#too hot to tag along to cafe

[miss-floral-thief]

Dad went to go out and said he’d get chicken

[dragon-huntress]

I feel so much like Yennifer in the djinn scene just “I want. Everything.” But the “everything” entails

-my dog

-going to an anime convention

-going to a local street fair

-having food and rent money

[skzstannie]

"They found her"

SKZ -> ot8 x 9th member fem! reader

This is a part 2 to this fic, but it can be read as a stand alone as there's not much reference to the original fic.

genre: hurt/comfort, angst wc: ~3,800 words cw: kidnapping, guns and gunshot wounds, hospitals, some brief cursing

Summary: Since the incident, the guys have been extremely over protective of you. You heed their warnings, but still go out unaccompanied by security on your vacation, only to have to pay the price for your poor decisions.

A/N: Hiiii, ik I've disappeared off the face of the Earth again, but I've brought gifts back with me this time. This one's a bit heavier, but it's the long awaited part 2 to "Did you know?", so I hope you guys enjoy. I hit 500 followers since the last time I posted, so this is kind of a celebratory post as well. Thanks guys!

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

The time has come around again when JYP has given you and your members some well-earned personal vacation, and you've chosen to spend that time back at home with your family and friends.

Upon hearing about your vacation, your childhood friends started blowing up your phone, asking about when you'll be in and if you wanted to hangout. Of course, you've missed them just as much and gave them all the details of you're arrival.

The day of said plans has finally arrived, and you couldn't be more excited. You and three of your closest friends have decided to go to this cute breakfast cafe for brunch, run by all your favorite stores for some shopping, and then round your evening out with some bar hopping.

"You have got to see this!" Ha-Yoon, a friend you've known since grade school, explodes from beside you in the passenger seat, fanning herself. "Look at how hot this guy is? Think he'll give me his number if I DM him?"

"Are you being for real?" Dae cringes from the backseat, leaning forward to get a closer look at your friend's new internet crush. "He's kinda ugly."

This elicits a bickering match for the remainder of the drive, with you and your remaining friend, Soon-Bok, rolling your eyes at their silly banter.

You decided that you'd pick them all up from their homes, figuring that you'd get to spend some more time with them that way. You didn't really think about the fact that perhaps more time was synonymous with too much time. Just because you hadn't seen your friends in months, doesn't mean that they didn't see each other literally every single day.

With a clear of your throat, they stop insulting each other's fantasy love interests, both squealing when they realize you've pulled into the parking lot for the cafe.

The four of you get out of the car, you pulling your keys out of your purse to lock the doors. While walking towards the doors of the cafe, you're hit with a strange feeling- like someone's watching you.

Immediately, you whip your head around in search of anyone getting a little too nosey, but you come up with nothing. You keep your guard up though, knowing you can never be too sure.

Since the stage incident a few months back, you've been feeling a little paranoid. Understandably so, especially since the mean and threatening comments never subsided. It's gotten to the point where the staff have begun to send out a few extra security guards each time you leave the JYP building. In fact, JYP gave you all this nice little vacation in hopes it'd help some of the comments die down. To your dismay, they have not.

The guys have been incredibly protective since then, and you're actually grateful for it for once. Their constant questions about your whereabouts and wanting to tag along with you everywhere you go used to annoy you, but you'd never think to complain about it now.

Just this morning, having told them about your exciting plans for the day, they sent a barrage of texts telling you to be careful. Chan practically demanded you take a security guard with you, but for the sake of your friends' comfortability, you declined. Was it stupid? Possibly, but you're only wish for this vacation is to make things seem normal again. Having constant security around is not normal.

You placated Chan by telling him that your family knows of the places you'll be, and your family and the rest of your members all have your location at all times. He was reluctant, almost threatening to fly himself to your home just to go out on your little excursion with you, but he eventually gave way, not without first lecturing you about how important your safety is- like you didn't already know that.

~ ~ ~

"And then he pushed him down the stairs! How crazy!" Dae finishes, your eyes widening at how her story ended. She had just finished telling you all about how her boyfriend got into this big fight with a guy at the bar the other day. Apparently, the random man thought it acceptable to lay his hands on Dae, and her boyfriend did not appreciate that.

"Your boyfriend is so hot," Ha-Yoon comments, her eyes looking dreamily off into the distance.

"Excuse me?" Dae questions, raising a brow at Ha-Yoon's confession.

"I mean-"

"Ok!" you interrupt, pushing your chair back from the table you've all been sat at. The brunch was nice, catching up with your friends was much needed and the food was warm and comforting, but enough is enough, and your friends are starting to get a bit squeamish. "I need to use the restroom quickly, then we can head to the mall? Does that sound ok?"

There's a chorus of yesses, and they shoo you off into the restroom, picking up their phones to distract themselves until you get back.

You make your way to the back of the cafe, noticing how the bathrooms are secluded down a small hallway in the corner of the restaurant. Your eyes glance out the emergency exit door, and you tilt your head in confusion upon seeing a large white van sat outside it. It is not parked in a parking spot; it's just parked directly outside the door.

You quickly do your business, not wanting to keep your friends waiting for too long, and head back out to the front of the cafe. Stepping outside the restroom, a hand is immediately thrown over your mouth, a piece of foul smelling cloth pressed up against your nose. You try to scream, but this only causes you to inhale more of the chemical.

You fight, attempting to throw an elbow behind you to dislodge yourself from the person's vice like grip, but this only leads to your elbow being grabbed at a painful angle. You whimper slightly as the person pries your elbow behind you, and it almost feels as if your arm could snap if you were to move another inch. You become lightheaded, and it's hard to keep your eyes open and your mind alert. Unable to fight any longer, you give in and slump down into the arms which hold you captive.

~ ~ ~

"She's been gone awhile, I'm gonna go-" Soon-Bok is cut off by an alarm inside the cafe going off. All the customers heads perk up at the noise, their attention drifting to the employees.

The waitresses look to one another in confusion before one makes their way over to where you went for the restroom a few minutes before. The cafe is silent as the waitress disappears, looking for where the alarm would be coming from.

It's silent for another minute, before there's an audible gasp. She comes back with your purse in one hand and your cracked phone in the other.

Your three friends quickly get up from their seats, rushing over to the waitress. "Where'd you find this?" Dae asks, her eyes tearing up.

"Just outside the bathroom. I was just able to catch a glimpse of a van speeding off. Do you think someone was taken?" she asks, her eyes widening at the thought.

"I think- I think our friend was kidnapped," Ya-Hoon whispers.

~ ~ ~

"This is why I said she needed a security guard with her! This would have never happened!" Chan snaps at their management in anger, rising up from his seat in the meeting room.

Upon hearing about your kidnapping, the rest of your members were immediately brought back to the JYP building. They were all livid.

"Chan, I understand you're upset, but there's really nothing we can do now but wait-"

"Wait for what? Huh? Wait for her to just magically appear here?" Minho cuts off the head of security, his face red with anger.

"Of course the police are on the case and doing everything they can to find her. As for the eight of you, you are not to leave this building until we get all of this under control. Do you hear me? We do not need more than one missing member." JYP is stern as he speaks, leaving no room for discussion. "This meeting is dismissed. We will update you all if we hear anything."

With that, everyone else clears out of the room, leaving your eight members.

"This is awful," Felix says, his head hanging in his hands.

"No shit, Felix, why not state more of the obvious," Jisung narrows his eyes at Felix.

"We can't turn on each other," Changbin butts in, deterring them from getting into it any further. "We have to stick together and just wait this out. She's strong; she'll be ok."

"But what if she's not," Hyunjin speaks up for the first time since they got back. He's been huddled up against Jeongin since they got there, his head hung low. It's obvious he's been crying with the way his cheeks are stained with tears, his eyes red from how often he's rubbed them.

"We can't think like that," Chan says, moving over to Hyunjin. He lays a comforting arm around his shoulders, and Hyunjin immediately moves to the comfort of the leader, turning his head to hide it in Chan's chest. "They saw the van leave, it couldn't have been too long before the police were there. They'll find her, and then she'll be right back here with us."

"To never be let out of our sights again," Seungmin grumbles from the couch, wearing a similar expression to that of Felix's.

"Correct," Minho agrees, leaning back in his chair.

~ ~ ~

"Seungmin, you have to sleep. Staying up for 72 hours straight is not going to make her come back any faster," Chan lays his hand on the back of the boy's neck, slightly rocking him side to side.

"Maybe not, but I'll be the first to know when they find her," he counters, his bloodhsot eyes meeting Chan's. "You're one to talk; you haven't slept either."

Chan just sighs in response, plopping down on the couch next to him. It's quiet between the two of them, but neither are complaining about it. The peace is nice after what they've been through the past few days.

"Hyunjin hasn't stopped crying. Jeongin and Felix have had to take turns laying with him," Seungmin breaks the quiet, his soft voice travelling throughout the practice room. "Han hasn't eaten since we found out."

"I know, I've been trying to get everyone up and moving, but no one's interested."

"Chan, we're not expecting you to be the hero. We know you're in pain, too, and it's ok to act like it," it takes Chan a minute to process what Seungmin had said, but as his brain takes time, he realizes that it's been so long since he's cried, so long since he's truly let his emotions out.

With another moment passing, Chan's breath quickens and tears spring into his eyes. Without another thought, he turns his head into Seungmin's shoulder and cries. He cries for you, and how scared you must be right now, and he cries for the rest of his members, knowing how bad this is hurting them. He cries because he can't take away their pain or yours, not this time.

~ ~ ~

"Wake up." You feel a cold splash of water hit your face, and you're abruptly brought to consciousness. Your eyes open quickly in response to the cold, but you squint once you're hit with the blinding light coming from the ceiling light above you.

You try to talk, to say anything, but you quickly become aware of the duct tape placed snuggly over your mouth.

You gain some more proprioception, feeling the tightness of the rope around your wrists and how your ankles are tied to the legs of the chair you're currently sat on.

"Hey!" Your attention is brought to the large man standing in front of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of the gun in his hand. "Eyes here. And quit squirming so much!"

You freeze at that, stilling your movements. "Now listen here," you hear another guy say from across the room. You are just noticing him for the first time, and you realize that this guy in front of you must be the brawn of the operation. "We need some money. A lot of money. So, if you want to make it out of here alive, you need to call your family and have them bring us 350 million won. No less. Think you can handle that princess?"

Tears well in your eyes at the mention of death. You can't die like this, at the hands of these awful people. But you also know you don't want to get your family involved. So, deciding this is your best bet, you sit stoically. You look straight ahead, your focus unwavering.

"The silent treatment, huh?" You can see out of your periphery the man at the desk across the room stand from his chair. He makes his way towards you, but you pay him no mind, keeping your blank stare on the wall in front of you.

"If the threat's not enough to get you to talk, maybe this will be." He's quick to take the gun from the other man's hand, and before you can even flinch he's pointed it at your lower leg and let off a shot.

You choke on your own spit when the pain registers. You close your eyes and strain your body not to react, but there's only so much you can do. The tears you were successfully keeping at bay before now slide freely down your cheeks. Your hands are in tight fists behind your back, and you feel you may pass out from the white-hot pain radiating from your calf.

Your consciousness teeters, and all words being spoken by the men sound gibberish in your state. Just as you feel you may fall completely unconscious, you're startled by a loud bang from behind you. Your eyes lazily drift to the men, and you see their gazes widen before they quickly raise their hands in surrender. You make eye contact with the one that shot you, and that's the last thing you see before your eyes shut, your body and mind going completely numb.

~ ~ ~

The practice room door is flung open, bringing Chan out of his sleepy state. "What the hell? Be a little quieter would you," he mumbles, rolling his eyes at Jisung who stands in the doorway. For the first time since the news, Chan is attempting to get some sleep. It wasn't exactly on his own accord, though. After the constant hounding from the rest of the members, and even a threat from Felix that he'd sneak melatonin into his water, he decided it would probably be best for him to try and get some shut eye; he'll be of no use to anyone if he's delirious with sleep.

"They found her."

At this, all of Chan's previous drowsiness vanishes. He sits up from the couch faster than he ever has before, his joints cracking with such a sudden movement. "What?" he asks for clarification, fearing it might be too good to be true.

"They've found her. She's on the way to the hospital right now," Jisung's contagious smile makes more sense now, Chan wearing a similar expression.

"Where are the rest of the boys?" Chan stands from the couch in a rush, quickly slipping his shoes on.

"They're in the meeting room. They just bought our flight there, we're leaving now."

~ ~ ~

"Thank you," you tell the nurse, taking the small cup of water from her hands. It's been a few hours since you woke up from your unconscious state. Upon arriving at the hospital, they immediately took you into surgery to remove the bullet from your leg. Thankfully, it missed all the important stuff, leaving your bones completely in tact. You're left with some muscle damage, but the doctor assured you with some physical therapy you'd be back to normal again.

You're now laying in bed recovering. The wound has been stapled and is wrapped tightly. You have your leg resting on a couple pillows, hopefully to help prevent the swelling. Beside you on the couch is your family, having come in immediately upon hearing the news. Some silly K-Drama is playing on the T.V, but it's enough to keep your mind occupied for now, so you're thankful for it.

Nobody confirmed it for you, but you were sure your members were well on their way. Your family told you that you had been kidnapped for a few days. You told them you only remember being awake for a few minutes, but apparently they kept knocking you out again and again.

After talking with the police, you find that they were using you for ransom, and they kept knocking you out because they didn't have everything squared away yet; whatever that means, you're not quite sure.

As if on cue, the door to your room swings open, revealing Chan and Minho. They're out of breath and sweaty, looking as if they had just run a marathon.

You're given no time for formal greetings as they both launch themselves at you, throwing their arms haphazardly around you until you feel like you're squished beneath them. Your mom makes a protesting sound, but you wave her off with a gesture of your hand. They missed you, and you missed them. They weren't hurting you or anyone else by hugging you.

"You're never leaving our sights again," Chan says, his cheek pressed against the top of your head.

"Never ever," Minho agrees, his torso laid lightly across your lap.

"I'm okay-" you start, only to be cut off by an angry looking Chan. His face pops into view at your words, eyebrows furrowed.

"You are indeed not okay! You were kidnapped, unconscious for hours on end, and then shot! How are you possibly trying to convince us that you're ok?" Minho stands up at his outburst, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm alive, and that's okay enough for me."

With your response bludgeoned into their minds, they both collapse on top of you in another hug.

You bask in their warmth a bit longer, only being interrupted with the door creaking open. Felix and Hyunjin stand there, teary and red-eyed.

"Your time's up," Hyunjin sniffles, moving out of the way of the door so the two can exit.

"We'll be back," Chan leans down to kiss your forehead while Minho grabs your hand, giving it an assuring squeeze.

They leave, and Felix and Hyunjin scurry in after them. They crowd around your bedframe, hesitant to even lay a hand on you.

"Hey," you whisper, reaching over to grab both of their hands, "I'm okay."

Hyunjin breaks down in sobs, and it only takes Felix a minute before he's right there with him. You let go of their hands and open your arms to welcome them in for a hug. Both of them hesitate again, but eventually bend down to give you the gentlest hug you've ever received.

"Does it hurt?" Felix mumbles, his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders.

"They've got me on some serious meds, so no. It probably will when I come off of them, though. I haven't tried to walk-"

"And you wont either. Not for a long while," your mom cuts in from the couch.

"Thanks for your input, Mom."

"No problem," her gaze shifts to the boys, "She's been moody since she came out of surgery. They say it's because of the meds." They both let out a huffy laugh at that, and while you're absolutely dying to argue, you're just thankful to see Hyunjin and Felix smile.

There's another knock at the door, and all your heads snap to Changbin and Jisung. "Our turn," Jisung says, gesturing for Felix and Hyunjin to get out.

"We'll see you soon," Felix says before making his way to the door.

"Love you," Hyunjin says, hugging you for a second longer.

"Love you, too," you tell him, and you watch as he gets up and walks toward the door.

Once they're gone, Jisung and Changbin come into the room.

"Chan is never letting you out of his sight again; you know that, right?" Changbin asks, pulling up a chair beside you.

"Uh, not just Chan, all of us," Jisung argues. "You know how when girls go out they all have to, like, go to the bathroom together? That's about to be us bestie."

"Um, ew," you grimace just thinking about all your privacy being stripped from you.

"We'll wait outside, of course," Changbin says, trying to make you feel better.

"Oh, how thoughtful," you sass back, giving them a sarcastic smile.

"But for real though, are you ok?" The atmosphere turns serious at Jisung's inquisition. "We were all worried sick about you."

"I guess I could be better, but I'm gonna be just fine. Doc said some physical therapy and I'll be good as new."

"Did you know they didn't even realize you were an idol at first?" Changbin says, piquing your interest. "They said they thought they just picked up some random person at the cafe. Apparently that's why they kept you knocked out for so long; it made things more complicated."

"I did not know that, actually. The police only gave me a quick run down, said they'd be back later for some more questioning and to give us some more information."

Another knock is heard at the door, and you look to see Seungmin and I.N standing there, the last of your boys. "Our turn now, move along," Seungmin says, tapping his foot impatiently.

"That's our cue, we'll see you later." They both lean down to give you a kiss on the cheek before walking out of the room.

Seungmin and I.N come in, seeming even more urgent than Chan and Minho did earlier.

They both come crashing down on top of you, all concern for the wires attached to you out the window.

Wanting to tease them, you say, "What if I was, like, seriously hurt? And now you two just came running in here like a pack of wild animals?"

"Give me a break, everybody said you were fine and that you were accepting hugs," Seungmin throws back, giving you a firm poke in the side.

You bark out a laugh at that, a smile gracing your features. "They also said that you hadn't smiled yet. So there," Seungmin nuzzles his head back into your shoulder, and you feel him breath a sigh against your neck.

"We missed you," I.N says from the other side where he's latched onto your arm.

"I missed you guys more."

"Not possible, I'd never seen any of the guys so worked up before. Chan didn't sleep the whole time you were gone, and as soon as we convinced him to, they found you," Seungmin says.

"Well, I'm here now," you comfort them, rubbing a hand on each of their backs.

"And we're never letting you go again."

~ ~ ~

Part 1

[aikunik]

Yandere Prince x GN reader

second yandere yay yaya (yandere emperor next or request yans PLS)

warnings: nsfw, yandere tendencies, delusional yan

Lucian, the kingdom's crown prince, which was next in line to becoming emperor, was a normal man before you moved to his kingdom to seek refuge. Normally, Lucian wouldn't care much about mere refugees, in fact he thought of you guys as nosy flies circling the kingdom and ruining its reputation.

But that was until you received an order from him, changing your view on him completely, during your shift working as a barista at a cafe.

And oh boy, he was a HIGH mantainence prince, what do you mean he needed an "extra hot, triple-shot, half-caf, non-fat, no foam, no whip, caramel macchiato with an extra pump of vanilla syrup, sprinkled with cinnamon, served in a mug that's been pre-warmed for exactly 30 seconds, but make sure the milk is steamed to precisely 150 degrees Fahrenheit, stirred counterclockwise exactly 12 times with a cinnamon stick, then remove the stick and replace it with a peppermint stick for precisely 5 seconds before removing it entirely, and don't forget to sprinkle exactly 7 chocolate shavings on top, alternating between dark and milk chocolate, and finally, serve it with a smile and a sprinkle of fairy dust for good measure."

Like where did he even get that load or information?.. so as a normal employee, you made the drink. But with a twist, you only poured dark coffee in the mug and served it to the cocky prince. And to your surprise he did not in fact, enjoy it. Wow who would've thought.

You then quit from the job and threw your apron right into the crown prince's face.

Lucian was a pervert sweetheart, he even brought your apron back to the imperial palace (where he resided) and added it to a shrine of you, which was his room. (and instantly got a raging boner from seeing or sniffing it)

Yes he had a shrine of you before meeting at the coffee shop and yes, he followed you out of the shop looking like a kicked puppy, if he had dog ears, it would be drooping right now.

And you've never met the crown prince before, you've only met his dad, the famous long-ruling emperor that always doted on his wife. Maybe thats where he got his clinginess from.

Anyway, turns out you met him at your school event which was prom, held a week after you arrived, where he bumped into you once trying to find the way through the festival, and you kept apologising for no reason (he was the one who bumped into you), and that was where you two had a 2 hour long conversation with one another. And that was how he knew you were the one and thought you liked him back too. you don't like him back. you were just hungover from the large amount of drinks you drank

From then on, he started stalking you, gifting you massive amounts of gifts every week anonymously, if you glanced at an item for a second, he would not be hesitant to buy it.

But it was completely different if you looked at someone else, or glanced at them for a millisecond he would start to become dramatic and start to sob for at least than ten minutes on the cold floor or streets, or wherever he was stalking you from, he made sure you heard his pathetic cries, oh how much he wanted you to confess your love to him.

After a day from the coffee incident, he started following you around in broad daylight, tagging along everywhere you go, whether it would be the library, your school, the imperial palace or your house, he would try to invite himself to bathe with you (you never let him in your house, he just.. got in)

Lucian would start to cry uncontrollably on the floor, and banging and punching your bathroom door if you wouldn't let him bath or shower with you. he couldn't be apart from you for any second, since you now knew his obsession.

After your bathing session or shower session, he would roam inside your bathroom, sniffing up every scent of you like a mad dog, relieving himself to bathroom filled with your scent. (he could collapse in there any moment)

"ah- darling's scent ah- wh-why didn't they let me bathe with them.."

i made this half asleep

[shiorimakibawrites]

The Accident (Part I of Happy Little Accident)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: 7, 368 Summary: You tripped in the elevator and covered your neighbor in paint. Your ridiculously hot neighbor that you have an enormous crush on. Warning(s): Anxiety, Female Gaze, Referenced Sex, Referenced Character Death, Reference to assumed Attempted Murder, Thoughts about sex Happy Little Accident Masterlist My Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

The Accident

You were painting in Central Park when your phone rang. You let out an irritated huff as you fished your phone out of your apron’s pocket and looked at the caller ID. Abby, your boss at the Daily Grind. It was tempting to ignore the call, pretend like you had forgotten your phone. Very tempting. It was a lovely spring day, one you would much rather spend painting than working. But in the end the knowledge that Abby wasn’t prone to bothering her employees during their off hours without a good reason had you accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Abby said, sounding apologetic. “Can you cover for the afternoon shift today? Peter is in the hospital.”

“The hospital?!” you repeated, feeling immediately concerned. “What happened? Is he okay?”

Peter was one of the cafe’s newer employees. You didn’t know him very well yet but he seemed like a nice kid. If a little absentminded, given how often he arrived for his shift at a rush. And possibly even more clumsy than you are since you had often seen him with bruises which he claimed were the results of tripping over things.

Assuming he wasn’t lying about how he had gotten hurt. Which you thought that he was . . . some of those injuries didn’t look like they had came from a fall . . . It worried you. It worried others at the cafe too. Abby wasn’t usually so forgiving of such frequent tardiness and absences.

“He got hit by a car. Claims that he’s only got minor injuries but the hospital doesn’t want to discharge him without running some tests first. So can you come in today?”

You suppressed the urge to sigh. You didn’t want to sent the wrong message. Because you weren’t actually annoyed with Abby or Peter but the situation. These things happen. Sometimes people got hurt or got sick. And when they did, someone didn’t get their day off. Today was simply your turn.

And well . . . it wasn’t like you couldn’t use the money.

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You ended the call and slipped your phone back into your apron before starting to gather up your things. Your newly acquired shift started at three. It was only a little after noon, plenty of time to get back to your apartment and get ready, but you didn’t like rush. Rushing tended to make you even more of a klutz.

You swirled the used brushes in the water jar, trying to get as much paint off of your brushes before rolling them in a small towel. A second towel, already stained with old paint, was used to wrap up your palette. The paint was thrown back into their carrying box. Which was technically a small tackle box but you had repurposed it for art supplies. The box went into the bottom of your tote bag along with the water jar, double checking that lid was screwed on tightly. You didn’t need to ruin another sketchbook. You squeezed your current sketchbook behind the tackle box. Next went your pencil case, followed by the towels and their respective cargo. Now the only thing left was your painting and the portable easel.

You removed the painting from the easel, careful to avoid the spots where the paint had spilled over onto the tacking edge. Your fingers already had enough paint on them. The painting was propped against a tree, fingers crossed for two things. One that the wind wouldn’t pick up and send your painting flying. And two, a police officer wouldn’t start yelling at you for it. You didn’t think using the tree as a momentary support while you packed up violated any park rules but you weren’t entirely sure. You had read the park rules but they were written like a legal document . . . which it probably was . . . but that made you feel like you probably weren’t understanding it right. After all, you weren’t a lawyer.

Luck seemed to be with you. You were able to get easel broken down and put away without incident. You swung your bag into your shoulder before picking up your painting. After making sure you had a good grip on the stretcher and the tacking edge, you took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything. Then you started making your way home.

Your lucky streak continued. You didn’t drop anything. No one dumped into the wet canvas or you while you were walking. The subway was busy as usual but not packed to the gills. Your feet resisted the urge to get tangled up in some random piece of debris. Or your own feet. Or the absolutely nothing that you somehow managed to trip over sometimes . . .

In hindsight, you should have realized that it was too good to last.

Things began to go awry when you were waiting for the elevator to arrive. You looked down and saw a tube of paint in your aprons’ pockets instead of the tackle box where it belonged. Normally, you’d shrug and try to remember to put it away later but it looked like the cap hadn’t been screwed back on correctly. Your frown deepened after you transferred your painting to one hand and realized that the cap was loose. Loose enough that it was a minor miracle that it hadn’t fallen off somewhere between the park and here . . . you hoped the paint hadn’t gotten dried out . . .

You heard the elevator dings its arrival as you pulled the paint out of your pocket. Trying to one-handedly shift the tube so its cap could be gripped between your fingers and twisted close, you didn’t look when you heard the elevator door slide open. You just moved forward. And immediately tripped over . . . something . . . you had no idea what.

You just knew that you were falling, that you had lost your grip on your painting as your hands instinctively rose to protect your head from the oncoming impact. An impact that never came. Someone caught you before you could hit the floor. Unfortunately the hand holding the paint had squeezed down, spraying paint on yourself and the chest of your rescuer.

It was like a train wreck. You didn’t want to look but you always couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. You stared in horror the giant splash in the middle, the magenta color of the paint shockingly bright against the light gray suit, white dress shirt, and blue tie . . . Your eyes darted to the array of smaller droplets that radiated outward like shrapnel . . . you raised your eyes with the growing dread. Because you recognized that suit and tie, that broad chest . . .

Sure enough, when you looked up, you were greeted with the very surprised face of Matt Murdock. You felt your heart sink. Of course it was Matt. It couldn’t have been someone else. Anyone else. Preferably a random stranger that you would never see again. But no . . . it had to be your neighbor. It had to the man you had developed an enormous crush on.

Your face felt like it was on fire. You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you. You wanted to cry. Matt returning your feelings had always been a long shot . . . but now? There was no chance. You had turned out of his nice suits into a terrible Jackson Pollock . . . you were going to be lucky if he ever talked to you again . . .

You don’t know when you started apologizing. One minute, you were frozen in humiliated shock, the next increasingly frantic words started spilling out of your mouth. What words you couldn’t say. You couldn’t hear anything past your heart pounding in your ears . . .

A hand cupping your cheek was so startling that it immediately pierced the panic clouding your mind. Big, warm hand . . . you blinked and realized that someone was speaking to you. A familiar deep, soft-spoken voice . . .

“. . . shh, shh, sweetheart, it’s okay . . .”

Sweetheart?! You would hardly believe your own ears. But that was definitely Matt’s voice, his face that you were looking at, and those oh-so-kissable lips were moving . . .

This wasn’t the first time that Matt had called you sweetheart. He had been doing that since the first time you meet. If literally running into someone counts as meeting them. You would like to say no but it wasn’t like your second encounter with your then new neighbor had gone much better. You weren’t always a klutz around him but your bouts of clumsiness did occurred around him with embarrassing regularity.

And provided he was nearby when it happened, Matt always caught you when you started falling . . . so finding yourself in his arms also happened on a regular basis.

This had some upsides. For one, it gave you an appreciation for how much muscle must be hiding under those suits of his. Because he never had any trouble catching you or helping you get back onto your own feet. There was something very hot about the way he could lift you up like you weighted nothing. For another, he is very warm. Which had been especially nice during the recent autumn and winter months. And he smelled good. Like plain soap, ink, paper, and something woodsy like sandalwood with fainter notes of leather, cooper, and something else familiar but that you couldn’t quite remember what it was or where you had smelled it.

On the downside, you were never in his arms for very long. Certainly not long enough to really enjoy being held by those strong arms. He’d catch you, make sure you were steady on your feet again, then his arms would slide away and he stepped back. Taking all of his warmth and good smells with him. Which was always a little disappointing even if you did appreciated that he didn’t assume that he had permission to hold you longer than was absolutely necessary. And that he didn’t use those moments as an excuse to get handsy. Which you knew some people would have.

Further on the downside, being in his arms for any length of time made it very hard to pretend that he didn’t get you all hot and bothered. That having his warm breath brush against your neck and ear when he said something like ‘Careful, sweetheart’ didn’t make the skin there prickle and the rest of you shudder. Or, last week, when your shirt had gotten ridden up, that feeling those callused fingers against your bare skin didn’t make you shiver. Or the absolute worst, when you had to act like you hadn’t just been touching yourself while fantasizing about him, that you hadn’t just been moaning his name, that being in his arms hadn’t renewed the heat between your legs . . .

Those moments, it was really difficult to stop yourself from doing something crazy. Like ask him if you can find out if those pouty lips are soft as they looked . . . or if how much of that beautiful ass you could fit in your hands . . .

You suppressed the urge to groan. Serena, your best friend in the world, was right. You needed to get laid. Because even at the most embarrassing moments of your life, when you were half-considering changing your name and moving somewhere far away, you still couldn’t keep your mind out of the gutter.

Your imagination was out of control. It kept trying to convince you of the wildest things. Like that there was something more to the way his fingers had rubbed that little sliver of bare skin last week than just some mild curiosity when his hands didn’t encounter the expected shirt material. Or those tightening grips on your waist was anything other than making sure he wasn’t about to drop you. Those moments when his voice went deeper and huskier weren’t due to attraction but Matt was obviously coming down with a cold or something.

You ignored the grumbling inner voice that pointed out, aside from when he had the misfortune to get stuck in the elevator with that guy from the third floor who smelled like he bathed in cheap cologne, you had yet to see Matt so much as sneeze. Or that none of those moments had overlapped with the times Matt had looked ill – tired and moving like his body ached.

You weren’t going to get your hopes up. Matt was way out of your league. So far out that you weren’t even playing the same sport. He was incredibly good-looking, easily one of the most handsome men you had ever meet. You were the textbook definition of Plain Jane. Not ugly but not beautiful either. He was confident, outgoing, and charming. You were anxious, shy, and awkward. He was a lawyer with a successful law firm. You were an artist whose work didn’t sell well enough to make a living off of it. Hence the waitress/barista job at the Daily Grind.

Maybe not the most sensible job choice for a shy klutz but there were only so many options for someone with an art degree. Plus you had been working there since college and Abby had displayed remarkable patience for your clumsiness (and the periodic broken dishes that went with it). Mostly because you were otherwise reliable. And while you would never enjoy making small talk with strangers, you could do with a smile. It helped the majority of the regulars were nice . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Any blood that managed to drain out of your cheeks immediately flooded back. You were really batting a thousand today. First you spray him with paint, then you babble incoherently at him, then you stand there like a moron ignoring him for god only knew how long. If Matt didn’t already think you were awkward and weird, he certainly did now.

“Sorry,” you said, not sure of what to say.

He smiled at you. That sweet one that seemed . . . .dare you say it? . . . fond? Which did nothing to diminish the flush in your face. Neither did the little circles his thumb was rubbing into your right cheek or the reassuring squeeze from the hand at your waist.

He’s just trying to keep me calm, you told yourself sternly. It didn’t mean anything. He just didn’t need you panicking again. Lawyers were busy people. He had probably had things to do and didn’t want to waste anymore time on you.

“And to answer your earlier question, no, I’m not going to sue you.”

You had actually said that? Out loud? You closed your eyes and let out a low groan. Everytime you think this situation couldn’t get more embarrassing . . . that idea of moving some remote mountain which hopefully had no insanely hot lawyers living on it was sounding better and better. The only thing thing that would have been worse was if your word-vomit had decided to detail just how attractive you found him. Then, in addition to everything else today, you’d have to listen to him say ‘I’m flattered but . . .’ while your heart shattered into a million pieces . . .

“Sorry,” you repeated. Because what else you could you say to something like that?

“No need to apologize again, sweetheart,” he said as his hand slide off of your face before joining its fellow in helping you get back on your own feet. Then, as usual, his arms pulled away entirely and he took a small step back. As usual, you told yourself that you weren’t disappointed or felt colder. Both were a lie.

“It was an accident,” he continued. “You said you were sorry. No harm done.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from flickering around his suit. The mess hadn’t miraculously disappeared. It was still here.

“No harm?” you repeated. “You’ve got magenta splattered all over your suit!”

“Which one is magenta?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I remember what magenta looks like,” Matt said, sounding thoughtful. “Can you describe it for me?”

“Er . . . pink?” you said, trying to think of how to describe it. “This particular shade is darker than bubblegum, more purplish-red? Like some plums just under the skin or a pomegranate?”

“Sounds pretty,” he said. “Foggy has been telling me that I need to wear more color.”

“I think he probably meant new clothes that were different colors, not paint splattered on your existing clothes,” you said slowly, unsure of what to make of this conversation. It was not turning out at all like you would have expected it to.

He grinned. “Most likely but he never actually said clothes. Just more color. He knows better than to leave the terms of a contract that vague.”

While you didn’t know Foggy Nelson very well, you had the feeling he would not be impressed. You had also seem him and Matt needling each other at Josie’s often enough to picture the irritated look he would level at his partner if he returned to work looking like this and tried to make that argument. The image was so absurd that you had to giggle.

“Not sure that is a winning argument, Mr. Murdock,” you said,

“Sure it is,” he said. “Any ambiguity in a contract favors the party that didn’t write it. Foggy wrote the contract without defining his terms. So I am free to interpret those terms as anyone might reasonably expect them to mean.”

Which only made you giggle even harder. He was being so silly. “It’s not very professional?”

“Regretfully, I have to agree,” he said, sounding almost like he genuinely disappointed about that. Provided you couldn’t see the cheeky grin on his face. “Will I need anything special to remove the paint?”

“No,” you said, silently thanking Past You for choosing to work with acrylics today instead of oils. The faded spots the turpentine would leave would be less noticeable than magenta but still probably not something he wanted. Also even the low-odor version didn’t smell good. You didn’t know if there was any truth to that whole ‘blind people’s other senses get stronger’ thing but real or not, Matt seemed to have a pretty sensitive nose. “Acrylics are water-based. As long as it is still wet, warm water and soap is enough.”

“See? No harm done,” he said, giving that flirty smile that always made your heart go pitter-patter. Even when you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t mean anything. Matt was a charming guy who flirted a little with everyone. You had seem him get a little flirty with Mrs. Gonzales, the third resident of the sixth floor. Who was, as she pointedly reminded him, old enough to be his grandmother and scolded him for shameless flattery. She had rolled her eyes a little when he retorted the truth wasn’t flattery but did seem pleased. Pleased enough to make him tamales. Which honestly made you a little jealous. The tamales you had bought from her at during the holidays had been really good . . .

Serena thought Matt wasn’t flirting with you just to flirt. That he actually liked you. But she was your best friend. It was her job to believe that you were wonderful and agree that the hot guy you had a crush on was into you. And if it turned out that he wasn’t . . . well, then he was an idiot wasn’t worth your time. You wanted to believe her . . . you wanted that to true so badly . . .

But you had seen the women Matt used to bring home. And the ones who flirted with him at Josie’s. Beautiful, self-assured women with successful careers. They were everything that you weren’t. Granted, you hadn’t seen one of his paramours leaving or arriving at the building for a while. And the only ones you had seen him leaving Josie’s with lately were his friends.

Or you. Which you refused to read anything into either. Matt just didn’t think you walking home alone at night was safe. And it wasn’t. The Kitchen might have Daredevil, its guardian in red leather, but he couldn’t be everywhere. Couldn’t save everyone through if the rumors were to be believed, it certainly seemed like he tried.

Regardless of his reason, you always ended up agreeing because you were too weak to say no to spending just a little more time with him. And it wasn’t like you were making him go out of his way since you both lived in the same building . . .

The point was that Matt would the same thing for anyone. Even someone who really didn’t need it. Like Jessica Jones. Through he claimed that was just to save himself or Foggy from needing to make another late-night trip to the police station because she had punched some creep into a wall. While he agreed that yes, they deserved it for treating someone like that but the police didn’t see that way, Jessica . . .

“As long as it’s still wet,” you repeated. “It’s harder to remove once its’ dry.”

“How does that take?”

“About half an hour.”

“Good thing I’m so close to home then.” Then he seemed to hesitate. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Absolutely,” you said, cringing a little at how eager you sounded. But you had gotten paint all over him. A favor was the least you could do.

“Can you help me get this cleaned up?” he said, gesturing toward the paint. He gave you a self-deprecating smile. “Otherwise I might miss a spot.”

“I can do that,” you said. You had been intending to offer help anyway. You had made the mess. You should help clean it up.

He frowned suddenly, his head tilting to one side. “Are you sure? I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t need to be at work until three and it’s . . .”

You tried to check the time on your watch but it had a smear of paint across the face. Unfortunately the hands were hidden by said smear of paint. “Probably not three.”

Matt’s lips twitched. “Problem with your watch?”

“Paint is hiding the hands.”

He gave an amused grin as he ran his fingers around the edge of his watch. “The downside of wearing non-tactile watches. It’s a quarter til one.”

“Plenty of time,” you said. And even if it wasn’t . . . Abby was a reasonable person. She would completely understand not leaving any neighbor, let alone your blind neighbor, to clean this up.

He smiled before reaching down to pick up his fallen cane. You felt your face get warm again. Both because you just realized what you had gotten tripped over (which made you feel like a jerk) and because that action had pulled those trousers taut over his ass (which made you feel . . . other things). But you couldn’t stop yourself from looking. Not when you had a front row seat to one of the best asses in America. Possibly the world.

Matt couldn’t possibly know that you were checking out his ass but that smug little smirk that he flashed in your direction made you feel like he did. You averted your eyes and tried to find a distraction. Before thinking about his ass (or other body parts) got you worked up. More worked up. Which not only would be awkward but make you nervous and prone to say something embarrassing.

Then you remembered your painting. You had dropped it earlier. Where was . . . you let out a distressed groan as you picked it up. The good news was that your painting hadn’t landed paint-side down. Which had saved the mostly dried paint from smearing or chipping. The bad news that hadn’t escaped The Magenta. It didn’t get hit as nearly badly as Matt but there was still a giant splat right in the middle of the lake . . .

“What’s wrong?”

“There is a giant glob of magenta in the middle of the lake,” you said.

“The lake?”

“In my painting,” you said. “I was doing one of the Bow Bridge in Central Park.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Maybe,” you said, looking at the mess and trying to think of how to incorporate the random splatters into the image. You could remove some of it without taking off the underlying layers but not all of it. That would have to be incorporated somehow . . . Maybe a boat? Or a float . . . some of the smaller ones could be turned into leaves if you switched the setting to autumn just as the leaves were turning . . . or a flowering tree with pink blossoms . . .

“We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents,” you reminded your inner perfectionist.

“That sounds familiar.”

“It’s something Bob Ross said a lot,” you said. “He was–”

“That guy on PBS who painted the landscapes?” Matt said. “Soft-spoken, sometimes had a squirrel in his pocket and talked about happy trees?”

“That’s the one,” you said. “The Joy of Painting. I watched it religiously as a kid. How about you?”

An odd little smile spread across Matt’s face. “Not often enough to qualify as religious but you could call us regular watchers. My dad wasn’t much of an art guy but he found the show relaxing . . . and it was quiet. I could turn it on in the morning without waking him up after he had worked late.”

He sounded nostalgic, like these were fond memories but also deeply sad. Then you remembered that Matt’s father was dead. Killed when he was a little boy. Which you only knew about because you had once given into temptation and googled Matt Murdock. Most of the search results had been about his law firm and the Castle trial but further down the page, articles about the accident that blinded him and his father’s death had also appeared. But by then, you had felt guilty enough about snooping into his life that you hadn’t read any those of articles beyond their headlines.

“Did you ever try to follow along?” you asked softly.

“A few times with the watercolors from my school supplies,” he said. “I was terrible at it but my dad hung up every picture on the fridge like it was the Mona Lisa.”

“Mine did that too,” you said. “My mom might still have a few of them tucked away with the baby pictures, waiting to embarrass me with them.”

He chuckled. “Did you ever fall asleep watching the show?”

You laughed. “Yes. Usually after I had stayed up too late reading.”

“Same,” he said, then gestured to the control panel. “Shall we go up?”

“Yes, we shall,” you said, a little amazed at how well this was going, despite the mishap. And that the elevator had remained here at the ground floor for this long. Probably it was the middle of the day and therefore most of the other tenants were either at work or school right now. As the elevator rose, you tried to think of something to talk about. You didn’t mind quiet but your earlier anxiety about his reaction had been replaced by your more usual nerves at being around the man you had spent almost half a year pining over.

Nervous You tended to be a chatterbox with chronic foot-in-mouth disease. Nervous You might blurt out that you liked him. Might detail how you wanted to go on dates, snuggle on the couch, hold hands while you took long walks, call each other by cliché nicknames like honey or dear. Basically be one of those disgustingly adorable couples . . . And behind closed doors, mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex that would leave you walking funny with a big smile on your face . . .

That thought alone made your cheeks warm. Among other places. Maybe work? Work should be a safe enough topic. Nothing naughty about work . . .

“What brings you home this early?” you asked, injecting as much cheer as possible in your voice to disguise your nerves. “Does no one need lawyering today?”

He chuckled. “No, we still have plenty of people who needed lawyering. I just forget my phone this morning and this was the first chance I’ve had to retrieve it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment as the elevator dinged your arrival to the sixth floor. The doors slide open and you walked out. Or rather you tried. But apparently you just had no luck with elevators today because you managed to slip on nothing. For the second time today, you started to fall. Only backwards this time.

And despite what happened the last time, Matt still caught you.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling the earlier flush to your cheeks deepen.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he said. “I like having a beautiful girl in my arms.”

Which only made the warmth in your face start to spread down your neck. Even if he didn’t meant it, it was nice to be told that you were beautiful. You couldn’t help liking it. You did your best to ignore the nasty voice in your head – the one that sounded a lot like those awful girls in high school who had bullied you – saying how would Matt even know that you were beautiful or not . . . he was blind . . .

Your more optimistic side – which sounded like Serena – pointed out that for obvious reasons, that Matt was unlikely to find someone attractive based solely on their appearance . . . so maybe he really did find you beautiful . . .

You blamed those pernicious thoughts for making you feel like there was hint of hesitation, of reluctance, in Matt’s hands as they slide back off of your waist once you were standing upright again. But not matter how many times you told yourself that it was just your overactive imagination . . . part of you couldn’t help but hope.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Matt said as you followed him into his apartment. While he disappeared down a hallway, you propped your unfinished painting against a wall before slipping your tote off your shoulder with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t very heavy but those almost falls had jerked it and its contains around, making the straps dig into your shoulder. After sitting down the tote, you prodded the area. It was a little sore but it lacked the tenderness you associated with oncoming bruises.

You walked toward the kitchen and looked around, curious. In some respects, his apartment was a lot like yours. Both displayed the buildings’ previous life as factory in the exposed brick, scuffed hardwood floors, and visible HVAC and pipes. Both had large windows that let in a lot of natural light if even the old glass was a little wavy or different colored. Both had galley-style kitchens and generally open floor plan. Both of you seemed to have opted for a mismatched collection of secondhand furniture in either earth tones or neutral colors. But that was where the similarities ended.

The first and most noticeable difference was size. His was a lot bigger than yours. Which honestly you had expected, knowing very well that your side of the sixth floor had been turned into two units whereas his was left as one. Yours didn’t have access to the roof but in all honesty, you were fine with that. You weren’t afraid of high places in and of themselves but you were afraid of falling from high places. The outside of your windows wasn’t dominated by The Billboard. Which even during the day looked rather bright.

Matt’s apartment struck you as unfinished, like there was something missing but it took you a moment to figure out what. There was nothing decorative. The walls were bare and furniture were bare. It was sharp contrast to your place where the walls had been turned into a gallery for your unsold paintings and the furniture was festooned with the efforts of Serena’s knitting or your embroidery. You wondered if this was due to preference (Matt was simply a minimalist who considered decorative items to be annoying clutter) or to circumstance (Matt hadn’t found anything that he liked yet).

Another difference was the level of tidiness. You weren’t outright messy. You cleaned up after yourself. But there was always a certain amount of controlled chaos. For example, you were just as likely to find your pincushion and scissors on the kitchen table as in the sewing bag where they belonged. Or how your books often ended up stacked on the floor by your reading chair instead of being put back on the bookshelf.

Matt’s place, by contrast, looked very well organized. Everything obviously had a place and was always returned to its spot when not in use. Which made sense when you thought about it. No one wanted to go on a scavenger hunt every time they needed something. And given how busy Matt was, he also didn’t have time to be doing that.

Plus there were things that no one would want to get mixed up. Like grabbing the shampoo bottle when you wanted the mouthwash. Yes, there were other things that would clue him in before he inadvertently washed out his own mouth with soap. But, as your grandmother liked to say, an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.

“Will any soap work?”

You jumped at a little at Matt’s voice. He sounded close. Much closer than you would have thought he could get to you without you noticing. Especially on these old hardwood floors which had so many places that creaked or groaned when stepped on.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s . . .” you started as you turned toward the sound of his voice. And promptly felt your intended words get tangled up in your throat. Your heart began to race as blood rushed back to your cheeks at the sight before you.

Your eyes greedily took in his broad shoulders, then down arms so thick that you doubted that you would be able to fully wrap your hand around it. Back up and across to the well-defined pectorals, then down through to sculpted abdominals until they disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. All covered in a skin that looked like it was as soft as satin.

You swallowed hard. You had known for a while that Matt had some muscle. He had saved you from your own clumsiness too often for you not to know that. But this . . . you had no idea he was hiding all this under those fancy suits of his . . . It was like someone had brought the statue of a Greek god or Michelangelo’s David to life . . . and then someone had apparently convinced him to put on pants. Whoever that idiot was should be fired . . . because if the rest of him looked this good . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Once again, you jumped at his voice. You raised your eyes up to his face. Your breath caught for the second time. Because Matt wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. You had never seen him without those glasses. Predictably, his eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him. Big, brown eyes sparkling with amusement and confidence. It matched that cocky little smirk he was sporting. The same one he had given you earlier. Only this time, you were positive that he knew that you were staring.

But it was so hard not to . . . he was so beautiful . . . it filled with you competing urges. The artist longed for your drawing pencils and a couple of hours to sketch. You weren’t sure you had the talent to fully capture his beauty but you would love to try. The woman, however, wanted him to fuck you. For him be inside you. Cock, fingers, tongue . . . your cunt didn’t care which. Any or all of them would do.

Watching that pink tongue dart out from between those oh-so-kissable lips before disappearing back inside his mouth did nothing to quell your arousal. Nor did the almost hungry look in his eyes. All it did was make you think about all things a man could do with his tongue if he was so inclined . . .

You dug your hands into your jeans to keep them to yourself. Silently you reminded yourself why you had to control the later impulse. First – Matt wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your neighbor and maybe a friend. Second – even if you were his lover and consented to having sex, neither of you had time today. He needed to go back to his office and you had to be the cafe at three. Abby would understand you being late because you were helping Matt clean up The Magenta. She would be far less sympathetic toward hanky-panky induced tardiness. So as much as you would like him to bend you over his kitchen table, you had to ignore that particular desire.

As for the artistic urge . . . since he didn’t seem to hate you for The Magenta, maybe he would agree to model for you? And you were friends of a sort. Friends could ask friends to model for them, right?

“L-liquid soap,” you said, doing your best to sound normal instead of incredibly turned on. “I-I found it easier to work with when cleaning up paint.”

Matt didn’t look like he was convinced by your non-existent acting skills. But he went along with the change of subject. Then gave you another heart attack by revealing that his shirt and tie were silk while his jacket was wool with a silk lining. You had no idea how to clean paint off of those without damaging them . . . isn’t stuff like that dry clean only?

The answer was yes and no. The shirt was made of a type of washable silk that he could launder at home – on the gentle cycle with mild soap. The suit and the tie, however, were both dry clean only. But Matt knew how to prevent stains from getting set in his fancy clothes and you knew how to handle paint. Between the two of you, you worked a plan that should get the paint off while preventing damage to his clothes.

Using an old gift card that you used as a painting tool as a scrapper, you removed the bulk of the paint from the tie and jacket while Matt used his bottle of liquid dish-soap and water to wash his shirt in the sink. Then, you dampened a white washcloth with lukewarm water, added a tiny amount of the soap, before dabbing the affected areas. Before dabbing again with a separate cloth that was just dampened with water, then carefully blotting with another washcloth that was completely dry.

You tried to keep your mind on the task in front of you but kept getting distracted. By his . . . everything. You wanted to trace every muscle with your fingers. Or your tongue. Either would be enjoyable. Or both. Both was good . . . the only thing that wasn’t making you press your thighs together in an effort to relieve the ache in your cunt were the scars.

Not because you thought his scars were ugly. The scars were like kintsugi. The healed but visible damage made the person more beautiful, not less. But because the scars worried you. It looked like someone had tried very hard to kill Matt.

You hadn’t realized that being a lawyer was so dangerous . . . but then, Nelson & Murdock had gone up against some powerful people. People like Fisk. Had Fisk or someone like him sent someone after Matt? You glanced at his hands. He had the same calluses on his knuckles as your ex who was a boxer. Did Matt know how to box? Was that how he had survived the obvious attempt on his life?

You were curious but realized that some of the answers you wanted might require a lengthy conversation. Which you didn’t have time for. Assuming Matt was even willing to answer those questions. He might not be. Which was fine. Trauma was rather personal and you didn’t really know each other.

You returned to your task. Despite your frequent distraction, soon the clothes were cleaned to the best of your ability. All three items were hung on hangers to dry in the case of the shirt or await a trip to the dry cleaners for the other two. Something that you offered to pay for.

“No need for you to do that, sweetheart. It’s about time for that suit to go to the cleaners anyway.”

“But it’s my mess,” you protested.

You didn’t win the argument. But it wasn’t a fair fight. First, he was a lawyer. He argued with people for a living. You painted or served food and drinks. Second, he still hadn’t put on a shirt. It was very distracting. And he knew it. His opposition in court was so lucky that he had to keep all his clothes on in the courtroom. Otherwise, they’d might never win.

“Stupid, sexy Murdock,” you muttered quietly under your breath as you washed your brushes and palette. Not quietly enough because he laughed.

“I’m sexy?” Matt asked. Warmth flooded your face. Judging by that cocky smirk, he knew the answer to that question. Yes, absolutely yes. But you were absolutely not going to say that.

“I plead the Fifth,” you said. Which only made him laugh harder.

He opened his mouth, probably to tease you some more, when his phone started ringing out, “Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.”

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he said.

“Go ahead,” you said quickly.

He flashed you a smile before answering his phone with a “What’s up, Fogs?”

You put away your things while Matt talked to his partner. From the sound of it, he was explaining why retrieving his phone was taking so long. A check on your watch – now cleaned of paint – warned you that you really needed to leave now if you wanted to be ready for work on time. You swung your tote up onto your shoulder.

Then found yourself in a quandary. It was rude to interrupt someone while they were on the phone but it was also rude to leave without saying good-bye. But it wasn’t like you could go just wave good-bye.

“Matt?” you called out.

“Hang on Foggy,” he said, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’ve got to go,” you said. “I’ll see you later?”

“You’ll have to. I can’t.”

For a moment, that answer confused you. But only for a moment. Blind joke. Not the first one he had made around you. It wouldn’t be the last. He seemed rather fond of them. Well, it was his disability. It certainly wasn’t your place to tell him that he couldn’t make jokes about it if he wanted to.

Besides sometimes the looks on people’s faces when he made them were very funny.

“Left myself wide open for that one, didn’t I?” you said.

“Yep,” he said. He looked very pleased with himself. “But yes, I’ll see you later.”

That made you smile. “Bye, Matt.”

“Bye, sweetheart,” he said before returning to his phone call. You closed the door to his apartment as quietly as you could, then made you way across the hall toward your own apartment. Time get for work.

Step one – a cold shower.

Notes

There are portable easels that are designed to be collapsed down and easily carried. I have one. Some of them come with an attached box that is meant to carry paint, brushes, and whatever else you need but that type is more expensive (about 70 dollars on the cheaper end) than one that is just the easel (which is about 20). Reader has a limited art budget and those fifty bucks she didn’t spent on an easel can buy a lot of paint and canvas.

I’ve found that tackle boxes and tool boxes make great carrying cases for arts and crafts supplies. The divided trays are very useful if the creative thing you are doing involves a lot of little pieces or tools like beading or jewelry making.

Reader took the subway for part of her journey because, according to what I could find, getting from Hell’s Kitchen to Central Park via subway takes about 14 minutes while walking that same distance would take about 40 minutes. So the subway it was.

Magenta is, generally speaking, purplish red color. The shades vary between more pink, more red, or more purple. Even paint doesn’t always agree. I have one set on acrylic paints that labels a color as ‘light magenta’ while a different set calls the same color ‘magenta’ and third just says ‘pink.’

Jackson Pollock (1912 – 1956) was an American artist who was part of the abstract expressionist movement. He is best known for his ‘drip’ technique where he would pour or splash liquid house-paint with frenetic movement onto the canvas which was laying flat on the floor. In some ways, his work reminds me of acrylic pouring which looks very cool but also very messy.

I mean no disrespect to those with an art degree. I started off majoring in fine arts and part of me wishes that I had stuck with it despite the challenges. One of my professors recommended getting your masters if you were going to major in art simply because then you could get teaching jobs in many places.

That contract thing is true but I’m not a lawyer and have never taken Contracts 101. Always get your legal advice from actual lawyers.

Turpentine is used to clean paint brushes and other tools when using oil paint. A low odor version is highly recommended but remember to only use it in a well-ventilated place as the fumes are toxic. It is also very flammable. You can use it to get oil paint off of your skin but it is very drying and probably isn’t be safe to use on places like your face. The skin there easily absorbs things (which is the primary reason that make-up has go through FDA approval).

For the record, blind people don’t have better senses than everyone else. They just pay more attention to the information from their other senses provide, things that us sighted people tend to ignore. And arguably have more practice identifying different sounds, smells, etc than someone who largely ignores that input.

While I cannot say that this happens in NYC, as I have never lived there, where I grew up (American southwest) and where I live now (Florida), the grandmas and aunties in the Latin community make and sell tamales during the winter holiday season. Maybe for some extra spending money for said holidays. In my experience, they are always excellent. I almost don’t consider it Christmas without some tamales.

The reason Reader feels like a jerk for tripping over Matt’s cane is that messing with someone’s mobility aid and/or not giving them enough space to use it is a dick move.

The Bow Bridge is a bridge in Central Park. You have probably seen it before since it is pretty popular for movies and television. Probably because it looks perfect for your sappy romantic moments, dramatic love confession, meet-cutes, etc. It also helps that it looks just as nice surrounded by leafy trees as it does covered in snow.

Bob Ross (1942 – 1995) was an American painter who was the host of an instructional art show called The Joy of Painting, which aired from 1983 until 1994, on PBS (public broadcasting station) in the US but also in similar public stations around the world. You can find the episodes on YouTube.

According to the internet, you can spot clean wool, silk, and other such fabrics like how Reader does without damaging the fabric. But it was the internet so take that with a generous portion of salt.

Yes, I do use an old gift card when I paint. To make smallish straight lines, very handy for fences and rain effects. I cannot speak for every artist but my painting tools aren’t limited to brushes and painting knives.

Kintsugi (“golden joinery”) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer that has been dusted or mixed with gold, silver, or platinum. The point is not to hide the damage but highlight it, to treat the breakage and repair as simply part of the object’s history. And that having such a history makes it more valuable, not less.

[hvnnibvni]

Together Again | JJK *part 1*

Pairings: Jungkook/Reader

Genre: Mature themes. Romance. Angst. Arranged marriage AU. Childhood best friends to lovers AU.

Warnings: cheating, reader is a rope bunny (ALLEGEDLY), hard!dom JK, switch!reader, reader likes to be slutted out, drunken sex, unplanned pregnancy(this is in the end dw😅), cunnilingus, oral (both receiving), fighting (talk shit get hit) daddy!kink, praise!kink, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling. Just all around nasty y’all.

Summary: After reader finds her long-term boyfriend in bed with their mutual friend. She moves back into her family home, but under one condition. She has to marry her childhood friend that has been arranged since their childhood. For a wedding gift they go to a mountainous getaway with a group of friends, reader is told that ex and mutual friend get invited, so reader and jk decide to pretend not to know each other to avoid any confusion or miscommunication.

Authors note: Hi! Sorry it’s so late but here it is. I hope you guys enjoy. I’m making this into a series. I feel like it’s a little unprofessional not to have a masterlist but I’m working on that too. Just bare with me please in new to this lol. Also feel free to ask me any questions, or express your honest opinions Im all ears good or bad. Should I make a tag list?

——————————————————————

‘How the fuck did I get here’

You thought as you sat in you car, filled with you things. You had just left the home YOU bought after catching your boyfriend Yunwoo cheating one you.. With your supposedly best friend. Sitting there thinking, you should’ve saw the signs. They were there right in front of your face. You felt like a fool. Luckily you’ve always kept a cool head, or else you would’ve done something you’d regret. You honestly wished you did. You wanted them to hurt just as much as they hurt you, but you knew if wouldn’t change anything so why stress yourself out about it. But silence is the best way to get under someone’s skin isn’t it. No matter how much he cried and apologized. You didn’t turn back, you’ll never go back to him. That a promise you made to yourself on you journey back home.

Earlier that day:

“Hey y/n what can I get you” the barista, you’ve gotten to know over the years asks, “Let me have my usual please Janine, oh! And can you serve it really hot please, thank you.” You were making you your normal daily rounds that day, which normally started out with a hot coffee at your favorite cafe when you realized you forgot you wallet back at the house. “Ah actually scratch that. I seem to have left my wallet at home.” You say, making the sudden realization. “You know what don’t walruses about it it’s on the house,” Janine says with a smile. “That you so much I appreciate the generosity, but I have to go back home anyway. I’ll come back and pay for the coffee.” You just couldn’t shake this strange feeling telling you to go back home. Your boyfriend of 5 years seemed was acting strange this morning. Being overly sweet all of a sudden, waking you up, making you breakfast. It just seemed like he was trying to get you out of the house.

when you pull into the driveway you see his car still out front, but you didn’t find that as strange as you best friend, Cristal car along side his. “Strange,” you say to yourself as you pull into the driveway. She never texted that she was coming over, but you check you phone to be safe. But you still can’t shake the uneasy feeling you have in your gut that something fishy is going on inside your home without you knowing. The calm rational you is telling you to just walk in your home as if it’s nothing, but the bad bitch part of you is telling you to unlock your fence and sneak in though the back door. So that’s just what you do. As you’re sneaking inside your house you notice clothes spread all across you living room floor training up the stairs to your bedroom. “Oh hell nah I know these motherfuckers ain’t- okay.” You whisper to yourself as you tiptoe up the stairs.

As you reach your bedroom you hear the faint sound of laughter behind the door. You decide to listen in on the conversation before letting your presence known. “Why don’t you just leave her already. She can’t make you happy the way I do.” You hear Cristal say. “I’m just waiting for the right time Cristal you know how she can be. She so clingy, she acts like she can’t live without me,” Yunwoo explains to Cristal. You scoff to yourself as head this. “Mmcht yeah right like this isn’t my house you’re freeloading it.” You number to yourself as you lean in closer to get a better listen. No one knew that you were he one that made all the money between you two. Yunwoo didn’t have a job and was too embarrée to move back in with his parents after he dropped out of college. So you bought this home for the both of you to stay in. You on the other hand were and heiress to one of the most biggest, prestigious designing companies in the world. In other words you’re the 1 percent of the q percent. But you’ve always kept it a secret, because it is taboo to mention your wealth in front of other people who are less fortunate.

“well I just don’t see how it’s right to keep pretending and leading her on like this. Im starting to get annoyed just looking at her. She’s so pathetic.” At this point you e already opened the door. They look at you in shock to see you home this early. “Y/n-“ you hold up your hand. Not trying to hear a single word coming out of yunwoo’s mouth, already disgusted. You don’t speak of give them the time of day. Of course you have lots to say, say you listened to their conversation you realized that these people were below you. These people betrayed your trust, and defiled your home. They’re worth less than the dirt on a dog’s paw. And what do you look like speaking to those who aren’t even worthy enough to lick the dirt off of your dogs feet? “Y/n please let’s talk about this like adults.” Yunwoo pleads. All you can do is scoff ass you go around the room and gather your things.

“Yunwoo baby just let her go. You don’t need something like that anyways. She’s not worth the time,” Cristal says picking through her nails. “You know what Cristal you’re right. I don’t need this. I deserve better and y/n baby you can’t give that to me. I’m on to better things in life. While you’re going to be stuck a sad, lonely, bitter, insignificant, bitch no one can stand. So go on. Leave.” Yunwoo, who has more than audacity says to you. You, the classy person you are smile at him, gather your clothes, jewelry, and dog walk away. Leaving everything behind.

[positively-mine]

Date night!

tags: gn! reader, plot spoilers, not proofread

a/n: part 2?? idk yet. modeled this off my own experience, hopefully it isn't hot trash

Saiki k

Knows where you're both going to end up because he's rewound time so many times. Despite that, he will always cherish the moments you spend together. He can never say no to you. You may have walked this path a thousand times but in the end he'll always choose to join you.

Always remembering which deserts you like and sharing them with you. Of course it's an impromptu cafe hopping session. How much was spent that day on cafes will not be disclosed. Personal chaperone because the moment you say you're tired he's teleported straight to your room. Isn't he the greatest boyfriend ever? What he doesn't say he makes up for it in his actions.

Aren

Obviously he asked to tag along with you. His s/o walking around town with no one to hold your things for you? A crime. Luckily he's your boyfriend though. He's shy but he will still put in the effort. Wants to try everything with you. Won't be direct though so you might have to pick up the little hints he drops.

100% will drag you off to a photo booth. You know how they give a digital version of the pictures? Yeah it's his wallpaper. Also if he finds clothes that are similar to how he used to dress (punk?? I honestly dk 😭) he will want to go in. His signals come in the form of making eye contact with you before shifting his eyes to the shop. Check it out with him pls. He won't take long.

Saiko

Now why would you want to walk around here when he can literally bring you to another country. Well whatever your reason is he will begrudgingly follow you. The thought of walking around makes shivers run up his spine. But since you're so insistent of having him around he guess it won't be so bad to walk around if you're there. Don't stare too long at anything because he'll buy it. You'll be leaving with one of his cars filled with gifts.

Is also reluctant to try the food. But if you'll feed it to him he'll gladly open his mouth. Eventually forms a sweet tooth/ craving of the foods. Orders them secretly because he doesn't want anyone to know... Once you're satisfied, he'll call for his driver to take you to his house so you can review all the things he got for you.

[vodika-vibes]

Hey, i am back with another idea!

So, i was thinking about young Jango Fett and how he would woo a woman that isnt apart of the Mandalorian culture marry him.

Hope i gave you enough information for the story!

Love yeah!

Cultural Miscommunications

Summary: You like to think that you're friends with Jango Fett, though you desperately want more.

Pairing: Jango Fett x Reader

Word Count: 1920

Warnings: Reader goes on a bad date

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I hope that this is close to what you wanted. There's not a lot out there for Mandalorian dating culture, though, admittedly, I didn't look too hard.

The first time you met Jango Fett, it was because he approached you when you were at a store. He was a visitor to the planet, and was hoping for some advice on finding something that he was looking for.

You knew, from the first glance, that he was going to be trouble. A bounty hunter, and a Mandalorian bounty hunter at that? There are easier ways to break your own heart.

Still, he was handsome and polite, and it was a step up from the way that guys normally talk to you, so you favored him with a bright smile, and offered your help. If nothing else, it would be an interesting little story to share with your friends in the future. 

After all, there was no way you were ever going to see him again.

Except you did.

Multiple times that week, and the first couple of times you thought it was just a coincidence, but then you started thinking that maybe he was following you. He spoke to you only one more time during that week, the last day before he left, and he gifted you with a book, one that you had wanted to buy but hadn’t been able to afford, and he told you that it was a thank you gift, for helping him with his job.

And then he left, and you thought that that was the end of it.

Except two months later, he was back. A little more worn, a little more ragged, and with a new ding in his armor, but he greeted you with a small smile, and a question for the best place to get some quick and cheap food.

And, well, you invited yourself to his lunch. Solely because you were worried that he was going to keel over if he didn’t have a buddy to make sure that he didn’t.

He didn’t, wouldn’t, tell you about his hunt, but he was more than happy to talk to you about the planets he’s been to, and some of the weird things he’s seen as a bounty hunter. And with a little prodding, he admitted that he came back here because it was the closest, safest, planet he could get too, and he really needed to rest.

You invited him to crash on your couch, and when he argued, you insisted intensely enough that he finally agreed. You allowed him the use of your shower, and your laundry, and your kitchen, and he spent the night on the couch, listening to a newsreel on your holo.

And when you woke up the following morning, Jango was gone. But there was a note left on the kitchen table, next to a hot caf and a breakfast sandwich from the cafe down the street.

That time you were almost sure was going to be the last time you saw Jango…and it would have been, had you not ended up going on a trip with your closest friends. 

And you know, you know, that you were brought along as a cover-up for your friend's hookup with her pirate boyfriend, but you did enjoy the trip to Rishi, right up until you were cornered by a different pirate group. And then Jango was there, dealing with the people threatening you with ease, and he looked just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

Though, to be fair, he was probably more at home on Rishi than you were. And you were thrilled to see a friendly face. He, on the other hand, was furious that your friends dragged you to such a dangerous place and then left you to fend for yourself. 

You ended up on Jango’s ship while he returned you to your home planet, and while he was still upset about you ending up in such a dangerous situation, he wasn’t angry at you. In fact, once he calmed down, you had several very long, and very nice, talks. 

And when he dropped you off in your home city, you couldn’t stop yourself from wrapping both of your hands around one of his and asking him to come and visit again.

His response was a surprised laugh and a “we’ll see.” But you had a good feeling that he would be back. After all, you were friends now.

*****

That was almost a year ago now, and you like to think that you and Jango are pretty close. When he’s on planet, he crashes with you, always on your couch, though you’ve offered him your bed on more than one occasion. He always refuses though. No matter how exhausted he is. No matter how many times you swear that adults can share a bed without it becoming weird.

He always flashes that small smile and takes your couch.

And when he leaves, he always leaves a gift. A trinket from his most recent hunt, something he saw when he landed that he thought you might like, or, most often, food from your favorite places.

Honestly, it’s enough to turn a girl’s head.

And you’re not dating him. You’re not, as much as you’d like it. Because you don’t go places and he doesn’t touch you, and sure, he buys you stuff, but he seems totally physically uninterested in you-

But you’re not willing to give up yet.

Your friends, however, are much less patient than you are. Which is how you ended up in this situation.

This situation being dressed up in a flowy dress and your hair done up, and on a date with someone you, frankly, wouldn’t spit on if he burst into flames. It was supposed to be a girls night out with your friends, not a surprise blind date with a man who’s been crushing on you, but hasn’t had the stones to talk to you.

So here you are, at a nice, relatively low cost, restaurant with this total stranger who hasn’t taken his eyes off your chest since you sat down. You can’t even remember his name, honestly, and you’re a bit worried to order anything on his dime in case he feels entitled to anything you aren’t willing to give.

So when your comm chimes, you heave a silent sigh of relief. And when you see who’s messaging you, you have to smother a delighted smile.

“I just stopped at your apartment. Where are you?”

“I was supposed to be out on a girls night,” You reply to Jango’s curt message, “It was a trick. It’s actually a blind date.”

Jango doesn’t respond, though you know he sees your response.

“He’s been staring at my chest for the last forty minutes, and I’m too nervous to order anything because I think he’ll think that I owe him sex if I let him buy me anything.”

Jango still doesn’t respond.

“Jango?”

“The Code to your apartment is still 34790, right?”

“???Yeah???”

“Great. Where are you?”

“Saint Mocianne’s, the pasta restaurant.”

There’s no response, so you sigh and stow your comm back. You were kind of hoping that Jango would come to your rescue, but it looks like it’s no dice.

“You know, it’s rude to answer a comm while on a date, babe.”

You forcefully repress your shudder of revulsion. “Sorry. Work stuff.”

“If you were my girl you wouldn’t have to work.” And then he releases a chuckle, “Well, you’d have to work in my bed-”

“Wow. You…you just said that. Outloud. Where I can hear you.” You say flatly, “I think I’m actually repulsed.”

He opens his mouth to say something when a warm hand lands on your shoulder, “Sorry, I’m late. I needed to change.”

You turn your head and a flash of delight crosses your face. “Jango!” You stand and fling your arms around his neck, “Thank you for coming, do you have any idea what he just said to me?” You hiss in his ear.

“I heard him, mesh’la.” He rubs his hand up your spine soothingly, and then releases you, “You’re in my seat.” Jango says coldly to your wannabe date.

He sputters, “No. This is my seat, and she’s my date.”

“I was tricked into a blind date,” You grumble, “I never agreed to go on a date.” You rest your cheek against Jango’s shoulder. And while Jango always cuts a fine figure, whether in his armor or just his body suit, he’s wearing much more casual dress clothes, and he looks good enough to eat.

“What? No!” The Blind Date stands suddenly, “I was promised-”

“What?” Jango asks, his voice silky smooth, “What were you promised?”

“I…” He pauses and seems to realize exactly the danger he’s in, “Nothing.”

“Smart.” Jango turns to you, “Do you want to stay and eat here, or would you rather go somewhere else?”

“Somewhere else.” You reply immediately. He flashes a small smile at you, and places his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the building, “You look very nice by the way, Jango.”

“I thought you’d prefer it if I didn’t ride to the rescue in my armor.” He lightly pulls you to the side as soon as you’re outside, “Are you okay?”

You hum thoughtfully, and lightly trail your hand across his chest, “I don’t know, I think your armor would have proven the point nicely.” you muse thoughtfully. And then you smile brightly at him, “He didn’t hurt me.”

“Well then, the next time I have to ride to your rescue, I’ll wear my armor.” Jango says in a low voice.

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” You laugh, as you slide your hand up to his shoulder, “It’s not like I’m going out of my way to go on dates with people. In spite of what my friends want.”

“Oh?”

“Well, there’s a guy I like and he’s sending really mixed signals.” You start slowly, “He’s always there, he stays at my place when he’s in town, buys me gifts and makes me feel like I’m important. But he also doesn’t take me up on any of my overtures.”

Jango blinks at you, and then he huffs out a laugh and presses his forehead against yours, “I think we’re having a cultural miscommunication.”

“How do you mean?” You ask with a frown.

“So far as I’m concerned, we’ve been dating since the day I brought you home from Rishi and you asked me to come back.” Jango trails his fingers along your cheek, “All of those gifts, courting presents.”

You stare at him, your lips parted, “Are you telling me I could have been kissing you this whole time and I didn’t know?!”

He laughs, “I’m afraid so.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ask, “I would have definitely been taking advantage of that! Is there anything else that I should know?”

His grin becomes impish, and he flicks the pendant hanging around your neck, “Technically, this means we’re engaged in my culture.”

You release a heavy breath, and then stand on your toes to crash your lips against his. And he responds as though he’s been waiting for you to kiss him for ages. Which, thinking about it, he probably was.

You break the kiss, though you keep yourself pressed close to him, wanting him even closer. “Will you spend the night in my bed now?” You ask him, your voice breathy.

He laughs softly, “Will you marry me?” Jango asks in return.

And you surprise even yourself when you kiss him again and say, “Yes.”

[kimbap-r0ll]

What would the dorm leaders want to do in the summer with their s/o

It's wayy too hot this summer haha

Riddle

He hates the summer, he's more of a fall or spring person because he likes seeing the colors and the slight coolness of each season. However, he does like the fact that he can spend more time with you because of the school holiday

he loves reading with you while sitting in a cool cafe (loves air conditioners haha) but he also likes walking along the seashore on a sunset. He won't say anything about why, but it's really because he's lowkey a romantic (just emotionally constipated)

Riddle won't be super into going to a waterpark or doing some more extreme activities, but if you want to it will take a lot of convincing before he agrees. Let his inner childhood be happy and take him to a waterpark haha

Overall, he prefers cooler and slower activities but he doesn't mind the occasional wild side of the summer. He enjoys sitting with you and eating fresh fruits too!

Leona

Would've just stayed napping all the time during the summer because he just loves the warmth. The sunlight and the slight haze that it brings just makes him sleepy. What would make this better would be napping with you!

He actually loves the summer! He doesn't like the cold that much, and it's a long holiday so he'll take that as an excuse to do other things than sit in front of a desk. He may be interested in studying but he also enjoys exploring different interests he has

If you enjoy more wilder activities than napping, I feel like he would be down for it. At first he might grumble, saying he's not interested and that it's too far away. However, after you show him some of the waterpark's photos he'll be like "pack your things we're going"

If you guys go to a waterpark or the beachside, you'll have to convince Cheka not to tag along with you two or you will have a third wheeler by-choice on all of your trips. Cheka's cute, you love him being with you two, but Leona doesn't like getting embarrassed by his nephew haha

Azul

"Darling it's better down where it's better take it from meee" — Azul at some point during the summer. He will convince you to go to Coral Sea with him, even if he himself won't transform into his merform he thinks the summer is better without the sweltering sun

Azul feels more like a fall/winter person. He likes sitting in front of a fireplace, a warm drink in hand, while reading his favorite books or being an academic weapon haha. However, if the summer means he can spend more time with you, he'll choose the summer season any day!

He honestly would love for you two to just swim around in the sea together, he might give you a tour of his hometown. But if you don't want to go into the water, you two will find yourselves on the shoreline probably building the most intricate sandcastle together (potentially making a child jealous on the beach haha).

Azul might not agree to waterparks because he's scared of heights and he doesn't want to burst your eardrums with him screaming his head off. However, his inner child may be interested in the waterslides that you show him and may give into your begging haha

Kalim

He was the one that asked you to go on a waterpark trip. He loves thrills and what better way to cool off than with the coolest slides plus nice pools?

Kalim loves the summer even though back at his home the sun can be blazing. The summer is the time for a long break, for fireworks, etc. It's just nice to see all of his friends and family again, and to spend more time with you!

If you prefer slower, more relaxed activities however, he'll be down for that too. He might give up on the book he picked up and just sit with you while leaning his head on your shoulder but it's nice to just be with you. He's super flexible and open-minded, so you won't find anything he won't do

Overall he's totally the best person to spend the summer with because of the energy he brings during the season. Also if you need water, he does have his unique ability haha

Vil

He honestly has a love-hate relationship with the season. He loves the sunlight and the summer fashion items that he can look through. But he HATES the hot, humid, sweltering weather. Loves the winter or fall because of that

He doesn't love waterparks but he would rather find a concert or film festival to attend. He likes to stay cool but also is an arts enjoyer. If you happen to be interested in concerts or other festivals, he'll definitely get vip tickets for the two of you haha

You could convince him to go to a waterpark with you, but it might take you a lot of begging. He doesn't like waterparks because of how crowded they get but also because it feels like a lot of work for him. However, it does look like fun, and his inner child may want to get on a really big waterslide

He will be wary of fans that might try to get paparazzi photos of the two of you while doing your summer activities. However, they won't really bother you two since you guys are good at hiding from them haha. Expect aesthetic photos from him too

Idia

He doesn't really like the summer because it's so hot and he doesn't like getting sunburnt, but at the same time if he's able to be cooped up in his room (that has a full powered ac) and watch summer animes with you then he loves it. I feel like he's a winter, spring person. He likes the colors of the spring and the winter makes him feel cozy

He doesn't enjoy the sun but will want to do a bonfire with you if you insist on visiting the beach. He likes toasting marshmallows with you and listening to what video game lore you are interested in this year.

If you ask him about waterslides or a waterpark, he might be a bit hesitant. He's not the best with large slides, but at the same time they sound like a blast. Ortho on the other hand will be begging with you to go to a really big waterpark. It's a 2vs1 match so Idia will have to go haha

Overall he likes the summer because it means he can spend time with you. Perhaps you two can have your romance-anime-summer-episode this year too and watch the fireworks!

Malleus

He doesn't like the summer because it's so hot, but at the same time he doesn't like freezing weather because it reminds him of his home where it's a bit lonely. He does like spring because of the flowers, but the summer is about to become his favorite because he likes spending time with you

The two of you might go traveling to a new location together and seeing museums, different restaurants, etc. He likes to learn about people and just everything around him, so it might be fun to have a trip somewhere new!

He likes to see the sunrise or sunset on the beach with you too. He likes listening to you while watching the glow of the sun turn pink, you also look beautiful in the golden hour. He might get lost staring at you because of that haha (it's really cute)

He's never really been to waterparks, so he would be totally down to trying it out. He chooses the wildest rides too, since he thinks it won't be as bad as flying. He has an absolute blast there but he might get badly sunburnt haha

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @heartstringsduet @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @janto4ev @strandnreyes @honeybee-taskforce and @sznofthesticks

Missing moment 3x06 is ALMOST finished. Bless. Give me a day or two for some finishing touches and then you can have it.

He urges Carlos silently not to stop, presses his palm to the small of Carlos’s back and breathes as his body and soul feels rearranged, both making room for Carlos inside them. It’s hot and dizzying, and Carlos exhales shakily as his hips press into TK’s backside, seated fully inside him where he’s always belonged. He drops down from his elbows, TK fully flattened underneath his weight as Carlos kisses sloppily along his neck. TK winds his arms around Carlos’s back, closing his eyes and just breathing with him as Carlos stays motionless on top of him.

He trails his fingers again, feather light, up and down Carlos’s spine and soaks it all in. The pressure of Carlos’s cock holding him open, the warmth of his breath on TK’s neck, the weight of him surrounding TK.

“You good?” he asks softly, kissing the side of Carlos’s face when he can speak again.

“Just love you,” Carlos whispers back. He rolls his hips only slightly, grinding his cock inside, and TK moans quietly at the feel of it.

“This means a lot, huh?” TK feels it too. He finds he doesn’t have the words for it, the language that could express how big this feels escapes him entirely and he just wants to float in this moment forever. His body wants Carlos to move, to fuck into him, to make him tremble and break apart the way only Carlos can. But his heart wants to just stay like this forever, because the moment Carlos rocks his hips again is one moment closer to when it will end. They melt into one person, when they’re like this, and TK always regrets that they have to become two again when it’s over.

Carlos nods. “So much, baby.”

TK inhales sharply as a long-forgotten memory suddenly floods back to him.

“What?” Carlos asks quickly, the serene moment chipped just a little as he pushes back up onto an elbow and looks down, sweetly concerned, at TK with his eyes wide and his forehead wrinkled.

“No, nothing, I’m okay,” TK assures, reaching up and stroking Carlos’s hair.

Carlos just raises his eyebrows, and TK smiles at him, feeling as if warm honey is being poured onto his skin.

“You called me baby.”

Slow realization takes over Carlos’s features. The corner of his mouth quirks into the beginnings of a smile.

“You did at the hospital, too. I just remembered.”

“Did I?”

TK nods. “I was out of it, but … I heard you.”

Carlos slips his bottom lip between his teeth. TK cups his hand around the back of his head and guides him down for a kiss.

Their foreheads connect again when their lips part, and TK says, “You never called me that before.”

“Yeah,” Carlos agrees in a whisper. “I don’t know. I just … I love being your baby.”

TK has to press his lips together to keep from whimpering embarrassingly.

“Thought maybe you could be mine, too.”

Tags under the cut :)

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @tailoredshirt @goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry @mooshkat @liminalmemories21 @chaotictarlos @lemonlyman-dotcom @whatsintheboxmh @inkweedandlizards @bonheur-cafe @reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @sanjuwrites @orchidscript @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @fallout-mars @vineofroses @fitzherbertssmolder @safeashousespdf

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

003

Genre : fluff, the ending's a bit angsty tho.

Summary : In which you're sick. And Miguel's soft.

Request/idea by: lassiraa (didn;t know if she wanted to be tagged oops)

Wordcount: 1.3k lol

Miguel O’hara Masterlist

Miguel glances at his phone yet again, admittedly a little worried. The cute cafe you work at had been busy today, filled to the brim with customers. When you had texted him earlier that you would be late for your movie night, he understood. In return, he had replied that he could eventually pick you up, asking at what time you would be done. You haven't responded though, probably too occupied with cleaning the place.

It's thankfully not too late just yet, but it's started raining dogs and cats since about an hour back. He just hopes you'll catch the bus to HQ.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait all too long, a sudden knock at his door sounding through his room.

His room is admittedly bigger than the other spiders' rooms who stay. His looking more like an apartment, the only thing missing is a livingroom and a diningroom. It's basically a small studio apartment.

It doesn't take him long to open the door. The first thing he notices when he does so is that you're completely drenched. 

He sighs as he lets you in.

" Why didn't you take the bus? " He asks, going straight to the point.

" Because I would have to wait more than thirty minutes. Walking was faster. Hello to you too by the way." You roll your eyes.

He doesn't miss the shivering of your body.

" Yeah, hey. You should've called me. " He scolds you, yet again.

" Yeah, yeah. I won't die from a little rain Miguel, relax." You tell him, before sniffing once you've taken your shoes off.

The two of you suddenly find yourself in a bit of an awkward stare. The one where his thoughts are running through his head and you're really trying to figure it out without communicating.

' Yeah. she's going to be sick tomorrow.'

'Bet he's thinking about throwing some pizzas in'

" Are you thinking of pizzas?"  You ask him, making him blink.

" Yes, totally. Go shower while I throw them in the oven." He tells you, turning his back to you.

You blink, confused. You don't have a change of your clothes lying around at his place. However, before any words can leave your now opened mouth, a bunch of clothes are thrown at you, along with a towel.

" Just wear my stuff, I don't care. Just don't want your ass sick in the morning." He says, hurriedly walking into the kitchen.

That was a lie, he actually very much does care. Especially about you wearing his stuff.

Miguel is a domestic man, especially after all he's been through. The idea of the two of you hanging out, cuddling up like you sometimes do, whilst wearing his clothes creates a pleasant image in his head.

It doesn't take long before you're out of the shower, and soon enough the two of you are eating pizza whilst arguing over what movie to watch. Eventually (after a whole while, the pizzas are actually already through), the two of you set on watching an action film.

And as the two of you move to sit on his bed like usual, he notices you glancing at him a little more than usual.

" What is it?" He asks as he glances back at you.

" Can we cuddle?" You ask him, biting your lip.

He gives you a smile as he nods.

" Sure."

He hopes you don't notice the slight blush on his cheeks.

-

When he wakes the next morning, he notices a few things. One, you're pressed up to his side, cuddling into his large frame, your face buried in his chest. Two, how well rested he feels. It's been a good while since he felt like this. And three, you're way too hot to not be sick.

With a soft sigh, he contemplates on his decision. He wants to stay home to take care of you, but he's also supposed to look for anomalies a few floors down.

It's embarrassing how quick he actually manages to make a decision. 

Would it even be worth fighting for the multiverse if you aren't in his?

And so he finds himself putting together an amount of hologram screens and such to be able to work from his apartment.

It takes a while before you wake up, but when you do, you merely turn on your ass and fall back asleep in a ridiculous position again. However, not too long after that, you wake again, looking around a little confused whilst you sit up. You wrap the blanket closer around you, wrapping yourself completely up in it with the exception of your face.

" Hm?" 

" I feel like a boiled sausage." You grunt in annoyance, before flopping down on his bed again.

He can't help but smile.

" I'm afraid you're sick, Perla." He tells you.

You curl up.

" What? No I'm not. Feel great'." You grumble sarcastically.

He shakes his head.

" What would you like for breakfast?" He asks in return.

You let out a dramatic sigh.

" Nothing, my stumic feels queasy- Wait, since when are you able to work from up here?" You ask, noticing he now actually has a chair in his room. And a desk. And a lot of screens.

" Since today. And still, you should eat." He says as he gets up.

Whilst he walks off to do whatever, you take a moment to study his new set up. You've never really paid any attention to his work before, not really liking 'office work' as you tend to call it. A moment later he returns, a plate with food in hand. He hands it to you wordlessly. You get up from his bed to eat (you're not a psycho).

" Soo, am I helping with work today?" You ask him, leaning onto his chair from behind him. You try to ignore the obvious shivers of your skin. You definitely have a fever.

He glances at you.

" No. You're going to lie down and rest. I'm going to work." He tells you before he gets up.

To your utter suprise, he turns to you, his huge posture suddenly looming over yours. With gentle hands, he leads you backwards to his bed, your knees bending when the back of your legs touch the bed. He bends down to maneuver the rest of your body onto the bed, getting you to lay sideways. He tucks you in aswell, before the two of you end up staring awkwardly at one another yet again.

" G'night." He greets you, before turning to his hologram screens again.

You watch him work for a moment, studying the screens as well. There's nothing interesting currently happening. It doesn't take long before you doze off.

Miguel watches you once you've fallen asleep fondly. He's really falling further and further into the feelings he's hiding for you. In moments like this, he believes he could do it. Maybe he could be happily in a relationship with you while also helping the multiverse. He shakes his head, running his hands over his face before sighing deeply. What the hell is he starting to think about? He's spiderman. He can't have you, no matter how bad he wants you.

With another deep sigh, he makes a hard decision.

He has to create space between the two of you.

[ A/N: Next update'll take a while, I'm on a vacay with my mum for next week so see ya'll after that.]

004

000 - Taglist

@adamsloverboy​

@ihateuguys​

@alchemist421​

[enihk-writes]

[before the year ends]

seasonal fics : 除夕 (chú xī) / lunar new year's eve edition

paring: various!hwasan men x gn!reader

summary: things that happen on the last day of the year.

characters: chung myung (can be read as both pbss and mhdd) // chung mun // chung jin // tang bo // tang gunak // jang ilso // jin hyeon // lee songbaek // jin geumryong // baek cheon

author's note: my personal music recommendations for the day are lovers in seoul by off the menu , hot potato by n.flying , coconut love by seoulmoon , mercury by bye bye badman and t + tik tak tok by silica gel feat. So!YoON! (doing this for fun because my other hobby is looking for new music and putting them in a playlist partly because one of my teenage dreams was to open up a cd shop in an art street or own a music-vinyl brunch cafe by the seaside ugggh but you need money like do you know how expensive seaside properties are in singapore!!! i don't have that cash!!! so i have to work!!!! fuck!!!!)

CHUNG MYUNG doesn't like to be cooped up indoors during the festive period. so that afternoon he slipped out to visit the next town over, hearing about their night market and looking forward to getting drunk off his rocker before returning home. only to come face-to-face with you. to his credit he tried to divert your attention to slip away with a bold-faced lie but to be honest, he isn't very good at that. he ends up letting you tag along to buy your silence. which wasn't that bad of a decision — he found himself enjoying the private time he had with you more than he'd expected, like walking through the markets with pinkies interlocked, visiting taverns and teahouses getting mistaken for a couple to get discounts, even the passionate drunken kisses you both shared on the inn balcony which left him quite dazed. when he gets back he would have to have a talk with you about what happened here. though right now he's a little preoccupied with leaving marks all up your neck, hands under your clothes going to places he probably shouldn't, revelling in your embarrassment a little too much. thank goodness he had the foresight to rent out a room to stay in so the both of you could do whatever you wanted in here to the heart's content all night long.

CHUNG MUN watches as you scurry around the sect grounds checking in on the workers who were all preparing for the banquet that was to be held over the new year. as the sect leader he shouldn't interrupt another elder's duties, but as your husband he wanted you to pay attention to him too — it was new years eve and your spouse can't even ask for some alone time with you? you were so cruel, was this how he was to spend the last day of the year? he sighed and turned back to his papers, finishing up with his own work until it was finally time for bed. you met him in the front of your shared house, he finds himself cracking a smile when you bury your face into his chest, he walks you over to sit together on the bench, where you plop your head down on his lap, very much like a certain youngest, pouring your heart out on the annoyances that you've faced today so what has your dear husband have in mind to reward their hardworking partner? the man only chuckles at your ranting, running his fingers until you fell asleep, carrying your tired body to tuck you in bed. he looks over at your peaceful form one more time, kisses your hand and leaves for his own quarters to retire for the night.

CHUNG JIN had been pulled out from under the pile of books he's buried under to take a day off at the behest of the other elders and disciples. not knowing what to do, he hovers around your side, not really wanting to go down the mountain without a solid plan. you thought he looked a little like a lost sparrow then, so you let him stay around as you went about your day. he aided you with small tasks here and there — wasn't he supposed to be on break? old habits die hard, you supposed. he ended up helping you finish your job earlier than intended, bringing the leftovers from the kitchen along, the two of you headed down the forested path at the back of the mountain to wile away the rest of the afternoon as you ate the food and engaged in small talk about nothing in particular. the sun felt warm on your skin, and as it began to set, the sounds of the flowing stream nearby lulled the two elders into a dreamless sleep.

TANG BO stifled a laugh as he looked at your sorry state. only an idiot falls sick on new year's eve — was what he'd told you. you wanted to strangle him right then and there, never mind that he was your husband. he offered to nurse you for the day, supposedly from the kindness of his heart. bullshit. this guy had something up his sleeve, you were so sure of it. but whatever you thought he'd do never happened. your husband truly did take care of you that whole day. he'd wipe off your cold sweat, change towels, feed you food and medication on time, among other things. you thought he'd turn over a new leaf and was just about to praise him when he snickers at you again. maybe you should get sick more often, you're so much nicer when you're quiet like this. too bad for him your fingers were faster as you shove them up his nose to choke him in retaliation. fortune favours the just. the next morning you woke up feeling good as new — your fever had gone away just in time to celebrate the new year. your husband, on the other hand, didn't seem to be doing too well, seemingly catching your cold from yesterday. hmph, serves him right for teasing you like that.

TANG GUNAK could not catch a break even on new year's eve. there was always work to do, the world did not stop on holidays, after all. you slipped into the room quietly with refreshments in hand, hoping to get him to take a short break from his paperwork. the man had sharp ears — recognising the weighted rhythm of your footsteps even as you were on the far end of the hallway. he sets down his brush, getting up to greet you. my love, he'd call out softly, expertly placing away the tray in your hands. you laugh as he pulls you into his embrace, his face burrowing into your shoulder. you try to hug him back with as much vigour you could muster, pulling away just so you could place a few pecks on his face. it wasn't a very long break, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. he sipped on the tea you brewed, listening to your excited recounting of a new novel you had been reading. new years was a time to give thanks for the blessings in life, and he was more than thankful for the way your shoulder felt pressed against his arm as you two sat side by side.

JANG ILSO cared little for the festivities. he wasn't in the mood for any banquet, or party or whatever loud activity. he had been itching to do something, but he couldn't pinpoint what he wanted to do and the idea of going outside annoyed him. you didn't really know, nor cared to find out about your employer's stormy tantrum going on right at that moment. unfortunately for you, you were one of his go-to people to piss off and annoy whenever he wanted to cause trouble. your boss was a temperamental man, and you always walked on eggshells around him. little did you know that you were third on his list of people he liked, so in the off chance that you did piss him off, he wasn't going to get rid of you. not that soon or quickly anyways. he barged into your office with attendants trailing behind him with boxes of drinks, food and entertainment for that evening. he was here to bother you, if you so kindly didn't mind. most of what happened was blurry — you only remembered drinking the sweet wine, going down far too easily, possibly knocking over papers and ink all over your desk and then passing out. the next time you came to, you were in a guest bedroom near your boss' own. the hangover medicine and new clothes already laid out on the table for you. there was no way you had created a moment that your boss could hold over your head as blackmail. no, you detested the teasing that was sure to come from him in the coming year.

JIN HYEON had been out on an errand on behalf of the elders, and finally, he was going back to wudang just in time for new years. he stops by the small diner in the town next door, he often had his meals here whenever he's going out, outwardly he said it's because he liked the lotus root soup with pork ribs served with warm rice. in reality, he just wanted to find a chance to talk to you, the owner — a familiar face he had known since both of you were mere apprentices. though now you had taken over the restaurant your adoptive grandfather had left behind for you while he had risen up to the rank of a second-grade disciple. the diner was small, and the business was decent enough to make ends meet, but it wasn't so busy that you didn't have time to sit across him to have a short chat before he headed off. you asked him if he would stay and visit the night market this year. he shook his head sadly, feeling bad that he was turning down your offer yet again. you shook your disappointment off, opting to change the topic. the hour passed far too quickly, and he had to report back to the elders before night fall. you walk him towards the door, just as the wind picks up from where your back was turned, pushing you into his chest. the man takes the opportunity to pull you a little closer, accidentally placing a peck on your forehead. you didn't think he'd be this affectionate today but who cared? it was new years eve and it's been a while since he had walked you home. maybe next year you could ask him again to come with you to the night market.

LEE SONGBAEK had gone to his hometown for the new year celebrations. he had been given permission by the elders to do so, along with a good majority of the other disciples. things had been really quiet back in the sect with nobody really wanting to do anything with them. speaking of which, he hadn't seen his family in years by now, and he wondered how they were all doing. he didn't plan to spend too much time — have dinner, catch up, stay overnight and leave the next morning. he didn't expect to see that you would also be in his house, helping out with the new year's eve dinner. he could smell the dough and sesame paste drying out in the sun for the tang-yuan they'd all have later. actually, he thinks most of the village was congregated at his house. the disciples who had tagged along with him were a little taken aback at the size of the crowd, much to his embarrassment. he didn't think his village would be so stoked to have him back on new years with his sect brothers. you slipped out of the kitchen to greet him as the elders fussed over the boys that had come to visit. he leans over to greet you, feeling a small smile pull at his lips when you tousle his hair. his original plan might have been a little thwarted, but since you were here, he didn't really mind. ah, when he goes back to the sect, he should ask if the tailor was accepting any apprentices — if he were, and you came over, he might see you around more often in the coming year.

JIN GEUMRYONG wished he was anywhere else but here right now. but, as the eldest and prodigal son he should behave appropriately. he slips out of the banquet hall at the first opportunity, making shoddy excuses like needing to go to the restroom. he finds a spot in the quietest part of the estate, taking a moment to collect himself from the incessant social interaction he's had the whole day. soft footsteps approach him — really? he feels annoyed, but tries to reign back his distaste when he sees your smiling face beaming at him. go away. he tells you, not in the mood to deal with whatever you were about to drag him into. please? you'd beg, your hand pulling at his arm to get him on his feet. there was something you wanted to show him, and if he didn't go with you now, he was going to miss it! the man agreed reluctantly, letting you take him to the lake behind the hills. the night sky was clear and he could see every sparkling star in the sky. you sit on a fallen log, seemingly waiting for something to happen. he sits right by you, choosing not to question your actions. and then — there it was. the stars fell from the sky one after another, painting the night in long white painter's lines. he'd never seen anything like this in his life thus far, and he might not ever see it again. but it didn't matter. when you asked, doesn't it look amazing? he could only hum, unable to take his eyes off you all while your gaze was turned to the spectacle in the skies.

BAEK CHEON, for the life of him, can't decide which tassel he wanted to buy and ended up just getting a roll of thread in plum-blossom pink to make one on his own. the handiwork was clumsy, clearly amateurish with the bronze coin woven into the accessory. it certainly resembled the shape of a tassel — if you didn't look at the finer details too closely and for too long. you could see him look embarrassed at the quality and was already regretting giving it to you. but how could you not want his sincere gift? you loved it, flaws and all, because it was from him and you wanted to be reminded of the idea that this perfectionist still could make mistakes. you pull him down for a kiss. and then another. and another, until you were peppering his whole face in kisses because your heart couldn't handle this gap in his personality. your poor love, look at how red his face had become. he didn't know whether to be happy that you liked his gift this much, or feel shy at the public show of affection in a place where everyone in the sect could possibly see? you can't help but snicker mischievously as you skipped away from the scene — leaving the poor boy in a flustered mess.

[uchihaxitachi]

Coincidences

Itachi Uchiha x F!Reader | He doesn’t understand sexual jokes |

You were confused whether asking Itachi for help regarding the running and finances of your cafe was a good or a bad idea. Ever so strong concentration, brows knitted and fingers gliding through the price tag of every item as if he needs to get them to his very marrow of bones. Itachi’s dedication to help you was shockingly adorable. “You are too invested, are you not?” You nudged him, while Itachi softly glided his fingers across the other page, nodding along.  “I promised to help you after you saved my life. Dishonesty and false pretenses only deceive me in the end. If they are not needed, musn’t I be of use?”  The way with which the words came out of him was like a silent prayer, something he does to keep himself sane. Bounded by morals and ethics, yet looking ever so adorable by doing so.

“Look at these price tags.” Itachi spoke in a concentration unbreakable, looking at you and his gaze meeting yours. “What’s wrong with them? I think they are affordable.” You looked at the price tags of a few items which piqued your interest as well.

“Yes, they are. However, human psychology will always glide towards something that’s inexpensive, or rather- a facade of the same.” Now you were perplexed, raising a brow and rolling your eyes, “Sir- something that I understand please oh my god why do you always talk so poetically it is so hot and yet annoying.”

Your reaction widened Itachi’s eyes, your unflinching honesty yet again, made his heart smile a little, his eyes followed through. Itachi always smiled with his eyes, and you’d hide all your honesty in a cabinet and throw it far off the sea rather than accept you were slowly falling deep.

“For example, this Ramen. It is 70 Yen. Make it 69. It might look like I am asking you to put up with loss, but people will buy it more.”

You looked at him, smirking and deciding to tease him a little. “69 huh?” 

Itachi nodded, not giving your dirty thought an ounce of his attention, or rather- he didn’t know.

“Didn’t know you had all that in your head.” You smirked, elbowing his arm softly. “Sneaky” “What do you mean?” “I mean, 69 huh? Damn” “Yes- 69.” You pouted, even you were getting embarrassed, the more you talked about it, the more your cheeks dusted in a pinkish hue.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the Uchiha, “What is it? Did I comply something different?” “You seriously don’t know what 69 means?”  “Yes, I do. It is a number.” You got up, slightly pouty and stompy; deciding to lean against his ear, softly whispering.

“It’s when two people- when-” You couldn’t, the scent of his cologne and the way he stiffened up yet didn’t lean away. Fuck! That flustered you so much. 

“Go and ask a man.”

You got up and left, while Itachi watched you dumbfounded.

Itachi didn’t know how to process what it meant, except to go through a library and find out. It took him a few valuable hours, before he finally cupped his mouth with one hand. Ears and cheek dusted red, eyes closed shut as the sight of you leaning in and whispering the meaning rambled over and over his head. 

He read the description in the book, imagining how it would have sounded if it was you- who actually explained it to him... oh he’s losing sleep tonight.

[vvolfy]

The brothers + MC at the mall (in the human world)

Lol, these hc’s were also brainstormed by @absoluteyeet​ and @stardustursa​

American malls, for the win LOL

Divider credits to @rubystarraven​ (if its not okay I can take them down they’re just super cute!)

Lucifer:

Would spoil MC without hesitation, and especially of the risque variety.

   Reluctant to tag along because he would have to babysit his brothers (as usual)

   Would visit stores that specialize in formal wear, (appearances matter), expensive colognes.

   MC drags him into Bath & Body Works, but he doesn’t stay for more than 5 minutes before he loses his sense of smell and develops a headache.

   The type to stand outside of stores with his arms crossed, only to say he isn’t rushing anyone. (he is)

   He’s like a cranky old man. From complaining about the malls music choice to criticizing anyone that passes him.

   Any food vendors that sell fine chocolate would pique his interest.

   100% avoids mall vendors. You want to fix his D.D.D? Too bad so sad. Mammon already scams him. He doesn’t need another.

   Bookstores (Barnes & Noble) would be his go-to.

   As would antique shops. Those are his favorite.

   Would be the first to leave the mall. Honks at the rest to hurry up.

   A MC plushie from Build A Bear would perk him up, I think.

Mammon:

  Has a coin purse, despite being broke. Lucifer takes it and hits him with it when he makes bad choices.

   Obviously cannot be left unattended. (Do your job MC)

   Spoils MC unconditionally after stealing Goldie back. (Spoils himself as well.)

   The type to haggle prices.

   Has been kicked out of most stores for haggling/stealing.

   Food? Yeah. Like everything else, it goes on Lucifers tab please.

   Resorts to stealing and gets caught.

   Tries to steal cologne from Bath & Body Works while MC is shopping, only to spray himself in the eyes.

   Makes MC at Build A Bear, makes MC pay for it.

Leviathan:

   Only tagged along to go to Gamestop, Hot Topic, Spencers, and for the Asian food vendors. Otherwise he is being forced to go. Send help.

   On his phone and switch the whole time, headphones on full blast. (He’s a pro at playing and walking.)

   “I guess I’ll h-hold your hand MC. N-Not that I like you o-or anything-- y-you’re just so n-needy you’ll hold a filthy Otakus h-hand--”

   “Can we go now?”

   Talks MC’s ear off at his favorite stores. (Always listening ofc)

   Due to sensory reasons, he avoids Bath & Body Works, though he’ll wait outside for MC.

   Loves stim toys. Walks out of Hot Topic with a bag full of em.

   You can find him at the arcade! Claw machines are his favorites!

   He would share Dippin’ Dots with MC.

   Would go to the pet shop to see fish and snakes ofc

   Would go to Barnes & Noble for the mangas, duh

   He would spoil MC in his own way. “It’s not like I l-love you or anything! I just didn’t want y-you to feel left out! Ugh!”

   I think he would love Build A Bear. He would so build Lotan and Henry, and carry them everywhere. He would also love a plushie of MC.

Satan:

   In this for Barnes & Noble or any bookstore really.

   Actively avoids the others. (Except for MC)

   Loves the cafe in B&N, would eat croissants with the blackest coffee while reading.

   Lucifer physically curses Satan to follow him if he doesn’t leave w/ them.

   Accompanies MC where ever they go/want to go. (Spoils them too.)

   Would stop at the pet store to see the cats. Expect him to be there for a long while. Cats > you.

   Stops at Bath & Body Works for warm scented candles.

   Like Levi, Satan would LOVE stim toys.

   Starbucks 100%

   Would go to the movies with MC to watch movie adaptions of books.

   The last to leave the mall, by closing time. Lucifer is angry.

   Leaves with like, 50 new books.

   Loves a cat plushie from Build a Bear, though a MC plushie would be better.

Asmodeus:

   Would live in a mall for eternity if he could.

   Takes his sweet time in every single store.

   Manipulates a few human lackeys to carry his and MC’s bags. If he can’t find anyone, then Beel would suffice.

   Takes MC to Sephora or Ulta to spice up their vanity wardrobe.

   Would definitely take MC to Spencers for the risque stuff. ;)))

   Bath & Body Works spree. (He has a huge collection of their products, duh.)

   Would make MC at Build a Bear 100%, along with a bear of himself. (Rose bear for him!!!)

   Wouldn’t splurge at the food court tbh, he doesn’t want to get dirty.

   Would be the one to help MC choose fashionable clothing. (Lingerie, etc)

   Though he does his own nails, I think he would still go to the salon w/ MC to both get their nails done. Mani/pedis, duh.

   The type to try every. single. beauty. sample. in existence.

   If you thought Mammon was a heavy spender... lol

Beelzebub:

   “Hey MC, I’m hungry.”

   Pulls MC to every food vendor until they flood a table with various snacks and food (Onlookers are shocked)

   He would carry MC’s bags to exercise so long as MC feeds them.

   His way of spoiling MC would be sharing his food, but I think he’d also buy MC stuff, like what he sees them taking an interest in, you know?

   Would definitely hit the gym or martial arts training, whatever available in the mall at the time.

   For additional exercise, carry both Asmodeus and his bags.

   Would mistake soaps and candles at Bath & Body Works for food. Lord help us.

   Better dip with Mammon before Lucifer kills the three of you for embarrassing him. (And that shoplifting charge)

   Carries MC anytime they say their tired, or when MC wants a piggy back ride lol

   Would love any food related plushie MC gets him, though he eats it because it looks too realistic.

   Frequently checks on Belphegor who decides to sleep on a massage chair.

   Helps MC reach the taller shelves.

Belphegor:

Tired Edge Lord(TM) didn’t want to go until he was yoinked into Spencers by MC. More face jewelry for him. Plus some quality time with MC is always best. (Works at Hot Topic too)

Finds a massage chair, falls asleep instantly.

(If) Lucifer manages to get him out of the chair, it’s a team lift.

Will wake up to MC or food, or both. Both are nice.

If he’s awake enough he would love it if MC shared their Dippin’ Dots with him.

If he has enough energy he would gladly hold MC’s hand as they walk together.

He would definitely be a candle man, and would love the soft scent candles Bath & Body Works sells.

Would love Build A Bear like the others. Cow plushies, and a plushie of MC are ideal to snuggle with.

Loves stim toys like Levi and Satan do.

[splaede]

AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 2)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER TWO. armin's revelation

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: After an evening at Eren's house, you learn crucial things about Armin.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: none

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

It was yet another hot day, though cooler than the last. You found yourself alone with Armin for a second time, but luckily in a far less intimate situation.

It had been two days since the deal…or rather, suggestion. It was only a suggestion. 

For now.

The more you thought about it, the more the idea sounded jarring. You might've nodded at his words, but you doubted your ability to score him a girlfriend. Even so, you wouldn't—and couldn't—doubt his seriousness. Armin was honest and rarely spoke with hidden meanings.

Perhaps you should be willing to help him.

Anything for your sweet, sweet, best friend, right?

You hadn't gotten a chance to talk it through before Eren phoned for you to get back into the room. A day flew past in a breeze, then another, and here you were, sailing where the wind took you.

Apparently, the wind took you to Armin's car.

"I wonder what Eren called us over for," Armin mumbled, languidly pushing up his glasses with one hand and clutching onto the steering wheel with the other.

The faint hum of music buzzed in your ears, and you mindlessly watched the slow blur of trees and houses pass by from the passenger window. It was late afternoon—almost evening, and the hearth of the sun seemed to melt into the horizon. Purples and oranges and reds wept along the sun's trail until you couldn't discern them anymore, pooling together in a captivating blend like watercolor on a canvas. Carpooling with Armin was often peaceful and comforting, with soft music and dulcet air conditioning. He had insisted he give you a ride today.

Nearly missing the words that tumbled out of his mouth, you snapped out of your reverie and turned your head to face him.

"Hopefully it's not something stupid. What if he just misses us?" you laughed, though you doubted the latter was the actual reason. All you knew was that Eren sent a vague "guys come over" to the group chat, and Mikasa was quickly on her way before the rest of you could ask for an explanation. Armin had picked you up from your shift at the cafe earlier, and the two of you were heading to Eren's house.

Nevertheless, there was nothing to worry about. It would just be another harmless hangout at Eren's. Nothing out of the ordinary—not even his unexcused dryness. Plus, you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to see him.

"He probably needs something from us." You turn your head back to the window, its passing scenery greeting you once again. "Not that I'm complaining," you muttered, smiling to yourself.

That reminded you of your confession the other day.

Shit. That must've reminded Armin, too. He hadn't mentioned anything about it so far, so you weren't going to bring it up. Better to keep it that way.

From your peripheral, you saw him tense up. He was going to say something about it, wasn't he?

But he didn't.

Instead, he kept driving, eyes trained upfront.

You sighed, not realizing you were tense, too. Right now wouldn't be a good time as Eren's house neared closer and closer. It was almost foreboding, like a bewitched, haunted house in the midst of a sunny suburb. You swore the more you anticipated meeting the all-too-familiar person who dwelled inside the house, the more the spell seemed to lure you further.

Before you knew it, Armin's car quickly braked on garage pavement, and the engine clicked to a stop with a hasty twist of his keys. You almost knocked Armin's car door against Mikasa's car as you stepped out.

"I see this house more than I see my parents," Armin quipped, pulling you shoulder-to-shoulder towards the front door.

Not even a second before Armin's finger could graze the doorbell, the door swung open. You swore Armin jumped back into your arms, but your attention was locked on a certain brown-haired man, who stood tall and domineering, his grin poisoned by something almost sinister yet so warm.

"Hey. We're going to be cleaning my room," Eren said coolly.

God, Eren was always full of surprises.

"You called us over for this? " Your jaw dropped, and he sent you an endearing, but very clearly unapologetic smile. Despite that, you embraced the heart of his welcome home as Eren stepped aside for you.

"Eren, you can do this yourself,” Armin sighed.

"I can." He innocently blinked. "But it'll be easier with you guys. The more the merrier, right? Plus, I have some of your stuff—might as well take it back."

Armin let out an amused chuckle with a bashful smile, then gently ran a hand through his hair. "I'm good, you can just keep it at this point." 

Ever since the dawn of your friendship, Eren's house was the designated meeting spot. His home was the biggest and the most luxurious, filled with browns and beiges and grays that seemed to wrap you in a blanket of affection. You were sure you left some things here, too. Everything must've accumulated over the years. Even though you took your stuff back, someway, somehow, newer stuff kept turning up. In the end, it became too recurrent for you to care anymore.

Besides, his place was like a second home to you. You wondered if the reason you were so eager to come back was because of the homeliness or because of something—or rather, someone —else.

Eren and Armin's idle chatter lingered about the dim living room, which was never fully lit up, but you were already clambering up the stairs towards Eren's room.

Not only was his living room dim, but his room was usually overcast with a dusky luster. Except for today. Today, it was uncharacteristically bright, with overhead lights instead of low, warm lamps. The first thing you saw was a crouching Mikasa hovering over a box.

"Hey, Mikasa." You smiled. "What are you looking at?"

Raven hair fluttered with the movement of her head. "It's Eren's old photos and drawings."

You stepped closer and peered into the box. It was filled with little doodled slips of paper, some folded, some crinkled, and polaroids of your friends—all failed shots, remnants of what could've been on his wall. A few birthday cards were in there, too, messily thrown together with gel pens and bold markers. Your nimble fingers shuffled through the papers and pulled out a particular polaroid.

"No way, I remember this,” you laughed. It was an elementary picture of the four of you piggybacking one another: Armin carrying Eren, and Mikasa carrying you, although Armin received the short end of the stick and struggled beneath Eren's weight. Armin's face was the funniest part, twisted between a frown and a grimace as the flash momentarily blinded him.

"Why'd you take it down, Eren?" you asked, still smiling at the polaroid. Eren, who was by the door, drew closer to take a peek at your hand. He only chuckled in response and dragged himself to his closet.

"Oh, I know,” a new voice spoke up, all-too-familiar, all-too-mellow, and all-too-close. Armin suddenly stood beside you, peering over your shoulder, blonde hair brushing the shell of your ears. You wondered when he snuck up next to you, and so stealthily, too. He was so close, so intimately close, that you could smell his chapstick.

"I know exactly why," he brooded.

And when you turned to face him, the tips of your noses kissed. He seemed to pay it no mind. You didn't let yourself get too engrossed in the moment and quickly turned back, following his line of vision towards his younger self in the photo. You both stared at young Armin.

He looked constipated.

"I looked constipated,” Armin complained with a frown before promptly walking away. Eren and Mikasa snickered from their corners of the room, and you couldn't stifle yours either.

"Guys, don't laugh..."

"I'm keeping this," you teased.

Fear painted Armin’s eyes. “No, please don't.”

Eren chuckled. "Okay, guys, get to cleaning. Just start somewhere, anywhere. Armin, you can look under my bed or something. Y/N, help me with this. This place better be spotless, got it?"

"Under the bed?" Armin whined as he kneeled to peek below the tossed sheets and bedding, only to go wide-eyed and grimace. “This is so silly."

"Yeah, we're not your servants," you agreed, crossing your arms and shooting Eren a pointed glare. Despite that, you obediently stalked closer to him. "You sound like Professor Ackerman."

"Oh, don't remind me," Eren mumbled. "I guess that means all of his conditioning paid off.” He scoffed and looked away, diverting his green gaze from yours.

"Clearly not enough." Mikasa pulled out an unplugged PS4 from under his bed.

Ignoring her comment, Eren turned to pull out old shoes, containers, and clothes from the floor of his closet.

You liked the way his bare arms flexed as he did so, tapered veins and muscles gorgeous on his naturally bronzed complexion. He looked so heavenly from the side, with his nose sculpted straight and delicately pointed and lips jutting out perfectly from his face.

What a beautiful man.

When he called your name, you were quick to meet his gaze. You got too caught up in staring at him.

"Professor Ackerman was a great teacher. It was just his way of keeping us in check," you retorted.

"Y/N, you're only saying that because you think he's attractive."

A short, soft laugh sounded somewhere behind you, which you could assume was Armin.

"He's old and short, Y/N," Mikasa argued as she rummaged through yet simultaneously descrambled the contents of Eren’s desk.

"Forget that, his face is hot. And his hair."

"That man is distantly related to me."

You limply raised your hands in defense. "Attractiveness runs in the family then, Mikasa." You winked. 

She shyly frowned in return, but her eyes darted back to you. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You grinned and turned back to Eren.

He gestured to the hanger he currently held up high before quickly shoving it in your face. "Y/N, do you want this hoodie? I don't want it."

It looked rarely worn and almost new, freshly smoothed out, and smelled of his home fragrance. It had a print on the front and was dark in color, matching the deep tones reminiscent of a forest in his wardrobe.

You internally screamed. A personal gift from Eren, and his hoodie, no less? Oh, you would definitely be taking this.

Eren held it up to your frame as if sizing you up like a mother shopping for her child. You unknowingly drew closer to his touch with a smile. He reciprocated with a smile of his own, gentle and proud on the thin of his lips. 

Ever since your confession, you felt as if you could act on your feelings more. But you knew you shouldn't. He was still just a friend, and you still couldn't even figure out if your feelings for him were platonic or not.

Eren released his hold when you took the hanger from his hands.

"I have more that I don't wear, if you want them."

Your cheeks instantly warmed at the thought of wearing Eren’s clothes—granted, clothes that he didn’t feel a need for anymore.

"Yeah, sure, thank you. Why me, though? What about Armin and Mikasa?"

Strong arms swayed as he started shuffling through the hangers and hangers of clothing. "Armin doesn't wear my style, and I've already asked Mikasa, but she doesn't want them."

Oh. You were a fool for thinking that you were any more special than your friends, especially someone even closer to him like Mikasa.

"Ah, Eren, so why are we doing this?" Armin asked. You knew from his lopsided smile that he was less than pleased though still willing to uncover junk from the crevices of Eren's bedroom.

"My father's coming home for the summer, so my mom wants my room cleaned before she comes home from work or I'm going to get an earful. I'd like it if I was on her good side before I move out soon. Not like Grisha would want to come into my room, though.”

He mumbled something about being treated like a kid, but you've heard that rant one too many times in your younger years to pay it any mind.

Cleaning went by, and you ended up with three more sweaters and hoodies than you had insisted on taking.

Not that you were complaining.

Most of the organizing came from his closet (it was a Yeager miracle that so much stuff could be shoved in there) and his drawers, which held a lot of...questionable things. The rest was clothes on the floor and hair care products that were supposed to be in his bathroom.

But when he fished out the sweeper and hand vacuums, you knew that you were done for.

Now, the four of you sat on his carpet once more, just like the other day—or any day at his house, really.

"You have a lot of unnecessary belongings, Eren." Mikasa scolded lightheartedly. She had been doing that since childhood, and you doubted she'd ever stop for as long they knew each other. Eren Yeager was typically a clean man, which was why it was a surprise to see the messes hidden behind doors and drawers and dusty bed corners, and it was him who ordered your classmates to clean when Professor Ackerman wasn't watching, too.

"Like those." You pointed to Eren's "#1 dad" slippers that sat snugly under sock-clad feet.

Eren wiggled his foot, and the slippers swayed comically with the movement. "You don't think these are necessary?" He shot you and Mikasa a bemused look.

You smiled. Four young adults on the floor of a bedroom, bantering like preteens as the aspects of money and responsibilities flew over their heads.

"Ah, my mom is calling. I'll be right back." Armin fumbled with his ringing phone between his fingers as he hastily shuffled to his feet and out the door. You only spared his retreating figure a glance before Eren reached over to your side and grabbed the TV remote. You felt the heat of his whole body looming over you.

"Do you mind if I change the movie?"

Scooting back to give him space, you replied, "I don't mind. But fair warning, the movie you chose yesterday put me and Armin to sleep."

Eren huffed and shot you a blank look. "You should appreciate my movie selection more."

Before you could retort, Armin stumbled back in, "Um, I have to go. My mom needs me home right now." He quickly motioned with his hand for you to come with him.

Oh. Right. Too swept up in the moment, you hastily staggered upwards, cradling Eren's hoodies and sweaters in your arms. You forgot that Armin was the one that drove you here.

You were almost at the door when Eren spoke up. "You don't have to leave early. I can take—"

And then he stopped mid-sentence.

You pieced it together: Eren and Mikasa sitting alone in one room.

"No...?" you mused, standing at the doorway.

Armin must've seen the unease in your face because he, too, put two and two together.

"It's late anyway, Y/N, I can take you home." Armin soothes your back with the pads of his fingers, unbeknownst to the eyes of the two still sitting in the room.

You left it at that, and your exchanges of goodbyes were brief. You saw Mikasa open her mouth to say more, but you and Armin were already gone from the door frame before she could speak.

The walk down the stairs and into Armin's car was silent. Being alone with Armin had always led to something lately. Maybe there would be another question. What was he going to ask now?

You had barely fastened your seatbelt when your suspicions came true.

"Do you ever plan on telling him how you feel?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. 

"Who?" you played dumb, lips pressing together.

Armin shot you a pointed glare, sharp like knives piercing the side of your cheek. Nonetheless, he smiled.

"You know who."

Hesitation washed over you for a moment. You could hear his seatbelt click into place as the engine started.

When you didn't answer, he continued, "I noticed you looking at him a lot."

You pursed your lips and looked at him. "Armin, you saw them up there. He was going to offer me a ride home but stopped. He wanted time alone with her, didn't he?" 

The idea of Eren and Mikasa alone in one room didn't sit too well with you.

It was Armin's turn to go silent. The radio was faint, so faint that you needed his silence to really hear it. By now, the car had started moving, and Eren's driveway was long forgotten. You could sense Armin's hesitance, but his words come out all the more confident.

"I guessed that too, but we're both reading too much into it. They're just best friends."

"That like each other,” you added, sighing. "I know that what I'm saying might be a stretch, but it's so obvious that they have something for each other.” You frowned and looked out the window to avoid his gaze as you weighed your next words carefully.

“Armin, um, I think I do like him romantically—I've just been convincing myself it's platonic. But I won't stand a chance against Mikasa."

"I guess we're both having love troubles. I feel as if I don't stand a chance, either." He ran a hand through his blonde locks.

"Oh, with Annie?"

"Oh—yeah. Right. Um, with Annie," he assured you, yet somehow not sounding too sure of himself either.

Your vision parted from the blur of yellow street lights when you turned to him. "How so?"

He paused for a moment.

"I doubt Annie would like somebody like me. Throughout high school, I was the stereotypical nerd..." He continued with a soft mumble, "I still am."

You knew that Armin was known as a nerdy, geeky person, and you suspected he might've been ostracized for it, but it never bothered him until now—or so you thought.

"You think she wouldn’t like you because of that? Armin, you're sweet, smart, caring, and considerate. If she doesn't like your interests or your nerdiness, then it's better to find someone that won't stop you from doing what makes you happy."

Armin nodded. "You're right. But, I don't know if she... likes it or not. I was only assuming."

Seeing him feel down, you reassured, "Lots of girls like nerdy boys."

Armin didn’t immediately respond. As a red light brought his car to a standstill, you sat through the tensest silence of the night yet. You wanted to keep yourself occupied. Maybe you could count streetlights or trace where the crimson of the light stops on your skin, but nothing could distract you from the man sitting in the driver's seat.

Then Armin finally looked at you.

"Y/N, I'm not dumb. I'm aware of what people say to me. I know when girls flirt with me, and I know that they don't mean it. I know that people like messing with some quiet, smart kid that will get flustered easily. I'm an easy target that you can pull quick reactions from." He paused and turned away. From the side, the blues of his eyes almost looked grayed out and dark beneath the shadow of his downturned lashes.

"What if they were actually flirting with you?"

He shot you a blank, pointed stare as if your attempt to console him sounded ludicrous. He looked peeved, even. If you hadn't known Armin any better, you would've thought it was a glare.

"I don't—I don't think so. I'm—"

"Well, how would you know?"

He pursed his lips. "It's just...my conversations with people don't feel sincere sometimes. It's more of a validation thing. Pretty girl and shy boy.

"Armin, you're not shy. You're pretty outgoing."

A cautious, slow smile curled at the corners of his lips. It went quiet once more, and the tense air dissipated into what felt like a compromise.

"I just...feel unattractive."

Your next words blurted themselves out before you could even suppress them.

"I think you're cute."

It was quiet for a moment. Too quiet. Armin didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even blush. You had nothing to focus on but the beam of car lights and the drone of soft music and the sound of moving tires, and you were stuck in this car for as long as he was here.

Fuck, you shouldn't have accepted his ride, or even his offer to drive you here in the first place. You almost fancied the idea that his insistence to drive you was for a reason, but that was now clearly unlikely.

He finally said, "Remember what I told you the other day? I want you to help me. I want to change, Y/N."

Your apartment was drawing closer, and your time together was coming to an end. You lived alone, so maybe you could use this lonesome night to think about what to do with your feelings...and about Armin, too.

"You...you don't need to change for anybody. You deserve to be loved for who you are."

As the vehicle rolled into the parking lot, Armin let your words sink in.

"It's okay if Annie and I don't work out. I want to change for myself."

The car doors unlocked with a click. You had arrived.

"Thank you for listening to me, even if you didn't want to. I'm sorry. Goodnight, Y/N." He smiled at you like sweet, sweet candy, and you might as well have been a cavity. You shuffled out of the seat as neatly as you could with a pile of Eren's sweater and hoodies in your arms, and before you could slam the door shut, Armin stopped you.

"You deserve someone that will love you for who you are, too."

You stilled at that, but you couldn't help but smile, too. Maybe yours was even sweeter than his, whose gaze was nothing short of heartfeltness and earnestness. Armin truly was an honest person, and you hoped that whichever way you helped him wouldn't be in vain.

"Thank you. We can talk more tomorrow. Goodnight."

Hugging Eren's clothes tighter to your chest all the while, you walked into your building, leaving Armin in the youthful haze of the night.

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

[softshrimpy]

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 9: Ask Her To Dance

Summary: Working at the weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

Guys its a nice dance! Definitely not a chapter preceding deep plot building.🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @eveymay @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 8

Cross Posted on AO3 here

HTWAHP Masterlist

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

“I’ll see you later love, have a great day!” You called over your shoulder as you exited Larissa’s office.

You close the door behind you, smiling to yourself. You’re about to make the trip to your car when you run into two of your favourite Nevermore students, Yoko and Enid. The two of them are standing in the hallway just outside Larissa’s office with their arms crossed, staring expectantly up at you.

“Uhm good morning?” You offer.

“Did you ask Principal Weems to the dance?” Enid asks, doing her best to give you what you assume is meant to be a stern expression.

“The dance…?”

“The Rave’N. It’s a dance happening this weekend. Ask her.” Yoko explains.

“I mean I need a few more details but-“

“You have to ask her now!!” Enid urges.

“But I-“

“Please!” Enid pleads, and goddamn it the puppy dog eyes are out again.

You sigh, wondering how you got to the point where teens dictate some of your actions. You turn around, knocking on Larissa’s door before poking your head through. She’s sitting at her desk with her cute glasses resting on her nose again. She glances up at you, obviously confused as to why you’re back so soon.

“Darling? Is everything alright?” She asks, pausing her typing.

“Do you uhm. Would you like to- I mean I ran into Enid and Yoko and they mentioned this dance that’s happening this weekend and I was just wondering if you’d like to go with me?” You ask, suddenly nervous as fuck.

“Dear, are you talking about the Rave’N?” She replies.

“Uhm yeah? Should I not be…?”

“No, no, it’s just…we host the dance and I usually attend only as a chaperone. I wouldn’t want to force you to come along just for me to spend all evening breaking up troublesome teenagers.” She explains.

You make your way over to her, spinning her chair so that she’s facing you. She helps at the movement, looking up at you in confusion. You grab both of her hands before getting down on one knee. Now she’s really looking at you as if you’ve gone mad.

“Larissa Weems, it would be my honour to accompany you on an evening of breaking up horny teens and drinking punch.” You state, grinning up at her.

She takes you in, kneeling in front of her and looking up at her with so much adoration. She pulls you up and onto her lap, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your chin, and another to your nose.

“You’re far too adorable darling” she smiles, resting her forehead against yours.

“Is that a yes?” You grin, wrapping your arms around her neck and breathing her in.

“I suppose…” she hums.

You giggle, pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing from your place on her lap. You all but skip to the door.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 sharp,” you say, shorting her finger guns.

“It starts at 6 darling.” She chuckles, “And it’s on Saturday. You’ll want to wear something white.”

“5:45 it is my fair lady!” You amend, blowing her a kiss as you leave.

——————

You and Larissa made more solid arrangements later in the week. She had explained she would be checking the hall before the dance so it would be better for you to meet her there.

You decided to get her a corsage (because you were fucking in love with her and didn’t care if it was cheesy.) It had an assortment of white flowers in it, you really hope Larissa likes it.

You arrive at the dance about a few minutes early, making your way into the venue while marvelling at the decor. You look around the hall, remembering how Enid had explained the theme was “climate crisis meets extinction event, but in a fun way”, which you’re getting from the abundance of white and fake icicles in places.

However, your admiration of the room is cut short when you spot Larissa. She’s just finishing speaking with the DJ, giving you ample opportunity to stare at her like the work of art she is. She’s wearing a silver calf-length dress, with sleeves coming just over her elbows. She’s paired it with a pair of white gloves that are giving you terribly inappropriate thoughts(you’ll revisit those later). She’s still wearing her signature red lipstick and her hair up, although the style is a bit more intricate than usual. She looks ethereal, breathtaking, awe-inspiring.

By the time you realize you’ve forgotten how to breathe Larissa is making her way over to you, sporting the most dazzling smile. You manage to resume human functioning just as she comes to a stop in front of you. She looks you up and down, taking her sweet time and making your face flush.

“You look amazing. Like, I genuinely forgot how to breathe when I saw you amazing.” You blurt out.

You nearly squeal when she blushes and opens and closes her mouth at your words. You reach up to cup her face and press a chaste kiss on her blushing cheek, grinning up at her like the lovesick gay you are.

“Oh! I got you something,” you exclaim, “here!”

You offer her the corsage, watching her face to try and gauge her reaction. She stares at it, her face giving away nothing which makes you backtrack in case she hates it.

“It’s. I-it was a silly idea. You don’t have to wear it, I can just uhm throw it away. We can just forget I even brought it.” You ramble, lowering the corsage.

She stops you, staring down at the little assortment of flowers.

“Would you help me put it on?” She asks in the softest voice.

You nod, smiling up at her as she holds out her hand for you. You slip the corsage over her wrist, adjusting it to sit just right before squeezing her hand. Her eyes are sparkling, bright with emotion, one that looks almost like…love?

She opens her mouth to speak when you hear a gaggle of teens arrive, taking Larissa’s attention. She glances at them and then back at you, a conflicted look on her face. You squeeze her hands before nodding in the direction of the students.

“Go on, go be the sexy principal you are.” You chuckle.

She sends you a bright smile before heading off to greet the arriving students. You make your way over to the punch table, grabbing yourself a drink while watching Larissa as she chats with the students. She looks so proud and happy, and t warms your heart.

You eventually make your way back to Larissa’s side, essentially attaching yourself to her hip from that point on. She doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, she keeps shooting you the cutest looks between greeting the kids. When Enid arrives (with some boy who you vaguely recognize) she all but squeals at the two of you. The two go off to get drinks(something they’re calling yeti-tini’s which you find rather cute).

“I really thought she would be coming with Wednesday…” you murmur.

“Mmm…I think it will take them a bit of time for those two to stop dancing around their feelings,” she hums.

“At least we figured things out pretty quickly.” You deadpan, earning a snort from Larissa.

The rest of the night goes pretty smoothly. Wednesday shows up sporting a lovely black dress, with Tyler of all people (he’s a lovely kid but you do not see the chemistry there.) You and Larissa are gossiping about the different students when Marylin comes up to you.

“The place looks pretty great! I don’t know what the other Rave’ns have been like but I think we outdid ourselves.” She grins.

“You both really did do an amazing job.” You comment.

“Larissa, you went to school here, didn’t you? Do you remember being filled with joy and hope during your Rave’n?” She asks.

Larissa’s face falls a bit and she glances away from Marylin to look back over the sea of teens.

“All I really remember is disappointment…” she starts, “The girl I asked turned me down for someone else. Gomez Addams, in fact.”

“Wednesday’s father?” Marylin asks.

You’re smart enough to put two of two together and figure out Wednesday's mother is probably the ex-paramour she had mentioned a while back. You can’t help but wonder what on earth possessed her to turn down Larissa. I mean she was a walking-talking goddess.

However, you don’t think to much about it due to Larissa’s downright sad expression. Marylin heads off to go keep an eye on the punch bowl, leaving the two of you alone again.

You grab her hand, tugging her along behind you as you weave through the crowd. Larissa follows you, confused. You lead her into a nearby classroom, close enough that the music can still be heard.

“Darling, I do hope this is not an attempt to seduce me in a dark classroom.” She laughs. “We really should get back to chaperoning-“

You turn around and shush her with a finger on her lips. She stares down at you, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. You grab her hands and place them on your waist then wrap your arms around her shoulders. You start swaying gently, smiling up at her.

“I wanted to ask you to dance but thought doing that in front of a bunch of gossip-hungry teens might not be the best idea.” You explain.

She stares down at you, shocked before letting out a laugh. She shakes her head at you, swaying along to the muffled music.

“Alright, but just one song.” She hums.

“One song with a literal angel? I’ll take it.” You grin.

She rolls her eyes at you, smiling that cute little smile she has. She truly looks like an angel, all dressed in white with her sparkling blue eyes. She truly is the most gorgeous woman in the whole world.

You grab one of her hands and lift it over her head, stepping up onto your tip toes. She looks down at you, amused but ducks under your admittedly low arm in an awkward twirl anyway.

“I’d try to dip you but honestly I have the upper body strength of a twig.” You joke.

She laughs at that, a bright, loud sound that makes your heart flutter and your brain turns to mush. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of making her laugh and smile like that. You want to spend the rest of your life making her happy.

You slow your swaying as the song ends, beaming up at the dazzling blonde.

“Thank you for this darling…” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I know it doesn’t make up for your shitty dance,” you start, “but I would’ve killed myself if I didn’t get at least one dance with the prettiest girl at the dance.”

Despite the darkness of the classroom you manage to make out the blush on her cheeks. You stretch up and press a kiss to her lips. You move to settle back off of your tip toes when she chases after you, biting down on your lower lip. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you flush against her body. You moan into the kiss, allowing her tongue to lick into your mouth. Eventually, she pulls back, pressing one last kiss to your lips. You stare up at her smug, beautiful face, mouth agape.

“What- what was that for?” You breathe.

She simply grins down at you and shrugs, looking far too magnificent for your self-control.

“I’ll see you back inside then.” She hums, using her thumb to wipe some smudged lipstick from your face. “Maybe take a moment to…compose yourself hm?”

And with that, she saunters away, leaving you gaping and flushed in the dark classroom. You decide to go to the bathroom to “compose yourself” as Larissa so aptly put it.

“And she told me not to seduce her in a dark classroom, Gods above.” You murmur.

You’re making your way back from the bathroom when you bump into Yoko, the two of you stopping to chat for a bit. The two of you talk for a long while, she was telling you about all the gossip going on (which you found far more entertaining than you’d ever admit). The two of you are in the middle of discussing the Enid-Wednesday situation when you hear a scream from the direction of the dance.

You both exchange a look before bolting towards the commotion. When you reach the hall you notice groups of red, drenched students running out the doors. When you get inside you notice everything is covered in what you’re praying is red paint. You quickly locate Larissa, who’s standing in the middle of the mess looking both extremely pissed off and close to tears.

You quickly make your way over to her, doing your best to avoid getting too damp. You take her hands, doing your best to help her calm down while making your way out of the ruined dance.

You get back to her quarters and help her change out of the red-stained dress(thank god it was paint and not blood). You get her to take a shower and change into more comfy clothes, telling her you’ll help her sort out all the cleanup and sort everything out.

She’s almost calmed down a bit when her office door is thrown open. You’re about to fight whoever it is when you realize it’s a very freaked-out Yoko.

“Yoko what on earth-“ you start.

“Wednesday ran off into the woods. I overheard her talking to Tyler about it and he said he’s called his dad.” She interrupts.

“What? Why would he call sheriff-“

“It’s Eugene.” Yoko breathes. “He’s been attacked.”