnight, but that's different. This is the longest date I've even been on that hasn't included sex. Or a two and a half hour movie. Nine hours sitting with one person talking about family, friends, and music. How in the fuck did we fill up nine hours? I don't feel like I've even scratched the surface of knowing her or showing her who I am. With the exception of a couple of times it was nine hours of nothing conversation. I don't mean that in a bad way. I'm not bothered. I'm amazed.

Now I'm faced with what next? Imminently, not existentially. Realistically most of my dates end up in bed. Usually I go out with someone I've met on set, an event, or a party. We've got on well enough to ask her out. We go to dinner, back to one of our places to get to know each other.  Conversation pauses, there's a kiss, and boom we're in bed. Sometimes there's not a real date before the sex. Hit it off when we meet and go home together. Nothing wrong there. Sex is what you do while you're getting to know each other.

Or what you do so you don't have to.

None of this means I don't want to go to bed with Emma. Not even close. How do you go from nine hours of talking with nothing more than holding hands to naked and sweaty? Well, I know how you get there, but I'm not sure I should. Even more amazing. I'm not sure I want to. Evans would give me such shit about what I'm thinking. It's been a sweet first date and maybe it's better to leave it that way. If sex is what you do to get to know someone, but we're doing fine doing, why not wait. Show a little restraint. I could ask her what she thinks. Nope. Awkward, presumptuous, and weird. Somebody once told me if you can't talk about sex you shouldn't be doing it. I thought it was bullshit. Now, I'm thinking they might have a point.

All this could change with a kiss. Just one kiss.

The storm was almost on us by the time we got to her place. I ran around to her side of the SUV and walked her to the door. Holding hands like two teenagers. I do not know what to do next. I'm anxious and afraid my hand is turning into a sweaty mess. She unlocked the door and I leaned against the wall. “I had a really good time tonight. I can't remember last time I talked so much. It was a lot fun. Thank you.”

“I had a great time too. Thank you for dinner.”

Emma turned back to face me and stepped closer. This is closer than we've been all night and I have never wanted to stay in a moment so much in my life.

I reached to put my hand on her face. Her eyes fluttered closed when my fingers skated across her cheek. I start to lean in, to close the distance. I closed my eyes. Suddenly a huge crack filled the air and both of us jumped. I yelled, “Fuck” and put my hand over my heart. It's beating out of my chest for more than one reason now.

Emma jumped too and we both started laughing.

The moment I wanted was gone. Dammit. I grabbed her into a hug, “Scared the fuck out of me.” Another crack of thunder and the rain started. I stepped back, “I'll give you a call tomorrow.”

The deluge started after I shut the SUV door. That's lucky. I guess mother nature didn't want me to kiss the girl tonight. No problem.

I'll probably get in the pool at mom's and wait for lightning to strike me.

**tell me something good, fun, full of anxiety.  This lock down is starting to bore me**

[notable-law-music-tech-news]

The Chocolate Chip Cookies I Can't Eat Anymore, but Will Never Stop Making

I bake to feel like myself, especially when the outside world feels upside down.

In 2009, I was laid off from my first food media job out of culinary school. It had always been my dream to be a food editor, and I was crushed. Just after the cloud of self-pity lifted and the objects from my desk had been absorbed into my apartment with the disguise of belonging, I retreated to the kitchen with a new goal: to make the ideal chocolate chip cookie.

I had just created a food blog—following orders from the parting words of my mentor and former editor-in-chief—and it seemed like something a food blogger would do. Plus, a recipe by Jacques Torres had just appeared in The New York Times, and I thought that tinkering with his somewhat complicated iteration could help me find my own.

I was newly 25 and married to a first-year law student. My job had fallen victim to the recession and changing landscape of print media. I was as down and out as I’d ever been to that point, and somehow questing after the perfect chocolate chip cookie perked my spirits. It gave me purpose—a reason to orient my kitchen and efforts to produce something valuable, something worthy of putting out into the world.

After a few weeks and many batches of cookies, I finally arrived at what I felt was the perfect cookie: a crisp-yet-chewy classic bursting with layers of chocolate flavor, finished off with a sprinkle of sea salt. I loved the recipe so much that I began making it all the time, giving the cookies away to my friends whenever I had the excuse.

Soon the cookies began to take on a life and story of their own. I would trot them out every now and then to honor the often-overlooked small victories of life, such as a kind word from a usually grumpy boss or signing a new lease on an apartment. Over time, they developed a unique power.

Eventually, the cookies came along with me to every important meeting. I took them to a discussion about my first cookbook and credit them for earning my second. I made them to accompany the application for the offer on our house in 2015—the height of the housing boom here in Seattle—relying on their power of persuasion.

I wrote my first children’s book, the confidence to self-publish stemming from the very kind of determination held within building my food blog from scratch. It felt natural, then, to offer my chocolate chip cookies as a reward on Kickstarter. The crowd-funding campaign took place during a week in mid-February 2017, and I’d planned a series of Instagram and Facebook posts to promote the hopeful project.

One was a picture from my very first professional website that featured a version of myself that felt unrecognizable: young, blonde, childless, and without the glasses I’d come to proudly wear once I’d moved to Brooklyn in 2009. In that photo, however, the one common quality that baker and I continued to share was our signature dessert: the chocolate chip cookies.

I had no idea that, at the very moment of writing that post, I had a brain tumor lurking in my frontal lobe, or that the routine MRI I was scheduled to have later that very day would reveal it. An odd coincidence happened in that post, though; looking back later on it made me feel like my body was trying to tell me something. I used the word “legacy” in the caption in reference to my cookie recipe, describing it as the baked good I’d probably be remembered for best. Immediately after posting I realized it sounded a bit morbid because, well, I was completely healthy—or so I thought.

That slight moment of textbook dramatic irony has haunted me for years.

Somehow, I made it past the year the doctors gave me to live. “Now what?” I wondered in an empty kitchen.

Once I was diagnosed with brain cancer, I chose to give up chocolate, gluten, and sugar, which were the fundamental elements of my magical cookies. It was heartbreaking at first, but the prospect of surviving—especially for my two young sons—offered a healthy perspective.

Somehow, I made it past the year the doctors gave me to live. “Now what?” I wondered in an empty kitchen.

I was faced with a totally different life in food that revolved around an “alternative” baking vocabulary—and a stack of medical bills. I felt like a cookbook author without a subject; the food choices that were necessary to my survival stood in opposition to the generalist, jack-of-all-trades food editor I’d become. Once again, my dream career fell away overnight. And once again, I turned to these cookies as a currency of hope.

During the early weeks when I was acclimating to life on the other side of my prognosis, I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. I had gone to sleep after a terrifying review of our finances with my husband, battling a kind of panic that felt as though I’d been diagnosed with cancer all over again. I rose from bed and slipped out to my desk in the darkness, throwing my robe over my shoulders and shuffling into my slippers.

It had hit me, my next big idea: I would take the foods that held deep meaning to me and figure out a way to make them as often as I could. See, soup had taken on a kind of magic in my life the same way my cookies had—it’s what people brought me when I was sick. Neighbors, friends, and even strangers would bring me batches of their favorite soul-nourishing recipes, like bowlfuls of lentils swimming with vegetables, in the months that followed my recovery from brain surgery. I fully believe that it was this display of community that shepherded me back to myself and possibly to the miracle of health I am living today.

I decided to thank the people who brought me soup by bringing them soup. And, of course, my cookies. Just because I couldn’t eat them, didn’t mean I couldn’t make them—or share their magic.

And so, Soup Club was born.

My healthful, vegan soups paired perfectly with my cookies, a balance of comfort and decadence—hallmarks of my diet I’d come to appreciate since my diagnosis.

I currently live a life where I make over a hundred of these cookies a week and leave them with love (and soup!) on friends’ porches.

The myth of these cookies grows each time I share them. They continue to reveal belonging, connection, and hope—just as they have ever since I created them in my Brooklyn kitchen. And even though I may never taste one again, I am certain they will nourish me always.

Grain-Free Chocolate Chip Cookies

View Recipe

Ingredients

For the cookies:

3 1/4 cups (445 g) homemade grain-free flour blend (see recipe below), or preferred gluten-free all-purpose flour 1/4 cup (35 g) cornstarch 1 1/4 teaspoons (5 g) baking powder 1 teaspoon (7 g) Kosher salt, plus more for sprinkling 1 teaspoon (6 g) baking soda 2 sticks (8 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature 1 cup (212 grams) granulated sugar 1 cup packed (200 grams) light brown sugar 2 large eggs, at room temperature 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract 1 pound best-quality bittersweet chocolate (50-75% cacao content), chopped (about 3 1/2 cups)

3 1/4 cups (445 g) homemade grain-free flour blend (see recipe below), or preferred gluten-free all-purpose flour 1/4 cup (35 g) cornstarch 1 1/4 teaspoons (5 g) baking powder 1 teaspoon (7 g) Kosher salt, plus more for sprinkling 1 teaspoon (6 g) baking soda 2 sticks (8 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 cup (212 grams) granulated sugar 1 cup packed (200 grams) light brown sugar 2 large eggs, at room temperature 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract 1 pound best-quality bittersweet chocolate (50-75% cacao content), chopped (about 3 1/2 cups)

For the homemade grain-free flour blend:

1 cup tapioca flour, spooned and leveled 1 cup arrowroot flour, spooned and leveled 1 cup coconut flour, spooned and leveled 1 cup almond flour, spooned and leveled

1 cup tapioca flour, spooned and leveled 1 cup arrowroot flour, spooned and leveled

1 cup coconut flour, spooned and leveled 1 cup almond flour, spooned and leveled

Which recipes bring you comfort? Tell us in the comments.

from Food52 https://ift.tt/3giq9Ws

[chrsitophwaltz]

MICKEY MEETS FC BAYERN (PART 2/4)

for the entire houston clownery experience click here

psa: excuse my face and the pic qualities. up until this happened i haven’t really taken pictures of myself (less than 10 in the past two years for family and work purposes and NEVER selfies) and when you meet people you’ve only seen on TV in a very unexpected circumstance, then don’t expect your brain and motor functions to work 100%.

in the meantime, The Queen kathleen krüger showed up dragging a little carry on-sized bag. i really wanted a pic but i knew she always likes to be in the background so i just settled for a cheery greeting. she was shy-ish but super nice!

me: *trying to speak german again after 5 years* guten morgen!”

kathleen: *surprised that i recognized her but was super nice* morgen! wie geht’s?

me: sehr gut, danke. und dir? ( i used dir since she used informal and she didn’t look like it offended her or anything dsjfsdjf)

kathleen: oh, sehr gut auch. tschüss!

bless her heart! too bad she might lock niko up and issue a restraining order against me when we see each other next though sndmfbdsmnfbsnmdf

shortly after javi and kathleen left, thiago was next. it took a little while for him to get to me since other people also asked for pics and autographs. when he finally got to me and was signing my shirt, i really just had to tell him “hey thiago, you’re so good! you make it look so easy!” he laughed at that and said thanks. so nice and such a 🐐

i heard a distinct chuckle and Mr. Bayern himself came out. he was doing his usual thomas müller thing (it’s hard to describe but y’all prolly know what i mean) and was gamely eating a big banana when i asked for another autograph and picture (i got his autograph and picture at the hotel reception on friday already; this is the second time).

me: “hi thomas! could we take a picture again and have you sign my shirt?”

thomas: “ofhrjhf sjdjshfueh” (i’m positive he said “oh sure” or something, but with a mouth full of banana)

so nice! (and he didn’t show his usual cheeky müller grin, incisors and all, because, well........banana)

okay, here’s a tricky part. sven and leon came out almost simultaneously. sven was slightly first and i asked for the usual combo, and we were both already posed for the picture when i saw leon trying to zip by. greedy binch that i am, my intention was to get both of them in the frame. two birds, one stone. so i said “leon!” to call him over. B U T sven probably thought i was ignoring him and didn’t want his pic at all!!!!!!!!!! he mumbled “oh.....leon” and walked away (i think he probably meant “oh you wanted leon...”) NO SVEN!!!!! I WANTED YOU BOTH COME BACK!!!!! he was gone though and while i was excited to see leon and his beautiful curly hair again (idk if he recognized me but he had this look like “hmmmm...?” and he retweeted me just the night before sdbdmnbnd), i was panicking about the sven incident. it was bittersweet and i decided to really go to that t-mobile thing later on in the day so i could apologize to sven.

this is also prolly why i had this fugly half-assed smile (S VE N!!!!! ;__;)

(also note that leon is wearing lewy’s training shirt sjfbanmfbsahdfd idk why i didn’t ask)

O K A Y.

around this time was the part where i met niko. but since that whole shebang is a whole other experience in itself, i’m dedicating the entirety of part 4 to it. maybe it’s for the best too since it was just........g o d!!!!!! (kathleen krüger, i really hope you aren’t ever gonna see this blog, but in the off chance that you do, i’m sorry you had to see all that sdnfbndmfabnmfnd s o r r y)

anyway, that niko incident led me to run out of the hotel like it was on fire (told y’all, long story) so it was outside that i got to meet The Chef! he still looked kinda sleepy and was nursing a cup of coffee but was still nice enough to indulge me with a pic and autograph! 

L M A O

okay. so, after serge got up on the bus, and while i was studiously avoiding kathleen’s stare (huehue s o r r y), manu came out. a lot of fans had already gathered behind the barriers outside and manu was a crowd favorite so everybody was screaming for him. i was still near the bus entrance and was standing in front of the barrier and two guys behind me were jumping and asking manu to autograph their replica world cup trophy. manu got to them first and stupid lil me was trying to take a pic with him while he was doing his thing. this giant man is about 6′4, and me a ruler and an inch shorter, so when he reached for the trophy, he nearly knocked me out gonzalo-higuain-in-the-2014-world-cup-final style.

(below is me before i nearly died a sweet, happy death c/o manu’s huge ass fists)

manu, teddy bear that he is, was like “oh no, sorry!” i didn’t mind at all sjdfhsdfsdj (i would’ve gladly let him knock me tf out lmao) so i said “it’s okay!” as an apology, he gamely signed my shirt and we finally took a decent, safe photo dsfbjksdfbsfnsbdns

*kill bill sirens* WEW! then The Polish Hitman, Mr. 5-in-9, The B O D Y himself, robert lewandowski came out. he was sporting that cursed beard again (sorry lewy, but in this very rare case, i say no stubble for you lmao). he still looked hot af tho and signed my shirt. and took this photo! (thank you to my phone for magically making this HDR)

there wasn’t anyone after him for a while and the team bus left already so i went back inside (thank you hotel A/C! it was hot as hell and i was shaking and overheating from being so close to them.... and embarrassing myself in front of all those people and Queen Kathleen lmao).

then, coco came out! i guess he’s gonna do individual training since he didn’t go with the team bus. he also did this lil massage thing on my left shoulder sdhbjdfsdn thanks for scoring our first goal the night before, coco! (he was hella cute too)

i think all the players were gone since the only ones left for the next 15 minutes were the entourage and media people. but one last parting gift! loddar himself came out. took a while for him to get out since he chatted with someone else for a few minutes so i settled for videoing him for my instagram story. then he finally got up and walked to the exit and that’s where i got him.

me: hi lothar, can we take a picture? (only a pic since he looked like he was in a hurry)

loddar: *with that perennial cranky look on his face but was still nice lmao* “ok sure!”

had to leave shortly after this to go to the mall since @simplyirenic messaged me that there were only 100 tickets for the adidas meet-and-greet, but hey! almost a full haul!

here’s 75% of the total spoils:

(i’ve maxed out my 10 photo per post limit again so stay tuned for part 3: the mall meet-and-greet with josh, sven (there’s a redemption arc! i’m not a total bitch!), benji (a surprise addition to the lineup), manu 2.0, and thomas 3.0!)

[btsybrkr]

Here’s A List Of Things I Hate

I've reached something of a mental block recently when it comes to writing. I think it's because, despite sometimes coming off like I'm mocking things or just being a general smart-arse, I usually write about things I genuinely love. I love The Apprentice. I love Come Dine With Me. I love the idea that the Saturday night schedule, currently occupied on ITV1 by The Masked Singer - a horrifying cross between The Voice and a recurring nightmare I had between the ages of 6 and 8 - might one day be livened up by a post-apocalyptic The X Factor-style talent show in which we choose the next Prime Minister from a roster of Average Joe’s that just feel like giving it a bash.

I usually have lots to say about things I love, but recently, for some reason, I’m struggling to even think of anything that I love enough to write about. Maybe I’m being dragged down by the fact that this January alone seemed to last three long months, or perhaps because January itself included ‘Blue Monday’, the so-called ‘most miserable day of the year’. Maybe it's neither of things, maybe I’m just suffering from a bad case of The Realisation That We And Everything That We Do Are All, In The End, Meaningless, And That Every Day, We Are Collectively Hurtling Closer And Closer Towards The Endless Void And There Is Nothing That Any Of Us Can Do To Stop It. There's probably a snappier name for that, but you know what I mean. In any case, I’m just finding it much easier to think about things I hate recently.

Anyway, what do we do with these feelings of negativity to get rid of them once and for all? We express them. So, for anyone willing to read it, here’s a list of things I hate.

Stephen Mulhern

ITV mainstay Stephen Mulhern arguably belongs on television - not for any positive reason, just because it’s only the barrier of television between him and the viewer that allows him to appear as a cheerful friendly presence, rather than an insufferable know-it-all prick, whose repeated condescending glances to the camera during interviews with rejected Britain’s Got Talent contestants just wouldn’t fly in real life. I mean, really, imagine you were having a conversation with someone, and they reacted to something you said by looking off into the distance, à la Fleabag, with an expression that quite clearly reads “This person is an idiot!! Laugh, everyone!! Laugh at the idiot!!” You know what, Stephen? You’re the idiot. But I won’t laugh at you, because then you might think that you’re funny, and I’m just not having that.

Coleslaw

I saw a tweet years ago that said “what was the first person to milk a cow thinking?”, and honestly, it raises a very good question. I can only imagine that there was some perverted ulterior motives at play, for someone to not only milk the cow’s udders in the first place, but then to drink it, at a time when that just wasn’t done. They must have been a pretty nefarious character, it almost doesn’t bear thinking about. Instead, I’d like to question the motives of the even dodgier character who first looked at grated carrots, cabbage and onions, and thought ‘You know what might really tie these bland individual tastes together? Mayonnaise. A fuckload of it.’

You know what, though? It's not the existence of coleslaw that confuses me the most about it - it's the popularity of it. It has pride of place on the table at every family buffet, it’s disappointingly included in otherwise-appealing wraps in the Boots meal deal fridge, and it's an option on the menu in a shocking majority of takeaways, despite the fact that nobody has ever emerged, staggering and bleary-eyed from Walkabout at 3:30am and thought ‘I could absolutely murder some coleslaw’. Most annoying of all is the way some restaurants chuck a bit of paprika in the mix and use it as an excuse to rename it ‘POW POW GROOVY SLAW’, or something equally ridiculous. Why are we trying to sex up a bowl of vegetables covered in mayonnaise? I can't think of anything less sexy, and I don't particularly want to try.

Let's face it, coleslaw has long overstayed its welcome. It's the last stubborn hanger-on from the pages of stomach-churning 1970s dinner party cookbooks (probably found somewhere between the recipes for spinach and tuna pie and a boiled, unglazed joint of ham suspended in gelatine), and it's time we admitted that and stage a renaissance for the real king of the veg/mayo combo. Rise, Sir Potato Salad - your rule has begun.

Facebook

I recently deleted Facebook off my phone, and immediately noticed an improvement in the overall quality of my life. I promise I don’t mean this in the typical ‘phone bad, book good’ way that fake-’woke’ holier-than-thou characters preach about (usually on Facebook itself, ironically). I still happily waste away hours of my life on Twitter, and Instagram, the latter of which arguably has the most negative influence on my brain out of all the social networks. The thing with Facebook is that it doesn’t necessarily have a negative influence on my brain, so much as it has no influence on any part of me whatsoever. Facebook is a vacuum. It's completely, entirely pointless. In fact, it’s where ‘point’ itself goes to die.

Considering there’s probably no two Facebook users out there with the exact same friends list, I'm willing to bet that everybody’s News Feed looks eerily similar. Every scroll through is the same - a former workmate announcing a pregnancy, someone you forgot about from school sharing a vague, ‘deep’ quote about their hurt feelings, an elderly relative you didn't realise was racist until literally right now, when they began sharing posts from a page eloquently titled ‘MUSLIMS!! it is TIME to go HOME so we can have BRITAIN BACK’, or something along those lines. If you ever have nothing better to do - although, I'm sure there is always something, anything, better to do - just set a timer, open up Facebook, and see how long it takes before you come across a single thing that genuinely resonates with you in any positive way at all. I just redownloaded Facebook to try it for myself, and it took me 46 minutes.

Sound like a lie? Well, to be fair, it is. But there's more truth in that than almost anything you'll see on Facebook.

Those Slush Puppy Straws With Tiny Spoons On The End

Plastic straws are on their way out, and quite rightly. The Sea Turtle Conservancy estimate that around half the world’s sea turtles have ingested plastic, and straws are believed to have accounted for a lot of that. With everything you read or learn about the effect of straws on the environment, it's surprising that it's taken this long for us to do something about it.

With that said, it's not just the turtles that are benefitting from the rise of the paper straw - I'm pretty pleased about it as well. Why? Because using paper instead of plastic might mean that we stop manufacturing those evil straws with tiny spoons on the end of them.

Yes, evil. How many times have you been enjoying a Slush Puppy on a hot summer’s day, only to realise you can't get to the bits at the bottom of the cup, because your straw inexplicably has a spoon on the end of it. What's that for? A Slush Puppy is a drink, and spoons are for eating things with. “It's for eating the delicious bits of vaguely-flavoured ice after you've sucked up all the syrup”, you might say, but then why? Mojitos are made with crushed ice, but you wouldn't go up to the barman and go "excuse me, mate, you forgot to give me a spoon so I could eat all these delicious bits of vaguely-minty ice", would you?

Anyway, you can't suck up all the syrup in the first place when the bottom of your straw just isn't a straw. This a problem we usually solve by holding the cup above our mouths and giving the bottom of the cup a gentle tap, usually sending the rest of it falling out of the cup and all over your face, shirt, anywhere but your mouth, faster than you can say “I can't believe I’m 23 years old and writing an angry blog about straws with tiny spoons on the end���. Another solution we often resort to is turning the straw upside down, which, in my experience, always leads to cutting the roof of your mouth on the tiny spoon that you were never going to use in the first place. No wonder it took us so long to show a bit of sympathy for the turtles - we've been ignoring our own straw-related injuries for years, probably just because we think it makes us look hard.

As far as I'm concerned, spoons are for food, and straws are for liquids. That's why, whenever I order soup in a café, I always ask for a straw. Yes, I get looks from the other customers, but I'm sure they aren't looks of amusement or confusion - everyone else just wishes they'd thought of it first.

Ladybirds

Ladybirds aren't cute. They are not ‘nice’ bugs. They are beetles, in a quirky disguise, who can also fly. With all that in mind, why are we taught to like them? Why do people spot one land on your clothes, or in your hair, and cheerfully announce “oh, there’s a ladybird on you!”, as if you’ve somehow been chosen by the ladybird and should feel honoured. Get it off me now, because I don’t know what it’s going to do! Don’t tell me that it’s ‘harmless’ and that I’m ‘overreacting’. We thought that cigarettes were ‘harmless’ before the mid-60s, cheerfully puffing our way through life, with one in each hand at any given moment, as we watched our darling babies speak their first words, which were usually something along the lines of “alright, mate, 20 Sterling Dual, please” - but then we learned. We learned that they weren’t as harmless as we first thought. And believe me when I tell you that, one day, we’ll reach the same conclusion about ladybirds. Just as soon as we find out exactly what they’re planning.

In fact, where have they gone? I haven’t seen one for a good while. Surely, they’re holed up in a specially designed lair somewhere, millions of them, carefully planning their next move in their efforts to overthrow the human race. Planning and watching. We may not be able to see them, but I’m willing to bet they have eyes on us. You know when you’re alone and you get the feeling there’s something or someone else present? It’s ladybirds. I’m sure of it. We need to watch our backs.

I’m not really sure where my fear of ladybirds has come from. Perhaps it’s down to a dream I’ve been having at least three times a year since I was a teenager, in which I’m leaving my Nan’s house and spot a ladybird the size of a Golden Retriever out in the alleyway, just sitting there, still and silent. I run around the corner to one of my friend’s houses, to warn him of the arrival of our ladybird overlords, but the entire front of his house is covered in millions of the things. I shout his name, up at an open window, and he replies that he’s coming down to open the door to me, but when he does, it isn’t him at all - it’s just a 6ft tall ladybird. I usually wake up in a cold sweat at that point, but when I try to go back to sleep, I can feel them crawling all over me.

I know I sound insane, but I promise you, I’m not - I just don't trust them, and I think that’s understandable.

Hate

If there's one thing I hate more than all the above, it's the very concept of hate itself. I don't just mean in a political or universal sense - although, I do agree the world might be a far better place if we all just hated each other a little bit less - hate has an effect on all our personal lives, too.

I'm really trying to make the most of my early twenties, and that means conserving what little energy I have left after I'm done working, drinking, and crying - just the usual daily activities that we all partake in - to be a little more productive. I can't be using that energy up on hate. In fact, in a scientific study that I've literally just made up, it was found that feeling hatred for even one fifth of a second uses up three times as much mental and physical energy as smiling at sixteen angry strangers, half of which are making fists at you. You can't argue with those sorts of statistics.

Anyway, I'm hoping to return to talking about things that make me feel a little more positive next time, because, besides anything, it's just nice to be nice, isn't it?

Not to Stephen Mulhern, though. He needs to learn his lesson.

If you like seeing me talking shit, but would rather it wasn't so bloody long, you can follow me on twitter here.

[ladywolfmd]

carpe diem, the night is young and so are we

7:02pm: Sansa sips slowly from her glass of fresh lemon-strawberry slush while slowly nodding..and generally just trying to make some effort to look polite while her blind date - Harry Hardying, was trying to (and with great enthusiasm) chat her ear off with his many wins, being, as she discovered, as a decorated fencer from the Vale and then some. She can’t really remember because somewhere in the middle, she started zoning if she was being honest. It turns out though, that she has been using the same tactic for the course of the half-hour run of their date at Meraxes and Queen beside the Dragonpit up in Rhaenys' Hill, in between replying polite 'hmms' and 'ohs'. She would pick at her food, and give warm smiles in between, but in her mind she'd already decided that, great smile and stellar achievements not-withstanding, there would be no second date. He was nice. He was handsome. She decided. Yet she felt more a head hunter being talked to, the way he listed his qualities like a curriculum vitae. She then starts regretting that maybe she should've ordered something with alcohol to get through this but decided that she'd fare better with a clear head.

8:50pm: After a very hasty good-bye to her date (it literally dragged too long as she thought anyway), she took a ride down to Smallfolks, one of the outdoor drinking hubs that occupied the night food strip, stretching along the Street of the Sisters, getting stuck a bit in traffic. Once she got off the taxi, she was immediately greeted with jeers and cheers from her friends, Mya Stone, Myranda Royce, Marillion Flowers, and the siblings, Beth and Jory Cassel, as they raise their bottles of cheap beer and different meat-on-sticks. She waves them off with a playful roll of her eyes and takes the offered bottle and sits down, telling them of her lackluster date and how she would never trust them to set her up again. While her friends, who by the looks of it, had been here for a while now were busy rambling about everything, she swirled her bottle, nodding away like earlier while she half-listened, finding the other people coming in and out of the busy street against the neon lights more interesting.

10:45pm: She was only on her second bottle, resolved not to get drunk tonight though tomorrow she was still off duty. Not too long after she thought that when she smirked as she received a group text from her co-workers at Visenya Hill Hospital, with the invite to Alchemy, the new themed music pub. Excusing herself from her merry friends promising to come back, she started walking the short distance to Alchemy, weaving in and out of the people on the busy street expertly only to be almost tackled to the ground by no other than Dr. Rhaenys Targaryen and a smirking Dr. Arianne Martell. She laughed and relaxed as she was lead to a private booth with the best view of the band of the night. Ska. She thought as she heard the music. They were treated to cyber-electro-Ska tonight and green Absinthe housed in test tube shooters, Wildfire, as it was infamously named - the former by the two-man band Dunk & Egg, the latter, from no other than her fellow Neurosurgeon, Dr. Jamie Lannister. Despite feigning obliviousness to the doctor's flirting, Sansa was having a great time relaxing to the music and enjoying being with her visibly relaxed and loose-for-a-change friends when she suddenly bolted out the door after hurried excuses.

12:06pm: Sansa ran into the nearest 24-hour store, calming herself by the frozen goods at the back as she recalls seeing her ex, Joffrey Baratheon walk in Alchemy arm-in-arm with Margaery Tyrell. How dare he, she thinks furiously. She shakes her head and thinks instead, how dare she? She calms down as she receives a text from Rhaenys telling her "Oh" and then suggests she find Mya and the others or go home. Unless she wants Jamie to come get her? Or one of them? She sighs and shakes her head as she replies that she's walking back to Smallfolks. She gets the smallest slushie to go, her eyes still puffy with some frustrated tears that came out and paid without issue. The cashier has likely been there too long tonight to care enough to ask how she was.

12:10pm: Halfway she gets a call from her brother Robb asking where she was and if she's seen their sister Arya's posts on instagram. She tells him she'll check with Arya first then call him back. Once she fires up her instagram, it's flooded with Arya with Gendry and Hot Pie, tearing holes in Fleabottom's scene, one ig-story after another-- #NotToday.  After calling Arya, promising to get Robb off her back, she calls Robb telling him that they'll both be fine and would call in the morning then ending by guilting him about his own time in King's Landing before the "Age of Jeyne Westerling."

12:23pm: Sansa arrives in Smallfolks only to find out that her friends already left. She finds out that they are in Cobbler's at Cobbler's Square where they asked if she'd follow. She replies with a maybe, not really wanting to take the slightly long trip there but still wanting to go somewhere distracting. Her phone is on fire tonight, she thought when she received another invite but frowned when Harry's name lit up her phone, telling her that he was at The Mockingbird Bar and asked if she'd let him buy drinks for her. She types furiously a "no way in seven hells", knowing that The Mockingbird had a bar and a "boutique hotel" adjacent to it that was a fancy way of saying bordello. Almost giving up the night or stay mingling with the street walkers - anything, she sees a familiar face. Black curls in a man bun, grey eyes behind metal frames, was Rhaenys' younger half-brother, Jon Targaryen, now Jon Snow, who everyone called the Crow doctor in the North. He sees her first and shyly smiles at her when he approached, asking why she was alone and if she's hungry.

1:03am: Sansa is on her second bowl - or more precisely, Jon's (she makes them swap after tasting his and he lets her easily while ordering another bowl of the same for him - he doesn't like the Sea Men Seafood Surprise she ordered) of Crazy Chasu Pork ramen in Weird Essos Noodle House, situated in a corner of Eel Street. Jon laughs as Sansa still manages to daintily slurp but she somehow feels comfortable with him as she listens (this time with actual interest) about how he had his own disastrous evening. Sansa teases him about changing his name and he said it was appropriate as he did self-exile himself to one of the veterans hospital at the Wall, far far from King's Landing. They talk about how she's adjusting to being on her first year as a full fledged surgeon in Visenya Hill, as well as how he was also still struggling but happy in Eastwatch-by-the-sea as one of their Trauma Surgeons. She asks him why he never talked to her when he used to visit Robb. He tells her, flushing while rubbing the back of his neck, that he never got the impression that she wanted him to talk to her. And they lapse in a tense silence, finishing their food and avoiding glances.

2:15am: While they both were waiting for their own Uber, Sansa, suddenly confessed that she thought he didn't want to talk to her. "What?" Jon blurts out incredulously, blushing curiously and then Sansa remembers that she was a bit of a prissy brat back in the days, before her brother Bran's accident and thinks that maybe this miscommunication was more her fault. Feeling bad she asks him if he wants to go to The Hook to dance their unfortunate night away. After saying that he actually was more of a Fleabottom hidden pub guy, he agrees to come happily anyway and both cancel their rides to book a new shared one. And to Sansa's surprise as they dance goofily away, she starts to think that Jon was starting to look cute but shrugs it off, thinking, it's only because he's the single most genuinely nice guy of the night.

4:35am: They decided to share an Uber to Street of Steel to get to Recovery the 24-hour breakfast place for night owls with hopes to refuel from their awkward yet fun dancing - with mostly Sansa drawing out Jon from his shy shell and Jon, despite being out of his element, letting her get away with everything. On the ride to greasy eggs and bacon, Jon notices Sansa growing silent. He points it out and she just smiles at him brightly in answer, showing him that she's happy with the way the night turned out despite the lousy date and the lousier run-in with her bastard ex. She doesn't notice Jon trying to hide his blush and looking at her weirdly as she turned to look back out the windows. They finish their breakfast in comfortable silence. And for the first time this night-no-morning, she was sad that it was drawing to an end. So before they left, Sansa was surprised when Jon said, "If only it wasn't cold. It might be nice to walk around the Blackwater Rush." Sansa looked down where they can faintly see the bay from where they are and looked at it longingly. It would be nice to walk there. Nicer if she was with Jon. She remembered that night at the Regency in Casterly when she and Jon watched the docks to the Sunset sea and wonders if he remembers. That night meant so much to her and she felt bad that she never followed up with Jon. But he didn't either so maybe he was just being his usual nice Jon self. She also didn't know that as she was looking at the bay, Jon was looking at her instead.

5:15am: Jon walks Sansa to her apartment despite her protests. Once at her door, they stare down the floor awkwardly. Sansa braves looking up and grinning at him and tells him sheepishly "We should've just tried to talk before. Forgive me for being a priss back then." Jon grins back and it's the first time she sees that rare smile trained on her, all crinkly and lopsided and warm. "There's nothing to forgive. I was a judgmental coward too," he replied with a shrug. She beams and blushes. "Crazy night right?" Jon laughs and shakes his head, his hand finding its way to his neck again. "It was certainly interesting." They laugh for a moment, share a look before being interrupted by the alarm she forgot she set up blaring from inside her apartment. She huffed a sigh before apologizing. Jon shakes his head and motions for her to go inside, saying he should probably go as he was going back to Eastwatch in a few hours. "I'm glad I ran into you" she gives him an awkward hug after they couldn't figure out if they shook hands or kissed cheeks or something before settling. "Me too." Sansa opens her door before looking back and calls out to Jon. Jon stops walking and looks back at her. She doesn't really know what to say but she wants to say something. So she settles for "Take care of yourself there Jon." Jon looks like he wants to say something more but decides the same with Sansa. "You too, Sansa. Be safe." They part happy, knowing that their night could not have gone the way it had if they didn't run into each other. But then come the next day, Sansa and Jon went back to their respective work, going through surgeries and patients and then some, the night becoming just another memory - fond as it was -  as life went on.

It would be three years later when they would meet again by chance and once more on another eventful night but this time, on Jon's territory where they, like this night, explore more than the harsh beauty of their new city at the North, but more importantly, each other.

[binboozlebob]

Here's My Number

"Are we finally going home now, Hayi?" He asked with a hint of tiredness on his voice. They had already roamed the shopping district for like 5 hours, hopping from one shop to another shop, stopping here and there to take pictures. Honestly, who didn’t even feel tired though.

“There's still one place left to go", she smiled. Her shopping bags dangling from both of her fingers. 

"WHAT?!" He gave her ridiculous look. Hanbin didn't understand how she still had some energy left after her haul.

"I promise, this will be our last stop, okay? Please..." this time Hayi gave him her innocent puppy eyes that Hanbin usually couldn’t even say no. But it didn’t work. Hanbin was too tired to care about her. 

Don't get him wrong. He loves her okay. She is his best friend since he can remember. They were probably 2 years old when Hayi moved to the house beside Hanbin. Her mom was really friendly and introduced her family as the new neighbour to Hanbin's family. His mom was around Hayi's mom age so they hit off immediately and ever since that day, they became best friend also. Hayi means a lot to him. She is also the one and only that knows Hanbin's secret. Not even his family know about it. 

Lately they've been busy with college and part time job so they never hang out together anymore. So, when Hayi asked him to accompany her to go shopping, he said yes right away. Thinking that maybe he could spend quality time with her. He kinda regretted his decision now.

"You also said that since the last five shops. "Okay it will be our last stop"  then you keep going to another shops. Let's go home, I'm tired!" He said mimicking they way Hayi talked. He had already annoyed because there's seem no end for this shopping trip.

"No... No... Hanbin, listen to me, I SWEAR TO GOD this is our last stop, okay. And it will be only a coffee shop that really popular on Instagram lately. All my friends are talking about it and they also post a picture while in there. The place is so aesthetic and they have nice coffee! So, please..." she pleaded this time. Her voice was panicked that Hanbin might reject her offer.

Hanbin only sighed this time. He knew Hayi too well that this girl was so stubborn. She would do anything to get what she wanted. A habit from the only child of her family.

"And you bring that cool camera of yours. It will be such a waste if you don’t take pictures of that coffee shop"

"YAH! I almost run out of my photo film already! You took pictures for every 'cute' place you visited!" He emphasized 'cute' word. She was forcing him to take picture for every places she thought it's cute, when Hanbin himself thought that the places were not even worthy.

"I promise this time, it will be a good place, Hanbin. See..." She showed a picture of the coffee shop that she found from the internet to Hanbin. 

Hanbin, being skeptical as he was, didn't believe that picture. Hayi always showed him pictures of places that she wanted to go. Some of them didn't even look similar to the pictures. It irritated Hanbin.

"Beside, I'll pay for the coffees and cakes as a sorry"

He only shrugged as a response. Well, he couldn't say no to free food. He had already hungry since the last two shops, but he couldn't say anything to Hayi when that girl already moved to another shop.

Their walk to the coffee shop only took ten minutes. The place almost hidden among other building. If he didn't know that it was a coffee shop, he might think it's an ordinary house. 

They were kinda confused with how to enter the place because the door was almost invisible. It's actually painted in white, the same as the wall. It's really embarrassing moment for both of them. Not until a smiley guy, which he assumed was one of the staff of the cafe, finally opened the door for them.

When they entered the place, he was shocked to see that the place was exactly the same as the picture. The interior was really similar to ordinary house with zen design. The walls were painted in white while all the furniture in this place were in black and white or wood texture.

There were sofas and coffee table right beside the door, it's almost like his own living room. And if you went a little bit further to the cafe, it also had outdoor place for smokers with zen garden and small pebbles around it.

There's long common table right in front of the  order table. The order table itself was a long table that connected to the coffee bar and cake dome.

They chose to sit in the corner of the room, close enough to see the menu behind the bar. Hayi sat there first while Hanbin order the coffees. He knew Hayi long enough to memorize her preference of coffee.

The girl loved iced americano with less sugar and two extra shot. She loved her coffee bitter. It's the exact opposite with Hanbin. The guy didn't really like coffee. He'd rather choose cookies and cream blend than coffee. Blame his childish tongue.

He made his way to the cashier to drop his order. There was the same guy who opened the door for him and Hayi before. Hanbin assumed that guy was also around his age. He had kind smile and blonde hair.

“Welcome to The Halcyon. What do you want to order?” He asked. The smile never leave his lips.

Right when he opened his mouth, a deep husky voice distracted him. There he saw the cutest guy he’d ever seen in his life. The barista was slightly taller than him. His hair was brunette and pushed back so Hanbin could see his nice forehead. He only wore a black polo with brown apron, the standard uniform for barista, but he could be effortlessly handsome in that simple cloth.

The barista called the name of other customer once again and when the customer came to the bar to take her order, Hanbin could see the guy smiled to her while saying thank you. His smile was so blinding. The guy had uneven bunny teeth but that made his smile even cuter if that even make sense. Hanbin was dazed off for a while until a voice, too cheery for his liking, called him back to reality.

“Sir?”

Ah, that blonde cashier guy.

“Ah yes… Hmm… One iced americano with less sugar and two extra shots. One carrot cake. And…” Hanbin suddenly couldn’t decide what he wanted. Too distracted by the sexy back of the barista. The guy was making another coffee for another customer. His move was smooth but agile.

“One cookies and cream blend and one chocolate brownie”, he was surprised that he could finish his order.

“Okay, it will be 20.000 won. And with the name of…?”

“Kim Hanbin”, he said his name too fast and gave the cashier the exact amount of money. He really needed to come back to his seat to calm his beating heart because that barista called another customer’s name again.

When he was back to his seat, he saw Hayi’s scowling face. The girl wasn’t busy with her phone, which was unusual because Hayi always playing with her phone if she’s waiting over something.

“Why did you take a really long time to order?”

“I was kinda confused what to order and beside, you also took a really long time for shopping. So it’s equal”, he made up immediate excuse. He tried to act indifferent as if nothing happened.

“We’ve already been best friend since 2 years old and you forgot my coffee preference? What a bad friend.” He knew she only was joking when she said that. There’s no harm behind that words. “Anyway, did you see that barista? And no, please don’t turn around right away because he may think we are talking about him.” she continued with hushed voice.

“Yeah I saw him”, he said nonchalantly.

“Oh my god, he is so cute. I saw his smile to other customer and it was the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. And oh, his voice! Damn, I love that kind of voice!” she continued rambling about the nameless barista. Hanbin didn’t listen to her anymore, too busy to care that his best friend also having a crush on his crush. It wasn’t the first time for this case to happen, but Hayi didn’t have to know that.

“Can I get our order instead when he calls your name?”

“WHAT?” now he paid attention to her.

“Huh? I said, I will get our order instead”, she clicked her tongue and continued “So I can see him that close… and maybe get a smile?”

He wanted to say no and be selfish for the first time since he saw that guy first. He wanted to get their order so he could see his smile up close. But his heart also saying that there’s no way this guy would like Hanbin. He’s not that kind of guy. Hanbin was 100% sure that this guy was as straight as a ruler and there would be no chance for him.

While Hayi, Hayi was the prettiest girl for Hanbin. He knew he didn’t like girls in that way, but for Hanbin, Hayi was gorgeous. She had long black hair with big round eyes and cute lips. She could be a dork and still looked beautiful. Any normal men would fall for her charm.

Hanbin ever thought that if one day his parents forced him to marry, the only girl he could think of was Hayi. Hayi probably would understand her best friend’s situation and agreed to marry him. There’s no way he came out to his parents. Beside, his parents already knew Hayi for too long and they would be happy if he ended up marry her. The thought of him and Hayi would have family together is so gross for Hanbin.

So he agreed. He gave up his crush again for the nth time. He always let Hayi win.

“Kim Mambin-sshi”, the barista called, but Hanbin was too tired to even care because in the end, Hayi would be the one that took their order and met him (and probably will date him in the future).

The guy called his name again but this time Hayi heard it and she immediately went up to the bar to take the order. Hanbin saw the barista guy also gave Hayi his sweetest smile and thanking her. He didn’t know if that guy was naturally kind or it’s just obligation.

Hayi went back to their seat with happy smile on his face. She kept talking about her encounter with that cute barista. All her words went blur for Hanbin. He didn’t pay attention and only gave nod and shrug as a response. Hayi was ecstatic to notice Hanbin’s drastic mood change.

It was late and Hanbin just wanted to go home. He wanted to forget his crush to the cute barista when Hayi suddenly said something that made Hanbin wanted to explode. She asked Hanbin to send a note for that barista. Hanbin wanted to scream at her. He really wanted to tell her that he’s also having crush for that guy. But in the end, he didn’t do that. He tried to fake his reaction instead. And being the best friend who always supporting her, he only could give small words of encouragement. The words itself could lit up Hayi’s mood.

“Please write my name and my number in the napkin”, she said while giving Hanbin her pen.

“I just write your name and your number? That’s it?”

“No, dummy. Write something. A message. I don’t know, maybe something like ‘Hey, if you’re not gay, my friend thinks you’re cute. Here’s her number: 010-0923-1996.’ Whatever you want, Hanbin.”

“Fine.” He wrote the exact same words as what Hayi had told him and also wrote her name.

“Wait, did you really write it?” her voice full with shock after she read what Hanbin had written on the napkin. “Are you crazy?”

“Why? You are the one that told me to write this!”

“Yeah but I didn’t think you would do that for real!”

She looked at the napkin once again and laughed. “Well, it’s okay though. It’s a funny message even though I’m sure he is straight. C’mon, let’s go home!”

Hayi stood up from her seat and gather all her belongings including all her shopping bags while Hanbin walked to the bar again. He read and reread the napkin. He was contemplating to do something crazy. He usually let his crush on someone aside, but this time, he felt the urgency to do something or he might be going crazy instead. The cute barista was one of a kind and he was different with any guys that Hanbin ever met before. He probably would never meet with this guy again later. This was his only chance.

“Fuck it”, he thought. So, he grabbed a pen near the cashier and wrote something under Hayi’s message.

‘And if you are gay, here’s mine: 010-1022-1996. The name is Kim Hanbin by the way, not Kim Mambin’

He folded the napkin neatly so the message that visible in the front was Hayi’s message, but if the barista unfolds the napkin he also could see Hanbin’s message under it. He gather up his courage and walked to the barista. The guy was talking to the cashier guy and immediately stopped when he saw Hanbin was standing in front of the bar.

“Can I help you, sir?” He asked politely.

It was the first time Hanbin heard his voice beside calling other customer’s name. He liked that voice already.

“Umm… My friend wants me to give you this”, he handed the napkin and say thanks. He left the cafe right away because he couldn’t stand his wildly beating heart. He also missed the face on the cute barista when he unfolded the napkin and saw their messages.

---

One week later Hanbin received a message from unknown number. At first he was confused because he didn’t remember he gave his number to stranger. The sudden realization hit him and he almost screamed at his room.

“Hey, Kim Hanbin not Kim Mambin. I’m the cute barista from the cafe you were asking out last week. We should go on date some time, I know this delicious Mexican restaurant near Hongdae. The name is Kim Jiwon, by the way :)”

He never expecting he would get a message from the cute barista, let alone knew his name. He had given up and thought that maybe, just maybe, the barista already contacted Hayi and asked her to go on a date. But here he was, reading and rereading the same message for hundredth times and couldn’t stop smiling.

It was just a simple message asking if he wanted to go on a date to Mexican restaurant near Hongdae but the sender itself was the one who made him smile from ear to ear. He replied with a simple “Yes, I’d love to” to that message immediately. And if he needed to make an explanation to Hayi, he thought that girl could understand her best friend.

[popculturesoapco]

Hello, my name is Anna and I started Pop Culture Soap Company.

I’ve always been a crafty kind of person and that’s what lead me to soap making. About 6 years ago I made my first batch of soap. Along the way I learned how to do different techniques and truly perfect the art. What I ended up creating was a high quality soap bar that not only makes your skin feeling clean but also leaves it hydrated and feeling moisturized. I decided at this point that I wanted to one day turn my hobby into a business. If you know me you know I always have something crazy or funny to say that usually involves terrible dad jokes despite being a 25 year old woman with no children. I took that fact into consideration when picking the name for my business and decided on Pop Culture Soap Company because I knew no matter what, pop culture would never fail to give me an excuse to use a pun or a quirky name for a product; and that’s how this whole shebang got started. Over time I begin to question the ingredients in store bought soap bars and found that most weren’t even soap at all, they were bars full of detergents, surfactants, and preservatives that truly aren’t necessary. It’s at that point I made it my personal mission to only used ingredients that were, 1. absolutely necessary and 2. recognizable to the average eye. I hold the belief that you should feel comfortable with the things you are putting on and in your body. For the past 5 years I’ve been putting my time and energy into perfecting my product recipes so that everyone can enjoy them to their fullest. Should you choose to purchase from us we know you will love our soaps and body products just as much as we do. Next came another question, ‘How can I continue to do the thing I love doing most AND help others in the process?’ That’s when the idea hit me, ‘What if for every bar of soap someone purchased from me I gave back to another in need?” and that was the start of “Get one, Give one”. Being clean has a bigger impact than you could ever imagine, the ability to be able to give back even something as small as a bar of soap to someone in need is an incredible feeling. If we can make just one person smile or make them feel just a little more human then we have succeeded (although it would be totally awesome if we could hit a million soaps donated one day). So with that I would love to welcome you to the Pop Culture Soap Co. Family follow us here, instagram, facebook, or twitter @popculturesoapco and we will keep you updated on all things PCSC, new products, donation days, website updates, and questions on what you would like to see next. If you’ve made it this far I truly appreciate you taking the time to read all of this and would be appreciative if you would share our page with your friends. If you have any questions or would like to place an order just send a message and I’ll answer it ASAP! Thank you! -Anna :)

www.popculturesoapco.com

[besotacito]

Instagram

Group: ToppDogg / XENO-T

Pairing: broken!XeSol (Xero/Hansol/Minsung)

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Angst, AU, romance

Trigger warnings: non-explicit mention of depression/suicide attempts.

Word count: 2,133

Note: This is the first time I make an attempt at writing a fanfic in English. I originally wrote it in Spanish so most of it is actually just translated, but there are some parts I edited and adapted so it’d sound a bit better? in English, I guess. Please do notify me of inconsistencies or grammar mistakes. 

As for the fanfic itself, please note that it is only fiction even if it mirrors some things that happened in reality. I hope it doesn’t offend anyone in any way. I wrote this because I’m an emo lil shit who needed to make herself suffer with a made-up angsty scenario that helps her assimilate that she’s never getting more XeSol moments ever again, probably. So that’s it. I can’t promise you’ll enjoy reading it because I cried writing it, so.

Yeah so how are you these days?

I’m still the same, can’t sleep

Your short hair looked so pretty

But I didn’t press like

‘Cause it just seems a bit ridiculous

His fingers scroll down his white smartphone screen. His room is pitch dark and he has been looking at his phone like this for a while, which is not good at all for his eyes. Or his heart. His mind is going back to a million memories of past years and his heart starts clenching little by little. Judging from his Instagram profile, in the end he followed his alternative path, the ‘B plan’ that he remembers having heard about back in their trainee days.

“I think I’ll just be a choreographer if this idol thing doesn’t work out,” he had said jokingly, although he looked like, deep inside, he meant it.

“Don’t say that. We’ll make it work. We’ll do fine, you’ll see. The name ‘ToppDogg’ by itself already feels successful,” he replied back, ruffling the other boy’s hair.

He was not surprised at all by the quality of his choreographies. Hansol- no, Minsung, Jiho reminded himself, was gifted when it came to dancing and not only that, but he was also an innate performer who knew how to combine both dancing and aesthetic features in a unique artistic way. Even so, he had to reckon the boy had improved a hell of a lot. His dancing style was very far from that of the boy who practiced dancing with him in the academy over 7 years ago.

He accidentally clicked on one of his most recent pictures, but he didn’t press the back button. He stared at it. His face looked radiant in spite of not having a smile on it. He looked fine—stable, calm, perhaps even happy. Jiho hoped it was like that. He hoped that he was at least as happy as he had always wanted and deserved. At least it was noticeable that was not the same sad Hansol- no, Minsung, that he had seen for the last time. It was a relief. He wasn’t the same person. He didn’t even look like the one in the old memories of Jiho, if he took a moment to carefully analyse the pictures. Truth be told, Jiho felt like he didn’t know who that boy in the pictures was. They had lived together for many years and shared countless experiences, but he didn’t know that person. Minsung? Jiho had no idea who that was; where he came from. He could barely remember Hansol and he wasn’t sure Hansol remembered him.

The last time they met… Jiho would’ve never imagined it would be the last time and that everything would go downhill from there. Hansol- no, Minsung, dammit, sent him a text on KakaoTalk asking to hang out in a café, just to get some distraction. Back then, it had been long since they had had a schedule as ToppDogg. The promotions for their last album had finished months ago and they weren’t working on new songs or performances or anything of the sort. Everyone were kind of worried about how things were going. Everyone, but especially Hansol. Minsung.

“Hey, sorry I’m kind of l-”

Jiho remembers coming up to the boy to greet him, but as soon as he came a little bit closer he could see the tears streaming desperately down his face. He couldn’t even finish his sentence before he had wrapped his arms around the other’s small frame. Hansol was trembling. Minsung. No, back then he was Hansol.

“Aren’t you tired?” Hansol asked out of the blue after being quiet for some minutes, just barely sipping on his coffee while trying to calm himself down and stop sobbing.

“Mm? Tired… of what? I’d say I’ve had lots of time to get some rest,” he replied jokingly, pretending he didn’t know what Hansol meant.

“That’s the problem, you see. I’m tired of this. Of trying again and again and failing. I’m tired of everything.”

“Hey, don’t think like that. We gotta stay positive. Maybe things aren’t going the way we’d like them to, but we still have our fans and our company—”

“Don’t be silly, Jiho,” he cut him off. “Do you think our fans are gonna wait forever? That they’ll stay by a failed group? Our company’s trying hard for any other artist that’s not us.”

“Hansol,” he called out, covering the boy’s hand with his own on the table, “we knew it wouldn’t be easy, but we can’t lose hope. I trust us and what we can achieve together.”

Hansol looked like he was actually contemplating what Jiho had said, but replied:

“Your optimism is stupid, Jiho.” And retreated his hand to take a hold of his coffee.

After that, they fell silent for a long time. Jiho fidgeted with his fingers over the table. This conversation was making him feel uneasy and awkward; he didn’t know what to say. But more than anything, he was worried about Hansol.

“Has it gotten worse, lately? Have you been feeling worse?” he asked softly, only for Hansol to hear.

“…I just wanna escape from this hell,” he muttered back, not looking at his eyes.

Jiho didn’t know what to say, as per usual, so he chose to stay quiet. Neither of them said anything else for some minutes. Jiho couldn’t even look at Hansol in the face because he felt horrible for not being able of offering more comfort than his stupid optimism. That’s why he flinched a little when he felt Hansol’s hand back on his, caressing his fingers. Jiho didn’t stop him, because he liked the sensation. Because he missed him. Because deep inside, Jiho knew he had committed a mistake that he would always regret, even if he had done it thinking it was the best option for them back then.

“Hansol-”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Their voices overlapped.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m leaving to China for a few months. To study dancing.”

“What?”

Jiho retreated his hand and straightened up in his seat, almost in shock.

“But… what about the group? Does the company know about this? Did they approve of this?”

There was this look in Hansol’s eyes while he mustered up the courage to finally say:

“…Jiho, I’m leaving ToppDogg.”

In that moment, it felt as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. He couldn’t react. It took him a few moments to grasp what was happening. Leaving to China to study dancing? Leaving the group? Had he lost his mind?

“Do you realise you’re sabotaging the group and being selfish?” was the first thing he managed to say, not really thinking about what he was saying.

“Excuse me? I am sabotaging the group?” Hansol raised his tone a bit. “May I remind you, it was Hyunho and Dongsung who left us first. Hyosang and Taeyang left us too.”

Jiho bit his lip. He knew Hansol was right, but right now his heart was in pain from just imagining Hansol leaving the group and going to another country for who knows how long.

“There is nothing we can do about this anymore, don’t you realise that? What do you want me to stay here for? To see how life passes me by and nothing gets better no matter how hard I try?”

“…You could stay with me.”

Everything became quiet for a few moments that seemed to last for way longer while both of them stared into each other’s eyes. Jiho could see the tears welling up in Hansol’s eyes while he bit his lips and shook his head.

“Please, don’t do this to me…” he muttered in a thin voice.

“If you leave the group, then I will too. We can start all over, together. No fearing and no hiding this time, we won’t have to-”

“Jiho, don’t,” Hansol cut him off softly, getting a bit closer and holding his hands on the table. “That’s not what you want. Besides, it was you who took the decision years ago. There’s no going back now.”

Hansol’s voice sounded so gentle and composed in spite of the tears in his eyes that it was hard to believe what he was saying was hurting Jiho as if a million knives were stabbing his body.

“Why’d you ask me to come, then? If it was going to be like this, you could’ve as well just texted me goodbye.”

You shouldn’t have given me hopes that I was still in time of holding onto you, is what he wanted to say. But didn’t.

“I just wanted to see you for one last time…”

Back then, Jiho couldn’t control the burst of emotions he felt. His sadness mingled with the anger he felt towards himself for having been an idiot and also with the frustration of being so helpless—Hansol was slipping right through his fingers and out of his life, and he couldn’t do anything to stop him.

“That’s it, then. You can leave now. Leave and don’t think of coming back. I hope you know you’re being an asshole.”

He raised his voice more than he should have. His word choice was more aggressive than it should have. Unlike his usually composed self, this time he finally burst. His emotions burst in the worse way possible. They ended up yelling ugly things at each other; hard feelings that had been building up inside them for a long time. Jiho smashed his fist on the table before leaving behind an upset and sobbing Hansol. He shouldn’t have done that. He still feels ashamed of his shitty and immature reaction and regrets everything he did and said that day. Hansol didn’t deserve that.

Somehow, he reached the end of his Instagram pictures. They weren’t many. He remembered the boy had a habit of deleting them. He also noticed he kept only a few pictures of his last days in China and seeing him in those pictures makes his heart clench in fear again. In fear of knowing that he was close to losing him for real, forever. Those had been the worst days Jiho has even been through in his whole life and he hopes he won’t have to ever go through something like that again. At least the latest pictures make him feel a bit more reassured, for it seems that old Hansol he knew doesn’t torment Minsung like he used to do. He looks cared for and surrounded by people. Jiho can only hope for him to never be lonely and for all of those people to be with Minsung when he cannot.

A few pictures above the last ones from China is one from their debut. That one was uploaded when his departure from the group was made official. Jiho didn’t come out of his room for a whole week. In the picture, Hansol thanks everyone. Jiho clenches his fist. He should’ve thanked him the last time he saw him. He should’ve thanked him for helping him make it into ToppDogg. He should’ve thanked him for all of the good moments they shared together. He should’ve thanked him for loving him in spite of the big asshole Jiho could be at times and which he was until their last meeting. He should’ve thanked him for existing—he should’ve wished him success. Had he done that, who knows; maybe Hansol wouldn’t have been on the edge of an abyss. Had he done that, maybe he would find his username when he types it into the list of people Minsung follows.

Jiho decides to call it a night, but then he sees there is a picture of Hyosang on Minsung’s account and he clicks it almost immediately. Oh, he wished him a happy birthday. To the one who abandoned them—but didn’t break his heart or curse him out for trying to pursue his dreams—; he wished a happy birthday to him. Then he finally clicks the ‘back’ button, which closes Instagram and, instead and unknowingly, shows him the time and date: 5:24 a.m., February 3rd.

As he tries to fall asleep, he fails to fight back the tears that wet his pillow while he cannot brush off the memories of Hansol coming into his room with a big smile on his face and holding a big cake with tons of colourful candles on his hands just when the clock struck twelve o’clock. He won’t see that Hansol anymore. If he could turn back time and take seriously the three wishes Hansol insisted for him to make year after year before blowing out the candles, he would use one to wish ToppDogg to be successful and two to wish for Hansol to never leave his side.