#this has been in my drafts for a solid week now and since tonight is for silt verses....?

[notbecauseofvictories]

carpenter and hayward are on a smoke break discussing important things, definitely related to the running of the Grace and not just...whatever they can think of to fill the silence, when they fall into exchanging bitterly amusing work stories. hayward brings up a messy partner, who left chocolate stains on evidence and documents and also (worse, somehow) hayward's hand; carpenter rolls her eyes and offers up her first partner, who was so bowled over by every minor coincidence that she was constantly on her knees. hayward mentions the LT who called him "jimmy" for a full year; carpenter snorts and says she can top it---

carpenter's halfway through a story about vaughn---clever, black-humored vaughn, who fell out of touch once they got their fancy new job, but was a bright spot in her young life all the same---when hayward's eyes flick over carpenter's shoulder, and he goes still.

".....paige?" he says. His voice has gone panicky, quiet.

when carpenter turns, paige is the palest she's ever seen her. (and carpenter has had the dubious honor of holding paige's hair back during a recent bad bout---she's seen paige very pale indeed.)

carpenter swallows, asks, "everything all right?"

"I...want to know how it ends," paige says, almost dazed. "how does it end?"

[posttexasstressdisorder]

When in doubt, BAKE! Pt. 685: Saturday Night Bread

It's been one fuck of a week again, and my world has been changed drastically, and today I said fuck it I'm gonna bake bread.

This batch is about 60-40 Whole Wheat-White, a "Whole wheat Light"...it usually makes excellent sammy bread. It has some heft, but it's not so heavy as pure whole wheat.

Not sure if I've posted about THE BOOK yet, but this is THE BOOK if you really REALLY want to get good at baking bread:

"The Laurel's Kitchen BREAD BOOK", written in 1984 as a followup to the classic Laurel's Kitchen, by Laurel Roberston, Carole Flinders et.al. Carole and Laurel were both excellent writers, and the book is a pleasure to read. It's got the typical hippie wood cuts (they were in Berkeley, after all) and is my home bread-baker's bible. They wouldn't approve tonight's loaves, which are padded with white flour. lulz. I give myself lots of fail room when I haven't baked in awhile.

The original Laurel's Kitchen was the very first vegetarian cookbook I ever read, it was 1981, I'd just moved to Houston to work in the record stores...learned a lot from that book, but one trick they used can no longer be used, and they stressed that in the Bread Book: No baking in 48 oz juice cans (which they had championed in the first book). Now they line the cans with poisonous coatings, can't use them. Which is fine with me...I like my bread square/rectangular, when I'm makin' sammies.

Started this batch with 3 cups whole wheat, 2 1/2 cups white, and a tablespoon of salt, dry in the mixer bowl. Mix on low for about a minute to mix thoroughly. Replace the paddle with the dough hook.

In a 4-cup Pyrex measure, put 2 1/2 cups luke-warm water, and in a 1 cup measure, put 1/2 cup lukewarm water.

Into that one cup, put a tablespoon of brown sugar. Put another tablespoon of brown sugar in the large measure. Sprinkle one tablepoon of dry yeast into the small measure and stir.

With the mixer on the first speed, with the dough hook, slowly pour the yeast mix into the dry ingredients in the bowl. Follow with the rest of the water/sugar.

Now start adding small amounts of white flour until it begins to "pick up" and starts cleaning the bowl. In between these additions of flour, add, about a tablespoon at a time, 2 tablespoons of softened salted butter. The dough should pick up and become quite soft after a few more minutes.

After mixing on the first speed for about five minutes with the dough hook, turn it out onto a floured countertop and finish kneading by hand.

It'd been so long since I had my hands on some warm, live dough...and it made me smile, it's such an amazing feeling to work with it in its various stages.

Once it's become a good, solid dough from hand kneading for about five minutes, form it into large ball, and put in a large crockery bowl that's been buttered. Turn the ball to coat, place a linen towel atop and place in a draft-free, warm zone. That cabinet in the spot above the fridge is perfect. After about an hour and a half, it should be lookin' good, and a finger-poke in the middle won't "fill in".

Mash it down, making sure you get ALL the trapped air bubbles out. Form it into a ball again, and put it back in the bowl, and let it rise a SECOND TIME for about 40-45 minutes tops. It should take roughly half the time of the first rise.

Mash it down the second time, and flatten in to a big rectangle, and divide it in half. Let it rest for about five minutes.

Now form into loaves and put in the long bread loaf pans, pre-greased with shortening.

Put them back above the fridge, covered, for about 20 minutes, until they are just arching above the tops of the pans.

Put them into the 400 degree oven and let them bake for 15 minutes. AFTER 15 MINUTES, TURN THE TEMPERATURE DOWN TO 350, WITHOUT OPENING THE OVEN DOOR.

Let bake for another 30-40 minutes.

Loaves are done when they have a hollow sound when tapped, much like a watermelon when ripe.

Turn out of pans immediately and cool on racks until completely cool. Brush the tops with melted butter, if you like.

This is a good everyday bread for sammies and toast. Using butter, and using the higher temp for the initial "spring" time helps give this a solidly crunchy crust, and the blend of flours gives it a very nice texture and crumb. Yields two large loaves.

Baker gets first slice slathered in softened butter.

Y'all enjoy! I'm off to stand under the hot water for a good long while.

[gren-arlio]

CAUTION: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CRIMINAL?

(Image made by @kirstenonic05. Huge help on this, so thank you.)

Hello, one and all, it's Gren here. Today is Witch's birthday as well as Halloween, and to celebrate such a momentous occasion for the girl who appears in oh so many of my posts, I'm gonna to do two things besides say happy birthday to her.

An in-depth look on what The Witch has committed, her devious crimes.

How to handle/deal with/tolerate her if you're a random person, or you're a special guy.

Possible prosecution of her. Keyword "Possible".

I basically became Schezo's Private Investigator for a solid few months and today, I'm here to drop it all out for the press to see. Puyo fans are gonna be in shambles tonight.

This will be a detailed tutorial on what happens if you see The Witch, how to deal with her, and what happens if she approaches you. Hope you enjoy this overly elaborate shitpost.

-----

What IS The Witch?

For those blissfully unaware, The Witch is a wanted criminal, a young 15 year old felon who often resides in the realms of Madou Monogatari and Puyo Puyo, owned formerly by COMPILE, now by SEGA.

(A rough draft of what the suspect looks like. Be careful. Actual draft of her from Madou Monogatari Saturn.)

She seems harmless, but that's how she gets you. Never trust teenage girls who can brew potions, I learned that the hard way.

Commonly, she's a blonde haired, blue eye teenage girl, about 5'2 (158 CM) and 99 pounds (45KG), seen with a blue robe with tints of white and red, a blue hat and some of the worst shoe game I've ever seen.

However, she has been seen in a green robe with a red amulet, a steampunk outfit, and even cosplay as either Arale Norimaki from Dr. Slump, a literal cat, and Emilia from Re:Zero. (Besides the cat one, all really good alts in Quest design wise and Puyo-N just has good designs.)

(Video recording of The Witch cooking something malevolent)

-----

What? Crimes?

You heard me right good folks, as the guy who has documented her misdeeds for weeks on end, (AKA I've been casually researching other games and she appears,) I have found many of her criminal acts, some worse than others, and some shit I definitely made up. Here are a few cases, some of which are somewhat stretching the definition, but it's alright:

Attempted Murder:

Most notably committed in Madou Monogatari Saturn, where whilst getting kidnapped by Incubus, she absolutely torched the man. Could claim self defense but still.

Harassment:

Mostly to Schezo, when you stretch the definition long enough, it can be considered verbal harassment. If you count 4Komas and Compile Club Underground Edition, visual harassment is...certainly on the table.

(Attempted) Petty Theft:

More notable in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, where she tries many-a-times to get Schezo's robes, even threatening assault if he didn't.

Assault:

Threatened Schezo with it for his clothes in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, saying she'll rip them off.

You may ask, "Aren't Puyo matches assault cases?" And to that, I say...no. Usually, it's a joint agreement. The same goes for Waku Puyo, it's part of the attraction itself, the person somewhat signed up for it. However, I don't think personally trying to rip someone's clothes was part of the rules.

Drugging:

Most noticeable in the Tottemo Puyo Puyo Manga, where she drugged Arle with a love potion to make her fall in love with them, but it failed. Badly.

(Not many people know this one too much, so I thought I'd show the time where the crime occurred.)

Possession/Distribution of Alcohol to and as a Minor:

In Puyo 20th Anniversary, she just so happened to have something that made our boy Klug feel a tad unwise. Apparently happened to Lagnus too in Quest, but we're unsure, since it came from a 2nd source.

(Also, I know she didn't mean to give Klug it, but...why did she have it anyways?)

Crimes Against Schezo Wegey:

Along with almost every crime here, during the run of Compile, she's committed the worst one of them all: Being a Simp.

Easily the most notable for me, In Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, she's normal to almost everyone else (she has beef with Rulue for some reason,) but the minute Schezo is in a 2 mile radius, she "forgets" to take her normal pills.

(Image recording of her harassing Mr. Wegey. She's just saying "it" looks super cool, leaving Schezo confused on whatever she meant, and yes. It's about his clothes.)

Second most notable (for me) is PuyoLympics, where the SECOND he takes off his robe to show the uniform he got, she starts acting a little unwise, to put it bluntly.

(Prelude image seconds before The Witch commits her worst crime yet. Being a Simp. Also the NicoNico video I saw for this had some of the most down bad dudes ever, don't become them please)

We also must speak about her acting unwise when she saw Madou Saturn Schezo, asking to touch the man.

And how could we forget when she got possessed by Marle, who totally gave her back her Madou conscious after laying dormant for God knows how many years and began her quest of simping yet again?

Saying submit to me, saying that she doesn't know why she feels so desperate for him all of a sudden, and then prolongs the word fun? Marle was scheming that day...

(First off, somehow I got this with both her eyes closed. Didn't expect that. Second, why does it look like Schezo is grabbing his own name box?)

We can forgive many of her crimes. But we can't forgive this crime specifically.

-----

What Do You Do When You See The Witch?

Now, most likely, you'd want to report her to the feds, the police if you will. But her world doesn't have police somehow, and that's rough buddy. However, The Witch is a very social person, and might want to talk to you.

This will be a step by step guide on what to do if you're a normal person near The Witch or if you're Schezo. Gotta look out for everyone.

However, for all:

The Witch is incredibly dangerous, and unless you're a relative, odds are, something malicious WILL be brewing.

Willingly going near her is dangerous as well, but if you live for danger, ignore this section.

For the Everyday Guy:

Keep your distance. The easiest thing to do, thankfully. If you don't approach her, odds are, she won't interact with you unless she wants something.

Don't own a Meteor Grimoire. She can sense that.

If she decides to go near you, do not panic, nor run yet. She has magic, you don't most likely, so unless you want a fireball or a Meteor hitting you, don't run.

Keep the talk short and brief. Prolonged exposure can be detrimental to your health in the long run.

If she asks for something, there's two ways to go around it. You can either give it to her quickly, or be the innocent victim of her next robbery/crime.

Don't try anything she gives you. Ever.

This is a split path. If she tries to take something from you, you can either choose to finally run or fight. Thankfully, she's pretty average at Puyo, so a good player can fend her off.

If everything goes well, she will leave you alone. And if you run, she probably won't chase you that much since you're just kinda a random dude to her.

For Schezo Wegey: (Or People in a Similar Scenario)

Before you even go out, don't wear cool-looking robes.

Don't own a Meteor Grimoire. She will sense that, especially if you're Schezo.

Same with the everyday man, keep your distance. If she spots you, it's absolutely over. Schezover, even.

If she spots you, everything changes now from the everyday man. She wants to approach you, she wants you...r items, or actually legit you. Don't show visible panic. Pretend she's not coming.

There's no shot you're going to be able to keep conversations short, she probably knows that you're trying to leave fast. However, try to keep your responses short enough, but not short to the point that she catches on.

If she asks for You, do NOT panic externally, which is easier said than done. Try to ask to elaborate. If she doesn't, you're fucked. If she does, give the thing to her...unless it's your clothes.

If you run, she's will very much chase you. There's several pieces of evidence for that, and unless you can run 100 meters in maybe 12 seconds, she will catch up to you with her broom. Even then, stamina issues for people, and she flies. Don't risk it unless you're absolutely confident.

This is a situation where you want her to leave first. If you noticed with some of the times Schezo gets harassed, she tended to leave first (Puyo 20th, Waku Puyo,) while in some cases, Schezo got out first (Madou Saturn, PuyoLympics but that went poorly), so try to make her leave first by doing...God know what.

If she tries to fight you, fight back. Self-defense is always good, and if you're Schezo or have a body similar to his, odds are her Meteor will hit you, but you'll survive. He's survived worse, you probably can too.

If everything goes well, you're free. Least for a little longer.

If you lose the fight, and everything else failed, FUCKING RUN. If Schezo can do it upon losing to her in Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon, you can too. Probably. Maybe.

Proof you can probably survive a Meteor:

(The Witch uses her spell...for 66 damage.)

-----

Let's Say, Theoretically, She Gets Arrested. What Happens?

(Old image my girlfriend made years ago. Little did we know how it'd end.)

Prosecuting her will very much be a challenge because simply put, there's no damn police in Madou/Primp. Well, good ones at least.

For you see, there ARE police in Primp or Madou as a whole. But in Quest, there's police in Intral City, the place Atari's from, but unfortunately, even in there, they don't exactly do much.

Call up Miles Edgeworth and teleport him here, then we got a shot, or even some other stupid good lawyer.

I'm no Laywer, but I think she'd go to jail for her crimes.

-----

Conclusion:

The Witch is a very dangerous felon. Armed and Dangerous, it's best to stay as far away as possible, especially if your name is Schezo Wegey or occasionally Arle Nadja. If you see her...well, you have the steps, or you can say fuck it and ball. Your choice.

-----

And Now, Actual Updates:

I enjoyed writing this, it was fun. With this, I'll repeat myself from last posts.

I'll be taking a 2 week break from this. I'm experiencing minor burnout and I do need a break, I've been doing this consistently for a couple of months now.

I'll also be taking a break during Thanksgiving week, Christmas, and New Years week as well to spend time with family.

Thank you all for your support, it means an absolute ton to me and I'm grateful I have people who actually love my work. Hell, I've even made a few new friends from this, and I couldn't be any happier with the progress I made.

I began this stuff on the notion that no one will read these, but it'd be better to document these sorta things just for fun. Little did I know, a little over 35 followers later, that people would enjoy what I made and the info I share, even if some of it is... somewhat peculiar. The support I've gotten from the community is unreal, and it's genuinely appreciated that you guys care so much. Even you reading this means a lot to me.

Thanks guys. Happy Halloween. Hope you enjoyed the show.

[huggybug]

what happens in vegas… - mark estapa

word count: 2.4k words

“He’s fine” 

“No he’s not” You argue, “He’s just saying he is” Luke sighed as he watched you type furiously on your phone.

“Have you talked to him? Has anyone?” You were supposed to be in Montreal with him but you had to cancel last minute and Mark assured you it was okay but you still felt horrible. So, you were at home, in Michigan, watching the draft with Luke.

“I haven’t since a couple hours ago but I’m sure Eddy’s talked to him” Luke nods, pulling out his phone, presumably to text Ethan. You’re about to ask what you should do for Mark when your phone starts ringing. You don’t have to look to know who it is; excusing yourself from Luke, you walk down the hall, away from everyone so that you can talk to Mark in private.

“Hey Marky” You answer quietly, unsure what mood your best friend would be in.

“Were you watching?” His voice is rough and you feel a sharp pang hit your heart.

“Yeah-”

“You shouldn’t have. It was a waste”

“Mark…” You sighed.

“Don’t try to make me feel better, okay? I just… I don’t want to think about it anymore” You knew better than to push your luck with this so you bit your tongue, changing the subject instead.

“You’ll be home tonight, right?”

“Yup, heading to the airport now”

“Okay” You let out a breath, “See you later then”

…

Three solid knocks on your front door sent you running through your house, desperate to see your best friend.

“Hey- woah!” Mark stumbled back when you flung yourself into his arms. “What’s going on?”

“I missed you and I know you don’t want to talk about it but I’m sorry, I really wish things had gone better” You could feel him deflate in your arms but it was only for a second before he squeezed you tight.

“I missed you too” It had only been about a week since you last saw him. “But I actually have some news”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm can I come in or do I have to tell you out here?” You rolled your eyes, dragging him into your house. You two ended up in the kitchen and you slid a drink to him, waiting for him to crack it open before he finally tells you the news. “I was invited to Vegas for development camp”

Your eyes widen and your arms shoot up in the air in excitement. “Mark! That’s amazing!” You hug him quickly and he laughs, thanking you in between.

“Yeah it’s next week so…”

“You’ll be gone next week?” You ask, feeling almost a little dejected. Although you’re quick to stuff that down because it’s not fair, Mark’s doing big things, really important things and you shouldn’t be upset with him for missing something as silly as your birthday.

“I know we were going to go to Toronto with everyone but…” You we’re officially going to be legal in Canada so Brendan decided months ago that your birthday trip would be to Toronto and everyone would meet there for a few days. The plans weren’t very well thought out since a lot of the guys would be at their respective development camp but you were still excited to go be with some of your friends again.

“What? No, c’mon it’s fine!” You waved your hand, smiling as if that would make your words more true. It was fine. You weren’t going to stop him from following his dreams just so you could go drink in Canada.

“Y/n…” He said quietly. You could tell he felt bad and you absolutely hated it.

“Mark…” You mocked right back at him. “I’m serious, we can go another time, it’s not a big deal”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Mark’s eyes lit up, as if he just came up with it on the spot.

“What?”

“My parents can’t go so I was just going alone but you should come! I mean you won’t be able to legally drink but… Moyle’s gonna be there! He can get us shit and we’ll party in the hotel room” Mark’s mind was running a mile a minute, the plan unfolding as he spoke.

“Nolan’s going?” You ask, confused as ever.

“Yeah and Briss will be there. C’mon Y/n/n it’ll be fun!” You’re pretty sure he was already looking for flights so there was no point in saying no.

“Okay fuck it let’s go to Vegas” You still had to talk to your parents but with how much they love Mark, you’re sure there would be no problem.

…

“You’re so stupid” Luke groaned over facetime that night. He was busy training for his World Juniors tryout camp but as soon as he got the text about your impromptu trip, you had an incoming call.

“Wha- Luke!” You whined which made him laugh.

“Sorry, you and Mark are stupid” Luke said with a grin. “Do you really think this is going to end well?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and when you don’t answer right away, he must take it as you don’t understand because he kindly begins to explain it to you. “You’re going to Vegas. With Mark. Mark Estapa, the guy you’ve liked since you met him but have been too scared to make a move”

Okay so maybe you liked Mark. He was a good guy, he took care of you at school and made sure you got home safe from parties, even if it meant walking across campus in the dead of winter. Mark was… he was your best friend but your relationship with him was very different than your relationship with Luke, your other best friend.

“I’m not scared” You weakly defend.

“Yeah okay” Luke scoffed.

“I’m going to Vegas with my best friend and you’re not ruining it for me”

“I’m not stopping you… just don’t make me say ‘I told you so’ when you come home” Luke said with a smirk.

“What exactly are you telling me Hughesy?” You sigh, not sure if you actually want to hear any more from him.

“If you go on this trip, you’re not coming out of it single” You laughed. Loudly.

“I managed a whole school year Luke, I’ll be fine” Luke shrugged, shaking his head.

“Alright say hi to Mark for me, unless you’re too busy kissing then don’t worry about it”

“Goodbye Luke” You say, rolling your eyes as you hang up.

…

“Welcome to Vegas, Baby!” Brendan yells as he slings an arm around you, dragging you out of the airport while Mark trails behind, dragging both of your suitcases.

“Where’s Nolan? Is he here already?” You ask as you watch the boys pack all the bags into the back of Brendan’s car.

“You just saw me for the first time in months and you’re asking about Moyle?” Brendan asks, offended.

Mark laughs and you smile, sliding into the seat next to him as Brendan gets in the drivers seat, taking a double take at the empty passengers seat beside him.

“What am I? A fucking Uber?” Brendan shrieks. “Ugh I didn’t know I’d be signing up for a week with the lovebirds, you guys are even worse than you were in AA, now you can’t be separated in the same car?” Luckily, the playful teasing from your friends wasn’t anything new but that didn’t stop you both from blushing.

You stayed quiet, watching out the window as the Las Vegas Strip came into view. Brendan talked almost the whole drive with Mark answering whenever he could get a word in.

Brendan helped you guys cart your stuff up to your room before disappearing, promising he’d be back later with Steve and Nolan, ready to celebrate your birthday. You asked him to bring along any other cute boys he found along the way; he laughed, Mark scowled.

…

“Happy Birthday to Y/n!” You winced as the boys serenaded you fairly off key but you clapped at the end anyways.

“Now drink!” Brendan cheered, sliding shots in front of each of you.

Your little birthday party had been going on for a couple hours now. Brendan had been forcing everyone to take a shot every 20 minutes, it was like he had a timer going. Nolan and Steve were honestly almost passed out on the couch while you sat with Mark on one bed and Brendan was sprawled on the other.

“We should go out” Brendan says suddenly, shooting up from the bed.

“We’re all underage” Mark points out and then glances at the couch, “The only two legal ones are already too far gone” You giggle when Nolan’s hand rises, flipping Mark off.

“I’m going out” Brendan announces, typing away on his phone.

You look to Mark who just shrugged, watching as Brendan moved around your hotel room, collecting his things.

“Take those two with you, they’re not crashing here” Mark said motioning to the two older boys. Brendan huffed but agreed, helping them off the couch and towards the door.

“Happy birthday kid” Steve slurred as he tripped out the door. You giggled into Mark’s shoulder.

“Be safe!” Nolan yelled as Brendan shoved him out of the apartment, the door closing quickly behind them.

The room is quiet except for the music still pumping through the speaker connected to Mark’s phone but you don’t say anything. You look up at Mark, he’s staring into space and it makes you laugh for some reason which then steals his attention.

“What?” He asks, laughing a little. You giggle in response, realizing just how much of an affect the alcohol has taken on your body tonight.

“You’re so pretty” You say with a straight face before breaking out in giggles.

“You’re prettier” Mark says back with a wink. “C’mon, let’s go walk around”

“It’s like 1 in the morning” You check your phone before looking up at a grinning Mark.

“We’re in Vegas, the city that never sleeps”

“That’s definitely not Vegas”

…

You were thoroughly drunk. Mark was practically carrying you down the Strip while you two giggled away. You were gone for an hour before you made your way back to your hotel, stumbling through the lobby like it was your first day walking.

Mark guided you into the elevator and pressed the button to your floor as you leaned tiredly into him. “Mark”

“What?” He asked, looking down at you.

“I’m a horrible friend” You say suddenly, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

“What- no, you’re not! You’re my best friend!” Mark slurred, stumbling through his words.

“I’ve been lying to you for months, that makes me bad”

Mark froze. The elevator doors dinged as they slid open but Mark stayed rooted in his place, staring down at you.

“Lying?” He said after a moment, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry Mark, please don’t be mad, I swear I didn’t want to ruin this but I should’ve told you. Just please don’t hate me” Your mind was running a mile a minute, trying to redeem yourself and save the sinking ship that was your and Mark’s friendship.

“Hey, no, I would never” Mark grabbed your hand, pulling you down the hall and into your room, shutting the door behind you. He expected you to head to bed but you stayed standing in front of him, obviously signalling that the conversation wasn’t over. “You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is, I promise I won’t be mad”

In that moment, something told you there was no going back from this. Maybe it was the softness in his eyes or maybe it was the way his thumb brushed against the back of your hand. Whatever it was, it made you think of Luke.

“Ugh Luke’s gonna kill me” You we’re already dreading having to tell him he was right.

Luke was unfortunately never wrong, especially when it came to you. However, this time you weren’t sure you were that upset about it.

“Luke?” Mark asked, not having a clue as to what Luke has to do with anything.

You decided… no time like the present. “I like you” You blurted. “I’ve liked you since I met you and I really hope you like me too but if you don’t… what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas so you can’t tell anyone!” It was your loophole. A stupid one but nonetheless, a loophole. Nobody would find out about this embarrassing confession because Mark couldn’t tell a soul, due to Las Vegas law.

“You like me?” Mark echoes, trying to figure out if what you were saying was in fact true. You just nod.

Mark is at a loss for words but luckily, he does t need any. He leans down, closing the gap between you two and suddenly his lips are against yours and then, fireworks are exploding because you are kissing Mark. Mark Estapa is kissing you!

Once you break away, Mark’s looking at you with a soft, fond look and you can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that” He says happily. “But… how does Luke fit in with this?”

You fill Mark in on everything Luke said about this trip and even some of the stuff he’s said in the past about you two. Mark informs you of the relentless chirps he got all season from the boys and it makes you laugh. After talking about it, you realize you’ve both practically been in love with each other all year but had yet to voice it so it obviously went unnoticed.

“We’ve kinda been stupid huh?” Mark asks and you laugh, agreeing.

“Yeah but it’s okay, I like ‘em a little dumb anyways” You wink and Mark shakes his head.

“Shut up” He tugs you closer and suddenly he’s kissing you again. You can feel him grinning into the kiss which makes you smile.

Everything feels so surreal. You’re in Vegas with the boy you like who apparently likes you back. Maybe this is the one thing that happens in Vegas that doesn’t necessarily have to stay in Vegas.

[urijihoons-blog]

Bokuto: Clarity

/ Kōtarō Bokuto x reader /

genre: fluff babyyyy

wc: 3126

summary: Finally, the truth has been revealed. You can finally look at him with clarity. After a little domestic bliss, you devise a plan to take down the one who wronged you, and it’s time to set it in motion. 

warnings: dOmEsTiC bLiSs

a/n: Hey guys!!! I am SO sorry this took so long!!!!!!! As answered previously, I got wrapped up in all the holidays and then just recently started back up at college so I’ve been putting this off, and then I noticed 2 days ago that my draft had completely deleted somehow so i started it again haha karma I guess!! ✌🏻🥺

BUT HERE IT IS AHA

pt4

///

You were stunned. Bokuto was explaining everything to you in extreme detail, slowly going over the past few weeks. Of course, he’d get a little off topic at times, getting too in depth about practices or games, which made you smile on the inside, but as soon as he’d realize he would continue his story. He told you how Tamra had acted as if she just was interested in talking volleyball, how she manipulated him into being her friend, and then how she won the trust of the whole team. Bokuto never saw it coming. You wondered if he felt as stupid as you did right in this moment.

“When I saw you after I opened that door,” Bokuto eyes lit up slightly at the thought, a small smirk forming through his low laugh. “I felt as if I had finally come up for air. You looked so excited, your face was more beautiful than I remembered and your eyes,” he looked down at your intertwined hands, you turning his ring on his finger. “were so bright.” A darkness came over his features and his voice started to shake, your body tensed in response. You knew the next part all too well. “I should’ve never said she could come over, I should have never even been friends with her, Y/N.” Tears started to trail down the sides of his cheeks, making you tear up as well. “I’m so sorry,” his voice broke as he laid his head facedown on the bed next to your side, clutching onto your hand as if it had been his life line. “I’m so so sorry.”

“You can’t be sorry for being yourself.” You squeezed his left hand with one of your own, and put the other in his hair, softly trying to comfort him. “You thought she had no one, so you tried to be a good friend. You can not be at fault for trying to be kind.”

“That doesn’t matter, Y/N. I was not kind to who matters,” his shoulders shook slightly as he continued to cry into the duvet. “You. When you started to cry in the room, and I tried to hold you, you flinched under my touch. When you got in that elevator, there was no light in your eyes. Your beautiful face had shattered. I did that to you, Y/N.” He sobbed now. “I should’ve done right by you.” You squeezed his hand tighter, letting him know you’re still there. “I want to do right- I need to do right by you.”

“Bo,” you cooed. His head lifted up when he heard his pet name. Your hand grazed his cheek, your thumb swiping at the tears. One of his hands reached to cover yours as he leaned into this intimate touch. His reddened eyes fluttered shut taking it all in, and then opened to look at you. “You have done right by me. You have always done right by me. Even tonight, you tried your hardest to do right by me, and you succeeded in the end. I-“ your voice was caught in your throat, you choked down a small sob, “I’m the one who failed you.”

You started to cry now, really cry. Bokuto’s hands flew to your cheeks, trying to stop the stream of tears as he shook his head. He was about to say something when you stopped him, “I should have stayed earlier. I should have at least tried to hear you out, but instead I ran. I should have known better, I should have trusted you.” You laughed sadly, “I mean we’re getting married, right? I should’ve-“

“You still want to get married?” Bokuto’s small voice broke out. He was still holding your face, and his lips were inches from yours. His eyes were now wide with shock. Your cheeks flushed, and for some reason you suddenly felt shy.

“Well, I assumed since we have fixed this-“ was all you could get out before Bokuto brought your lips down to his, hard. This kiss was one that was filled with longing, passion, and love. After your initial surprise, you leaned into it. You haven’t kissed him in so long, not only because of the whole train wreck of a night, but because he hasn’t been home in weeks. His lips felt so soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into the bed to be beside you, closer to you. You had missed him so much. He pulled away, both of you panting at the air.

“I can’t believe this.” He started, putting his hands to his head. “All of this pain I’ve put you through and you still want to marry me? Are you serious?” He asked, searching for something in your eyes. Rejection, maybe? He still looked so surprised.

You smiled softly at him, “Of course.” You stated plainly. “You’re the only one for me, Bo.” You leaned up to meet your lips to his once more, a quick, chaste kiss. He was still leaning into your space with his eyes closed when you had already pulled back. They snapped open when he realized you weren’t still kissing him, his golden eyes electric, waiting for your touch.

“Let’s go back to our room, sweetheart,” he smirked getting out of the bed, and held a hand out for you to take. “It feels weird that I want to make out with you in Atsumu’s bed.”

That night, you cuddled in his hotel room. After Hurricane Tamra, you both deserved to end your 4th year anniversary with a little bit of light. He had asked you about the shop and your plans for this trip. With your head on his chest, and those beautiful golden eyes constantly watching your every move, you spoke adamantly about your thought process with this whole trip. He was so excited that you were finally going to be able to watch him play, it had been awhile since you could attend a game in person.

Throughout your time there that night, Bokuto kept holding you tighter and tighter. Occasionally, he would bring his hand up to your face, while you both laid in silence, and would trace your features with his fingers lightly. He would also randomly pepper you with kisses from your forehead, to your neck, to your shoulders to show you that you have his full attention and affection. You knew it was because even if you had completely forgave him, these past few hours had been and will continue to haunt him for a while. After staying up for the sole reason to be in each others arms, you both finally got to sleep around 3:30 in the morning, which was not ideal, but was still perfect considering you got to spend time with him.

//

Game day. It’s game day.

Bokuto’s eyes snapped open at the thought. While his sleepy eyes cleared, he realized something was tickling his nose, it was your hair. This made him smile.

He hasn’t been able to wake up to your sleeping face in so long. The sun shone softly through the curtains, and it hit your skin enough to make you look as if you glowed. You were tangled together under the sheets, legs wrapped around one another while both of your arms are hugging each other. The sight made him excited for the future, becuase everyday would be like this. Bokuto was careful enough not to move too much, in fear of waking you up. He checked his watch. It was only 10, and he didn’t have to be anywhere until 12, so he was safe on time.

He started to play with your hair, slowly moving his hands down to stroke your arms, and then began drawing shapes on your shoulders. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he did want to spend some time with you before he left for practice and warm ups. You made a small groan, and took your time to open your eyes. Before Bokuto knew it, you had snuggled in closer for warmth, grabbing his arms and pulling them around your body. You started drawing shapes on his arms now, and Bokuto couldn’t believe that you were still his.

Last night, he felt as if he were in a nightmare and now, it’s like he woke into a dream. “Hey angel,” Bokuto rasped out in his low morning voice. “What do you want to do for the next few hours? We can grab breakfast, or-“

“I think I would rather just lay here with you, if that’s okay,” You cut him off, speaking quietly, moving to where you could fully see his face. “I haven’t seen you in a while, and I’ve really missed you, and I don’t want to poke our bubble just yet.”

Your words squeezed his heart, you missed him. Enough to not want to go get breakfast. Bokuto smiled sheepishly, pulling you in closer. “That is more than okay,” he leans his head down to plant a long, sweet kiss to the top of your head, “it’s perfect.”

When 11:30 rolls around, Bokuto is disappointed that he has to leave your warm bed. He quickly runs around the room, grabbing clothes and shoes and different essentials for the rest of the day. Every once in a while, he’ll pass you and give you a quick peck on the lips. He does this when he’s nervous about something. And that something today was Tamra. Of course her team was the one they were playing in the finals.

“The stadium is only a block away, and we can get dinner together tonight, and-“

“Bo,” You cooed. He picks up his face, red with both anxiety and frustration. “I understand it’s your job to see her. I’m not worried about this,” you step out of bed towards him. You only have on one of his big t shirts, he takes notice. “Or us.” Now his face is red for different reasons. You wrap your arms around his neck while you stand on your tippy toes. His arms automatically hang loosely at your hips. “I have complete faith that you are going to go out on that court and win the finals. I also have complete faith that you are going to do the right thing, like you always do. You don’t have to talk to her, in fact don’t even look at her. Don’t give her the satisfaction of your attention. You deserve the satisfaction of a solid win.”

That look you gave him, with those beautiful eyes, it could kill and save. Bokuto leaned down to give you a quick peck that turned into a long, passionate kiss that left you both breathless. This was the encouragement he needed, you by his side. With him going into battle like this, no one could stop him. You untangled yourselves from the loving embrace, and he picked up his bags. “Y/N,” he looked you directly in the eyes. “I love you with everything that I am.”

“Then play with everything you’ve got. Win this for me.”

The words still sent sparks down his spine as he dropped off his belongings in the locker room. He was thinking of the intensity that your beautiful face held when he walked out on the court to meet his teammates. The only thing that could take him out of his thoughts were the voices of his teammates.

“Kuto!” “Did you make up with Y/N last night?” “Is she okay?”

The smile on Bokuto’s face answered every nagging question of the team. A collective sigh filled the stadium. Of course they were relieved to hear the news, this wedding was the only thing going on in some of these guys’ personal lives. “I’m so glad to hear that, Kuto!” Hinata’s voice rang out as he entered the court.

Noises came from the opposite side, and everyone knew who followed them. “Okay guys, you know the drill.” Atsumu’s voice was tight. Everyone’s faces immediately dropped into a scowl. The team looked more focused then ever. Bokuto knew this was a big game, but didn’t think everyone needed to be so on edge.

“Why are you guys looking so hostile?” Bokuto questioned lightly. Everyone looked to him as if he should know.

“Y/N called with a game plan. She’s pretty smart, y’know?” Atsumu smirked, which made Bokuto burn a little at the thought of him having any private thoughts about you. “Anyways, this is how she believes it will go down.”

Atsumu went into fine detail about the days events, how everyone was to act, and where to lead the storm. Bokuto’s mind was racing, thinking and imaging everything that was to come. “When did she have time to plot this?”

“Oh, you would be surprised how quickly women can plot revenge.”

//

The game was about to start.

Every once in a while, during the warm ups, Tamra would stare at Bokuto, trying to pry his attention from the sport, or would beckon him over to try to talk to her. Of course he never looked in her direction because 1) he didn’t really care to even be in the same room as her, and 2) this was part of the plan. He could tell she was getting annoyed by the lack of attention though, he could feel her angry gaze on him almost at all times. It also didn’t help that whenever he would make a good spike, she would say, “Nice kill!” just to get a reaction from him, but this was to be suspected.

After a while of this, the teams headed into their respected locker rooms to get into their headspace for the game. Bo texted you, ‘Hey, so far so good, she’s pissed. I miss you tho 🥺 xx’ to which you immediately replied, ‘You’re going to do great tonight babe, on and off the court! I’ll be right on the center line in the front cheering you on!! I love you💗 xx’.

Bo smiled with anticipation. This is your first game you’ve gotten to see in person in probably a year or so. Because of your business and your work ethic, it was hard to align your schedules. Not to say that he didn’t wish to see you at every single one of his games, but it never really bothered Bokuto too much that you couldn’t come because he understood what it was like to be passionate about something. It was one of his favorite things about you. He sat there in thought for a very long time so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the time flying by.

“Alright guys, it’s time. Let’s go!” The coach’s voice rang out. All of the boys were pumped, full of adrenaline and focus.

It’s time.

//

You’re heart could not stop pounding. You stood in your spot wearing one of Bo’s old jerseys, black ripped jeans, and some white tennis shoes. You knew you looked good. Your hair and make up was done, and your ring was shining like a star under the stadium lights. You heard the screams of fangirls and knew what was to come next.

The teams started jogging out to their respected benches, and you were sitting on the same side of the court as your lover. As soon as you saw that silver and black hair, you knew. Bokuto’s smile as he was jogging alongside his team made your heart flutter, but what was even better was how his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you. His smile broadened and his cheeks tinged a slight blush, he was practically glowing.

After he sat his belongings down at the bench he ran up to you and gave you a quick peck on the lips. “Hey doll,” he smirked as you wrapped your arms around his neck and hung them on his broad shoulders, “is she watching?”

You looked past his head discreetly and there she was, arms crossed, hip popped out, and a bright red face. You completely forgot she was there, that’s how forgettable she was. You let out a low laugh that made his eyes shine with desire, “of course.” You gave him another chaste kiss, “Time to go, Bo. You got this!” His smile was so bright, you were left seeing stars as he jogged back over to the team. At the sudden realization that you were in the crowd, Hinata and Atsumu both smiled and waved at you, and you returned the nice gestures.

Throughout the entirety of the game, it went like this. Tamra focused on you while doing her manager duties, you focused solely on Bo, and he focused solely on the game. Every once in a while, when he made a kill or a nice block, he would look over at you to make sure you were watching him, which of course you were, it was hard not to, and he would tap his thumb to his ring finger. This is something he started doing right before he proposed, something that meant it was for you. This made your heart burst.

After the game ended, with Bo’s team victorious, his team huddled up and let out a few howls in excitement. In the midst of the chaos, so wrapped up in the emotion of it, Bokuto searched for you in the crowd. You caught his eyes and he started running for you, his strong arms picking up and spinning you around in a big hug. You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement. He gave you a breathtaking kiss right on the court, as if there weren’t hundreds of people cheering around the two of you for the win. “Did you see me? Did you see everything?” He pressed his forehead to yours, looking into your eyes.

“Of course I did, Bo. You played your heart out, that was the best game I think I’ve seen you play to this date.” You said, still breathing a little heavy from the kiss.

“I did it for you.” Those words squeezed your heart. The intensity in his eyes let him know he wasn’t joking. “It was all for you.”

You held him tighter, nuzzling your face in his neck to hide the brim of tears. “I love you.”

He drew circles in the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. “I love you too.”

His team called for him, and he knew he had to go, but he just wanted to live in this moment forever. “Bo, it’s okay. You have me all to yourself for the next week.” You reminded him, letting go of him reluctantly.

He nodded, “Okay, see you soon.”, now the real game began.

///

Okay so I’ve decided... there has to be a part 5. I needed domestic Bokuto so bad because we haven’t truly had any happiness in this fic until just now!!!!! So I’m doing part 5!! And then that will be the end of it🤗🥰💗✨ I hope you all enjoyed!!

[rosy-cheekx]

Hypothetically

 @aspecarchivesweek Day One: Wish

I wish to make you happy.

Jonathan Sims/Georgie Barker

This was it. Jon fiddles with the pale green collar of his shirt; eyes focused resolutely on the version of himself in the mirror that hung on the wardrobe in his student flat. Tonight’s the night I’m going to ask Georgie to…

He shakes his head to himself, wincing at the end of that sentence. He knows what he’s going to do tonight, what he wants to do tonight, what difference does vocalizing it make, even if it’s just to himself?

Glancing down at his watch, Jon chews his lip. He was meeting Georgie at the bar in thirty minutes. The bar was ten minutes away…He should probably leave now, right? In case he needed to find them seats or use the loo or if the walk ended up taking longer than the dozens of times he’s been there before? He doesn’t want to be late, that would just make everything worse-

Huh. He’s pacing. Jon forces himself to stop and stands in the middle of his bedroom, wrapping his hands around his sides, thumbs digging into his back, feeling his diaphragm push his ribs out and in as he breathes, focusing on the solid movement of his body. Why am I so nervous? His therapist had talked to him, years back, about identifying sources of his anxiety. He hates that it works, hates that it means confronting his own brain and acknowledging his faults.

Is it the bar? No. This bar, The Addison, is one of the few pubs Jon actually enjoys. It’s always got a bit of a draft so even in the busiest nights it never feels like the heat of the room is inescapable. Jon’s not the biggest fan of beer, per se, but he can knock back a pint with the best of them, so long as he has something in his stomach first, and the pretzels and beer cheese The Addison makes are his favorite. The thought of them make his stomach growl.

Is it Georgie? No. He has a lot of strong feelings for Georgie, feels comfortable being himself around her. He drops his stuffy academic persona and can be his regular, less-stuffy-but-still-academic self, the one who speaks to her flatmate’s cat in a higher-pitched voice but still with proper Queen’s English, because “they deserve to be treated with respect, don’t you Madame?” She cares about him, too, he knows that, and he’s enjoyed their months as friends and the past few weeks they’ve been a couple.

As a couple…He feels a twinge of anxiety in his chest that makes him flap his hands instinctively, a quick stim to ward off the impending doom building in his belly. Ah. Found it. He and Georgie have only gone on a few dates: a coffeeshop on a Saturday morning, and a movie night in Georgie’s flat, an evening which had been planned to be a movie marathon of Georgie’s favorite bad horror movies, the B and C rated films that were truly just a vehicle for half-naked women sprinting down alleyways and gratuitous fake blood effects. Any excuse for them to laugh over popcorn and predict the plot points, except Jon had fallen asleep partway through the second movie and had woken up the next morning on Georgie’s couch, a worn fleece blanket over his slumped form. But this? This was a proper night-time date, involving alcohol and a walk home and, Jon was sure, a “mind if I come in?” and it would be different because it wasn’t a friend he was talking to, it was his girlfriend and there were expectations and he was a virgin and didn’t want to disappoint her because he knows Georgie is experienced and she deserves to have a good time and it’s his responsibility as a boyfriend to do that, even if he’s terrified because he hasn’t before—

Woah. Jon takes a deep breath. That was a lot. He did a full Sims, as Georgie would say, letting things snowball in his head until he explodes. He closes his eyes, wringing his hands again, just a gentle flutter at his sides. It’ll be fine. She’ll understand. She has up to now. Georgie has understood his weird studying habits, his deep aversion to spiders, his need to be early everywhere, his sudden shutdowns and stimming habits and how he loves to be held and touched. She can certainly handle him being a nervous virgin.

Jon slips a condom in his wallet and then, hesitating, tears off two more and throws them in. In case he messes up the first time. Checking his watch, he sees its quarter to eight. If he leaves now he’ll only be five minutes early. Perfect.

--

The Addison is a healthy dose of busy on a Thursday night in late autumn, the hum of conversation and music floating over Jon is just the right amount of chaos for him to reach equilibrium, feeling enthused by his nervous energy. He’s sitting at the bartop, spinning the cap to his beer bottle, watching it whirl, whirl, whirl, clattering on the stained wood and spinning all the while. It’s entrancing.

Georgie is speaking to him now. She smiles warmly at him and feels his stomach flip. God, she’s gorgeous when she smiles. Her hair’s in braids this month, pink and orange weaved tightly together, contrasting with the tight black turtleneck dress she wears. He catches himself staring at her profile, the planes of her face animated as she tells him a story about her professor and his alleged vow to fail her this semester. His face is warm. See, he soothes himself, you are attracted to her. You’re just nervous.

“Jon. Jon?” Georgie’s eyebrow is quirked up and she’s smirking at him, like she’s caught him in a lie. “Everything alright? You’re staring.” Jon feels another rush of blood to his cheeks, prickling at how exposed he feels to have been caught up in his thoughts about her.

“Oh-uh, yeah,” he nods, hesitating before reforming his own features into a smile. “I-I was just thinking. Well. How nice you look tonight.” Georgie isn’t immune to compliments, he knows this for certain, and its reaffirmed as she ducks her own head briefly, smile shifting from teasing to soft.

“O-Oh. Thank you, Jon.” She sips her drink, preferring something a little harder than Jon’s beer, usually a vodka cranberry she can nurse throughout a night or throw back when she needs a little something more in her bloodstream, fogging her mind. “You look really nice too, you know. Your green shirt is my favorite.” She gestures to the button up and he nods absently, glancing down at it. When he looks up, her face is close to his, hand weaving into the curls by his ear. He sighs and leans into the touch, feeling a shiver run through him when they kiss. He tastes the cranberry on her lips, vodka on her tongue, her liquid courage enthusing him as well as her (not that she needs any excuse to be bold, really), and makes a choice.

When they pull away for air, he grins wildly at her, the face he makes when he knows he’s about to a very Not-Sims thing. When the bartender makes his rounds again, a pale man in a black button-down, Jon orders his own ruby-red drink. Georgie’s eyebrows meet her hairline as he does so, folding her hands together. “Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Sims?” The chuckle behind her voice balances the sternness of her words. He just grins at her and takes a sip of his newly-acquired vodka and cranberry juice, the dry flavors curling on his tongue and making his head feel light and warm after even half the glass.  

-

Jon is drunk. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. He knows he’s a lightweight and even the divine soft pretzels he’s been munching on since his arrival can only handle so much. He’s finished his second hard drink on top of the beer and is feeling properly light and airy. Like a cake, he giggles to himself. He’s having fun, chatting with Georgie about life and cats and uni and their plans for the future. Jon’s entertaining a couple of options, a few research jobs in London, and Georgie is poking his side, making him laugh as she teases him about his studying skills being useful for something more than exams.

“At least I have studying skills!” He says, pushing her off his side, linking their fingers together to inhibit her from poking him again. “You can’t ride my coattails forever, you know.”

“I won’t have to! It came in today.”

“What did?” His thoughts are clouded, edges of anxiety smoothed over into something more ignorable.

“My microphone! So I can start my podcast about spooky shit, remember?” Georgie squeezes his hand and finishes her own drink, far along as Jon in liquid consumed but not nearly as affected as he is. “I’m going to uncover the world’s mysteries and teach my faithful audience about the supernatural. I’ve got the title nailed down, too.” With her free hand she paints a banner in the air. “What the Ghost. ‘Cause it’s like ‘what the fuck’ and I can talk about all sorts of weird shit.” Georgie swears a lot, and more when she’s tipsy.

“Can I see it?” The words are out of his mouth before he can think them through. “The-the microphone, can I see it?”

Her eyes widen and she nods, “Oh, yeah of course! I haven’t been able to test it out yet, so maybe you can help me.”

Jon insists on paying. So does Georgie. They resign to splitting it, each vowing to pay next time and knowing they will never outsmart each other.

-

Jon doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he’s walking the five minutes to Georgie’s flat. Tucked into her side, the air is cool around his face, the wind an icy hand cupping his cheek. Everything feels smeary, liquid, warm. Hands in the pocket of the peacoat he knows he bought for the aesthetic and not to keep him warm, he fingers his wallet, feels the circular outline inside, and feels…nothing. Good. He can do this.

He’s always loved Georgie’s flat. It is warm, all orange and yellow lamplight, houseplants, and a cosy cluttered look. Her roommate exists only in residuals, the sneakers she leaves by the door and the dishes she does at odd hours more proof she exists than anything like conversation. Jon respects that. Georgie’s room is a lot like the rest of the flat, which means it’s a lot like Georgie herself. Warm, dark, soft, and scattered, with hidden elements of cat hair no matter how many times she cleans. Jon throws his coat over his desk chair and collapses onto her bed, reveling in how her pillows feel under his back. He takes a moment to greet the weird smile-faced stain on her ceiling before sitting up, watching Georgie fold herself next to him and open a carboard box, taking out a chunky black microphone with a USB cable. She brandishes it like a sword, before angling it to her face.

“This is BBC 4 with breaking news,” she intones into the microphone, putting on a crisp RP accent and lowering her voice an octave. “Ghosts and ghouls have been discovered at King’s College, Oxford, residing as university professors. News anchor Jonathan Sims has the story. Sims?”

Jon presses back his giggles and leans into the character, accent already pretty close to the posh voice she puts on. “There’s been an error, actually. They’ve been the students all along. Journalism student Porgie Parker has been found out to have been a ghost. These discoveries were made after her boyfriend, English Literature student…Bonathan Bims, realized she had never picked up a textbook because she couldn’t! Her hands went right through them!” By the time he’s gotten to the word textbook, Georgie has pounced on him, microphone forgotten as she wrestles him to the bed, alternating between poking and tickling him until he lets the bit trail off, voice a mix of giggles and pleas for her to stop.

When she lets off, Jon abruptly realizes the intimacy of their position. She’s straddling him, her hands pinning his wrists to the plush pillow behind his head. They’re both breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and smiling.

Jon isn’t sure who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. His arms are wrapped around Georgie’s neck and her hands are cupping his face, cool to the touch, nails lightly scratching his jawline. The bed is soft and Georgie is warm, pressing in from all sides, and it feels good. This he likes.

She kisses along his jawline and he feels heart rate pickup, flexing his hands (when did he curl them into fists?) as she presses against his neck. He wishes vaguely she’d put her hands back in his hair, he likes that soft feeling of pressure on his scalp. The smile on the ceiling is smirking at him now, the curve of the water stain looking more vicious than it had earlier.

Her hands are on his chest, she’s unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands feel too cold now, the shiver running through him one of anxiety, not desire, and Jon is sitting up before he knows what he’s doing. Fuck. Georgie, the saint, backs off him and kneels beside him on the bed. Jon’s hands flit to the undone buttons, fingertips circling them, suddenly unsure what to do.

“Are you okay, Jon?” Georgie’s voice is softer, eyes searching his face as she wedges her hands underneath her knees. He watches her wrists, the swing of her braids as she cocks her head, anything to avoid her eyes.

“I-” he gestures to her vaguely. “Y-You know I haven’t before, right?”

“Oh. Oh.” Georgie nods, understanding maybe a little better than he expected. “No offense, but I kinda figured, Jon. Not in a bad way!” She backpedals. “I just figured, you know, there’s no rush.”

“I mean, there’s a little of a rush,” he admonishes under his breath. At her hum of confusion: “You know, the whole-” he gestures again, as if he could pluck the word from the air. “-third date…thing.”

“Jon,” Georgie sighs his name, voice soft and so patient, a voice he doesn’t think he’s heard used anywhere else. “There’s no rule saying what we have to do when. Or how. Or ever, for that matter. It’s no one’s business what we do except ours.” She reaches out a hand, waiting for a slight nod, before taking his thin hands in her own. “Is that why you drank more than usual today?”

Jon nods, feeling a sag of relief spread throughout his body. “I just- I want to make you happy.”

“You do make me happy, you twit. That’s why we’re friends and it’s why I’m dating you.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t need sex to be happy. Is it fun? Yes. But not necessary.”

Jon frowns, chewing on his lip and eyeing the window of her bedroom, tracing the rectangle with his eyes over and over again. “I-hmm.” Georgie watches him search for words; she knows how he ticks well enough to know they’re coming if she waits. “What if, hypothetically, I never had sex with you? Ever.”

“Well,” she gave his hands a light squeeze. “Hypothetically, I’d be totally okay with it, though I’d ask if you were asexual and make sure we had appropriate boundaries.”

“Huh?” The word draws him back to her face, the deep brown eyes that search his own. “Asexual. Like, no sex?” She nods, again, ever-patient. “Huh. Asexual.” He drops the pretense. “Maybe.”

Asexual. The word felt good as he rolled it around in his mouth. He traced the letters with his fingertips in cursive against his thigh as Georgie let go of him, rolling off her bed to pull on sweatpants and a t shirt instead of the dress she was wearing 

“Let’s look into it, if you want. Together.” Georgie grins at him now, rye and warm. “I will have to ask you if want hypothetical crisps, because I’m hypothetically fucking starving.”

[mycouchpullsoutbutidont]

Need to write all this down because I just stared into space for a solid 30 min just dreaming about this scenario / potential fanart comic that I could draw of Ben x Devi (I’ve been obsessing over them for the past couple of days and it’s probably due to me not having good dick since god knows forever)

(Draft)

So the comic will start off with Devi being sort of upset and horny, reminiscing about her interaction with Paxton - maybe a really hot makeout sesh and they’re about to have sex - except last minute, Devi gets cold feet and it’s sexually frustrating for Paxton. So Devi is hella embarrassed and mad at herself for pulling back. She tries to initiate again, but Paxton is just like, “forget it, you’re not ready,” and Devi is like “no, I want it.” And Paxton pauses, looks at her, and shakes his head like “no, you’re not. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not ready for.” Which Devi feels insulted by and is terribly sorry. Paxton just smiles and kisses her on the forehead and is like, “I think I should drop you off. It’s getting late.”

End daydream. Devi reels in secondhand embarrassment and is mad at herself for stopping. She vows not to do that again and, of course, in typical Devi fashion, she thinks to herself, “well, if we end up having sex the next time we makeout, I better do my due diligence and research into how to properly have sex.”

And what other way to learn about something than to study up on it?

She begins thinking about how she could do her research. She’s studied anatomy before and knows the basics - the testicles, the glans, urethra, sperm, prostate, yadda yadda. And she’s taken health class and sexual education on how to put on condoms (on bananas- nonetheless - San Fernando valley had pretty liberal sex ed).

But she’s never seen what sex looked like. Never heard it. Never smelled it. Never experienced it from afar or visually.

That’s when she thought of it - porn.

She goes to her room, opens up her laptop, and googles “porn.” Search results pop up, and she catches glimpse of some of the keywords.

“Perky oiled brunette shoves two cocks in both holes”

“Slut sucks slobbers on big veiny dick”

“Curvy sexy ebony rides and squirts before getting facial”

The ache in her groin gnawed even more and—did she just twitch down there? With her blood rushing to her cheeks and between her legs with each horny, perverted word that her eyes came across, her fingers tremble and her body - her breasts - feels like it’s tingling, aching and needing to be roughly handled.

Nervous and horny, she clicks on the first one: porn hub.

She enters a site of orange and black - a pop up window asks if she’s 18 or older. She hesitates, feeling dirty and corrupt. She clicks on enter.

Squares of images lined in a grid populate, organized by category. She skims the words - “Anal”, “BBW,”“Cumshot,” “Compilations”—the list went on and on.

One of the categories catches her eye: “Desi.”

It was both laughable and eye-opening to see that category. A category just for Indian women? She was both amazed and flattered, and for just a brief moment, she wondered if her ancestors could see her.

Her father, she thinks.

Oh god, why is she thinking of him all of a sudden.

Ashamed, she shakes her head, exits out of the window, and closes her laptop. A cool chill runs down her spine, calming her excitement, chilling the pulsating heat that had pooled between her legs. She’s embarrassed for thinking of her dead father and for even thinking of looking up porn. She’s ashamed and pushes her laptop away, now doubly frustrated at herself and for still being sexually pent up. She gets up to grab water in the kitchen, hoping the ice cold water will help temper her aching need.

The doorbell rings.

Devi’s ears perk, and she furrows her brows. Who could this be, she thinks, as she ran down the stairs, walking to the door to peep through the hole.

She gasps, “oh crap.”

It’s Ben!

“Shoot, I forgot!”

Ben was supposed to come over to work on a history project with her - and have dinner, she remembers, since she told her mom and her mom insisted.

“Ah, yes Ben! I remember that boy with the massive pimple on his face who cried in my office!” Devi smirks at Nalini’s comment but then remembers, dammit, why did her mom also want him for dinner?

She opens the door, deepens her frown, a blush creeping on her face as she locks her brown eyes with light blue ones.

“Sup, loser,” Ben says, and Devi almost loses her blush except he smirks, a twinkle in his eye, and a slightly lifted brow. Devi’s eyes trail down over his shirt which clings to his pecs and biceps, and she feels the blush coming back.

And then she notices his strong arms and hair and veins—

“Fuck you,” she says, rolling her eyes, quickly turning her back against him so he doesn’t see her blush harder.

Jeez, what’s wrong with her today? Devi thought (as well as Ben). Why was she so god damn horny?

“What’s your problem, David?” Ben asks. He looks around Devi’s living room. “Where’s your mom?”

Devi shrugs. “Probably at work with her coworkers. Mom’s trying to bring more fun and benefits to motivate them, she claims.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Ben is a little relieved since Devi’s mom was a tough one to please. But, he knew that Nalini had a soft spot for him. (Or, at least he had a 95% confidence level in that thought).

“Actually, kanna, I’m just finish up cooking dinner here with Kamala,” Nalini chimed.

Ben and Devi snapped their heads towards the direction of the kitchen where Nalini and Kamala were cleaning up.

“And if you had helped me like you should have done, you’d know that I was busy cooking up aloo gobi dosas before leaving for my work event later tonight.”

Ben sniffed deeply, the aroma of ghee and asafetida and cumin wafting in the air. How did Devi not notice her mom was cooking with the delicious smells dancing in her home?

“S-sorry mom, I forgot. I just have been feeling a bit out of it today,” Devi replies sheepishly. “Kind of feel hot.” Which was true. Something was terribly wrong with her today for some reason. It felt like there was this growing ache down in her groin that needed to be filled, and with each step she took, every friction against her clit would send shivers of pleasure all over her body.

Before Ben could react, Nalini immediately runs to Devi’s side and places the back of her hand on Devi’s forehead.

“Hm,” Nalini scrunches her brows. “I don’t feel a fever, but you do have a slight blush. Devi, if you’re feeling sick, please don’t get us all sick and go to your room. You should’ve told us and Ben earl—“

“I’m not sick!” Devi blurts, shaking her head. Nalini is taken aback.

“I- I guess,” Devi lowers her voice, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was dickstracted—er, distracted.

“I feel burnt out from studying for AP physics and AP calculus this week,” Devi lies.

“Amateur,” Ben scoffs, smirking. He looks at Devi who snaps to look, looking both mad and flustered, her cheeks tinted slightly redder than normal. It was enough to wipe the smirk off his face. Was she okay?

“I’m not letting you show me up, you jerk!”

Yeah, she was okay, he thought.

“Devi!” Nalini’s jaw fell and she looked like she was about to chew Devi’s face off which terrified Ben.

“N-no, sorry Ms Vishwakumar, that was totally my fault and uncalled for,” Ben cuts in. He looks at Devi who still looks mad at him (but less so, maybe a bit of relief).

“Would it be all right if we study first and then eat dinner?” Ben asks, not sure whether to direct the question to Nalini or Devi first.

“Dinner will get cold,” Nalini warns. “But, I must leave now, so you two can do what you will and whatever regarding dinner.” As she runs towards the door and grabs the keys, Nalini whips her head back and stares daggers at Devi.

“Devi, behave please,” she says through gritted teeth before shutting the door.

Devi sighs in relief and turns to Ben.

“So,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have much time before dinner gets cold and it’s bedtime.”

Ben nods, walking behind under her. He looks up - damn she has a nice ass - curvy and round. He notices she is wearing a pretty short skirt, and—was that…

Ben blinks twice in disbelief, looking away before looking again. It was no doubt what it was—sticky wet lubricant-like liquid. Running down her inner thigh. Or maybe that’s sweat, he told himself.

Ben blushes. Wow, he felt like such a pervert for staring up her skirt. That and they were going up to her room. To study. Yeah.

(But damn her butt, her curves)

As they enter her room, Ben immediately plops down on the floor, opens his bag quickly, pulls out his AP European history book and notebook, and opening them and flipping through pages (nervously?) and quietly.

“Dude, you’ve been eerily silent this entire time,” Devi torts, and she can’t blame him, can’t blame how nerve wracking it was to have your chiseled (wait shut up Devi) arch nemesis in her room - supposedly a safe haven - to study. Come to think of it, why did she let him in her room? She began to regret her decision, especially when she realized that her nervousness was also turning into heated excitement, her breasts were tingling with desire and even her clit—

“You said you wanted to hurry, so here I am, focused, David,” Ben snaps. He ignores the fact that she’s not wearing a bra and that her tank top isn’t enough to hide her hardened nipples.

(Her cleavage looked so inviting, he dare not stare too long at her tits)

“Actually, for once, you didn’t use your brain and suggest we work downstairs and eat dinner simultaneously instead,” Devi retorted. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can go back downstairs to study and eat dinner at the same time.”

“Don’t put the blame on me for your lack of brain usage,” Ben snapped back, rolling his eyes.

Devi throws a stuffed animal at his head, and he barely dodges it.

“Asshole,” she mutters as she gets on her knees and reaches over her mattress and duvet, grabbing her Macbook.

That’s when Ben saw her soaking wet panties.

Heat rushed from his head to his other head, his cock jumping.

Holy fuck, he thought, is she doing this on purpose? Why did she have to put her ass up like that? Was this intentional? This was a little too cliche, he thought, and porn-like. Girl wearing no bra and apparently soaking wet invites horny boy over to her room and puts her ass in the air while in bed?

“Uh, yeah, yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea,” Ben stammers, trying to ignore his growing boner and grabbing his books. “Lemme just stuff—“

(Those boobs)

“—these boo….ooks. Books. In my bag.” He pushes the last book in his backpack and zips it up.

Oh dear god, did she notice his almost Freudian slip?

He glances over at her, and she’s got a raised brow. “Uh, okay, weirdo, did you just almost say boobs?” Devi says.

“What, no?” Ben says. “You weird pervert.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you staring at my boobs! You’re the pervert!”

“What kind of crap are you projecting onto me for? I’m innocent!”

“You’re like the least innocent person I know!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ben scoffs. “And even if it was, it’s better than being an Unfuckable Nerd.”

That did it. That was the straw on the camel’s back. Devi was enraged, insulted, and sexually frustrated. Ben had dug into a deep insecurity of hers, a wound that she desperately wanted to heal and prove herself out of. For all her life, she had never felt desirable, never had a boy flirt with her or ask her out or even given her attention. When Ben first called her an “Unfuckable Nerd,” she didn’t show how painful the sting of his insult was to her lonely heart. She did not want to be the forever nerdy virgin who was seen as sexually undesirable and —god forbid—ugly.

(Was that why Paxton pushed her away, she thought briefly?)

“Shut up!” she yells before chucking her laptop at him. She misses by a meter (thank god her eye hand coordination was god awful), but she’s not sure if she was even intending on hitting him with the laptop. Still, the moment the laptop flew out of her hands and onto her carpeted floor (with a nice thud), Ben knew he had made a huge mistake. And so did Devi (though she dare not be the first one to admit that she was wrong).

Except she was really wrong this time.

“Devi!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m—“

“Oh fuck Ben, I’m—“

“So sorry.”

Both Ben and Devi apologized simultaneously, with heavy regret and a tint of fear in their voices.

“N-no, I crossed the line, Devi,” Ben said. “It’s really…misogynistic and objectifying of me to call you Unfuckable.”

Because you’re quite the opposite, he thought.

Devi acknowledged internally the apology, but it still stung painfully in her heart. She wanted to let him know that it still hurt.

(Especially hearing that term from him).

Still, she knew she was also incredibly at fault for almost injurying Ben.

“I’m also sorry, I really…really should’ve not thrown my laptop at you. I could’ve injured you really badly.” Devi dropped down to her knees, getting down to Ben’s level since he was still on the floor, a bit shaken by her throwing her laptop at him.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said. He looked over at the laptop on the ground.

“But if you did break it, don’t expect me to pay for a new one,” he said with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes. “I’m not your sugar baby; I wasn’t expecting you to pay for a new one.” She crawls towards her MacBook (Ben consciously looking away since she’s on her knees again) and opens it, praying to herself that it was still functioning.

She tapped on her keyboard multiple times.

Blank screen.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. She kept tapping on the keys of the keyboard.

No response.

“Crap!” Devi hissed. “Oh no, no no no!” She was sort of panicking. “I knew this would happen.”

“So why did you throw the laptop then?” Ben slyly asked.

“Not. Helpful. Ben.”

Ben scoots closer to Devi, wraps his arm around her—

Devi is shocked, his graze making her melt into his touch, sending the pent up frustration and heat back to her ache and pussy—

But, Ben was only merely reaching around to press down on her laptop’s button for a couple of seconds before the lock screen shone back on.

Oh, Devi thought, a feeling of defeat and disappointment settling in her chest. He wasn’t hugging her.

But, hey her laptop’s alive.

“Oh thank god,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief before turning to him - wow he’s somehow pretty close to her face and body and oof, his proximity sets a fire across her entire body —

“Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you don’t have to buy me a new laptop,” she says, smirking.

Ben scoffs.

“In your dreams, David.”

Oddly enough, Ben’s arm is still wrapped around her, his presence warm and enveloping. Devi is tempted to lean into it but knows better (especially not now when she has been hot and bothered all day).

She types her password in her Lock Screen, hits enter, and gasps in horror as she realized that she didn’t properly close out her browser full of porn -

(which is now blasting moans of cam girls fucking the selves with sex toys all thanks to livejasmin)

“Oh shit!” Devi immediately slams her screen shut again.

But it was too late.

Ben’s brows shoot up, eyes widening and jaw dropping in guffaw. A laugh of disbelief escapes from his throat.

“Holy crap! And you called ME the pervert?” Ben laughs. “Who’s the pervert now?”

But damn, wow, he’s turned on.

He tightens his arm around Devi in a proper hug now, pressing her closer to him, and leans in, an inch from her ear, whispering —

“You’re a dirty girl”—

Before pressing his lips on hers.

[hanaasbananas]

100 Ways to say I Love You Chapter 99

I remember (Ladrien)

Sequel to chapter 92

AO3

The party was well underway, music, and laughter filling the hall with sounds of revelry. And yet...Adrien  struggled to muster any enthusiasm for the event despite the fact that he had been the one to open the castle, hosting a week of celebration in the wake of the rebels victory and his own new status as King.

His crown dug uncomfortably into his scalp, reminding him of it’s presence, and idly, he thought that it would have to be resized before the coronation.

Looking over the party from his place on the throne, Adrien couldn’t help but sigh. It was clear that there was still much work to do if there was to be true unity. Even now, despite the many classes in attendance, there was a distinct division among the hall.

The rebels, of course, were enjoying the finest dining that Adrien could provide. Some had bought their own instruments, beginning to play—tunes Adrien recognised from the times when he had snuck into their camps so long ago—the music a fast tempo that had other’s clapping and stomping to the beat.

On the other side of the hall, quiet conversations replaced raucous laughter, and Adrien spotted many a dirty look being sent across the room to the lower classes. He snorted as one of the rebel leaders caught such a look, and raised his wine glass in a toast, sending the young nobleman spinning back around in mortification, his cheeks burning red.

Many of the nobles had returned—those who had opposed his father and fled his rage, enticed back by the promise of peace, but they were vastly outnumbered by the more opportunistic men. Men who brought with them their daughters in an attempt to curry favour with the new king, all of them hoping that one of those girls might become their next Queen, that they might use their daughters as mouthpieces for their own agendas.

It was incredibly tiresome. Not to mention, a completely useless endeavour, for there was only one woman who occupied his mind. And there never would be another.

Adrien swore under his breath, spying the Lady Rossi weaving through the crowd towards him as her father watched. She was one of the more insufferable noblewomen, and he did not look forward to sharing her company—it had been difficult enough to prise himself from her grasp the first time. There would not be a second.

Rising quickly, he slipped from the room just as Lady Rossi began to climb up onto the dais, moving faster when he heard her call after him.

The corridor was blessedly cool as he made his way to his chambers. He hadn’t realised how stuffy the hall had become, but it was certainly a welcome relief to be out of it, allowing the crisp night air to fill his lungs. His room was chillier still, a draft coming in from the window, and Adrien shivered, crossing the room to slam the shutters closed. Finally alone, he pulled the crown from his head, setting it unceremoniously down on his desk, and took his shirt off, examining the bandages that covered his torso.

“I thought I told you not to fight.”

The voice came from behind him, almost deafening in the quiet room. Adrien froze, his heart stuttering in his chest.

No. Not now...please

Squeezing his eyes shut, Adrien dropped his head against the window with a thud . “Not tonight,” he muttered under his breath “please, I cannot bear….I cannot—” A wave of grief washed over him, so strong it threatened to wind him, to knock the ground out from under his feet, and he struggled to stay upright.

Ladybug had not been among those who had stormed the castle. She had not been with those who came after, to discuss negotiations as he’d lay in his sickbed. Two weeks later, and many of the rebels had given her up for dead, though they had not said it.

“Adrien—”

He raised his voice, “begone, foul apparition!”

For weeks now, he had been plagued by them. A flash of red in the corner of his eye, the cheerful sound of Ladybug’s laughter around the corner, he’d even see her standing in this very room, talking to him as she had on that night, so long ago. They drove him to insanity, yet he craved them nonetheless, clinging to the scraps of his delirium as though they might become something tangible in his hands.

“I am no apparition,” A soft hand landed on his shoulder, and Adrien hardly dared to breathe. Had he finally succumbed to the madness? Had he—

”It’s me, Adrien. I am here.”

Slowly, he turned around, staring in disbelief at Ladybug in front of him, regarding him steadily, her blue eyes glistening behind her mask.

With trembling hands, Adrien reached out to touch her, terrified that she would dissolve into mist the moment that he made contact, but she remained solid beneath his palm. Solid, and real. “ You —” he breathed, cupping her face, feeling her soft skin, the warmth of her cheek, the intricate embroidery of her mask. Ladybug’s eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his touch with a contented sigh.

“You’re alive .” His voice cracked on the word, but he could not bring himself to care. “We thought that you had been lost.”

“I told you that I would return, didn’t I?” Her lips twisted into a frown, fingers coming up to trace his bandages. Her touch was feather light, but he shuddered, goosebumps rising all along his skin. “But you almost broke your promise. When I heard about what happened, about your injury, I—I feared the worst. But your father —!”

“Yes,” Adrien confirmed. “What you heard is true.”

Truthfully, he had been expecting father to turn on him—why wouldn’t he? As the nobles had begun to leave, and more and more reports of rebel activities were delivered, it was almost inevitable that father would attempt to kill the one the rebels wished to make king.

And he had almost succeeded. It had only been the extra fighting lessons Adrien had been taking with the guards, as well as the fortuitous timing of the rebels storming the throne room that had saved his life. Still, father had left him with a souvenir—a knife in his gut and a scar to go with it.

“Let us not talk about that, my lady,” Adrien murmured, stroking her cheek softly. There would be time enough to discuss such things later, he was sure. And he would not taint this moment with discussion of his father’s crimes.

Instead, they sat by the fire and spoke of anything and everything else. Of what they had done in the six months since they had seen each other last. Still, they avoided talk of their feelings, though they spoke for hours, until the pinks and oranges of the early morning sky began to stretch across the horizon, the light breaking through a gap in the curtains and slicing through the darkness of his room.

Until that was the only subject they had not broached.

“The night I left,” Ladybug said, haltingly “when I was last here, you said—you almost said something to me.”

Adrien swallowed. “I remember.” How could he forget the desperation that had clawed at his chest, the terror that had filled him at the thought of Ladybug never truly knowing what was in his heart? And how many nights had he lain awake, cursing the way that those words had stuck in his throat, choking him, preventing him from saying them at all.

“Has that changed?”

“Yes,” his voice came out in a whisper. Ladybug’s face fell, and she stood, taking a step back from him.

“Oh.” Before she could go further however, he grabbed hold of her wrist, standing and taking her hands in his.

“Yes, it has changed,” he began earnestly. “Because with every second that passes, with every breath that I take, my feelings for you grow ever stronger. You occupy my thoughts like no other, whether you are in front of me, or not. My love for you is deeper now than it was that night, and it will be deeper still tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, forevermore.” Lifting her hand, Adrien pressed a kiss to Ladybug’s knuckles. “My feelings have not diminished. They never have, and they never will.”

For a long moment, she simply stared at him, her eyes blown wide, lips parted in surprise. In the dying candlelight, with the light dancing across her features, she looked ethereal, an angel among men. And he, a mere mortal.

Adrien couldn’t say who moved first. One minute they were staring at each other, the air between them crackling with tension, and the next, they were kissing.

His mouth slanted over hers, one hand cupping her neck, the other gripping her waist, pulling her flush against him so that they stood chest to chest, no space in between them. Ladybug’s fingers buried themselves in his hair, tugging on the strands and causing him to groan, a rumble deep in his chest. She opened her mouth to him, skimming her tongue along his. Pulling back slightly, he tugged at her lip with his teeth, swallowing her moan.

She consumed his senses, igniting a fire in his blood, and Adrien thought that he would let her destroy him, burn him from the inside out, if only she would do it with a kiss.

As they stumbled towards the bed— neither of them willing to let go of the other for even a second—he traced a line from her hipbone to the small of her back, unlacing the back of her dress, kissing her jaw and collarbone, nipping and sucking at the hollow of her throat before rising and capturing her lips once more.

Afterwards, as they lay sated in bed, Adrien reached out, tracing a path up and down her arm. Ladybug’s eyes followed the movement, watching his hand before taking his wrist, her fingers running over the ribbon that she had given him as a token, still tied around his wrist.

“You kept it,” she sounded surprised.

“Of course.”

The edge was badly frayed from the many times he had toyed with it, but it was otherwise intact. Silently, Adrien watched as she unwound it, sitting up and turning her back to him. The sheets pooled around her waist, and he sat up too, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, wrapping his arms around her middle as she unbraided her hair. Glancing over at him, Ladybug held up the ribbon, “tie this into my hair for me?”

Her hair slid through his fingers like silk, the ribbon standing out starkly against her dark hair as he braided her hair clumsily, threading it through the plait. When he was done, she faced him again, her eyes seeming to glow in the early morning light. Holding his wrist, she kissed the pale strip of skin that had been underneath the ribbon, her lips lingering for a long moment. “Thank you for taking care of it for me.”

Gently, Adrien pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, pressing a kiss to her brow, his heart brimming with contentment and joy.

“Always."

[librarianbusdriver]

Ted: Okay, where was I? You were telling us how you met mom. In excruciating detail. Right. So, back in 2005, When I was 27, My two best friends got engaged, And it got me thinking, maybe I should get married.

*Sigh*

And then I saw robin. She was incredible. I just knew I had to meet her. That's where your uncle barney came in. I suggest we play a little game I like to call Wait, no, no, no. We're not playing "have you met ted?" Hi. Have you met ted? So I asked her out. But after just one date, I was in love with her Which made me say something stupid. I think I'm in love with you. What?! Oh, dad. So then what happened? Nothing. I mean, I'd made a complete fool of myself. So, a week went by, and I decided not to call her. So you're not gonna call her? You went from, "I think I'm in love with you"

Trapped, the same hollow, dull story repeating again, and again, and again all around me. No way to change its course. No way to do anything but just... watch.

To "I'm not gonna call her"? I wasn't in love with her, okay? I was briefly in love with the abstract concept Of getting married. It had absolutely nothing to do with robin. Robin. Hi. Look who I ran into. Since when do you guys know each other? Oh, since about... Here. Lily recognized me From the news and... Hello, sailor! They just got engaged. Well, I should get back to the station. See you, guys. Nice seeing you, ted. Yeah, you, too. Thanks. What? Damn it! I'm in love with her. As your sponsor, I will not let you relapse. You blew it, it's over, move on. I don't know, I just have this feeling She's the future mrs. Ted mosby. ( Lily squeaks) Lily, you squeaked? She said something about me, didn't she? Come on, spill it, red! Fine. So, what do we think of ted? ( Iaughs) Ted's something else. Huh. I'm gonna spin that as good. Lots of guys are something, I'm something else. Comes on a little strong. But, that's part of my charm. But, that's part of his charm. Oh, totally. I mean, he's sweet, he's charming, He's just looking for something A little bit more serious than I am. I mean, the most I can handle right now is something casual. This just stays between us, right? Are you kidding? This flapper? Fort knox. Oops. She wants casual. Okay, I'll be casual. I'm going to be a mushroom cloud of casual. Cause it's a game... I want her to skip To the end and do the whole happily-ever-after thing. But you don't get there unless you play the game. So, are you going to ask her out? Yeah... No! I can't ask her out, Because if I ask her out, I'm asking her out. So, how do I Ask her out without asking her out? Did you guys get high? I got it. I don't ask her out. I invite her To our party next Friday. We're having a party next Friday? We are now. Casual. Like inviting a hundred people over just to mack on one girl. Oh, and lily, that's my leg. You waited five minutes to tell me that? All right, so call her up. No, calling's not casual. I just got to bump into her somewhere. Now, if only I knew her schedule, I could arrange a chance encounter. That's great, ted... you'll be the most casual stalker ever. Put that ring on her finger, lily had been, Well, extra affectionate. ( chuckling ): Baby, no. I have a 25-page paper on constitutional law due Monday. Hey, I'm just sitting here, wearing my ring,

Wallachia, how I miss you.

My beautiful ring. ( Typing) Kind of makes wearing other stuff seem wrong. Like my shirt. Kind of don't want to wear my shirt anymore. Or... My underwear. That's right, I'm not wearing any. ( Sighs ) No underwear? Not even slightly. Ted: Guys. Boundaries. Robin ( on tv ): Thanks, bill. I'm reporting from the razzle dazzle supermarket On 75th and columbus... 75th and columbus. Game on! Where four-year-old leroy ellenberg has climbed Inside a grab-a-prize machine and gotten stuck. ( Panting ) And, all in the pursuit of a stuffed, purple giraffe. For metro news 1, I'm robin trubotsky. Engineer: We're clear. Robin: Thanks, don. Whew. Ted. Robin, wow! What are the odds? Oh, you know, just, uh, shopping for, uh, dip. I love dip. I mean, I don't love dip, I like dip... ( chuckles ) so, uh, hey, you, uh, Reporting a news story or something? Yeah, kid stuck in a crane machine. How sweet of you to call it news. Wow. Kid in a crane machine. Mm-hmm. You just had to have that toy, didn't you? Couldn't play the game like everyone else. You're all sweaty! Cute kid. Um, you know, It's so funny I should run into you. We're, uh, we're having a party next Friday, If you feel like swinging by. But, you know, whatever. Oh, I'm going back home next weekend. It's too bad it's not tonight. It is... It's tonight. This Friday. Did I say next Friday? Sorry, I guess I've been saying next Friday all week. But, yeah, it's tonight, the, uh, the party's tonight. But, you know, whatever. ( Phone rings) Hello? Hey, am I interrupting anything? No, no, I'm just writing my paper. Hitting the books. Yeah, well, you and lily Might want to put some clothes on. We're throwing a party in two hours. Okay, bye. What are you gonna do when robin shows up? Okay, I got it all planned out. She steps through the door... and where's ted? Not eagerly waiting by the door. No, I'm across the room at my drafting table, Showing some foxy young thing all my cool architect stuff. So, robin strolls over, and I casually give her one of these: "hey, what's up?" She says, "hey, nice place, et cetera, et cetera." And then, I say, "well, make yourself at home." And, I casually return to my conversation. Then, an hour later... "oh, you're still here?" I say, like I don't really care, But it's a nice surprise. And then, very casually: Both: The roof! Get her up to the roof, And the roof takes care of the rest. What's so special about the roof? Oh, the moon, the stars, the shimmering skyline. You can't not fall in love on that roof. We do it up there, sometimes. Solid plan, my little friend. But, may I suggest one little modification. Barney: That foxy young thing you were chatting up, Take her up to the roof and have sex with her. Crazy monkey style... That's not the plan. Barney: Well, it should be the plan. I mean, look at her. Ted, look at her. She's smoking! Thank you! Yeah... But, she's not robin! Exactly! Ted, let's rap. Statistic: At every new york party, There's always a girl who has no idea Whose party she's at. She knows no one you know, And you will never see her again. Do you see where I'm going with this? Barney, I don't think so. ( groans ) Scoping.

I miss it all. The childhood spent in that bountiful castle, the beauty of those rolling green fields...

( Imitates sonar beeping ) Scoping. Man, you're a dork. ( Accelerates beeping sound ) Target acquired! Now it's time we play a little game I like to call "have you met ted?" oh, come on, not this. Hi. Have you met ted? No. Hi. Hi. Do you know marshall? Lily? Woman: No. Hmm. Do you know anyone at this party? I work with carlos. Excuse me. Anyone know a carlos? No. No. On a silver platter. Bon appétit. I don't think so. Your loss, her gain. Excuse me. Can I show you the roof? It's magical up there. Sure. Ted: Wait, wait. Hey, hey, I got that roof reserved. Dude, robin's not coming. Hey, she's going to show up! She'll show up. Ted: She didn't show up. At least it was a great party. I ate, like, four whole cans of dip. You always know what to say, old friend. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. No, no, not right away... got to seem casual. ( Ringing continues ) Hello? I'm so sorry I missed your party. Who is this? Meredith? Robin. Oh, robin! Hey! Yeah, I, uh, guess you never showed up, did you? No, I got stuck at work. But, they finally got that kid out of the crane machine. Did he get to keep the purple giraffe? Yeah, they let him keep all the toys. He was in there a long time, And little kids have small bladders. ( Chuckles ) robin: I wish your party Was tonight. It is... the party's tonight. Yeah, uh... It's a two-day party, 'cause that's just how we roll. Uh, so, if you want to swing by, you know, it's casual. See ya. So, that was robin. What are you Doing to me, man?! I got a paper to write! I know! Sorry! It's terrible! I'll buy more dip! Ted! Ted, wait! Get french onion! Can you believe this guy? I got a paper to write. Okay, fine. But, it's got to be, like, super-quick, And no cuddling after. I'm the luckiest girl alive. You were so right about the roof! The roof! The roof is on fire, ted! That girl from last night... I took her back to my place, Spun her around a couple times and sent her walking. She will never find her way back, and there she is. How did she get here? Did you invite her? I have no idea who that is. She said she works with carlos. Who's carlos? I don't know any carlos. ( Frustrated groan)

The conquests... the blood of my enemies spilled, and villages burnt to the ground in my name.

Hi, you! You're back! I sure am. Mmm. Come on, sweetie, I need a drink. "Sweetie"? Really? ( Barely audible ): Help. Whoa! Whoa, rabbits! Come on, I got that roof reserved. All right. So, it's over between me and works-with-carlos girl. Whoa! That was fast. Yeah. I was trying to think, What's the quickest way to get rid of a girl you just met? I think I'm in love with you. What?! Thanks, bro. Glad I could help. What the... No, no, no. Come on. Sorry, ted. Great. What am I going to do when robin shows up? She'll show up. She didn't show up. All right. We threw two parties. Everybody had fun. Everybody wanged, everybody chunged. Now, the kid has got to get to work, And the kid is not to be disturbed. Repeat after me. I will not have sex with marshall. Both: I will not have sex with marshall. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. Hello? Hi, ted. Amanda? Oh, denise! Sorry, you totally sounded like amanda. It's robin. Oh, robin. Hi. I totally wanted to come. I got stuck at work again. I feel like I live there. I'm sorry I missed your party, again. Hey, ain't no thing but a chicken wing, mamacita. Who am I? I guess there's no chance your two-dayer Turned into a three-dayer? It did, indeed. The party continues tonight. Yeah. Uh, last night, people were like, "keep it going, bro. Party trifecta." Wow! Okay, well, I'll be there. Great! See you tonight. So, that was robin. So, I threw a third party for robin... On a Sunday night. Well, this is lame. Lame... Or casual? Lame. Or casual? Hey, law books. Ready for a little 15 minute recess? Sorry, baby, I got to work. I need all my blood up here. Has anybody seen an introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923? Anybody seen a big-ass book? All ( muttering ): No. Woman: Hello, barney. Of course. You look well. Is it weird they invited both of us? Who? Who invited you? No one even knows who you are! I understand you're hurt, but you don't have to be cruel. Carlos was right about you. Who is carlos?! Hey, where the hell is my...? Oh...! Okay... An introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923 Is not a coaster! Ted, I'm jeopardizing my law career so you can throw not one, Not two, but three parties for some girl that you just met Who's probably not even going to show up! I mean, where is she, ted, huh? Where's robin? Hi. Hi, robin. Wow. So, you threw all these parties for me? No. Oh, you thought that... No! I... Okay, yes. You got me. One of the reasons I threw these parties Was so that I could introduce you To, um, this guy. Uh, I figured, you know, Since it didn't work out between us And now we can just laugh about it... ( laughs weakly) Anyway, robin, this is... Carlos. Oh! Oh! She's still talking to carlos. I can still win this. I-it's not over. Okay, buddy. Time for the tough talk. Robin seems great, but let's look at the facts. You want to get married. And right now, There's a million women in new york Looking for exactly you. But robin ain't one of them. She's not just one of them. She's the one. Yeah, well, the one is heading up to the roof. What are you going to do? Nothing. It's a game. I got to just keep playing it. ( Rock music playing ) Ted... Hey, carlos, can you give us a minute? Hey, no sweat, hombre. See ya. Robin...

Will I ever be freed of this damnable place?

Look, I didn't throw this party To set you up with carlos, Or the one before that, or the one before that. I threw these parties because I wanted to see you. Well, here I am. There's something here, look, unless I'm crazy. You're not crazy. I don't know, ted. I mean, we barely know each other And you're looking at me with that look. And, it's like... Like, "let's fall in love and get married And have kids and drive them to soccer practice." I'm not going to force sports on them Unless they're interested. ( Iaughing ) It's a great look. But you're looking at the wrong girl. No, I'm not. I don't want to get married right now, maybe ever. I'd feel like I'd either have to marry you Or break your heart, and... I just couldn't do either of those things. Just like you can't turn off the way you feel. Click. Off. Let's make out. What? What? That was the off switch. And I turned it off. I mean, look, sure, yes, I want to fall in love, get married, blah, blah, blah. But, on the other hand... You, me, the roof. There's no off switch. There is an off switch. And it's off. No, it's not. Yes, it is. No, it's not. Yes... It is. No, it's not. You're right. There's no off switch. God, I wish there was an off switch! Me, too. ( Both laughing ) ( both muttering nervously ) What do we do now? We could be friends. Oh... I know it sounds insincere when people say that, But... We could. I don't know, robin. I've made such a jackass of myself here. We start hanging out, every time I see you It'll be like, "oh, that's right. I'm a jackass." You're not a jackass. Look, I'm sorry. I only moved here in April and I'm always working And I just haven't met a lot of good people so far. But I understand. Well, uh, maybe in a few months, After it's not so fresh, We could all, uh, you know, get a beer. Yeah. That sounds good. I'll see you, ted. Or, you know, now. We could all get a beer now. I'd like that. My friends are going to love you... Like you, you know, as a friend. Jackass. Unbelievable. That's just a recipe For disaster. They work together! Are you jealous? Oh, please. What does carlos have that I don't? A date tonight. All: Oh! Stop the tape. Rewind. ( Imitates tape rewinding ) a date tonight. All: Oh! I'm not sure I like her. Hey, don't you have a paper to write? Dude, you're talking to the kid. I'm going to knock back this beer. I'm going to knock back one more beer. I'm going to write a 25-page paper. I'm going to hand it in and I'm going to get an "a." My name is rufus and that's the trufus. ( Iaughter ) Ted: He got a b-minus. But still, 25 pages in one night, b-minus? The kid was good. At least let me buy you a beer. Come on, I'll buy everyone a beer. I'll help carry. You know something, ted? What? You are a catch. You're going to make some girl very happy. And I am going to help you find her. Well, good luck. I mean, maybe new york's just too big a town. I mean, there's millions of people in this city. How, in all this mess, Is a guy supposed to find the love of his life? I mean, where do you even begin? Hi. Have you met ted? ( Music rises over dialogue )

I do not know if I can, but I must.

[STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB]

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOUUU-

[squadron-of-damned-writes]

tagged by @thiswaycomessomethingwicked. Found this sitting in my drafts after third of a year later. No time like the present, right?

Rules are: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

(how convenient that AO3 shows 20 works per page by default!)

1. It most certainly is a morning and the doorbell rings. Like the beginning of a horror movie, Sam thinks as he makes his way from his room to the front door. (The Night In Gale, 2019-10-11, Good Omens x Supernatural)

2. The remnants of the stained glass creak and shatter under the heavy plate sabatons. The men clad in deep red robes watch the armoured figures walk through the raided monastery in careful silence. (Moon And Destiny, 2019-08-24, Les Misérables x Wizardry)

3. “Alright squad! Who are we doing this week?”  (One Gay at a Time, 2019-08-31, Les Misérablex x Queer Eye for the Straight Guy)

4. Light. Everything is is spinning. Light, even behind closed eyelids. It’s omnipresent. Radiant, blinding, magnificent light. (Like A Teen Girl,[1] 2019-11-15, W.I.T.C.H.)

5. Witches have pricking in their thumbs, Varen had his stomach worms, and Lyris had her teeth. She could feel them vibrating in her gums. It usually went away with a couple of flagons of mead, but apparently not tonight. If anything, it made it worse. So here she was, Lyris called Titanborn, tipsy but not yet drunk, sitting by the campfire with the two of Companions and a growing feeling of dread as her teeth planned to run for the hills. It made her only more irritated. (Mind How She Goes, 2019-11-30, Elder Scrolls Online)

6. “Well, are you going to stand there the whole night?” (The Past, the Present, the Death, and the Devil, 2019-12-19, Les Misérables)

7. There is this thing they don’t tell you about dying – it gave you mother of all headaches. In all those tomes and epic sagas there could had been at least once mentioned that the brave heroes and mighty beings who returned from the Other side felt like a horse kicked thorough their head. This terrible pain was usually why your freshly resurrected dead scream in agony and want to destroy things. (The Many Deaths of Me,[2] 2017-04-30, World of Warcraft)

8. As strange as it was, Lyris finds an odd sort of peace here. It is not her old home – she doubts she could ever return there – but her cabin near Riften is a new home. At first it was a house, but she made it a home. It was a hard work to get there, and she is rightfully proud of it all. (To Be Found, 2019-12-09, Elder Scrolls Online)

9. Say what you want about the Tribunal and Vvardenfell, there is something that draws a good hero to the city of Vivec. That something might be a divine presence, but most likely it is simply the presence of a quarter with publicly accessible forges and looms in the close proximity to a bank and the drop site for commissioned works. (The Battlespire, 2020-05-09, Elder Scrolls Online)

10. “Your Majesty, a message for you.” The chamberlain presents the envelope on a silver tray with a gentle bow. Queen Ayrenn picks it up with her delicately manicured fingers, and the soft warm breeze of early autumn attempts to snatch the piece of creamy paper from her as it hurls large honey and amber coloured leaves before finally settling them on the ground. (War Ends, 2020-07-26, Elder Scrolls Online)

11. “Allow me to ask you again for clarification, Your Ex-” “Charles, dear brother. Simply and plainly Charles, for we all are equal in the eyes of the almighty God.” “- Charles: I have died.” (The Man Who Saved A World, 2020-08-12, Les Misérables)

12. So that’s it, you suppose. You are going to sit down on this chair, because someone has to. (The Tale of Two Fates, 2020-09-05, Death and Taxes)

13. There is a saying in Ferelden: When you think you’ve reached the bottom, the Maker shows up with a shovel. Like most farmer wisdom, even this one applies in Orlais. (Land Turned Red, 2020-12-29, Dragon Age)

14. So you come to the supermarket on Friday morning and in the ice-cream isle is a poorly paid and even poorerly shaven retail worker unloading boxes of frozen pizzas, eyeing them like man who’s missed out on breakfast and his contract doesn’t include lunch break. (Observations of an Unconcerned Bus Driver, 2021-03-07, Stardew Valley)

15. They are giving him that look. He knows it well and hasn’t seen it in a long long time. It is the look that says: “I can’t believe that out of all the people in Thedas, he was the one to save us.” (Fine Literature, 2021-03-14, Dragon Age)

16. A young woman stands in a garden. It is a beautiful garden, very lush in spite of all damnation raining from the sky lately, now that the Veil is gone and… And all that. (Houserite, 2021-03-29, Dragon Age x Homestuck)

17. If you asked Solas, it was the most predictable outcome, blatantly staring you in face, shoving middle finger into your nose and blowing a raspberry. However, nobody asked Solas and even less people cared for his issues with Sera’s behaviour, and thus when Dorian goes missing, almost everyone is surprised. (The Excellent Week of Dorian Pavus, 2021-04-09, Dragon Age x Doctor Who)

18. Talent. A short and complicated word. What is a talent? (Necromancer’s Virtues, 2021-05-06, Dragon Age)

19. Fucked.That’s what they are. Fucked. Completely and thoroughly. The Trade Tongue is a limited and insufficient language and lacks any imagination whatsoever when it comes to cusswords. (The Wolves Breach Through, 2021-05-29, Dragon Age)

20. There are a lot of ways to tell that you’ve woken up the wrong way in the morning, and I was pretty certain that I’ve hit three of them at least: Every fiber of me was aching, two men were looming over me with worried expressions, and the sky was dark. Especially the last bit was extremely worrisome, since I was fairly certain I fell asleep in my bed at home under a solid ceiling above which is mum’s room and after that is the attic and after that is a roof and only then you get to see the sky. (Real Feeling of Sharing,[3] 2021-01-10, Dragon Age)

Observations:

I use the opening lines of a story like most people use headlines; luring in the reader by making them think “Hold on, what’s going on?” and hoping it ignites strong enough curiosity for them to read further to figure it out. For that reason more often than not the opening lines are not exactly related to the story.

A surprising amount of mu openings also clearly say: “The story you know is over.”

Also very specific thing which is less about opening lines and more about the trope of my fics: A suspicious number of beginnings based on the fact that the person of focus is dead or implied to be, or implied to be really close to it.

I also don’t like long introductions to the story, so it’s either “Things are happening now, figure it out dear reader” or “This is a thing I am going to focus on because it’s my thing, deal with it, plot will come later.”

Favourite opening line is from The Wolves Breach Through, especially because it quickly evolves into a rant about langauges. The Night In Gale is a close second, because I love to take a piss on the source material. For this reason The Battlespire also comes close to the top, although the fic in itselfwas shit.

[1] Like A Teen Girl should get renamed, because the story evolved from “Parody of the Magic Highschool Girls premise” to “Drama With the Lads”, but I eh, who cares anyway, right?

[2] The Many Deaths of Me deserves to be rewritten by older and more experienced me. It could be a great fic.

[3] Probably going to get renamed to Original Real Feeling of Sharing, but only when I start the next story from the series.

tagging: @timesthatneverwere @thewronglong

[sheliesshattered]

Clearly my spacing and stitch sizing is a little off, but for a proof-of-concept and just eyeballing the distances as I stitched, I think this (very) rough draft of the embroidery for the Oswin apron turned out pretty good! For the real deal, I’ll have to iron that linen fabric, and then lay out my stitches with a ruler, make sure both the length and the width is closer to screen accurate than it is here.

The late night lighting on my craft table makes the red look really orangey, but it’s actually a perfect match for the red of the dress, which is somewhat of a miracle considering that I ordered them online from two different sources, sight-unseen. I would have been happy with close enough, so that was a nice surprise.

Doing all the embroidery for the apron will definitely take quite a lot of time, but even just this little bit was so relaxing and satisfying, I’m suddenly really looking forward to this project. I’m going to try to keep myself focused on finishing the belt in time for Halloween -- and I actually made really good progress on the most complicated bit of it today -- but once I have a little more free space on my craft table I think I might work on getting the first part of this prepped and measured out, so I can start embroidering in the evenings. I’ll probably start with the middle of the neckband so that my roughest stitches will be the least visible.

But first, the belt! 

I really do want to get the belt finished in the next two weeks or so, so I can have the whole base costume to wear on Halloween. I have all the pieces for the belt pulled together, but nothing is actually assembled yet, and I don’t want to start attaching things to the belt until I have all the individual pieces made, so I can figure out the spacing. I’m making several of the weirder bits from various odds and ends I have lying around, but the only thing I’m making completely from scratch is the wedge-shaped oddity:

The screen-used one was probably a bit of toy the prop department dug up and painted, but since this costume has no pockets or bags of any sort, I want to turn that wedge into a flap-top pouch to stash my phone and room key and such in -- on the assumption, of course, that someday I will eventually get to wear this to an actual con.

My original plan for it was pretty simple, just a wedge-shaped bucket pouch with a flap that secures with magnetic snaps, make a faceplate out of foam to replicate the look of the screen-used one, easy peasy. But my phone is so big that keeping it upright made the wedge way too big compared to the rest of the belt. Turning my phone sideways helps, but to keep the pouch from getting too wide, the phone really needs to stay at the top of the wedge -- which then leaves a weird smaller wedge of empty space below it. 

So now I’m thinking an upper pocket, accessed by lifting up the flap, where the phone will lay sideways, parallel to the belt itself. Then below that, a smaller pocket in the lower part of the wedge, which turns out to be perfectly sized for room key, credit card, ID, cash, chapstick, etc -- all those small but important things that I hate not having a way to stash on me while I’m in costume. That bit will have a zipper closure, hidden under the flap, so I can make sure none of that important stuff falls out.

Which all sounds like an excellent and useful final product, but trying to think my way through the 3D shapes involved was seriously breaking my brain earlier. I ended up spending like 30 minutes just sort of staring into space, imagining moving the fabric around, how I would connect the pieces together, where the weak points are likely to be (specifically, the bottom of the pocket that holds the phone), how to make the whole thing hold its shape when built out of scraps of wool, suede, and craft foam, and how to machine-sew the seams in the wool in an order that won’t result in being unable to sew something without sewing the whole pocket closed.

I think I have it. I’ve drawn out the foam faceplate in its true size, based on the size of my phone, and I’ve sketched all the pattern pieces for the wool lining in miniature. There are a couple of places where cutting the seam allowance from a flat piece of fabric will be a little odd, but I think I’ve managed to shift those to the corners that can survive having small holes (ie, my phone isn’t going to fall through a hole that size, but something like a safety pin might). Tomorrow I’m going to cut the whole thing out of paper in its true size, tape the seam allowances together, and make sure it actually works.

Did you ever make those 3D papercraft cubes as a kid? Where the six sides of the cube are printed on a single sheet of paper, with fold lines and extra little tabs so you can overlap it in places and tape it down? This is just like that, only it’s an irregular wedge shape instead of a cube, and the interior is broken up into two parts, with a solid wall in between them. And for the real deal, I can’t tape the edges, I have to pass the wool through a sewing machine, hopefully without any of it getting too fiddly. But hopefully the paper-and-tape version tomorrow should point out any flaws in my plan before I start cutting out the wool pieces.

I also did a proof-of-concept today on gluing both wool and craft foam to suede, and it seems to have gone well. Suede (and leather generally) is odd in that sewing it actually weakens it, so my plan is to make the interior out of wool, with a bit of (faux) horsehair braid to give it extra structure along the straight lines. Then I’ll glue pieces of suede cut to size onto the outside of the wool, to provide the outer body of the pouch, and give the whole thing more structure and strength. The back panel of suede will extend up and over to become the flap that covers the top and front of the pouch, and onto the exterior of that I’ll glue the foam pieces with all the details to match the screen-used one. I think with all those together, it’ll have enough strength and structure to keep its shape, but the wool interior will provide a soft and quiet lining, so nothing in the pockets is banging around.

But honestly, I’m mostly using these materials because I have scraps of black wool and black suede that have been lying around in my fabric stash for, oh, let’s see -- just over 9 years for the wool, and almost 18 years for the suede, though the suede at least has been used in other projects since then. These are small enough pieces that this is really all they’ll be useful for, and the black should be unobtrusive enough that the only thing anyone will actually notice will be the foam faceplate that looks like the screen-used one.

That’s the theory, anyhow. We’ll see how it all comes together. This is by far the most complicated bit of the belt, and it’s up there with how complicated it was to flat-draft the pattern for the drape at the neckline of the dress. Once this is done, putting together all the other little bits for the belt should go a lot faster, really just combining pieces together, gluing them down, and painting.

Not counting today or the 31st, there are 17 days left until Halloween. I should be able to knock out the whole belt in that timeframe, but only if I don’t let myself procrastinate too much. And on that note, maybe I’ll start on that paper mock-up tonight rather than putting it off until tomorrow...

[hazelandglasz]

Klaine Soulmate AU: "The first words your true love(s) will say to you are tattooed on you and why the fuck are their first words something really ridiculous like ‘I’ll pay you a tenner to punch me in the face’ or ‘quick what’s your favourite animal’ or ‘fucking shit hell holy fuck wow oh my god jesus h Christ fuck me’ etc." - and I'd really love to see your rendition of the 'punch me' or the 'fuck me' one! ❤

On AO3

Until the age of thirteen, Blaine used to think a lot about his Words. What they would be, if it would be short and sweet or long and heartwarming.

Being a big fan of Disney movies, he hoped for something romantic and meaningful.

For a solid week after his first time watching Aladdin, he hoped for a “do you trust me” to appear on his skin on his thirteenth birthday.

But on the morning of said birthday, when he woke up with a long sentence etched on his skin—around his wrist, like a bracelet—Blaine lost his illusions of romance.

“Oh Wow, Jesus Christ, Fuck. Me.”

Punctuation and all.

What kind of True Love would say that upon meeting him, Blaine wondered as he went to the Soulmate Office to get his cuff. Because that was not romantic, and that was not meaningful either.

When some older boys at his school managed to corner him and remove the cuff, they decided that his Words were blasphemous and beat Blaine until a teacher stopped them.

His parents quickly made him change schools, and that’s how Blaine ended up at Dalton, where there was a strict no-cuff touching policy. But deep in his heart, Blaine resented his True Love.

Why couldn’t their first words be something neutral or at least not something as risqué as “fuck me”?

Over the years, though, when it became obvious for Blaine that his True Love would be another man, he started to feel differently about his Words, and he grew to be excited about them.

Because those words have an obvious meaning: his True Love, wherever he is, will think Blaine is hot upon meeting him.

Blaine is not vain, per se, but it’s good for his sense of self to know that he will be, at some point, one very attractive specimen of a man (especially during the hardest years of teenagehood, when nothing makes sense and it feels like your limbs are not coordinating their growth).

When he arrives in New York, Blaine is lucky enough to find a roommate who takes good care of him. Eliot is slightly older, but he doesn’t mind Blaine’s innocence. He introduces him to the best New York has to offer, and particularly, brings him along on his Saturday night outings.

Blaine doesn’t know how, exactly, Eliot manages to find the best parties in the city, but every Saturday is better than the previous one, allowing him room to dance and mingle and create a social circle of his own.

And yet, Eliot doesn’t seem satisfied. 

“If only I could get Hummel to come with us,” he bemoans, head thrown back over the arm of their couch. “I’m sure you two would hit it off!”

Blaine snickers, preparing himself tea and getting a can of Diet Cherry Coke for Eliot.  “Yeah, sure. Though you do know my motto, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot says, rolling his eyes fondly at his roommate. “Nobody but True Love, I get it. Spoilsport. But still, Kurt and you would make a perfect couple. Of friends,” he adds in a rush before Blaine can protest. “You’d make the best of friends.”

“Hm, sure.”

“Here, let me take a picture of you for him, maybe that will be incentive enough to drag him out of his office.”

“Eliot, come on—”

Click.

“—you’re being ridiculous.”

“And you manage to still look good even though I took a picture mid-sentence. That’s so unfair.”

“Is there a compliment somewhere that I lost on the way to your jealousy?”

“Maybe. Don’t fish for compliments, Blaine, it’s really unattractive.”

“I don’t fish, and you know I am.”

“Cocky.”

“Knowledgeable.”

Eliot bursts out laughing before being interrupted by his phone pinging in his hand. “Well, hm. Kurt will be one of us tonight.”

“What did he say?”

“Like Hell I’m telling you. Just know that he will be at the club, so, you know...”

“Look good?”

“Look amazing.”

---

Kurt loves his Words.

What kind of teenager doesn’t enjoy knowing his True Love will say “Fuck yeah” upon meeting them?

He does wonder what he says to provoke such a response, but if anything, that means his True Love is an enthusiastic one, and a life filled with passion looks like one Kurt would enjoy.

Ever since he arrived in New York, Kurt has met plenty of enthusiastic guys, plenty of passionate people, but none of them said those words upon meeting him.

One said “fuck me,” which could have been close enough, but unfortunately for her, Kurt was decidedly not interested.

Mercedes is still his best friend, though, so it ended up well for all parties involved.

But Kurt is not worried. When it’s time for his True Love to find him, it will be the right time and he will be allowed to let his romantic self thrive in this passionate relationship.

For now, he enjoys his life as a busy New Yorker and builds a circle of friends and acquaintances and chosen family members.

Amongst whom, Mercedes, of course, and Eliot “Pain in The Ass” Gilbert.

(There is nothing that can save Kurt from them when they decide to join forces, but God does he love them.)

And right now, they are both being the most annoying people Kurt ever had to deal with.

“Come out with us.”

“I’m busy.”

“You don’t have a life, come on, just one drink.”

“To paraphrase the good philosopher Iliza Shlesinger, that sentence is the way to the party goblin and I don’t have the time for that.”

“Kuuuuurt!”

“Mercedeeeeees.”

“You’re no fun. What will I do without you to stop me from dancing on a table?”

Kurt glares at the window where Mercedes’ face is pouting at him. “You will dance on a table, sprain your ankle and invade my living room for a couple of weeks to keep me as your nurse.”

Mercedes bursts out laughing. “Doesn’t sound so bad when you put it that way, damn you.”

Kurt smirks. “I know how to make a compelling argument.”

Mercedes sighs and shrugs. “Alright, I give up. If you change your mind, we’ll be at ‘Pumpin’.”

“Classy.” Kurt smiles more gently. “Have fun, ‘Cedes.”

“Will be more fun if you join us! Love you too, boo.”

Mercedes hangs up, and Kurt stares blankly at his screen for a moment. He’s in his twenties, after all. It wouldn’t hurt to go out with his friends, would it?

His eyes land on the rest of the screen, where his article still waits for him to write it.

He has the title, which is already something, but he can’t possibly go out when he has to deliver this piece to Isabelle’s desk before noon tomorrow and it could be his big break to move from P.A. to P.A./Columnist.

With a deep sigh, Kurt returns to his notes in order to write his first draft. If he works quickly, he will be able to rework it and have a final draft to propose to Isabelle before the night is over.

His phone beeps right as he reads through his plan.

“What now,” he mutters, picking it up and opening Eliot’s message.

And then, his words and his breath get stuck in his throat, because…

Because there is no message, per se, just a picture of a man obviously in the middle of a sentence and looking absolutely stunning.

“Kurt Hummel, meet Blaine Anderson,” Eliot sends immediately after the picture.

For months now, Eliot has tried to arrange a meeting between Kurt and his new protégé from NYU, and for months, Kurt has had to excuse himself from all of them.

But now that he sees who this Anderson guy is, Kurt wants to smack his past self.

Holy young Montgomery Clift, is this man handsome or what.

“Are you coming or what?”

Kurt snickers as he types his reply one-handed, saving his work with the other.

“Am about to just from that pic.”

“xflkbdfbhofd”, is Eliot’s interesting reply, followed by the address of the club.

“You win,” Kurt writes, rushing to the magazine’s Closet to snatch a shirt that will elevate his outfit.

He has to make a good first impression. Nay, a memorable first impression.

The Adonis now saved in his phone may not be his True Love, but there is no rule forbidding Kurt to appreciate his aesthetic while he waits for Him to show up.

---

Blaine had his own outfit but one pre-clubbing alcoholic drink on an empty stomach somehow convinced him to let Eliot dress him up, and he barely recognizes himself in the mirror.

He looks awesome. Like the baddest bitch version of himself, sure, but still. Far fetched.

“Own it, Blainey!” Eliot shouts at him as the club’s doors are opened and the music fills their ears.

Instantly following the rhythm, Blaine throws his head back and struts to the dancefloor.

In the distance, somewhere, he hears Mercedes, Eliot and Kitty wolf-whistling for him and he smiles, closing his eyes and throwing the fluffy jacket toward the sound. He slides his hands down his jacket, over the smooth leather and, yes, lives the fantasy.

Eliot is dancing nearby, his hands on some guy’s hips, thus how Blaine hears him calling Kurt’s name.

“Kurt is here!”

Blaine smiles, still shaking and dancing like nobody’s watching (and like he knows everybody is). “I figured!”

“Kurt, over heeeere!”

Blaine chuckles, looking over his shoulder for the newcomer. 

“Oh Wow, Jesus Christ, Fuck. Me.”

Blaine freezes, using his momentum to turn and face the man who just uttered those words.

The man, Kurt, is, without a doubt, the most beautiful man Blaine has ever seen.

Lucky him, if the man is indeed his True Love.

“Fuck yeah,” he manages, taking a step toward Kurt.

Whose eyes—those mesmerizing blue eyes, shining surreally in the strobelights of the club—widen as the words leave Blaine’s lips.

“What did you just say?” he asks, moving closer too.

It’s impossible for them to have this conversation here, on the dancefloor, when the words are only audible because they managed to say them during a lull in the playlist.

Blaine doesn’t hesitate or pause to think about his gesture, he reaches out to take Kurt’s hand and pulls him across the room, toward the more quiet rooms in the back of the club, under Eliot’s laughter.

The whole process feels like it happens in slow motion, but Kurt’s hand solidly grips his, and it’s warm and soft under Blaine’s touch.

Blaine closes the door when they get to the room and smiles at Kurt, the music now only a vague background.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Kurt’s voice really is as beautiful as Blaine thought when he heard it.

“Can I see your wrist?” Kurt asks, voice soft and shy, in total contradiction with his earlier words.

Blaine may have been influenced by his borrowed outfit until now, but he is feeling a bit nervous himself. “S-sure.”

They both reach for their cuffs at the same time. Blaine holds his arm up, next to Kurt’s.

Sure enough, Blaine’s Words and Kurt’s respond to each other in a perfect conversation.

Well, perfect—perfect for them, it would seem.

“I am really sorry,” Kurt says, a blush appearing on his face. “I am not that crass, usually. It’s just—you were just, I mean you are so—wow.”

Blaine scratches the back of his neck. “This isn’t my usual way to dress,” he mutters. “Eliot insisted.”

“I knew I recognized that waistcoat,” Kurt laughs, gesturing at Blaine’s top. “Though I feel like you inhabit it way better than him. Don’t tell him I said that,” he adds precipitously, making Blaine laugh.

“I am really glad I found you,” he says, still giggling, before he can stop himself.

Kurt blinks and smiles so tenderly at him that Blaine feels like they just had the most sensual experience while still being dressed. “Me too,” he replies simply, holding up his hand.

Blaine immediately takes it, letting Kurt pull him closer.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, brushing his knuckles along Kurt’s jaw.

“Fuck yeah,” Kurt breathes with a smile Blaine cannot wait to taste any longer.

In total contradiction of their first exchange, the kiss is soft and tentative and gentle and, yes, romantic.

Blaine lets his lips slide against Kurt’s, happy to kiss him this way forever if he is allowed to, until Kurt reaches for his cheek, tilting his head to the side and opening his mouth to caress Blaine’s with his tongue.

Blaine moans into the kiss, placing his hands on Kurt’s waist to get him as close as humanly possible while keeping upright. Truth be told, the kiss is so earth-shattering that Blaine’s knees are close to buckling.

Kurt’s hand on his cheek is still soft, but the one on his shoulder tightens its grip.

Blaine pulls away because, in this moment, as much as he enjoys kissing Kurt, he needs to see Kurt.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly as they part, caressing Kurt’s cheek until he reaches to cup the back of his head, bringing their foreheads together. “There you are.”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part III

This is going to be a slow burn. Much more to come.

   Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

   Thanks so much to @kitkatcronch @kpopperotp12 and @seafrost-fangirl for reading : ) If anyone else wants added to the taglist, let me know. I’ve greatly appreciated all of the feedback!

   Warnings: A wee, mild reference to sex. Ahk is a solid 20 years of age to be certain to avoid any squick factor.

Déjà vu washed over you as you walked into Ahkmenrah’s exhibit, your sandals barely making a noise because of your cautious steps. That same sadness from the night you first met emanated from him. Or maybe it was loneliness? You scolded yourself for not even caring enough to ask, for allowing yourself to see only the papyruses, not the person who was kind enough to share them with you.

   You knew he sensed your presence and you took it as a good sign that he didn’t turn away or tell you to go. As you approached, you waged a mental war— ancient king or just a young man? Should you kneel in front of him or should you sit beside him like a friend? Would he even want you as a friend after your callousness?

   “I can hear you thinking from here. Speak your piece or leave,” Ahkmenrah said, his tone distant.

   “I came to apologize.”

   “Apology accepted. You may leave now.”

You huffed and plopped onto the cold, ornamental bench next to him, his petulance swinging your mental battle toward seeing him more as a man than a king. You turned your body toward him, but he remained facing forward, eyes still trained on the hieroglyphs.

   “You don’t even know what my apology is for.”

   He remained statuesque, so you continued, eyes searching his profile for any hint of reaction.

   “I’m sorry I took advantage of your kindness. For someone who thinks so much, I can sometimes forget to think about the things that actually matter. You—not just your papyruses—matter.”

   Ahkmenrah’s mouth twitched downward and his fingers tightened on the bench.

   “I understand if you want to stop working with me, but before I go, can I ask you one last question?”

   Ahkmenrah turned to face you, the intensity of his eyes nearly taking your breath away.

   “Are you sad, or are you lonely?”

   Whatever Ahkmenrah was expecting you to ask, it certainly wasn’t this. His eyes widened in surprise, and he opened his mouth to speak, then promptly shut it. His gaze fell to the floor and after what felt like a small eternity, he stated, “Both.”

   Your heart swelled with empathy, with an understanding that you had it all wrong. Fate didn’t bring you to a reanimated mummy to answer your doctoral prayers; fate brought you to someone who needed you, who craved your companionship, and that someone also happened to be royalty, to once have been the most important person in an entire nation. Now, he was practically a prisoner.

   “Your majesty,” you whispered.

   Ahkmenrah lifted his head and looked into your eyes again; whatever he saw there must have convinced him that you understood how you hurt him and that you would never, ever do it again.

   Your natural instinct was to reach up to cup his face, to comfort him.

   “Your majesty,” you spoke, stronger and more sure this time. “Can I touch you?”

   Ahkmenrah nodded.

   You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you reached up to cup his face. You gently slid your palm along his cheek, your thumb slowly stroking the soft skin of his high cheekbone. Ahk turned his body toward you and leaned his face into your touch and closed his eyes. You shifted closer to him on the bench and slid your hand from his cheek to the back of his neck and into his hair. You wrapped your other arm around his shoulders and pulled him as close as your position would allow. Your chests pressed tightly against one another’s and Ahkmenrah brought his hands to your waist, wrapping his arms around your lower back.

   You buried your fingers in the soft curls that adorned his head and clung to him, inhaling his scent, which ironically, reminded you of the papyrus.

   The bugle of Teddy’s voice as he called out the warning of the approaching dawn startled you both. You pulled apart and laughed together, shyly.

   “Do you really accept my apology?” you asked with concern.

   “Of course. To err is human, right?” Ahk replied with a small smile.

   You smiled and gestured toward yourself as you said, “There’s a whole lotta err wrapped up in this.”

   Ahkmenrah’s smile quickly faded to a frown as he said, “I must return to my sarcophagus, but I hope to see you again soon.”

   “I’ll be here when you wake up,” you stated, eyes searching his face.

   “I scarcely dare to hope that’s true.”

   “Don’t be so dramatic,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Ahk turned to his guards and spoke. They lifted the lid of the sarcophagus, and you noticed the lines of faint scratches that adorned the inside; it made your stomach fill with a grotesque horror at the thought of him being trapped inside that box, of being alone in the darkness, never knowing if he would escape, unable to even succumb to death.

   You watched as Ahkmenrah laid down into his ornate box with a practiced ease. He crossed his arms over his chest, his ancient mummy wrappings pushed to either side.

   With another order, the twin jackals moved to shut the lid. Ahkmenrah closed his eyes, his jaw tensing as the lid locked him inside. You slid your hand along the sarcophagus, stopping to place it over Ahkmenrah’s golden one.

   And then you felt it.

   It was as if Anubis himself had reached out to steal everything that dared to defy him by living. It took your own breath away, and for a moment, you thought, This is what it feels like to die. In an instant, you knew that Ahkmenrah was gone, nothing but a pile of ancient bones laid just beneath the lid.

   Larry spoke from the doorway, “It’s unnerving, isn’t it?”

   “You feel this every night?” you asked, your voice reflecting your discomfort.

   Larry only nodded before stating, “Come on. I’ll drop you at your place.”

   * * * * *

The drive to your apartment was quiet. Larry did ask if you fixed things with Ahkmenrah, and you said that yes, you thought so. You also thanked him for his advice.

   “Night, kiddo.”

   You practically crawled up the stairs, exhaustion taking a firm root in your limbs. You had exactly three hours to sleep before you needed to head into the university to meet with your supervising professor.

   As you kicked off your sandals, you realized that you left your notebook on the table in the kitchen display. You sent a quick text to Aunt Rebecca to make sure she found it before anyone else did. Your body refused to function any further and you fell asleep, facedown, still fully clothed, and cellphone in hand.

   * * * * *

Your fingers whirred, seemingly of their own accord, across your laptop as you typed up another source summary. You worked a decent number of hours per week to help offset the cost of your PhD, but you didn’t mind. You were selected by your favorite professor for the RA position, so it rarely even felt like work.

  “Hey, Y/N,” said a deep voice with a light accent from the doorway of the small lounge you were working in. It wasn’t a surprise to see Ryan; he knew you well enough to know every nook you’d hide away in to get your work done.

   “I heard you submitted the first draft of your proposal.”

   You looked up and smiled, “I did.”

   Ryan’s handsome face smirked as he replied, “I knew you’d finish before me. What happened to our pact?”

   You chuckled, remembering the night the two of you swore to be each other’s motivation. You were undergrads, both drunk on mid-shelf tequila and had ducked into Ryan’s dorm to escape the boisterous post-finals party hosted on your floor. The sealing of your pact began with a handshake and ended with the two of you in bed. Ryan left the next day to return to Australia for the summer. For the rest of your undergrad studies, this was the nature of your relationship with Ryan. Neither of you wanted a commitment; sometimes, friends with benefits could work if it happened at the right time with the right person.

   Ry had been given a grant through the Australian Anthropological Society to pursue his thesis on the effects of colonialization. Being an Australian and having observed the effects on the indigenous peoples of his home country, he wanted to focus on the “what if” side of indigenous cultures—what if people hadn’t conquered and taken not only the wealth of a land, but the dignity of its people? Ryan was an ideator, and you found that deeply attractive. He was content with asking questions and searching for answers that may never be found, whereas you needed to find an answer, no matter the labor or the cost. It was nice to spend time with someone who thought differently than you.  

   “Wanna celebrate tonight?”

   You took in his muscular arms, not at all hidden beneath his thin green shirt. You remembered the way they flexed under your touch, how solid and warm he felt when he was naked and pressing into you. You shifted in your seat; Ryan had excited you from the first time he opened his mouth during class to answer a question, and he could still excite you, even more easily now since you knew the pleasure he could give you.

   But Ahkmenrah’s face flashed into your mind, interrupting you, reminding you that you had made a promise.

   You gave Ryan a soft smile and said, “I’ve got plans. But maybe you should take that as a push to submit your draft?”

   Ryan chuckled and shook his head, “You’re a work-a-holic, babe.”

   “Do not even act like you aren’t cut from the same cloth.”

   Ryan raised his hands in a gesture of mock-defense.

   “You got me. Will you look over it before I submit?”

   You grinned, “I knew you weren’t far behind. Of course. Just text me, or well, you know where to find me.”

   “Catch ya later, babe.”

   You shook away the remnants of Ryan and re-centered your mind. Borrowing the words of the iconic Scarlett O’Hara, you told yourself that you’d think about it tomorrow, well, Ryan anyway. Egypt was always on your mind, even more so than usual with a certain promise you intended to honor.

   * * * * *

Armed with a cat nap, a fresh pair of leggings and a breezy, bright, summer top, you slung your backpack on and made your way to Ahk’s exhibit. Your earlier interaction with Ryan felt like a dream as you entered the museum; the museum was starting to feel more like your reality than an escape.

   “Hi, Lar, bye, Lar!” you called as you zipped past the front desk.

   As promised, you arrived in time to be there when Ahkmenrah awoke. As you waited for the sun to set, you carefully watched the room, wondering if you’d feel the opposite of what you felt last night. Suddenly, a flash of light emitted from the tablet, but to your chagrin, you felt nothing. It was as if life were more natural than death—now that was truly a concept worth some thought, but the jiggling of Ahkmenrah’s sarcophagus drew your attention.

   You rushed to pull the golden pins out that sealed the lid, wondering why Larry even bothered to put them back in every night. The rock slab that once held the coffin lid in place was destroyed the night Larry saved the museum, so it would be easy for Ahk to open the lid himself now.

   You’d barely pulled the last pin out before the lid flew off and clanged to the ground. Ahkmenrah sat bolt upright, looking wildly about, his crown jostling just the slightest. When his eyes found yours, he smiled as his breathing steadied. You imagined that if you listened hard enough, you’d be able to hear his heart hammering in his chest.

   “Hi,” you said, holding the coffin steady as he climbed out eagerly.

   “Hi,” Ahkmenrah replied, his smile exploding into a grin that made your heart skip a beat.

   “Is it terrible? Waking up like that every night?”

   “It is. I sometimes forget that I’m not going to remain trapped.”

   “Why doesn’t Larry leave the pins out so you’re not?”

   “We discussed that, but it is too risky. Everything must return to exactly as it was to avoid suspicion. Even the tiniest detail will not go unnoticed by a professional docent.”

   You sighed, “I’m sorry, Ahk.”

   “You have nothing to be sorry for—you’re here! Allow me a moment to fetch the papyruses.”

   The happiness in his voice spread to your very soul. How could you have been so stupid to ignore this sweet person for a pile of scrolls?

   “Wait—I thought we could do something different tonight.”

   “Oh?” he said as he stopped and turn back to face you.

   “Yeah. I thought we could just, hang out. Talk. Get to know each other.”

   Ahkmenrah smiled again. Damn. If he didn’t stop that, he would own your heart by midnight.

   “Shall we head to the kitchens?” Ahk asked, turning in that direction.

   “Let’s leave the kitchens as our designated research area. It’s important to separate work from play,” you explained.

   Ahk tilted his head and thought about what you said.

   “That’s the most Egyptian thing I think I’ve ever heard you say. Americans, well, the English, too, are so . . .”

   “Boring?”

   Ahkmenrah laughed. “No! Of course not. It’s just that we understood life to be a gift. We worked hard, but we knew how to relax and to enjoy being with those we cared for.”

   You thought for a minute before saying, “The Cult of Hathor was in full prominence during your time, right?”

   “Hathor, yes! As king, I had a temple erected in her honor and declared five days of celebration for the, um. . .” Ahkmenrah struggled to translate what he would have called the celebration.

   “Well, we refer to it as The Five Gifts of Hathor—I wrote a paper on the rituals of the field workers and how they celebrated gratitude by listing the five things they were most grateful for in their lives. I remember finding it fascinating that ingratitude was considered to be the sin that led to other sins. But I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make a lot of sense, especially in today’s society.”

   Ahkmenrah nodded as you spoke, excitement glittering in his eyes.

   “Yes, that is an apt translation. I lived a good life, Y/N, and I tried to be a good king by making sure my people had time to appreciate their gift of life, too. I was lucky to rule during a time of great prosperity and peace. If I had lived longer, perhaps things would have been different.”

   There was that sadness again. You couldn’t imagine what it was like to be stuck in a world that was so, so far from your own.

   “Don’t do that to yourself. You were a good king, and it wasn’t your fault that your time was cut short.”

   Life meant so much more to the ancient Egyptians; they had a zest for it, a true passion. Today, you were lucky to make it through half an episode of a tv show before turning it off, tired of being surrounded by dark cynicism. When did it become the trend to hate everything?

   And that love for life was the point of mummification—Ahkmenrah’s people worked tirelessly to extend life, to bridge that gap between life and death so they could carry on with their earthly joys.

   “Come on,” you said as you linked your arm with his. “Let’s go talk some more.”

   Ahkmenrah tilted his chin down slightly to look into your eyes; the two of you were close in height, but even in his thin sandals, he was still a few inches taller than you, which sparked a question you had been burning to ask.

   “What do you think of pants?”

   Ahkmenrah’s eyebrows shot up and he questioned, “Pants? Like what Larry wears? Gods, no. The idea of them seems so . . . constraining.”

   You laughed and leaned in closer to him as you directed him toward the large screen theater on the first floor. The museum was showing a movie on ocean life, so you told Ahkmenrah to head in and pick a seat while you sorted out how to start the movie in the projection room. You had worked part-time in high school at a movie theater, and it was nice you could put that knowledge to good use.

   After starting the film, lowering the lights, and setting the volume at a reasonable level, you exited the booth into the theater and looked for Ahk’s silhouette. He was sitting in what appeared to be the exact middle of the room in the exact middle of the row.

   “Good choice,” you said taking a seat next to him and putting your feet up on the seat in front of you.

   Ahk smiled in acknowledgement of your comment as his eyes flicked to your face before returning to the screen.

  The movie was bright enough that you were able to clearly see each other, but it was still a large theater. It was dark around you and created an inviting, relaxed atmosphere. The soothing voice of the narrator added to your sense of restfulness, as did the closeness of the person sitting next to you, rigidly proper, hands clasped in his lap.

   His eyes were trained on the fish as they moved in a perfect school through the water, but as soon as you spoke again, he turned his head to listen.

   “So, fifteen minutes ago we were talking about enjoying life, relaxing. Are you relaxed?”

   Ahkmenrah furrowed his brows, “Do I not look to be relaxed?”

   “Take off the crown? Maybe your collar? That thing has to be heavy . . . and itchy.”

   “Would you like to try them on?”

   You huffed out a tiny laugh, “That wasn’t my point, but I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to wear the crown of Lower Egypt.”

   Luckily, you had worn your hair in a braid, so when Ahkmenrah sat up and removed his crown to place it on your head, it fit. It was actually much snugger than you thought it would be.

   “Is my head that big?” you asked with a little bit of horror.

   Ahkmenrah laughed and said, “It’s supposed to be quite tight. You can’t have it just falling off while going about your day. That would be a bad omen.”

   He reached behind his neck and untied his Wesekh. You quickly took in the newly exposed expanse of his toned chest, his skin looking even more dark and flawless because of the flickering lights from the film.

   If Ahkmenrah noticed your staring, he was too polite to say anything. He held out the Wesekh to catch your attention and you turned around so he could place it over your crowned head and fasten it.

   “Oh—” Ahkmenrah said as the Wesekh slipped and he nearly grabbed a handful of your chest as he reached to catch it.

   Your shoulders shook with laughter as he apologized, but your laughter died quickly as you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck as he tied the collar. You wanted to lean into his touch; you wanted more.

   “There,” Ahkmenrah stated.

   You turned to face him, feeling utterly ridiculous.

   “Judging from your wicked grin, I look as ridiculous as I feel.”

   “You could never look ridiculous, Y/N. You’re beautiful.”

   Ahkmenrah stated his declaration of your beauty as easily as if he were reading the weather for the day. You, however, nearly swallowed your tongue. No compliment had ever sounded sweeter.

   You laughed, nervously, and thanked him for the ego boost.

   “This is itchy. And very heavy.”

   Ahkmenrah smiled and reached out to remove his crown, pulling a little to get it to come off. You knew your hair was now scattering to the four corners of the earth and reached up to smooth it out. Ahkmenrah reached out and tucked one stray strand behind your ear, his fingers lingering lightly just behind your ear.

   You turned again for him to remove his collar. You took both things from him and tucked them into the folded seat next to you.

   You turned back and asked Ahk what he would like to wear again if he could.

   “Well, it’s terribly cold here. Our most comfortable clothes were so light. But I do recall that for the summer months, I had the most exquisite, I think you’d call it a shift? maybe a dress? that was so soft it always felt cool, like the air itself, and it was dyed a dark blue and woven with a gold thread so that it shimmered when you moved.”

   The clenching of your thighs was almost involuntary as the image of Ahkmenrah in a probably sheer, certainly gorgeous nightgown filled your mind. No wonder people believed the pharaohs were descended from the gods if even half of them looked like Ahk.

   “Before I was king, I usually didn’t wear anything to bed, though. When it was cold, we had thick blankets to keep us warm, and the palace always had a fire burning on those nights.”

   Jesus. He was clearly trying to kill you.

   However, as a professional researcher, you asked, “Why did you start wearing clothes to bed once you were king?”

   “In the event of an emergency, it would be faster to dress and to look regal if you didn’t start from nothing.”

   “Oh, the wretched price one pays for royalty,” you said through a smile.

   Ahkmenrah chuckled, “You asked, and I swear to only ever speak the truth to you.”

   The rest of the night progressed in a similar manner. You and Ahkmenrah talked for hours about things old and new, and every time the movie ended, you went upstairs to start it again; it felt necessary, like if you could keep the atmosphere the same, then maybe the night would never end.

   By the time you looped the movie around for the fifth time, you were both talked out. When you returned to your seat, Ahk greeted you with another smile that made you school-girl weak. This time, instead of starting another conversation, you slid your arm under Ahk’s and tucked into his side. You rested your head on his shoulder and reached out along his arm to take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together.

   Ahkmenrah held very still until you were settled, then he relaxed into you, resting his head against yours. It felt good; it felt natural, and it occurred to you that you were entering a very dangerous territory. You couldn’t fall for him because you couldn’t have a relationship. You lived in a daylight driven world; there would only be so many times when you could miss going to school without risking the loss of your doctoral candidacy, and your work was your life. It was your dream, your passion.

   But maybe you could let yourself have this moment? Soon after snuggling into Ahkmenrah and imagining that he was just a normal guy with a normal life, you drifted off to sleep. When Ahkmenrah felt the shift of your mind and body closing itself off from consciousness, he tightened his grip on your hand and placed the softest kiss on the top of your head.

   He knew he couldn’t have you; it wasn’t right. But, gods, how he wanted you.

[gukptune]

user: 95mochibuns → jimin

↠ Pairing: jimin x reader

↠ Genre: camboy!au, streamer!reader, smut

↠ Warnings: explicit language, cute but dangerous jimin, masturbation, teasing, edging, more of a clean smut

↠ Words: 3.3k

↠ Plot Summary: not much could be said about a camboy who gets himself into trouble with a streamer he admires.

↠ a/n: possibly a part 1 of 2. This has been sitting in my draft for a long time. Hope you enjoy it, it’s not GREAT but it’s cute. Second part will be much better!

Frustrated, infuriated and annoyed, all these words meant the same thing but they’re the only things that crossed your mind but of course you couldn’t show it not right now.

“Honestly, I knew this game was difficult and no, I will not wear the chicken hat. Never,” you announced, your voice coming right back at your from your mic to your headphones.

Keeping that quick witted and mischievous persona that all your viewers came to you for.

Comments rolled in with tips and tricks but of course most of them weren’t helpful, your eyes were automatically glancing over the sexual comments and what not, saying shit like your aspirated groans and whines at the game was hot.

Then a tip rolled in and that wasn’t normal by any means, your tips were of high price ― 20 for a tip was just ridiculous but it stopped a lot of stupid kids commenting. You had loads of subscribers and make a lot from this yet streaming and gaming wasn’t your job. You didn’t want to make it seem that way either because you were still in the end a student.

The tip popped up with your tip icon, blinking with the sender’s icon ― a bunny? 

“All these kids commenting that you suck should fucking stop commenting anonymously like the fucking *shilantropussies* they are.”

You were looking at the sender as you chuckled, “Exactly, jbunnyjeon.”

Of course it was nice to point out people’s names when they tipped because funny enough most of the tippers live for that shit. You were streaming one of the less popular games mostly so you could play it because well you don’t stream for other people but for yourself.

Playing Metal Gear Solid could’ve been a mistake, since this game was a drag in time and effort. Yet, a whole lot of male viewers loved seeing girls play ‘manly’ games, whatever.

“Anyways, I still don’t get why we need this guy with us but I got him,” you commentate as your character, snake, hauled your capture onto the back of your horse.

Finally, you got past the stupid robot. 

“Congrats :( that part took me *days* ― legit was about to kill myself.”

A comment by a fellow streamer, it popped up larger than most since you both were mutuals.

“Jeez, you fucking suck Tae,” You teased, imagining his reaction to everyone seeing how you played better than him. Since, he was a self proclaimed pro-gamer.

You leaned back in your chair, watching yourself on the screen to your left through the cutscene. Seeing all the comments which made you chuckle and respond to some through text. You weren’t one to talk through cutscenes at all.

As things seemingly were going smoothly a buzz through you phone made you groan, if someone was fricking texting you at 9 pm you were about to kill them because there were multiple and they were loud.

Out of frame of the viewers you flipped your phone over, it immediately unlocks and you scroll to see the notification.

95mochibuns is going live!

95mochibuns is going live in 10 minutes!

Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes lock at the time. It was really 9 but fucking 9:50.

95mochibuns announcement! 

Hey guys! A spontaneous live coming up, something special - feeling horny and fucking hard. Hope you can all join me tonight! 

Entry is at 10 on the dot, only those who click in time can view. Testing out something new, maybe you guys will like it. I’ll be able to see your comments easier since it’s exclusive and limited.

Did I mention there’s only 35 slots, :) I love you all.

Oh fucking hell. Were you really going to drop your stream to watch his. Were you going to pretend to have a great reason to stop the stream now, lie to your audience to watch this camboy jack himself off.

Fuck yes.

Letting out a cough, you turned back to face the camera as your phone slips up into your hand, “Urgh, hey guys― I think I’m getting tired.”

"I’m so going to have nightmares about this game tonight, hope you all enjoyed,” you smiled softly, giving your audience the best worn out expression you could. Waving your hand at the camera, seeing comments of those saying ‘goodnight’, or saddened emojis and you know the typical ‘don’t go’ or some mean comments.

Winking at the camera before you shot hearts, “Thank you so much for tuning in on tonights stream! Metal Gear Solid Ep. 24! See you all, next time. Much love!”

Clicking off you let out a sigh, stretching out your back and feeling the cracks moaning at the release. Shit, you’ve been sitting in the same spot for hours, your back was killing you. Twisting and turning trying to pull out all the cracks and tightness you peered at the time on your desktop.

9:54 it was. You had 6 minutes to get on his page and wait, you knew it was going to be war and you were going to be refreshing like your life depended on it.

On the cam website and app, called ‘weheartcam’, it was one of the best in your opinion. The website only took amateurs and didn’t take companies or businesses streaming on their site, only independent streamers, how lovely.

Though Jimin, 95mochibuns, was one of the most popular boys apart of this camboy trio. Made up of himself and his two friends, though you only watched Jimin― something about him makes you just drool.

His fluffy blonde hair, muscular thighs, ripped body- fuck, he was just a korean boy who knew his ways around people of all countries. His english was amazing, he slips his native tongue every now and then, making him even hotter. 

95mochibuns is going live in 5 minutes!

Holy―fricken―fuck. Was it anxiety, you were going to cry if you didn’t get to watch. You ended your stream for this boy, you felt like you were trying to get concert tickets or something.

You clicked on the bookmarked page you had favourited, that directed you right to his page. 

On the videos page, you propped your leg up hugging a knee close to your chest to get comfortable.

Seeing his array of very explicit thumbnails, of which one of them was blurry― for tonight. Plastered over the image, ‘Coming Soon’. Oh yes, he was going to be coming in many ways.

Here you are, playing the waiting game. Being a well traverse streamer of course you internet connection was legit and you had faith in yourself... as much faith you could have when you know at least ten thousand people would want to be watching. He gets at least millions on each of his streams and well whenever there was a live he had more than a hundred thousand watching when it’s on. Though, there were the occasional people who joined instantly and that was the ten thousand super fans.

You wouldn’t say you were a super fan, you didn’t really have a fan page just a random one you used to comment and tip Jimin. You didn’t like all his posts on instagram... you always a bit busy. But well, you’ll have to try― at least.

9:58, nine―fucking��fifty eight. Hearts racing, in the spur of suspense. Your eyes were burning a whole into the clock as your finger on your mouse hovered over the video. Did this seem like you were being too much, no, fuck no.

Time blinks away as you finger immediately taps on the video when it game on. Being delighted by the cute face of Jimin himself, smiling at the camera as he watches the number of streamers go up. Each of the streamers were tagged with a number, you were number 26, fantastic.

Which always made you question how the hell did anyone have better connection that you, especially when you’re pretty sure you pressed right on the dot. Some sort of wizardry bullshit, or bots of course. Yet, these kinds of streams were only for members, of which you definitely were.

You laughed, thinking of the thumbnail he had. He must’ve posed for it in the same outfit before he started the stream.

“Hey guys!” Jimin flashed his ultra pure smile. 

Fluffing up his hair as he seduces his viewers through the camera, “Slots are full, hmm, I’m glad you’re all here.”

They way he speaks is husky, breathy, his eyes were dim and blinking more often. He even moans, holy fuck. He was laid back on a couch, from what you could see. The lights were more dimmed now, neon lights peaking from his left shining on his face.

He must’ve had what you think was the television on, as it was flashing against his face. His camera was still, must’ve been on a tripod.

“Yea, I’ve been busy―argh, sorry for the lack of stream this week. I was actually going to go to sleep, it’s really late here,” he speaks casually, smiling at the camera as he reads through the messages― the non-spamming one. You weren’t commenting though, you were more distracted by what he was doing.

He was wearing a dark sweater, his right shoulder was flexing. Maybe it was your gamer instincts to notice everything, observe everything. He was not just sitting around.

You felt ridiculous, were you actually imaging. No one else was pointing out his erratic breathing, for flustered cheeks. Everyone was asking him what he was doing today, how his day was― innocent things.

Opting to do it yourself you began to type.

peachbubbles: you’re cute when you’re blushing ;’)

Which apparently catches his eye as the side of his lip curls into a smirk, he chuckles patting the back of his nape, “Hmm, you’re observant, huh?”

“Peachy,” he winks at the camera. You felt awfully exposed at that moment, it was clear he was directing that to you.

He made you squirm and blush from the mere look on his face and the way he speaks. This was more than a stupid crush, you’ve been watching him for years and hell, he’s changed since the beginning. He’s so much more confident with himself now.

Since he’s noticed you, but doesn’t really know who you are you commented again.

peachbubbles: why don’t you show us what’s going on downstairs? <3

He seemed to see your comment again, which was easy to spot as yours mentioned a completely different topic from everyone else’s occasional ‘i love you’.

He shook his head humorously, “Downstairs,” hissing through his teeth, “You’re too smart, unlike most of the fans here. You actually think― with your head.”

He grins, reaching forward to the camera, making your heart race from how close he was, it felt realistic from your huge screen. He zooms out.

Your breathing hitches when he pulled back and relaxes on the couch. Everyone’s reaction was well, pretty similar to yours.

He has his legs sprawled out wide, his sweatpants pushed down. His hand fisting his own cock, he bites his lip reading all the lewd comments. Pulling at his balls with his other hand.

“I’d give you a prize if I could, darling,” He teases, flashing his perfect smile again.

His eyes perked around reading the comments, he picked out one in particular to read out.

“Ah... You’re all wondering why I chose to do this random stream, uhm, honestly. This may come as a surprise but I don’t think it is,” He pauses, mumbling a few words, cocking his head back and forth, “I got hella turned on watching, uhm, one of my favourite gamers.”

“She’s pretty hot, she was aggravated by this game, ugh, it’s pretty fucking cute,” you had a sense of jealousy, he was jerking off to the thought of a hot gamer he’s watched, fuck, she was be hot as fuck.

“Anyways, sadly, she had to end her stream before I could jack off to her,” sad indeed, though of course you felt kind of relieved that you won’t be watching your ultimate crush jacking off to some gamer that could be your rival.

If anything, you had just came off your stream.. right? Hell no, Jimin wouldn’t possibly be referring to you, no.

His face was now redder than it was before, he must’ve read the comments spilling with assumptions that he was dating them, having a crush and etc.

“She’s a great gamer! You might know her, she just passed a huge robot level on this game...” as if time had stopped, you awaited what he had to say. Holy fuck, maybe he was talking about you.

“Metal gear solid? Is it? I don’t know much about games like that but it seems cool, I mainly watch those streams for her,” he explained, rubbing his face shyly, “I don’t even watch the gameplay, just her face.”

“Fuck, that sounds creepy doesn’t it? It doesn’t? Thank god,” he sighed, relieved that most of his fans commented how they’d be grateful as fuck if he’d jack off to them.

Jimin leans into the camera, as if he’s whispering and telling a secret, “Hmm, I nut to her nearly everyday.”

He chuckles, leaning back onto the bedframe. His eyes reading through the comments before he playfully huffed.

“Her name? You guys want me to expose her? Hell no!”

He chuckles with an amused tone, shaking his head, “Well, if anything maybe you guys will like her more than me.” 

Damn. You don’t even know how to feel anymore, knowing that your ultimate crush is getting himself off with the imagery of you―you. You didn’t know if you should say something, hell no, if you did you’d get attacked by his raging fans.

God, look at him though. His eyes half shut, euphorically pulling at his balls and jerking himself off― you got so wet just staring at his face, not to mention the sight of his thickened cock in his hands.

Then rolls the comments.

parkhearts: you’re famous! slide in her dms, maybe you’ll get to slide in elsewhere too

babymochi: omg, get together! I ship.

bunbuns: She’s cute, omg, I watch her. Didn’t think she’d be his type, she’s so... cunning haha

iloveprkjm: She’d totes dom him honestly.

jiminsgirl: she’s not even that cute wth are y’all on

Jimin must’ve caught those comments because he sighs, stopping himself for a second as he responds, “She’s way too good for me. But hey, ‘bunbuns’. I’m pretty cunning too, that makes her and I compatible right?”

“And yea. She seems like a total bad girl, and yes, ‘iloveparkjm’ thank you, she could totally pull off a dom look and well I’d let her choke me any day.”

Your breath hitches. His tone was so serious, he wasn’t even laughing it off. He was just grinning like the cute ass he was, knowing well enough that whatever he said made everyone cream their pants.

And cue the thirsty comments.

itsjustpark: i’d let him choke me to death

berrychu: imagine sub jimin tied up though...

perkie: i’m so jealous

chimsgirl: here comes the thirsts and the jellys

More and more comments scrolled their way rapidly down the screen, Jimin’s facial expression was the same as yours―shocked but not surprised. He knew what he said and what would happen, god he loved the attention.

“You guys! Relax, it’s not like she knows I exist,” He laughed, before eyeing the camera and smirking, “I won’t cheat on you guys.”

Did you just cringe? Probably, god he said things that made all his girls die and squirm. You could probably feel the same as them but at the moment all you could think about was the fact that he just told the world he jerked off to you― indirectly but some fans caught on.

jiminsbitch: you guys could make a sex tape... that’d be pretty hot, ____’s hella hot.

heartsforhim: so it is ______

jiminsmine: _____? who’s this hoe

honeybuns: holy fuck imagine seeing him fuck someone.

perkie: i bet minnie knows the motions of the ocean ;) 

You god damned imagined the same thing. Shit, you got off on him too. What’s to stop you from actually messaging him... his fans or your pride.

“Geez, guys please focus on me and not your imagination of me right now,” Jimin teased, still going at himself.

Pushing your ridiculous thoughts away you focused on the now.

peachbubbles: i’m sure she’d love for you to fuck her

Jimin’s eyebrow quirked at your comment. What, he saw it through the floods of other comments, that’s ridiculous. 

“Welcome back from the dead peachy, thought you left,” He said, grinning to the camera as sweat begins to trial down his face.

You continued typing to him.

peachbubbles: are you close~

Jimin hummed, “Close enough.”

He read your comment again, it wasn’t just a coincidence then. You didn’t understand. Maybe you didn’t see other people commenting the same thing.

You began to type something else, maybe something he would do― at least that could solidify if he was actually focusing on your comment.

peachbubbles: i’d love to see you with a cockring

He didn’t respond. Maybe it was too forward or weird... maybe some guys didn’t like using toys. God, why’d you just ask him that, it’s kind of personal right. It’s definitely more daring, maybe he’s just weirded out or just didn’t see it.

He stares down at his cock, slick and wet. Pursing his lips and biting them as he nears his end.

“You know, I’ve never considered getting one,” He says, not looking back at the camera, “Also, aren’t cock rings more of a thing couples use.”

“Pleasures the girl as well as yourself,” Oh christ, why is he doing this to you.

He does enough by just looking into the camera as if it was a real person. His moans and whimpers, he was so shameless with sex and it was glorious. He tugs and rubs himself so well, quick yet stable. His forearms flexed all the way even though his hands were gently touching himself.

Then you could hear his quiet mumbling, “Maybe, ____, likes cockrings.” Chuckling to himself as he shakes his head.

Jimin smirks out of the blue, changing the pace, “Urh, I’m gonna cum. Fuck―uh.” He’s leaking. It’s hot, wet and sexy. 

He always wore the most sultry expression, his one eye half shut and the other completely. Trying his best to look at the camera as if it was a person, whilst his head jerks back in pleasure at his release. His white thick cum creaming out of his cock, all over his hands and thighs, with a name lingering on his lips.

“_____, shit― I fucking h-hope she knows I exist. I’d fuck her―so hard,” his breathing was erratic, he groans through his words, “I’ll take your advice guys―”

He chuckled, “I’ll text her.”

He was going to... to text her― that her was you. Oh god, what are you suppose to do. Play it cool, no way, that’s just fake. Tell him that you’ve been watching him all this time and would love for him to fuck you so hard, no way, that’s just pathetic.

Jimin cocks the camera back up to his face, with a knowing grin― a knowing grin that all his fans fucked themselves to him.

“I’ll see you guys in the next stream, wish me luck,” He smiled boyishly, before pointing a finger at the camera, “And please, do not send her hate or I will hate you.”

“Goodnight!” He waves towards the camera as the stream ends.

You mindlessly waved back. He seemed very serious about texting you―too serious, maybe he’s just playing with your emotions, you as in the fans. He loved causing a storm, though he wouldn’t bring attention to someone so... mindlessly.

Leaning back in your chair, fuck, you didn’t even get off. Rolling your eyes before tapping exit on his page. Getting your ass back onto twitter and reading the comments from your fans as always. Pretending that whatever just happened, never happened.

And then as the world seemed calm and happy.

A buzz killed the air. You furrowed your eyebrows, looking over to your side at your silenced phone. A message? God, who is it.

There wasn’t much you thought about, probably your friends begging you to go out with them for a fun night.

Peering over at the lit up screen your breath comes to a stop at the name. Instead of being your friend wanting to party and hang out―

parkjimin: heyyy~

It was him. Right, maybe you’ll just die.

c. 2019

[lovemxnot]

Summer shenanigans

Length: 4.3k (wasn't supposed to be this long)

Warnings: none I would think.

Genre: Crack honestly, Fluff, bit of angst?, friends to lovers

A/N: This has been in my drafts for more than a month and I'm sick of staring at it so, here ya go.

“Y/N come on!!”

Hyunjin yelled at you from the large wooden entrance door of the vacation house. With his luggage in hand, trying to fit his three giant suitcases through the door Simultaneously. You swore to god that boy probably only has a few functional brain cells, you have no idea how he’s so good at his studies when he was so stupid in real life.

Well, you guess it was only fair, he can't have both the beauty and the brains.

Spring break finally graced itself upon you poor university students, and Changbin ever so kindly offered you and the guys a stay at his family’s vacation house for the remainder of the break. The Seo’s are filthy rich, none of you were going to miss such a luxurious chance. It totally has nothing with you wanting to spend even more time with Changbin.

You got one foot out of the car before freezing solid in your place at what you witnessed. It wasn’t the gorgeous two stories, polished house that looks like it came out of a magazine that had you stunned, you have been friends with Changbin long enough to be used to such lavish things. Instead, it was the view that had you mum of words, The exquisite display of the variety of flowers, trees, and bushes, wind playing gently with your loose hair strands, and the sound of birds flocking away above your head, all of that combined made it look like it was one of those scenes featured on national geographic. Mother Nature at its purists form. 

The whole vibe of the house was serene and nostalgic. It oddly made you feel more at home than your own home. Probably because Changbin and anything related to him makes you more at peace than anything and anywhere else.

Naturally, the first thing you did was take out your phone and start taking pictures with it.

“Alright! I just need to document this.” You replied to Hyunjin.

“What are you? A fucking reporter?” He retorted.

“Hey, don’t be mean to Y/N!!” Changbin came from behind Hyunjin and delivered a blow to his head. A sulky, pouty Hyunjin retreated to the house with an amused Minho at his side, trying to comfort him.

Well if you count rubbing the injured persons back while laughing at their agony comforting.

You’ve met hyunjin in one of your general classes in uni, and he just so turns out to be one of Changbins many friends. Your relationship with hyunjin was hard to describe, he was as annoying as a strand of hair sticking to your lip gloss on a hot sunny day, but at the same time so annoyingly adorable and sassy that you can’t really hate him. That said, Changbin has always been your favorite.

Well, you might be a bit biased, you have been friends the longest, ever since the day he stopped those boys back in elementary from pulling on your pink bow-ribboned pigtails. You stuck to him like glue from that day on.

The rest of the boys you met as time went on, some in high school and the others in uni. Nonetheless you were close with all of them. But none had the same rapport you and changbin shared.

Well, all of that plus your ever long-lasting crush on changbin doesn't help your favoritism at all.

But really, how can you not fall for Seo Changbin? With his perfect chiseled jaw and cheekbones, Witty sense of humor, charming personality and his utmost feeling of need to take care of you, some would also mention his wealth, but that didn’t really matter to you. Honestly, anyone, your place would have fallen for him too.

Nobody knows about your little crush, or at least you hoped you were not being that transparent with your feelings. If they did know they haven't done anything to let you on.

You tucked your phone back into your shorts pocket and turned to get your luggage out of the back end of the car. Unlike a certain someone cough*Hyunjin*cough, you brought one bag only as there was only one week left of spring break.

“Let me take that” The all too familiar smell of sandalwood and ylang cologne swarmed around you before you felt a presence behind you reach a hand and take the handle of your bag from your hand. briefly trapping you between their arms and body in the process.

You didn’t have to look back to know that it was Changbin. You could tell him a mile away just by his strut. You had every single detail about him memorized, you two spent a lot of time with each other so it was only natural for you to notice how he walked when he was excited and skipped towards you to tell you all about the successful date he had the night before, or how he drops his shoulders really low when he's feeling blue after he broke up with his ex-girlfriend, or how he didn't blink when he was too invested in his game, how his chest would stop moving for a couple of seconds when a suspenseful moment appears on the movie you guys watch together. How he would eat with his eyes closed and barely able to shut his jaw to chew in the mornings, his face puffed and still lingering with sleep, how he still hasn't gotten rid of his bad habit of sleeply sneaking into your bed to snuggle with you. It was fair to say that you dedicated a lot of time studying him more than anything else. He always had his way with charming whoever he meets. It's true that he’s quiet, but that doesn't mean he doesn't speak up when he deems it needed or appropriate.

“I-i have arms of my own you know” You replied, quickly ridding the waver from your voice, Finally braving a look behind your shoulder.

“Yeah, I know.”He gave you that quirky little smile you like before heading towards the entrance.

What? What does that even mean? He really should not be able to make your heart skip a beat with just a smile....that really is unfair.

“It’s hot outside, come on!”

As soon as everyone was gathered in the main sitting area, a war of Rock Paper Scissors initiated to decide who sleeps where. You got the guest bedroom upstairs that was right across Changbin’s. Great, more chances of running into each other.

You were settling into your new temporary bedroom when a shirtless, running jisung skipped past your open bedroom door, on his way downstairs yelling, “ last one to jump into the pool cooks us dinner.” Following a loud splash noise coming from your open balcony window, then another, and another, and another... oh shit.

Changbin heard the communication and came out of the room, shirtless, exposing to you what you already knew was there. That boy went to the gym, so his ripped biceps and visible six pack line were no surprise to you, but it didn't make it any easier not to look. “ Come On Y/N, don’t want to be the sore loser” and started running downstairs

You ran back to your balcony peered over the pool, seeing all of them already in it, sitting around in floaties or swimming “ YOU ALL PLANED THIS YOU FUCKERS.” 

Your confirmation was in the form of snickers coming from the half-naked chlorine-soaked boys.

It was nearing sunset, a great time to spend it in the pool, where the water wasn't as hot as the weather around you. But since you were the designated loser, you didn’t wear your swimwear as you weren't planning on entering the pool seeing that it would delay you from making the dinner later on. Plus the boys were really rough in the pool, you were not ready for another repeat of last time.

Apparently, the boys had another idea. You stepped out on the veranda in the backyard and looked over to them, and your eyes immediately went over to one figure you knew too well, seeing as he was standing in front of you a few minutes ago.

He had his back to you, sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dipped in the water, with water dripping from the tips of his wet hair, sliding down his muscled back, Down..down..down...down-

“Y/N! are you not going to jump in?” Said figure was looking at you now. When did he even turn around?

Caught red-handed, you just retucked your lose strand of hair under your Sunhat again and replied to Changbin ”Its either I cook your dinner, or I chill in the pool. One or the other, can't be both.”

 You bearly finished your sentence when a war cry was heard from behind you. Immediately a flashback took you back to the last time you went to the pool with the guys. Standing near the edge of the cold water but not yet getting in, testing to see if it was too cold until you heard a shout, the same exact one you are hearing now, push you into the pool.

But not this time, like hell were you going to fall for that again. Once you snapped back to reality and realized the shouting was dangerously close to you, you stepped back as if you saw a trope of fire ants crawling on your feet, and looked at poor Changbin as he took the fall instead of you. A hyena-like howl was heard from Jisung lying where poor Changbin was a few seconds ago.

Mastering all the strength you have, you push an unaware jisung right next to his victim, giving him a little taste of his own medicine. Triumphantly you tell him once his head’s above the surface “ Next time you try to sneak attack me, you might not want to stat that you are, the war cry gives it away.”

“Our Lil’ baby is all grown up now, she won’t even fall for our pranks anymore” he fake cried to an equally-annoyed-as-you Changbin.

“Hey, she fell for the first one,” Hyunjin yelled from the other end of the pool, seeming to have been following your conversation.

“And you bet your ass I’m only cooking tonight to make sure that both of your meals are burnt to crisps.” You laughed internally at the horror that played on their faces, didn’t think that far ahead now have they?, ” don’t know, might add something a little extra too if I’m feeling like it.”

Changbin snorted at the two idiots that were now slowly making their way to you to beg for mercy. You ignored the two imbeciles and instead reached your hand out to help Changbin out of the pool.

He held onto your hand and pulled himself out of the pool, you slightly staggered towards him with how much strength he used to heave his drenched body out, making you sway a couple more feet closer than needed to a very wet, Topless Changbin.

Your first mistake was looking up at him. From this close, you could see everything.

“Thanks,” he muttered to you as he brushed his hair out of his eyes and face, flexing right where you can clearly see him in the hazy apricot and mauve glow of the setting sun.

A wet Changbin looking at you like that was seriously making you think some unholy, unbiblical things.

“That would have been me, so I guess I should be the one thanking.” You reluctantly, howbeit hurriedly, looked away from him and bee-lined to the barbecue grill set that was some way from the pool to get the fire started.

You were being really distant to him today and you hoped he wouldn't notice it. But honestly it was your fault, you knew there was going to be a pool, hence seeing half naked changbin, but you thought you'd be able to control yourself more than this, you really didn't want to ruin your relationship with him, you wanted to keep him by your side, even if it meant only being his friend. you can't imagine a life without him in it.

Behind the safety of the grill, you put your hand over your fast-paced beating heart, trying to calm it down. You were just friend and you have to keep reminding yourself that. he only looks at you as a young sister and that all. 

At least that's what you both thought.

The mouth-watering smell of the assorted type of meats being cooked swept over the place and slowly but surely, the boys one by one came towards you to try and steal a bite before dinner. Seungmin was the only decent one around here who was next to you helping grill the food. 

Hyunjin, for the nth time, jumped out of the pool and ran towards you, probably trying to get a bite that you just won't seem to give him.

looking at you with his best puppy dog eyes and a pout, he whined “Y/n ahhh~ You're not still angry, are you?”

You looked at him, hit his head with your tongs then continued flipping the meat,” I'm seriously going to burn the meat if you keep talking to me” you said ignoring his little yelp of pain.

He made his way around the grill and clung to your arm to stop you from accomplishing anything and pay attention to his whiny little ass “Y/N~ we were just kidding.”

Nothing, no reaction. You kept ignoring him in favor to put the new raw pieces of meat on the grill, setting the freshly cooked one on the plate beside you.

You were planning to cook dinner anyway so their stunt didn't really upset you, and being pushed into the pool wasn't new to you but it was fun messing with hyunjin even though he could get a little too whiny or clingy. It was really worth it to see his little pout every time one of the boys would come to steal a piece of meat in front of you and you would allow them, but as soon as he reached you slapped his hand away.

He was being adorable you'll give him that, but it was going to take much more from him to break your facade.

"Y/N~~ You know you love me" he pushed his face right in your line of vision, in front of the hazardous flame. “You could never hate this ” and proceeded to point at the whole 5′10 glory that he was. 

You pushed him away"Hyunjin you're going to get burnt."

"If that's what it takes to get you to forgive me" and pretended to reach his hands to the fire. You slapped out of fear of him seriously throwing his hands the fire- because everyone knows how dramatic he can be- only for it to ACTUALLY hit the edge of the hot grill and burn his hand.

He cried out in pain and you quickly, but diligently, held his hand and took him to the outdoor sink behind you "You fool!! I told you you're going to burn yourself"

he gave you the softest little pout "I'm hungry and you were being a meanie.."

"Oh now IM the bad guy?" you rubbed his scalded skin softly under the chilly water, trying to sooth it, unbeknown to you the glare that changbin was sending towards your linked hands, and Hyunjins little coy smile.

“You've always been bad, baby.”

“Ew, now any shred of guilt I had has flown away” You let go of his hands and turned towards to continue your grilling.

“Y/N ~“ he continued his whining” You ignore me, refuse to accept my apology,  starve me, throw my hands into a burning fire pit, and won't take any responsibility for my aching hands, can't you at least-”

Brimming with guilt, you stop him from rambling anymore by sticking a piece of meat into his fly trap.”There, Happy?”

Nodding his head with a look of complete mirth on his face, having finally gotten what he wanted, he waddled away. 

if it wasn't for his reddened, puffy skin you would have thought he faked his injury only so you would feed him.

Shaking your head, you focused on your task, letting a little smile slip on your face at how ridiculous that boy was. Changbin was confused at why he was fuming at how gleeful you looked thinking about a boy that wasn't him.

Bellies sticking out and any sign of a six pack now completely perished, the boys have vacuumed the table clean. not a single bite of food left, or a full bottle of alcohol in sight. Seungmin was nowhere insight (Probably passed out in his room),hyunjin and the other boys were passed out drunk on the table, they wanted to play a game of hide-and-seek but couldn't choose a person to count so they all closed their eyes to count but ended up knocking out. Jisung was drunk singing to himself sad love songs, while you and changbin were the only still sane ones in the group.  Drunk yet still aware of your surroundings.

Changbin was acting very weird throughout the whole feast. Hyunjin, who sat beside you, kept whining into your ear about how he couldn’t eat with the crucifying pain his hand was in. You already felt guilty for burning him, but seeing him hiss every time he tries to pick up his food only for it to drop out of his hold was what made you feed him. You would every so often shove some food in his mouth to shush him, and he would gladly quite down. Changbin was not amused. He didn’t spare you a look, he ate quietly and kept to himself, then jumped into the pool once he was done.

The sound of water gently swooshing, making way for changbin’s body to come through was really calming.

You sat with your legs in the pool and looked at the fluorescent lights glowing under the water, making the idea of jumping in even more appealing. Your stomach was full, mind hazy, yet whenever you sneaked a glance at changbin, you always felt a pang of emptiness in your heart.

Sure he is always there beside you, you always see him, you can hug him, touch him, hold his hand, but it pains you that it is only platonic, You have no idea when your crush on him began, probably from day one, but the idea of him going out with someone other than you was really painful to the point where it would cause you to ignore him for a couple of days before you realize that your wasting precious time where you could hang out with him instead of weeping over the unknown future. 

It was stupid. 

Really it was. 

One guy shows you kindness and you fall head over heels for him.

but then again, feelings and emotions have always been obscure.

“Y/N...?” carefully, changbin called out your name once he was close to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Shit, you once again were caught staring at him all longingly.

“Hmm?” you try playing it off again, you were really not on top of your game today.

“Come join me“ he prodded your leg, gently giving a pull.

“I'm too lazy to go change“ Bullshit, you were making excuses and he saw right through it. being close to someone for a long time had its pros, changbin has always been good at reading you, it was a surprise it took him this long to come and talk to you about, it.

“Then just jump in“

“Nah” You already were caught staring at him twice today, you couldn't risk a third.

Having none of that, he this time pulls your legs with a sturdy grip, making you land inside the pool with a splash, his body dangerously close to you.

You would have scolded him if it wasn't for the way he was staring at you right now. His gaze held so many emotions behind it that it was hard to decipher all of them.

“Stop looking at me“ you shied away from him. Or tried at least but he realized what you were going to do and slid his hand that was leaning on the sky-blue ceramics to your side, locking you in place and sending your mind into a frenzy.

“What if I said I liked staring at you?“

Where was this coming from? he was never like this with you, where was this new surge of confidence coming from? You might have misjudged how sober Changbin was.

At this point your heart was beating so fast it could outrace Usain Bolt.

“S-Stop...Don't look at me like that..“you blushed.

“Like what?“ he’s even closer now, noses bumping each other. his hair tickling your forehead.

“Like...Like- That” You lamely ended. Not trusting yourself at this vulnerable state. his stare is piercing, peering deep into your eyes and compelling you to move closer. His gaze held a knowing glint as if he knows every dirty little secret you kept from him, but there was still hesitation dancing in the back of his iris.

you felt his other hand creep onto your hip. Making you hold your breath.

“Stop me if I’m wrong.” You had no time to think what that meant before you felt his cold, wet lips touch yours.

You fantasized this moment a lot, but never would you have thought it would actually come true. Him holding onto you real tight, a hand cupping one of your cheeks to tilt your head for better access.

It took you a moment to truly believe this was actually happing before you pushed Changbin away. Changbin didn’t like you, he was just drunk. Was what you told yourself.

“Binnie your drunk,” you couldn’t stare him in the eyes. You wished for forever for this to happen, you’ve imagined a thousand times how his lips would feel on yours. But this was breaking your heart, he just did that because he’s drunk.

He quickly shook his head, “ I didn’t drink that much.”

“Then where is this coming from? You’ve never shown any sign that you liked me.”

“I didn’t think I had feelings for you but seeing hyunjin touching really... it’s just..” he choked, “ I think I've liked you for a while now Y/N”

It’s crazy how one sentence could set a festival in your body, your hands and legs tingly, your ears ringing, and your stomach fluttering. “W-What?”

“ yeah it’s true, haven’t you seen the way he looks at you?” A voice said from above your head. Turns out Minho wasn’t as drunk as you thought he was and has been watching you two.

“Way to ruin the mood asshole” Changbin tsked.

“Hey you were the one that took a century to figure out he actually likes the only girl he gives a shit about,” it was Minho’s turn to tsk and sass back at Changbin” the whole campus already thinks you're a couple, ‘bout time both of you actually did.”

With that, he took his bottle of alcohol and made his way to his room, saluting you” enjoy the night you love birds.”

“Where was I ?” Changbin caught your attention again once Minho was nowhere in sight.

“Confessing your undying love for her ?” This time it wasn’t Minho. You both forgot that jisung was still kinda aware of his surroundings.

“Oh for fuck's sake!!” Changbin looked pissed off now, and it made you crack a smile.” Y/N come on, let’s continue this somewhere else.”

He jumped out of the pool and helped you out before dragging you inside the house, passing a snickering hyunjin and jisung at the table.

“ DONT FORGET TO COVER IT” you heard jisung yell after you.

“Oh god,” you groaned, great now they will never stop teasing the both of you with dirty comments and innuendos.

Once you reached the couch, Changbin loosened his hold and turned to you,” Now, where was I ?”

“Confessing your undying love for me?” You teased him now that you fully grasped the situation.

“Right,” he smiled.

You didn’t know if the queasiness was from his smile or the alcohol, but it made you feel good.

He held your hand, looked you straight in the eyes, and earnestly said “I really like you Y/N.” you blushed even more at his straightforwardness. but you still had doubts. you did see him drink quite a bit.

“Are you sure you're not drunk?  you're not going to regret this in the morning?”

“Oh for Jesus Christ's sake- Y/N” you jumped at the sudden frustrated voice when you noticed it didn't come from changbin, but rather from the boy that was passed out on the couch behind the pillows, completely shielding him from view. He stuck his head out from behind one pillow, his hair a mess and said “ He's been complaining to me about how perfect you are all week, Y/N this, Y/N that, just date each other already or else I'm-”

what seungmin was going to say next will forever be a mystery for changbin had smothered him with a pillow murmuring “ Go back to sleep.”

“So... it's true?”

“YES,” hyunjin, jisung, and seungmin yelled in unison. you weren't aware that dumb and dumber could still hear you both talking.

“Y/N I'm so sorry, this wasn't how it was supposed to go-” you took him by surprise with a kiss.

“I like you too Binnie,” he melted at the old nickname you used to call him.

you might have longed and suffered a lot for him, but the smile that graced his face upon your words was worth every second of the wait.     

[bitchassbucky]

II - Recuperate

Spurious Masterlist

Masterlist

As the car maneuvers through the traffic, you couldn’t help but put your head down by Bucky’s left shoulder, “holy fucking shit.” Three words to sum up the evening. You were tired, your feet hurt, you’re hungry. Every time you replay the moments you had with Steve, your heart flutters and your soul blossoms. He is a Sunday morning and you’re stuck in the middle of the week. 

Why him? 

Why him? 

Why is it still him?

“Y/N, what the fuck was that?” Bucky’s deep voice cuts through your thoughts. You lift your head up to face him, you had a sad look on your made-up face. He couldn’t help but search for any solid feelings in your eyes, he was just lost as you are. You know he wasn’t angry, he was just as tired as you.

“God, Buck. I don’t know.” You sighed, you shifted your look onto the streets you were passing, it was all a blur of people, stalls, and cars, all of them waiting to go home and rest. And then once again, your mind started to wander to the thought of Steve and how would it feel like to hold his warm hands.

“I know, it’s okay. Do you wanna get food before we go home?” He offers, hoping that you’d say yes. Bucky wanted you to have at least an hour of peace before you undoubtedly overanalyze everything that had happened tonight. For a measly hour, he hopes that maybe you can take your mind off of the man who haunted your thoughts every hour of the day.

“Yes. Okay, I’d like that.” You have long since stopped looking outside. It made you dizzy, maybe it was the fast pace of which the car was moving, or maybe the lights rapidly changing from neon to fluorescent. You once again laid your head against his shoulder.

“Okay,” Bucky said, not quite reaching you. 

The traffic had built up a mere three blocks away from your shared apartment. The driver let out an apologetic chuckle and something about a road block but you couldn’t careless. You were restless and you felt the need to keep moving. Just three cars ahead was a bodega you go to whenever the closest one at your street was closed.

“I’m just gonna get off here,” You said to the driver with a small smile. Beside you, Bucky was napping. He pulled a double shift at work so he can accompany you to the reunion party.

“Are you sure? We’re very near your place.” He tapped his phone which shows an angry red line, indicating a heavy traffic flow that ends after your block. 

“Yes, it’s okay,” You were searching your purse for a twenty bill when you hear the doors unlocking for you, “thank you.” You said as you give the driver the tip. He smiled and nodded in lieu of actually saying ‘you’re welcome.’

“What about your boyfriend, miss?” He casually mentioned Bucky beside you. Thank God, he sleeps like a log. His head is lazily lolled to the side as he breathes in and out, his hair covering half of his face.

“He’s not my- I’ll wake him up.” You started to protest but you were too tired and hungry to correct him. Bucky stirred from his short slumber, he looks around with his eyes half-closed.

“We’re still stuck in traffic, sorry.” The driver had answered Bucky’s question before he can even ask. 

You looked at Bucky and slightly tugged at his sleeve, “come on. There’s a bodega over there. We’re three blocks away, I think we can just walk.” 

“You sure? It’s pretty cold outside.” Bucky looks at you with sincerity. He has that kind of eyes that can make you feel like you’re home.

“Yeah, I have a jacket. Let’s go.” You insisted and Bucky, characteristically, goes with you.

“Thanks for the tip, you two have a good night. Stay safe.” The driver said as the two of you clamber out of his car, your dress not fitting for the season change. You took an inhale to calm your nerves but a symphony of unnatural odors wafted to your nose. Filthy fucking city.

“You too. Goodnight.” Bucky bid adieu to the driver as he closed the car door, momentarily joining you on the street.

The cool air made you wince despite telling Bucky that you have a jacket, you never liked the cold that much. It reminded you of the nights you spent writing anything and everything to distract you from your parent’s fight, it reminded you of the warmth that was never there in the first place.

“Let’s go, Y/N. I’m craving string cheese for some reason,” Bucky jokes in an attempt to lift up the atmosphere. He unceremoniously looks over you under the fluorescent of the shop you were passing by, you were physically with him but your mind is elsewhere, just as he was about to ask you if you were doing alright, you faced him.

“I’m craving string cheese too.”

2017

A fly has been buzzing around your head as you tried to coax words out of your mind and into the blank document you opened about 45 minutes ago. Your coffee, one sugar and cream, has gone cold and stale, leaving you with a sad excuse for caffeine, yet you continue to drink it as if it’s been brewed by a Norse god. You swatted at the stubborn fly again, mildly irritated at yourself for choosing to sit outside the cafe, you fell for the classic “fresh air” bullshit that was handwritten beautifully on a chalkboard just before the shop doors. 

You gazed inside the shop, hoping that some hipster would get on with their day so you could occupy their seat. As you look in, you caught a ghostly reflection of yourself. Clear enough to see the totality, but not enough to scrutinize. You look so... diligent for someone who’s about to be homeless in a week. 

Looking past your reflection and past the couple who’s obviously on their first date, you see someone leave their seat and took their laptop with them. And you did so. Tucking the lease papers in between the keyboard and the screen of your own laptop, you clapped it shut. You took the sad fucking coffee with you, wondering if they can heat it up. 

You were about to reach the plush seat situated comfortably against the wall when someone rushes into the seat three feet away from you.

“Really, dude?” Your voice dripped with annoyance. It was just 10 in the morning but you already felt like going for a nap.

The man in question looks up from his phone, meeting you with his blue eyes, he was classically handsome if he weren’t such an asshole, “I’m really sorry, I really just have to send this file over. I’ll be quick, I promise.” His fingers immediately go back to dancing on his cracked phone screen.

You sighed and resort yourself to the opposite of the chair he just stole from you. He reminded you of yourself when you were still in college, like him, you were always chasing after deadlines and exams. Those were the days when you convince yourself that you can survive with four hours of sleep in your system and do an extra shift at the library. Those were the days where you can look at the mirror and see a hopeful glimmer in your eyes.

You were stupidly naive, sure, but you were resilient. And it turns out, resiliency was the best thing you got out of college.

“One tall americano for James?” A barista called from behind the counter. The couch-stealer rose up from his (your?) seat and stalked off to the counter where his coffee order lies. So then you see he is stupid too, leaving his messenger bag open on top of the table you two were sharing. Which, if you look just under the flap, contains a binder and a laptop, which undoubtedly filled with thesis drafts and dissertation papers. But you’re not entirely sure, maybe he’s really a seat-stealer and he’s just making up an excuse.

The James guy returns to his unrightful seat, he looks at you and smiles, “thanks for looking after my things.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t do that again if I were you.” You replied dryly. Your sad coffee cup still clutched in your hand, your laptop bag resting underneath the table with your jean-clad legs unconsciously slanted. There was something about him trusting you to look after his things, hell, if someone came by and snatched it from the table, you wouldn’t have the energy to give a chase.

“If you still think that I’m making up an excuse for stealing your spot that’s your prerogative, but I really did just sent my final thesis to my professor,” he dutifully explained, pulling his lips into a polite smile, “‘sides I’m just dying to finish my master’s before I go broke and homeless.”

You decided to concede and humor him, “in like..” you prompted him to go on, your hand still holding the wasted coffee.

“Less than three weeks.” He winced as he took a sip of his americano. Why does this coffee shop like to serve their coffee like it was fresh from Satan’s asshole?

“Do you wanna go apartment hunting with me?” You asked unabashedly. You were about to become homeless by this time next week, why not ask this soon-to-be-homeless-too stranger to go apartment hunting with you? After all, misery loves company.

“Okay, sure,” James said, this time he was smiling for real. He set his smoldering cup of lava down the table, and you did the same thing with your flat drink.

“I’m Y/N. My lease will be up next week, Tuesday, to be exact. You’re James, right?” You tilted your head to his direction, giving him a tight smile. 

“Call me Bucky. I’ll answer your next question, it was a stupid nickname back in high school and it stuck.” James, uh, Bucky explained as he held a hand up to defend his unique albeit strange nickname.

You found yourself in the middle of Greenwich Village apartments and brownstones that you could never afford in two lifetimes, “Bucky, what the fuck? We’re broke MFA students, why are we here?” You tapped his arm with the intent of showing your slight panic.

“Chill, doll. I know someone here.” Bucky said cooly, his long hair now in a low bun on his nape. Studying at NYU, he started out as an Animation major, working odd jobs here and there to survive college, now he’s about to graduate MFA in Game Design.

“Yeah?” You said with a tinge of hope, maybe that someone can give you an apartment without you and Bucky selling an arm, a leg, and maybe a few golden teeth.

“I got this,” Bucky said, sending you a sly wink in your direction. You smiled and hoped for the best. Fuck, he is cute as shit.

But he don’t got this, he didn’t got this. 

His friend had moved out a month ago to take care of her elderly mother, bless her heart. But you’re in a bigger clusterfuck now, both of your homelessness threatening your mind about moving back home.

Sitting on a bench that is visually clean, you scoured Craigslist for real estate. Not the safest option, but you are determined to find a decent apartment without giving up so much. Page after page of shitty and expensive housing, you managed to stumble upon a simple-looking, two-bedroom apartment in.. Flatbush. Commuting would be a nightmare but you aren’t really in the position to whine about that.

“Please tell me you didn’t find that in Craigslist.” Bucky pleaded jokingly, sidestepping a woman with a red coat before throwing away a balled-up piece of napkin in the nearest trash can.

You’re on your way to look at the apartment after sending a text to the landlord, asking if he’s available to meet and show you around the potential living space. After getting a confirmation text, you told Bucky about your find.

“We don’t have much choice here, buddy.” You truthfully said as the both of you walked towards the subway station. In reality, you just don’t want to go home feeling like you’ve wasted an entire day apartment hunting when you could have started writing something, or maybe calling your dad to tell him you’re moving back home and you’re gonna be selling cake pops from outside your window.

As the day ends, you and Bucky felt accomplished. Well, he’s still out with the jury. After sixty minutes of negotiation, you managed to convince the landlord to give you a discount for leasing the apartment for more than a year. The apartment itself isn’t that bad. There are windows facing the street, no visible infrastructure and plumbing damage, the floor is not sticky, and it doesn’t reek.

You both reached the point of lowering your apartment standards to “as long as we can deny the fact that this shithole is better than moving back home.”

“So..” You started, “I guess that makes us roommates now.” You chuckled at the thought of you hoping you could live alone in the middle of everyone raising rents.

“Roommates,” Bucky rubbed his chin as if in deep thought, “I like that.”

“Yeah, me too.” You confirmed.

Before parting ways, you both exchanged numbers and email addresses with the promise of him sending you a picture of his sister’s cat, Alpine. 

At the end of the day, you couldn’t help but genuinely smile at the stranger who stole your spot in that coffee shop.