#Which is also why I changed Lightbulb's lines a little
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I need more S2 final four shenanigans so I made some.
Redraw of the forever weed brownie comic by @punkitt-is-here :3
#I didn't do the rest of it cuz I feel it'd be ooc#Which is also why I changed Lightbulb's lines a little#Only kinda related but I could do a post on why Suitcase and Fluttershy are similar characters#like I know that sounds pretty surface level BUT I have reasons relating to character development and all that#Ii suitcase#ii lightbulb#inanimate insanity#object posting#look I can draw! Art tag#cw drugs#suitcase ii#lightbulb ii#forever weed brownie
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*no rest for the wicked*
my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨
Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now.
A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:
Concert. Tickets.
That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?
Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.
“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.
Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”
“Translating to...?”
“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way.
“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.
“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”
Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him.
Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness.
Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body.
“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.
“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”
Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.
“You’re still doing that, huh?”
Eddie nods twice.
“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”
There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.
Eddie claps, total deadpan.
The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers.
Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”
“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.
“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”
Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”
“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head.
“Oh? That’s a good thing?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…
The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”
The light flickers even darker.
Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy.
Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.
In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.
Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.
“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”
Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”
“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”
“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”
They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.
“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests.
Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”
“So you’re saying length matters?”
“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”
Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time.
And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.
Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.
“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.
Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”
“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.”
As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.
“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”
“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking?
Fucking mortifying.
Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”
“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”
Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.
“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier.
Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”
Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too.
Probably.
“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.
“No?”
“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”
Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere.
He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.
He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible.
“Tell me what?”
Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.
“Tell me what, Ed?”
“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:
‘That I’m crazy about you.’
Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in.
Morning.
It’s morning.
“Shit.”
Eddie fell asleep.
Steve fell asleep.
“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:
10:24 a.m.
“Goddamnit!”
Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.
It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.
Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.
Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.
Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies.
He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.
Fucking yay.
“Chris, please don’t try to-”
His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.
She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”
“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.
“What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.
Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.
But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.
Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.
“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”
He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.”
“Gay desperation?”
“No, you jackass. Come here!”
Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:
Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.
“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words.
Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”
“Liar.”
“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”
Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”
“Positive.”
“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”
Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does).
He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve.
Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.
So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.
There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.
“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir.
Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night.
The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.
He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.
Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself.
“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”
“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”
#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#slight buckingham because I said so#lexssummerfanworkschallenge#biggest of shoutouts to lex for giving us this space to create and share together!!!#is the sleep depravation making Eddie good at flirting???#or is it all in his overactive imagination???#the world may never know#also Eddie is wearing one of Robin's shirts bc he never does laundry#that's not relevant - it's just a brainworm that he ironically wears her marching band tees#okay okay pls enjoy 💖#(and pretend I'm in a timezone where it's still August pls)
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HOB - Do you believe the story that just came out about her medical condition being leaked?
If it is true, it’s well within the public interest to publish the truth because KP the LIED when they briefed the media initially that her surgery was “non-cancerous”.
I think this is just another story spoon fed by KP to paint themselves as forever victims. The Daily Mail is calling William “dutiful” today with a straight face for…taking another month off 🙄
Kensington Palace seems to have a credibility problem when it comes to their pr timeline, which is in addition to their usual incompetence issues.
On Sunday, 17 March 2024, Roya Nikkhah published an article whereupon a "royal source" said, "I can see a world in which the princess might discuss her recovery out on engagements. If she was going to do it, that’s how she would do it.” Meanwhile, Forbes publishes an article with the rumor that the BBC has been told to be on alert for an announcement from the Royal Family regarding Kate's health.
It would have taken Roya a bit of time to gather information from her KP sources to write that article, and Roya clearly does have sources at KP, given all the exclusives she's gotten from them in the past few years, and publish it in the Sunday papers. So why push that line through the UK press, such as The Sunday Times, that Kate will only talk about it in the distant future IF THE REAL PLAN was to always announce it when the kids go on their term/Easter break?
Well, if the Daily Mail's recent article is true, then it makes a lot more sense that the video happened because they--KP, Kate & Will--felt forced to do it. Supporting evidence of KP having no real pr strategy is found with Valentine Low's recent comments in this video, starting at the 6:20 mark.
youtube
"But you do have to ask yourself whether they had the right strategy because there was so much madness around them, and it was very damaging for a while and i don't think the royal family, well, Kensington Palace had really anticipated how bad it would get. But of course, it was all fueled when William suddenly pulled out of that memorial service for his godfather, King Constantine of Greece. Now, it's not clear exactly when he pulled out. We're told now that it was to do with Kate's cancer diagnosis. But I've also heard another narrative that he told the organizers of that service that two weeks earlier that he wasn't going, so it's a little unclear. But suddenly things went mad after that and obviously, I think, the overall strategy at Kensington Palace was very much driven by William and Kate. I think it was their desires to keep things under wrap. Their desires to keep private medical information private, but I just wondered whether in the current climate and in the world we live in where social media is so rampant whether there might be an argument for greater transparency and greater openness."
So which is it? Did William really pull out two weeks prior, and KP just let everyone think he was going to attend until the day of? Or did he really pull out the day of the service? Because if William really did pull out two weeks beforehand, then KP is looking really incompetent by not having a better excuse than "personal reasons." Do they know how to change the lightbulbs over there? How many KP staffers does it take to change a lightbulb?
The whole situation reeks of a whole lot of this:
#ask#my gif#pr games#strategery#kensington palace#palace officials#lies lies lies#kate middleton#Catherine The Princess of Wales#Roya Nikkhah#Valentine Low#fleet street#MESS!
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New Questions About Shower Head Oil Rubbed Bronze Answered And Why You Must Read Every Word of This Report
But we all know that most of you don’t have time or ability to handle common plumbing issues, which is the reason why we think having an index of plumbing and heating contractors who will reach the doorstep swiftly is the solution. You may also want to know that plastic shower heads tend to get moldy more easily than metal shower heads. Shower heads might get moldy. Although it might not be our favorite activity, it'll make a huge difference - for more advice, read our how to clean a shower head guide. This should include things like washing solutions like vinegar or peroxide solutions to effectively clean out shower heads and shower arms as well as the connecting pipes. Simply fill a sandwich bag with white vinegar and submerge the showerhead for at least an hour, then rinse. 3. Submerge it in vinegar and water. Then there is the less-sexy but utterly useful Aquifer Filtration System which grants users the safest, most potable water for their homes.
vimeo
If your shower has hard water staining, check to see if there are any little black dots forming on the head. So, you’ll want to check if there are any specific instructions about tape for your shower head. Those dots are black mold. Plastic shower heads are much more likely to develop mold. Some of the most popular finishes are chrome, polished brass, brushed nickel, and stainless steel. Renters (tenants) are typically responsible for replacing lightbulbs within their rental homes. These underground pipes are used to heat and cool homes. If any of them are happening to your shower, it may be the right time to make a change. Disclaimer | This article may contain affiliate links, this means that at no cost to you, we may receive a small commission for qualifying purchases. You can read this article for more info on that. Read about Home Remedies for Knee Pain. Get the best home decor ideas, DIY advice and project inspiration straight to your inbox! Watch this tutorial to learn more about the other parts and some tricks that will help you get rid of stains.
The original shower head is your landlord’s property.
The clauses that mention plumbing appear to be more focused on using and maintaining fixtures appropriately, and it seems like there’s some wiggle room, as long as I replace the original shower head before moving out. Once you have the original shower head off, store it somewhere safe. The original shower head is your landlord’s property. 1. Do you see a lot of black dots running all over your shower head? These screens can get pretty dirty over time, causing sediment to build up in and around your shower head. Once you manage to get the showerhead moving, unscrew it entirely by hand. Then, simply grab your shower head with one hand and twist the pipe counterclockwise with your other hand. Avoid putting vigorous force or jerking the shower head off abruptly as you may end up damaging and turning the connecting pipes. So you may want to consider that when you go to buy your next shower head. If not, you may consider buying one with a filter in place. If kawaii clothes online store s not, time to head back to step two.
How To Install Shower Head With Hose
The shower arm is the piece of pipe connecting the shower head to the water supply line on the wall. To install your new shower head, line up the base of the shower head with the end of the shower arm. ’s length, holding ascendancy line in addition to making it easier inasmuch as the stylist constitute actualize being form. Also, given that they use plumbing for a single showerhead, they are easier to install. It might also help to use some water to loosen up the dirt, and to wash away stuff that you’ve already scrubbed free. After removing the lemon, use a gentle scrubbing pad or a toothbrush to wash off any loosened hard water buildup. For rough surfaces, use the long naps; choose short ones for smooth surfaces. You should feel water move in and out of drain. You have to move the shower head up or down along the track of the bar for height adjustments. A: You can install the shower head two ways. At this point, it’s worth mentioning that one of the reasons I feel comfortable replacing the shower head, is that I’ve replaced an apartment shower head before and I’m confident I can do it without causing any damage (and my landlord will probably never even notice).
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episode 1: a family affair
making room for romance
a pandemic. a shutdown. a premature circumstantial full migration to digital and streaming that signaled a seismic shift in the way filipinos consume media. audience preference, too, changed drastically. the last love story this unit has produced was unceremoniously cut short for reasons the public is well aware of. the times that preceeded, and shaped this show is most interesting. as interesting as the this show's leads' roadmap to stardom is. this show is a wish come true. no other unit writes romances the way star creatives does. i was there for most of it, probably even before it was the unit we know now, i have been watching. an announcement of a new show triggers uncertainty, despite the certain unshakable trust. i dislike not knowing, because of these interesting times, the triggers are stronger...besides how else can a love story be told? do we still give it the time of day? do we still hold space for it? i love being outsmarted. I am, and will continue to be.
building the world
if the opening scene sets the tone for a tale, then this show is as different as can be, on the junket, our cast was almost at a loss for words to describe this show, what sets it apart. it's an easy selling point, the promise of novelty infused into such an old age concept of romance. they were right though - this is darker, stakes higher, sinister, dangerous. to prove the hypothesis that love can grow from, exist, and thrive In such bleak circumstances is the story. in the star creatives tradition, romance, fate, fairytales, and forever are the constants, the foregone conclusion. we often make whimsical a farm, an orphanage, a carnival.
on this show binondo, and even the enclaves of the rich and famous do not shy away from bleakness. the point of it is even emphasized. love isn't a constant to be excavated, but a question mark that is often left hanging, an incidental, an impossibility, even. a monsoon, an abandonment. a deserted house, an escape plan, a death questionable - murder or suicide. two mothers under the looming darkness leave two children who will orbit each other's lives until the impossible becomes possible, until the questions are finally answered. who, and why, and is love in the stars for both of them, with each other?
'...kailangan tubusin para maitama.' this single line might be the thesis of this story. entirely hopeful, but not so promising, definitely not easy. I understood it as a 'taking back' of some sort. on the second episode (w/c we'll get to), it was interpreted as 'taking responsibility of...' which makes sense. there's this lightbulb moment just now, 'taking back' could also make sense, in 'making a choice to take back the power' para maitama ang mali, to make things right.
the sun and the moon, the planets that surround them and the darkness of the vast galaxy they orbit
the two dead stars leave behind little lights, their children, who lead parallel lives, and will grow up both knowing and navigating loss, that is until their lights collide. at the point of loss, their fates diverge. andrei, bingo, will find his way to his tribe, a family he's chosen who will nurture his light, and make his burden light. caroline, ling, is sent to live with her father, his wife, and their children. lavish, but a life she did not choose.
this is a story of survival in a dog eat dog world for bingo, for caroline, for everyone on both ends of the spectrum. there's the obvious economic survival, but there's also a question of survival between the lines: how does a constantly eclipsed sun continue to shine? how does one's hope spring eternal when the world throws you off, when there is no luxury of rest, of taking stock of one's heart?
now, in caroline's world, the rules of the game of survival is different. reputation is the prize to be maintained, and social capital is currency. because of its specificity, culture is a major contributing factor, aggravatingly, gender roles decide the distribution of power in this elite upper mantle. our caroline just happens to be born a woman, her mother, one of the mistresses. the odds are not promising for her. pile that on to a medley of grief and abuse, and all the coping that her trauma demands. love is out of the question which is ironic because all this stems from the lifelong search, and glaring lack of it.
speaking of irony, it is funny to me that in caroline's world of excess, the social scene is made up of headless chickens in a frenzy to keep their places by contradicting themselves. funny, and sad at the same time that their priorities are incredibly ill placed. being sacrificial lambs at one point or the other is a norm. considering our ling is at the bottom of the heap, she is conveniently placed to be the constant sacrifice. she has learned to be still, as the moon in the night sky is. like the moon that borrows its light from the sun, she makes do with the little that is thrown her way, set against the night sky, the engulfing darkness of her grief, of their expectations, of her own father's unawareness.
from the title itself, this show is unashamed to explore the role of money in love. gone are the days when love alone can keep two people alive, and faith, and fate can point two people to each other and lead the way. money causes their two worlds to collide.
money's dictates every choice, the point of which is harshly pointed out at every turn, every opportunity.
love is an improbability, unless proven otherwise, unless fought for and asserted and claimed.
this is not a fairytale.
#tv: can't buy me love#actor: donny pangilinan#actress: belle mariano#pair: donbelle#director: mae cruz alviar#director: cathy garcia sampana#director: ian loreños
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“white women: everything you already know about your own racism and how to do better” by regina jackson & saira rao
finished: june 21, 2023
there was some irony getting a hold of this audiobook as it was in my queue for several weeks, maybe even a couple months by now; this was the first instance on the libby app, for me, where the maximum number of people had “loaned out” the audiobook and i had to be on a waitlist to wait my turn for access to it. unfortunately, the first couple times it was my turn on the waitlist, i was notified at times where i was unable to react right away (once i think i was asleep, the other time i was busy with work) and so the notification slipped my mind for the hours-long window of opportunity i had, and i lost my place in line. on my third attempt, i was at last able to gain access and i’m happy to report this was well worth the wait.
this is a masterfully written piece that does not hold back, and i think it’s exactly what we need. although it’s addressed specifically for white women, i think any white person will benefit from hearing from these two ladies. this is one of the few circumstances where i also highly, highly recommend the audiobook over traditional physical copy as hearing from regina and saira directly made this hit even harder for me.
this book was written for me and i have gained a lot from hearing it. i needed to hear it. i learned about how, first and foremost, we are so reluctant to being labeled racist because we are so afraid and feel so bad for not being perfect, but by striving for perfectionism, i’m not only hurting myself but my community of white women. this harm also contributes to feeding the machine that is white supremacy. it’s not enough to just detest white supremacy, i have been made to understand my part and how someone like me keeps these racist systems going. unfortunately, i have been silent when i should have spoken up. i am continually looking for opportunities to speak up within my own community. i have also struggled with exceptionalism, that is the desire to separate myself from the extremists (white supremacists) that exist all around me, not understanding my role and contribution to their hate. i don’t need to be perfect or the best, and i’m not in competition with fellow white women, or any women.
it wasn’t my choice to be born white skin, contributing to the white supremacy of america, but this does not make me exceptional as nobody is ever able to make a choice of their skin color, ethnicity, or culture. instead of detesting others in my community for their indoctrination of the worst parts of our society, i am choosing to lead with love. i love myself and i love others, including fellow white women. i do not need to separate myself with hate, but look for opportunities to share with other white women. maybe i won’t be able to change someone overnight, but by planting ideas and making a lightbulb go off, i can contribute to an overall understanding that is long overdue. i didn’t ask for this role but BIPOC didn’t ask for their roles either and to be silent when evil is occurring is an evil on its own.
i understand the way my actions and emotions are perceived is of little relevance to this battle, and i accept that i have made and will make mistakes in the future. i am committed to understanding and being a part of the change because although this country was founded upon racist ideals and authority, i will not allow it to continue on my watch.
this is a very powerful read and i will certainly reflect on it for some time and continue to reference it as needed. the writing is equally concise as it is informative, and it was a relatively quick read but the concepts are heavy. i hope the relentless queue and waitlist is representative of the desire for my community of white women to read and digest this book. reading some of the negative reviews of the book (which there are few!), i understand why some people shut down and are unable to accept these concepts. i can see my own intentions and previous resistance at play, but i’m certainly better equipped now to dismantle that resistance and i’m looking forward to trying it on other white women.
white women, please read this book. if you don’t think you need to, you especially need to. if you get stuck on an idea or specific part, talk to me about it. let’s discuss. i feel very strongly about the contents of this book. we have a lot of work to do, but the sooner we look to each other and are able to be honest, the sooner we get through the beginning stages of the work. let’s progress forward, and let’s not leave anyone behind.
rating: 10/10 this deeply resonated with me, i will re-read it again numerous times and recommend it to anyone i know, the story and characters will stick with me forever; crave discussing it all the time and bring it up unprovoked
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The Boy Next Door
Reader x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)
[Genre] exes-to-lovers au, smut, angst.
[Word count] 6.7K
[Warnings] Smut. Angst. Unprotected sex, voyeurism, ample description of bodily fluids.
[Note] This is my contribution to @feliix ’s Summer 2 Lovers collab! Check it out!
Summer.
The season of fun and sun, careless joy, long days and warm nights…
For most people.
For you, this summer is about change. It’s about the little town you used to live in, the quaint house you grew up in, the smell of your mother’s cooking or the breeze from the yard, the sound of younger kids playing in the street. It’s about the big city you will go to live in, it’s purple and orange twilight skies, black silhouettes reaching toward the skies beginning to twinkle with golden lights, the noises of the traffic coming from evening bustle, the scent of the delis and restaurants that line the streets.
You were stuck between these two places, university having been a four year long limbo of boundless sex mislabeled as self-discovery, and now visit your home one last time, reminding yourself of the life you had there before moving on to another.
You think of the past with nostalgia, yet also with a restlessness that makes you want to run from everything. The stillness, the silence, the unchanging landscape in this little town is too unbearable, too unsettling. But it’s familiar, and it’s comfortable. The life you’ll soon live promises excitement, autonomy, it’s the adulthood you’ve fantasized about. It terrifies you too, and you have these horrible dreams about missing the payment of the most insignificant bill and having the entire world collapse on you because of it. You still don’t know how to do your taxes.
College is over, a new life awaits you in a big city after landing a rather ideal job, but it felt like you were leaving things behind. Funny how, after so many years of fantasizing about this grown-up life you suddenly felt like a lost child, scared to forgo the familiar.
It’s these sort of almost-quarter-life-crisis thoughts that fill your mind on a particularly warm afternoon. You’re indecently splayed out on a couch with as little clothing as possible, the door to the backyard is wide open, letting an occasional breeze waft in to disrupt the stifling stillness of the heat. The lights are off, and you were too unbothered to turn them on as the sun set, preferring to stare at a darkening ceiling as the evening sky turned purple.
There’s a familiar jingle of keys from the front door.
“Honey? You home?”
“I’m here, Mom.” You lazily answer back. She wanders from the hall to the living room, you can feel the judgemental look she gives you.
“Have you been laying like this all day?”, indignation lines her voice. Was it so surprising to find you like this?
“Yeah…”
“You can’t just lay here all day. Go out! Get some sun! Go play with those kids you used to hang out with from school!”
“I can’t Ma, I’d rather just plank here.”
“Oh goodness, Y/n. Give me one good reason you shouldn’t go hang out with them!”
“I’ll give you two: either they grew up to be total bitches or they had kids and became a bore.”
“I didn’t become a bore when I had you!” She exclaims, although it’s not too serious and some playfulness hides beneath the surface.
“Yeah, that’s because you’re a cool mom. They don’t make those anymore.”
“Hmm… well, I think you should make a bit of an effort.”
“Mom… it’s my last vacation you know -”
“You know what?!” She suddenly exclaims, her voice brightening like a lightbulb just radiated in her thoughts. “Mrs. Carson’s son is here with her for the summer too! I bet you haven’t seen him in ages, and he’s gotten so handsome.”
“Mrs. Carson?” You didn’t have any clue who that was.
“Well… you might remember her as Mrs. Bang, but Jane changed her name when she married Norbert a few years ago. She still lives next door and Christopher’s in town spending the summer with his mother.”
Bang…
Christopher…
You hadn’t heard that name in years. It surprised you a bit actually, and a hint of a smile came to your lips.
“Yeah, yeah, Mom… I’ll think about it.”
You wouldn’t admit… something did grab your attention. A curiosity of sorts.
You were fifteen years old when you had your first kiss. He was a short boy with a kind smile, a bit awkward really, but you had a fondness for him. It wasn’t about looks at all, all boys at that age were hideous and nothing would change your opinion on that, but you’d swoon whenever you saw him. It was mutual, an icky teenage infatuation that had your friends poking fun at both of you whenever you’d become giddy at the sight of one another. Hot faces, nervous glances, trembling innocent touches.
He sat next to you in chemistry and you’d hold hands under the lab table while the teacher gave class. His left hand always felt soft in your right one. Cute. It’s a bit silly but you’re glad you had that sort of adorable and silly romance. While it lasted, that is.
Christopher wasn’t a bad guy. He was stupid, like all boys that age.
When you saw him kissing another girl, of course you cried, but you knew it had to do with him being stupid more than anything. This simple looking girl that you had been friends with in elementary school, you can’t even remember her name.
You know why he did it, beyond his stupidity. Your mom had let it slip long before - you knew it was coming.
“Honey, would you believe? Mr. and Mrs. Bang are divorcing!” Probably just some hot gossip from one of her PTA yoga groups, no ill intention on your behalf. She didn’t know you were seeing Christopher - over your dead body. You were fifteen and a horrible student, you didn’t need to give your mother yet another element to ground you with.
“Oh no…” You acted as normally as you could, your first thoughts went out to Christopher first though. “Do you know why?”
“Well… I’m obviously not going to ask, duh! But I do know that Mr. Bang is taking the kid with him abroad.” What?! What did she just say? Chis is WHAT?!
“I - uh, what?” Act normal, act normal, act normal.
“Aww… sweetie, was he your friend?” Goodness, parents can be so oblivious, but it’s beneficial in this case. She doesn’t pick up on the depression of your mood.
“I guess.” A sniffle is about to threaten your composure so, in your teenage arrogance, you leave before your mother can see your teary eyes.
The subsequent days were strange. You expected Christopher to tell you the news, you expected to comfort him, you expected to live out the rest of your young romance as best as you could. And then… you saw him.
And he said nothing. He was cold, pushed you away. He must be going through a lot of pain, you thought. More days went by and he still said nothing, and his demeanor grew worse, no affection, no smiles. He must be having a hard time, you reasoned.
Sometimes you thought he was on the verge of saying something to you, like he was about to say something and the words threatened to come out but he’d suddenly pull away and swallow them. You didn’t question it really, it was so confusing but you just went with it.
You never held his hand in chemistry again.
Time made you realize that Christopher didn’t want to be with you anymore. You weren’t sure if it was because he stopped liking you, and that hurt a little, but you knew what he was going through, and you stood by him in case he ever chose to open up and cry on your shoulder. You’d be there for him.
When he kissed that girl, it didn’t really surprise you. Damn it, what was her name? You cried, you thought it was because you were ugly and your boobs were still pretty small - stupid reasons.
It took a few months for you to understand the real reason.
He left without saying goodbye. You never spoke to him after he kissed what’s-her-name. Maybe he tried to do so a couple of times, but you ran away or didn’t let him. Or maybe you remembered it that way to comfort you, just so you’d live with the thought that he tried to apologize, tired to make things right.
But the fact of the matter is he didn’t speak to you and he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to say goodbye because it hurt.
He was trying to ruin your relationship so you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to say goodbye, so that he could kill the feelings you had for him to spare you from the pain of his departure.
Or maybe you were just imagining it like that to make it a cuter memory and think about it fondly.
Maybe in the end, Christopher was just a horny teenage boy that cheated on you. Maybe.
Regardless, you giggle as you think back on the silliness of it all, and how serious and life altering it all felt in your childishness. It seemed so long ago, so distant, and you were so changed that it felt like it had all happened to a different person. You wondered about the man next door, and the entirely different boy who had once been next door. What kind of person had Christopher become?
University did you well. It was four solid years of irresponsible drinking and uninhibited sexual exploration paired with relatively easy academics. You don’t know how it happened, but it had been like a transformation from one day to the next.
You, sort of, kind of, absolutely plain and normal girl that no one would notice lest you stepped in their line of sight. One day, there you were - normal.
Two weeks in - boom. Confident. Your roommate was an okayish girl, another plain one. Then you started noticing how comfortable you were undressing in front of her, to change clothes or whatever, as if it was the most normal thing in the world - which it was. Wearing shorts and skirts became less of a worry, just something that felt better. Sometimes you’d be thrown icky glances from some boys, which you hated, but others were acceptably flirty and you loved those. The best ones were the boys that would get shy and who would quickly whip their heads the other way once you caught them staring.
That definitely flipped the switch. It made you feel strong, it made you feel damn good. You, who at the most had dipped a finger into the world of heavy makeouts during high school, now became a seasoned seductress of all kinds of men. So long as you could wrap them around your finger with your demeanor, so long as you could prowl over them and take the lead.
Ah… the good old days.
What was going to happen now, though? Four years later, no slightly inexperienced men left to be wowed. Everyone you knew was turning into a bland and bitter office worker. Was this the end of it?
To think that you’d be ending this glorious chapter of your life in this tiny town, lounging on the same stuffy couch in the same hot living room every day, having your routine philosophical melodrama where you’d stare at the ceiling in the afternoons until your mother came in inquiring if you were alive. It was a terrible fate.
A few days after the revelation of Christopher’s presence, which you would never admit had been circling your mind nonstop, your mother returns with another piece of information.
“You know, Jane and Norbert are having a get together of sorts next Saturday - just the usuals from the block.”
“Is that so?” You said with disinterest.
“In fact, I borrowed a baking pan from her last week… why don’t you go over and give it back to her for me? She might need it, and you probably haven’t left this house in days.” You didn’t reply, but you could feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to obey.
“Fine…”
The afternoon was enjoyably fresh, although your white t-shirt stuck to you like a second skin, the bikini top you wore underneath tracing its silhouette into the cotton. You lazily stomped your way to the house next door, admiring the tall window where you had snuck into Christopher’s room a couple of times during your short romance. A ladder was perched up against the exterior toward that window, they must have been fixing things up. The porch was full of cans of paint, tools, boxes. It was only when you rang on the doorbell, begrudgingly holding the large tray, that you realized that Jane might not be the one to open the door but instead it could be -
The door swings open and you gasp. Christopher.
Well… his face hadn’t changed much. But he was slightly taller than you remembered, far more masculine, oh, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Yeah, he was shirtless… jeans hanging low on his hips… shirtless… abs… fit waist… arms…
“Hi! Is Jane home?” Good… pretend you don’t remember him.
“I - Uh… no, my mom’s actually out right now.” He replied. His voice had grown deeper, and where did he get that accent? Wait - did he not remember you? Now, that just made you angry, but you wouldn’t let it show.
“Oh, well… my mother wanted me to return this.” You say handing him the tray, avoiding trailing your eyes downward.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll give it to her.” He says. He seems a little frozen, an expression between surprise and caution lingers on his face, but you don’t know if it’s good or bad.
There’s a moment of silence where you just stare at each other.
“Y/n…” He finally says. There’s hesitation in the way he says your name. He’s scared, not of you, but he’s scared about the fact that you’re on his doorstep.
You don’t say anything, calmly, almost coyly, waiting for him to continue. You’d gotten rather good at pretending you were calm, and the slightest tint of a smile painted your lips so you wouldn’t seem cold or ingenuine.
“Do you remember me?” He asks. You can’t help but huff, a tiny laughter really.
“Of course. You know, you haven’t grown much taller.”
With those slightly playful words, you turn to walk back to your home, and with each step your impression of the encounter with your childhood love became more bitter and less sweet.
It was strange how you thought about him, about it. The situation, that is. Seeing him, talking to him, both of you now being older. A few days of thinking now.
You don’t know why you thought about it so much, but you thought about it. You thought about it without knowing how you felt about it or what you thought about it. This man you had only gotten a glimpse of, too overwhelmed to take in his features properly, now walks around your mind freely. He wasn’t the boy you knew. He wasn’t the boy next door whose hand you’d once hold in chemistry, who you’d kiss before turning the corner towards both of your homes. The boy who left all those years ago.
No, it wasn’t that boy. It was that man, who kept perturbing you. What did you feel? Interest? Yes, there was something quite intriguing about all of this which sparked your curiosity. Lust? Of course, absolutely, the man next door looked divine. Suppose you could abstract the person from his body, so that you wouldn’t be so bothered by who he was and what he meant to you, and you’d easily bend over in front of him and invite him in.
You supposed a conversation was in place, though, because after all, he was still the Christopher. You couldn’t just go around fucking people like that anymore - unfortunately. That was something you got away with in college. It’s a shame college boys grow up to be boring men, sex gets more boring, they think they have all the authority… Maybe you should go back to school.
You’re sitting on the windowsill of your second floor bedroom, one leg hanging out and stepping onto the roof. Opposite to your window, beyond a neat shrub, is the window of the guest room of Mrs. Carson, formerly Bang, which seems unchanged from when you last saw it. You remember watching her from your room, also unchanged, using the TV in there to do some aerobics she followed along from a VHS… was it a VHS? No, that’s the machine. What were the things you used to put in the VHS? A cassette? No… regardless, eventually she must have started using DVD’s.
Damn it, it all seemed like thousands of years ago.
Damn it, you were still so melodramatic throwing around words like poetry over some Richard Simmons tape. Aha! It’s a tape!
Your crotch is being dug into by the window frame, and you let your weight rest on it, the slight grind tempting you to have a round of masturbation. But you’ll finish the cigarette you stole from your mother first. It tasted awful, it was another adult thing you couldn’t understand. Why did everyone at university smoke so much? It was just another thing their eager teenage selves did to emulate the adults in grown-up world, to feel a little more grown-up. Who the hell likes this stuff?
But you liked watching it burn, occasionally inhaling its airy and bitter smoke. It wasn’t your preferred type of smore. You preferred watching papers and matches burn, their sweet and rich smell, the warmth of the fire that would sting the edges of your fingers. Shame your mother only used a lighter, you didn’t like the smell of that fire either.
You just surrendered to watching the bright tip of the cigarette and the white streams that came from it.
“You know those are bad for you.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” You exclaimed, your heart nearly jumping out from your chest. A man had sprung out from the window in the guest room of the Carson house, formerly Bang, and that man was Christopher Bang himself.
“Sorry I didn’t -”
“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack - what the hell?!”
“ - mean to startle you…”
“Damn it, Christopher!”
“Ah! So you do remember me?” He says with a bit of joy, but you just look at him, realizing that this is where the talk will come. His features grow a little more somber. He continues, “So… I guess I -”
“Where’d you get the accent?” You interrupt, genuinely curious. “You sound like the crocodile hunter.”
“Well… I was living in Australia with my dad.” He says it in a normal tone, but you make sure it doesn’t stay normal.
“Oh, so that’s where you went?” You both wince at what you just said. Yep, it’s finally time for that talk.
There’s a bit of silence, but you’ll let him be the one to fill it.
“I…” He sighs deeply. Uuhh… it’s quite a masculine sigh. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again but I… there’s something I’ve always wanted to say.”
“I’m listening…” You say. It’s a flat tone, but it’s funny. You hope it’ll ease him.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Some silence again, “I’m sorry for being an ass, I’m sorry for cheating on you -”
“Chris, we were like fifteen… you kissed a girl with braces, big deal.” You waved it off. Really, kissing that girl didn’t bother you so much, now almost ten years later.
“I left without saying anything.”
“Yeah, you did. Hard to not notice.”
“I was - I know it’s not an excuse, but I was going through a lot and I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“So you left without saying anything?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok… we haven’t spoken in years. I practically forgot about it.” No you didn’t.
“Did you?” He says. Was he hopeful when you insinuated he hadn’t hurt you as much as he thought he had?
“No, not really. I mean, yeah, you kissing another girl was pretty insignificant, we were just kids. It did hurt that you left without… I don’t know… There wasn’t any closure. There wasn’t a goodbye. I felt confused for a while, I guess.”
“I’m so sorry about that. But my parents were splitting up, I was going to have to leave everything behind. You were the first girl I loved and I was going to have to say goodbye and I couldn’t handle it. I was too hurt and embarrassed to even tell my friends. I wish I had done it differently.”
“Yeah, I wish you had too. I wanted to be there for you, you know? I wanted to hug you, hold your hand, tell you it was going to be ok.
“I really messed up there…”
“It’s okay Chris, you were just a kid. We were just kids.” You offer your sympathy but he doesn’t soften.
“Mhmm. Doesn’t make me feel less guilty about it.”
“Can I ask you something?” He nods, “Did you do all that stuff… you know, treat me that way, for real or where you…?”
“I was hoping you’d break up with me, get over me. That way we wouldn’t have to say goodbye and we wouldn’t get hurt.”
“I got hurt.” You admit.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” You insist. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re old and grown and fine. All of that’s in the past, I can’t blame you for acting like a kid. It’s okay.”
“Well I can agree with you there. We did grow up, not kids anymore.”
“You didn’t grow that much.” You laugh, he laughs too.
“You certainly did.” He’s being flirty. It could have been bad timing, but the mood felt right.
“Oh, you noticed?”
“Hard not to.” Goodness was he being direct. “You were really cute back in school, I had a crush on you for like, forever.”
“Really…Plain old me?”
“Really. And now here we are and I think I could have a crush on you all over again.”
“So you can go off and kiss another girl with braces and leave the continent?”
“No, I’m a one woman man.” He says while making himself comfortable on his own ledge. It’s getting comfortable overall, like you’re talking to someone you’ve known for the longest time, like a decade of separation didn’t do much harm.
“Well, well. And who is that lucky woman now?”
“There’s no one at the moment. I’m in the middle of some life changes.”
“Do tell.”
“I’m moving back. Well, not here, just in the country again. A big city, big job, kinda scary.”
“Seems we’re on the same boat. I just came back to say goodbye to this place forever and I’m ooout.”
“Did you finish school already?”
“Yeah… I wish I hadn’t though.” You think back on your experience with longing, lamenting it’s end.
“Wow, can’t relate. I couldn’t wait for it to end. What’d you miss about it?”
“Well, I didn’t have to work, grades were good and easy. And I guess, it was tons of fun.”
“How so?”
“Being on a campus full of horny and stupid guys - it was open game.” Chan hisses at your admission.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for that type.” He chuckles, “You would stutter for like the first two months we went out.”
“We were just kids.”
“I guess we were…”
Another comfortable silence as you stare off at the sky, your cigarette burnt through with only the spongy bud left to pinch.
“Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m single too, you know.”
It might have been a bad idea, you said it on impulse after all, something quite instinctive having taken over you. Maybe you were just horny and Christopher was just hot, regardless, the conversation was over. Before he could even process what you said, and the implications to it, you had already slipped back into your darkened room and out of his sight.
Chan felt like a teenager again. Not in a good way.
Chan remembered your first kiss, holding your hand. He remembered your breasts being the first he had ever really noticed, your legs being the first he ever caressed. He remembers how you’d press your bodies together while you kissed, not really understanding what both of you felt, only understanding the urgency of it.
Now he can name those feelings, the ones that once belonged to an inexperienced boy, merely dipping his toes into the surface of that world. But now that he dove, and had dived into its waters several times, he knew how to swim in them.
Yet, seeing you made him feel like he didn’t. It made him feel like he couldn’t swim, like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning.
The first moment he saw you on his doorstep he felt his stomach drop, a pang of guilt that had lingered on his mind during countless of sleepless nights hitting him with full force. He didn’t expect it. He thought he would never see you again.
And after taking another look, a longer look, it was like he was swimming in completely different waters. He felt submerged, and he didn’t know which way was up. He wanted to open his mouth and swallow it all up, let you drown him.
He hadn’t felt this raging feeling since he was a teenager. He certainly hadn’t had a specific woman make him feel like this until you.
It made him feel another kind of guilt. Shame even.
The following days he’d watch you, shamefully. His mother had him painting the house and when he stood on the rooftops he took his time to enjoy the view of you swimming in your pool, wearing tiny bikinis that stuck to your skin and showed the buds of your niples and the lines of your labia through the fabric. He would admit, shamefully, that he stopped watching from the roof because he needed to get closer to see these beautiful details.
He now watched you from over the fence in his backyard. Getting incredibly hard watching you swim, watching you oil your body down.
It was all horribly, horribly shameful.
But weren’t you the one that mentioned you were single? It had caught him off guard. He was being cheeky in that moment, but he didn’t know what waters he was testing then. Now he knew, and it was making him behave so, so shamefully.
Should he go over there, push you into a corner of the pool and pull your bottoms to the side? Should he kneel at your feet while your rubbing yourself with that golden oil, and beg you to let him fuck you?
It wasn’t just the thought of sex that drove him mad, it was you in general. How inferior he felt in front of you, like he had to prove himself. Every day he worked shirtless, hoping you’d get a glimpse of him, but you were just so unbothered by it all.
It was driving him fucking insane.
If only you knew.
Except - of course you did. Of course you did. This is what you craved, what you were best at. Driving boys, technically men but boys sounds tastier, to be absolute slaves to their desire for you. Christopher wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it. Did he really think that you would suddenly spend every day swimming in the tiniest bikinis after having not left your couch for over a week? They really are such stupid, fuckable animals.
And Chris was particularly fuckable.
Day four of his perverted project, he was hammering away at some boards in the back porch of his house. Your mother wouldn’t be home for hours, his parents were away for a couple of days.
Everything was perfect.
“Chris?!” You call loudly over the fence from your chaise lounge, carelessly flipping through a book. The hammering stopped, he had heard you. “Chris, it’s hot today. Don’t you think you should come over for a swim to cool down?”
Why on earth were you acting so damn unbothered and confident, he thought. Why on earth were you asking him over?
It’s only a matter of time before he circles his own house and slides in through the gate on your end. He’s still wearing jeans and a utility belt, gloves too. No shirt.
“You can’t really swim in those, take them off.” You hardly peered at him from over your sunglasses. He was just standing there, frozen. That’s usually a sign that you’re working your magic well. Good. “Come on Christopher, take them off.”
“I - uh, I’m actually not wearing trunks right now. Uhm… I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, you don’t have to go.” Insert unbothered page flip. “Why don’t you just undress and get in the pool so I can join you?”
“W-what?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He genuinely thought he had imagined it, maybe all of his hornyness was driving him insane.
“Christopher!” You whine. “You’re ruining the fun!” You slam the book shut and throw it over to the side, taking your sunglasses and hat off. “Chris, I think it’s obvious. Do you think I haven’t noticed you being a peeping tom for the past half week? Look! You’ve already got a tent in your pants and everything!”
“Fuck.” Shit, you were right.
“This is like, hmm, like an open invitation to fuck me.” You say with an eye roll, but your eyes roll toward his abs because they are absolutely distracting you.
“Are… are you serious?”
“Well… You want to, I want to. You’re nice, look like you’ve become quite a decent man - and I’m not just referring to your physique Chris. Maybe, just maybe, it would be an excellent idea if we finally fucked this tension away.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. You’re here for a few weeks, so am I. Why not enjoy each other while we can? After that we can just go our separate ways, just like before except we’ll end it on good terms.”
Too many points for him to argue with - you were right on all of them. He couldn’t disagree. In fact, he eagerly agreed. Little did he know you had this pitch rehearsed to perfection, to your benefit, because he seemed to be completely subdued by it.
“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. Fumbling with his belt, zipper, exposing the line of his abdomen down to his hardening cock. A fat, heavy cock that swung between his muscular thighs. He was fully nude now, standing in front of you, his tan skin glistening in the sunlight. You’re quick to urge him over with a finger.
He pounces, but once he’s crawling over you on that narrow chair, he becomes slow.
“Hi.” You manage to whimper out, now feeling a bit small beneath him, feeling nervous even.
“Hey.” He’s just as nervous but there’s an energy that goes beyond either of your wills pulling you toward one another.
He kisses you. It’s a kiss you melt into, and he sinks his body against yours, with you spreading your legs so he can slot between them. His cock rests against your lower abdomen, his body pressing further into you.
You can’t help but slide your hand between your two bodies in an attempt to finger yourself, prepare yourself, but he stops you and pulls back.
“No.” He growls.
“No?” Is he going to leave you like this?!
“Let me.”
And you do. Chan lowers himself, adjusting you so he can easily bend over the chair while kneeling on the ground, and his hands shake as he dips the tip of his fingers into the hem of your bottoms, just slightly tugging at the material, playing with it before he starts to play with you. You’ve got the perfect view of him basically drooling over you.
He slides the bottoms to the side, but you pull at the strings at your hips, so they come undone and he pulls them away completely. Your lips and the juices coming from between them are just as glossy than your oiled skin.
He can’t help but dig in. Fucking you with his mouth, jamming his fingers in you. It’s an animalistic frenzy and it’s hot and slippery and sticky. You cum and your fluids spill over the impermeable cushion below, pooling under your ass. He can see every sparkling droplet fall from you.
It’s just a haze, he nearly jumps on you, bending your legs nearly over your head, bouncing his pelvis on your cunt like a trampoline, smacking with every thrust. You’re completely glued to one another. If he’s not abusing your mouth with his tongue then he’s biting on your shoulder or grunting, growling, into your ear. It’s filthy. You’re absolutely sure you’ve never been fucked like this.
He cums, several times, as do you. He pulls out each time, jerks himself off on your body, although a couple of times you urged him into your mouth and face. He pulls the triangles on your top to the sides, so your breasts are exposed. He made sure to cum on those too. Semen, sweat, squirt, oil, spit, everywhere there are droplets of your fluids shining on your body like jewels.
It ends with him lying on top of you, nearly sleeping from exhaustion, and your lips feel deliciously sore and sensitive, almost ticklish as he softens inside of you.
It happens again. Several times in fact. Many, many times. When his parents are away, when your mom is away, you fuck all the time. Just a little call of his name over the fence or from your window and he’d be running to you. You were too comfortable with one another to bother with formalities, it was like you’d never been separated. You’d wait for him on all fours, wet cunt on display for him to dive in, but he’d always greet you with a gentle kiss.
Fucking each others faces, drinking eachothers fluids. You even let him fuck you in the ass, multiple times, and he was the first guy to make you cum that way. You were just as hooked and as desperate as he was.
Things started to change though.
The welcoming kisses became longer, you’d talk between the rounds…
You’d fall asleep in his arms, or he in yours.
You’d fuck slowly, deeply, staring into each other’s eyes.
You’d talk to him, tell each other stories of all these years, asi if you had been together the entire time.
You’d smile as you made love, gently. You’d let him cum inside of you.
He’d hold your hand again. They were as soft and warm as you remembered.
You were holding his hand on one particular pink evening, your head resting on his heaving chest, teaching circles into his pecs and nipples. On your bed, in your quiet childhood room. It was a painful silence now. It had been weeks, weeks closer to your respective departure dates.
“I wish I had never left.” He eventually says. You don’t know what to say. “I wish we could have stayed like this for longer.”
“Maybe we would have broken up eventually, or left for college.” You ponder.
“Maybe I would have taken you to prom, or we would have had sex together for the first time…” He returns.
“On this bed? Hmm? With my cute school uniform?” You tease. “Yeah, maybe.”
“But I guess this is what was meant to be.” He sighs, as do you.
“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say.
“What for?”
“I don’t know, I just feel bad. I started this and now we have to go our separate ways again.” You feel something sting in your eye. You can’t cry now.
“Shh…” He coos as he hears you sniffle and feels you twitch. It makes his heart ache like it did all those years ago when he left.
“I - I…” You cry. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go.”
He pulls you into his arms, crushing you in an embrace. Your eyes are closed but you feel the tears fall from his face, he’s crying too.
“I know… but what else can we do?”
There was nothing left to do, other than fuck the days away, crying, holding each other until it hurt. It was a horrible, horrible thing to have fallen in love with Christopher Bang this final summer.
You didn’t go with him to the airport. You didn’t want to say goodbye, you didn’t want to see where he was going.
But he did slip into your room that final night. You made love quietly, he kissed you as you cried.
He said it was the second time he loved you, and the second time he had to leave you.
It hurt much more this time around. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, maybe you shouldn’t have gone next door.
Being in your house was unbearable once Chris wasn’t next door.
A week later, you’ve arrived at your new place. It had been a whirlwind and you stayed at a hotel the first couple of nights while your new furniture got brought in, most of your personal belongings only fitting in a couple of bags.
It’s kept you busy. That way you think about him a little less. Crying into pillows that have that certain ‘brand new’ smell isn’t quite as comforting as you’d expect. Everything seems unfamiliar, strange, artificial. Nothing here reminded you of him - it was for the best and you hated it.
The place is nice, bright. It’s on the third floor of a small apartment building, a couple of other doors beside yours in the hall. You go downstairs to grab a few packages that have arrived, carefully treading up the stairs in a kind of balancing act once they’re piled in your arms. It’s a choreography you can dance to with expertise, always denying any help from your neighbors.
However, you do fumble with the lock and handle once you’re at your door, holding the boxes up by pressing them against the door with your body as your hands blindly fumble with the keys, nothing but cardboard in your sight.
Nothing you can’t handle, until they start to slip.
“Woah, let me help you with that!” someone says behind you, and in your complicated state it’s a bit difficult to process what happens but the boxes are soon out of the way, said someone pulling them from you and freeing you.
And then you see him.
Him.
Your him.
He says your name and you’re too stunned to react. He’s in awe too. He drops your packages, and you’re certain some of them contain some makeup palettes but you don’t give a damn at the moment.
“What are you doing here?” You finally ask, frozen in place.
“I… live in 304.” He says.
“You live in 304?” He nods. “You? You’re serious?” He nods again, eyes still wide.
You both stand there, processing it all. This can’t be real.
“I live in 302.” you manage to say, after some time. Your voice is weak, all the air has left your lungs. You shake.
“You do?” He asks. Now you nod.
This can’t be.
But he cups your face, holds it like you’re precious and delicate, he kisses you. It is real. You kiss him back, harder. Eventually you’re both clinging to one another, gripping each other’s clothes desperately.
“You live here.” He says, little tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. You nod, the same tears coming to you.
“I do. Mm-hmm.” The sniffles you let out seem so sweet to him, he swoons with how happy you are to see him. Knowing you feel the same joy he does - it makes him feel complete.
“I live here too!” He cries, laughing, smiling, beautifully.
One more kiss, just to make sure it’s real. You pull him in and kiss him one more time.
It’s real.
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Callum Turner x Reader - The After-Match pt. 2 (SMUT)
A few seconds later, the referee whistled the end of the game, making cheerful and despondent people in the audience.
Cal, 10.56 pm: You better be home in 30 minutes or I'm starting the after-match without you
Y/N, 10.57 pm: I'll be there in no time!
A wave of cheers had engulfed the streets: Chelsea had won and it was only the beginning of a long night for the supporters that had assembled from all around, from Trafalgar Square to Greenwich, from Brixton to Hammersmith.
Horns beeping everywhere, pedestrians with beer in their hand and their voices broken.
"Are you joining us, Callum? We're going to the pub to celebrate!"
"Nah, tonight I'm celebrating with Y/N!"
Callum's friends all chuckled while looking at each other "You lucky bastard!", one snickered.
"We're not holding you back then!", another added.
"Have a great night, lads!", Callum said while getting his coat that had been discarded on the hat stand by the door.
"Yeah, you too!"
There was no time to lose. He could not take a cab since he had not booked any and going with his own two feet would take him nearly an hour. He knew that an hour would be way too long and that his body would not be able to cope.
From the moment he had read that Y/N had been cheeky enough not to wear any undergarments, he had felt a bulge flourishing. He had benefitted from the half-time to try and get rid of the tide that was boiling in his boxers, to no avail.
He then decided to take the tube, hoping in his innermost that the next train wouldn't last too long to arrive and that it wouldn't be too crowded. The Northern line usually was not at that time of the night but it was a game night so who knew...
He ran to the Angel train station as his phone indicated that the next train would be there in 10 minutes.
Cal, 11.09 pm: Shit, Y/N, you've got me running... The things I wouldn't do to fuck you...
Cal, 11.12 pm: U there?
But Y/N too was busy running. If the road from Regent's Park to Primrose Hill was a rather short one, she had taken too much time parting from her friends and was now late for Callum's plans.
Y/N, 11.14 pm: It's only your warm-up Cal'
Cal, 11.16 pm: From now on, it's "sir" for you!
Only a few seconds after reading the instruction, Y/N heard her phone writhe again.
Cal, 11.16 pm: If you're not here in ten minutes, I swear things will go very wrong for you!
It was all that Y/N needed to go back to her running although she was aroused at the idea that things could go "very wrong" according to her boyfriend.
She had one last street to walk by. She looked at her phone: 11.23 pm. Why are the London streets so long, she thought...
Finally the door to the Georgian hôtel particulier they shared with three other tenants. 11.25 pm.
She walked in only to notice that Callum was standing under the bare lightbulb in their living room.
"Congratulations for the game!"
"Yeah...", Callum said absent-mindedly. Y/N understood what Callum was doing: he was going through all the possibilities he had to take as much pleasure with her.
In love, Callum was the romantic type with a twist. It did not take him much to change from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde but he always valued Y/N's pleasure over his, always listening to the echoes of her lust. He was a passionate lover beyond the shadow of a doubt.
But that night, Chelsea had won and a deal is a deal.
Callum walked in a painfully slow pace towards Y/N with his large hands behind his back. When he was at her level, he stood in a parallel way behind her back and with one hand started descending on Y/N's dress. He had to check by himself.
Careful as not to touch her genitalia for the time being as he was not willing to surrender now, he grazed her hips and noticed that she had not lied.
"You really didn't wear no panties, huh?"
"I wouldn't lie to you, Cal"
Callum clucked his tongue and corrected her while putting his two hands on her shoulders "What did I say? It's "sir" for the misbehaving girls who wear slim dresses with nothing under them"
"I wouldn't lie to you, Sir"
Callum flipped Y/N around so that she was now facing him and ignited a symphony of kisses on her neck, her forehead and finally on her mouth. With each kiss, he went stronger too which Y/N replied by forcing her tongue to meet his.
Callum pulled her even closer and was ready to take her right there on the spot but he had another plans. With the contact of his beige chino trousers over her velvet dress, Y/N could spot the bulge that Callum had tried so hard to hide.
She might have looked a little too much for Callum had to intervene "Since you seem to like what you see, how about you get on your pretty knees and suck me off while you're at it"
"Yes, sir"
Y/N hoped that she would not be the cause for a pond on the floor as she had not anticipated that not wearing underwear could come with such consequences.
She executed herself and got on her knees. Right there, in the living room by the sole light emanating from the lightbulb and with the only sound of the supporters from afar.
She used Callum's legs as a support to get down and nodded at her boyfriend's "Are you okay with that?"
She was eager for the touch she had craved for almost ten days. When Callum had to leave abruptly earlier in the night, she had sensed it as a treason. Surely, he knew what he was doing, not giving her any attention for days and all of a sudden being all smitten.
He knew th ehold he had on her and knew the mess she would become if he started a fire only to let the sparks burning behind him.
Y/N then took Callum's trousers and boxers off in one brief moment, thus revealing the proud length that was finally being acknowledged and addressed.
Without further ado, Y/N stroked the thick column with her right hand, taking care of the two other inhabitants with her other one.
Callum could at last savour the fruit of his team's victory and his patience paying.
He was still standing tall on his two feet and came to the dramatic conclusion that he would soon need a pillar to rest on if he did not wish to fall. And would need one very soon as a matter of fact, considering the speed Y/N had gotten her hands used to. He chose Y/N's hair as a pillar and started running his hands in it.
All in her reactions appeared as though she would follow to the letter his commands. She had hungry plums in place of her eyes that manifested her lust to get more from the interaction. And her mouth was watering in expectation of the forbidden fruit that she would gladly receive. Slight moans slipped through her teeth, echoed by Callum's bestial growl.
Some foam oozed out of the head of his member, which seemed to be the signal Y/N had waited to get her mouth have a taste at it. She lapped up the drops of cum before getting more inside.
"All fucking night, I've been dreaming about this..."
"... And Chelsea winning too, I suppose?" Y/N retorted as she caught her breath back.
"Only close second to this", he assured with a moan on the corner of his lips and his hands directing her mouth to find its way back on where it was aching.
Callum's head tilted back as the petite mort was about to overflow and take him in its wake "Oh! Fuck, Y/N"
Once Callum's cock was empty of its ambrosia, Callum held a hand at Y/N to invite her to stand up and once she stood in front of him, he kissed her. In his kiss, he led the parade towards their bedroom.
"Anything else I can do for you, sir?" Y/N playfully inquired in a moment of respite that her lover had been generous to offer. In fact, he also needed it as he was still panting from the kissing and the blowjob.
"Ride me", Callum said in a deadpan tone.
"Anything you want, sir!"
Callum had only had the time to pick his boxers from the floor of the living room but had relinquished his trousers over there. He lay all of his tall body on the bed, taking off his shirt in the process.
Still standing by the end of the bed, Y/N got her knees on the extremity of it, moving on all fours heading straight and as soft as a panther to her boyfriend.
She straddled him, pushing her hair to one side of her face. As she could feel the bulge forming again under her pounding groin, she took off her dress, passing the piece of cloth over her head. In a second when she did not have eyes on Callum as the dress was right before her eyes, he fondled the two pomegranates that introduce themselves to him.
He had straightened up and was now in a right angle to the headboard. In a perfect position to let his lips wander right between the two breasts.
"Fuck! You just never stop being gorgeous, do you?"
Y/N rubbed her pelvis against the actor's boxers on the spot where his growing protrusion was.
"Good God, I hope you're enjoying yourself... Teasing me like that..."
Y/N continued pleasuring her cavity as she purred at Callum's words. To help her on her merry-go-round and because he was craving more, he held her by her hips, enabling circles of bliss. He felt as though he was a bull on a rodeo stand, enjoying the view and wandering on her stomach, breasts and neck.
If there was one thing Callum loved above all, it was to see Y/N being satisfied. In their sex life, it translated in him usually being aroused by the simple sight of her coming. He could come too if he saw just how great it was for her.
"You're so bloody hot!", he commented almost breathless "but I really need to feel how wet you've gotten for me"
Y/N removed just enough of his boxers to grasp the tip of his cock which she plunged into her in one swift movement and carried on riding her boyfriend"
Y/N came some minutes later, too glad that she was finally getting all the attention she deserved. When Callum joined her, he let go of Y/N as she seemed exhausting from so much riding. As she lay on the bed, he slid under the sheets, to the level of her waterfall, desperate to have a taste of both fluids.
It was Y/N's turn to pull Callum's hair to show him how she wanted to be pleasured which Callum blindly followed. Shutting his eyes, he could feel the drops filling his mouth.
His tongue found its way through the humid weather. Y/N had always loved her lover's meticulousness when it came to that subject. It was as though he was under a mysterious spell, completely in trance. He was devoted and took all his time to give her all that she deserved.
Y/N wiggled under his moving head, moaning louder and louder by every stroke his tongue was taking.
"Callum!", she cried in the night as the supporters had grown quieter.
This time around, Callum did not correct her as having her come with his Christian name on her lips was worth all the gold in the world.
#callum turner#theseus scamander#callum turner x reader#smut#second part#one shot#though in two parts#never been good with maths#plot what plot#sir kink
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Bathtub Photoshoot 💦
Pairing: Henry Cavill x First Person-POV (Female, or at least X wears a bra and has breasts)
Summary: Little private photosesh' with Henners and then some.
Warnings: Dry humping but let's just call it grinding. Edging. 18+ to be safe!! Contains smut. You might be able to find the tiniest bit of angst. And bit of fluff.
Word count: 2.5K
Not beta’ed! I take full responsibility for this fuckup.
Inspired/prompted by this post by @cavillfics
Masterlist
I obviously don't own Henry Cavill, nor do I know him IRL, so it goes without saying that this is a figment of my imagination.
(I took the liberty to edit the photo just a bit and don’t know who to credit for the original edit. Let me know if you know, so I can give credit where it's due.)
Happy reading 💦
---
“Babe, I've got an idea! Can you do something for me, please?”
When I heard you coming through the front door, I rushed to meet you there. You were finally home again and was hanging your jacket on the coat rack when I found you.
“Oh, well,” you reply, “I really want to just lean back, maybe take a shower or something. It’s been a long week, babe. And hello, by the way.”
You step over to me, reach around my waist and pull me against your firm body.
“Mhm, you smell lovely,” you whisper in my hair. I sigh, then wiggle myself free of your embrace.
“Henry, listen,” I look up at you with my best attempt at puppy eyes. You breathe deeply and turn your face, scratching mine with your stubble. It sends shivers through my body.
“Okay,” you hum as your hands roam my body, finding their way to my bare thighs then sneaking up beneath my robe, “tell me.”
I grab your hips and press my core against your thigh as I lean backwards, looking up at you, “I want to take some pictures … of you.”
Your face goes through a range of emotions; surprised, suspicious, smirking, friendly and finally incredibly charismatic: Front-page-style smile.
“That’s the one!” I say with excitement.
“Which one?” you tease, furrowing your brow and looking all suspicious again.
“You know perfectly well, you buffoon!” I say, as I slap your chest playfully.
My entire body lifts when you laugh. You kiss my forehead and twirl some of my hair between a few fingers. Your eyes shift, gazing at various areas of my face. I sigh, then reach for your hands, the one playing with my hair and the other, which I find gently caressing the lace of my panties.
I hold your hands between us and look up at my man.
“You do realize, of course, that you are basically a Greek god carved out of stone.”
“I have been told so, yes.”
“And you do realize that every artist needs a muse, a model, to create from.”
“I have a faint idea of that, yes,” you say, smirking down at me.
“And I happen to be short of a project, and subject, for my portfolio.”
“I see,” your smile broadens, “but what does that have to do with me?”
“Henry!”
My declining patience must have been obvious somewhere in my face or perhaps my exclamation, because you burst out laughing, throwing your head back as you do so. I can’t help but melt a little.
“Tell me what you need me to do, darling,” you say, stroking my hands with your thumbs. I feel warmth spread through my chest. Your face softens and I feel the warmth spread further down.
“Fuck,” I breathe, casting my eyes to the floor. I’m suddenly filled with all kinds of insecurities, imposter syndrome and such, but there’s a reason why you’re my man. You sense it immediately and lift my hands to your lips, kissing them sincerely.
“You’ve got this, babe.”
I sigh, “I know, sweetheart. It's just… Urgh.”
You kiss my forehead.
“Tell me your idea.”
“I…” My voice breaks. You lift my chin up with a single finger, as if it were suddenly light as a feather, forcing me to look into your striking blue eyes.
“I don’t know,” I finally exclaim. “I didn’t have a concrete idea. I just knew that I wanted you to be in the photos.”
You smile, almost apologetically, “Okay, look. I really want to help. But I’m so damn tired. I’ve got an idea, though, of how we may be able to hit two birds with one stone.”
“Okaay?” I say, a slight tinge of hope seeping into my core again.
“I need a bath–”
“–I can’t take a nude picture of you!”
You laugh again, but shake your head, “No, silly. Let me finish.”
My cheeks flush scarlet.
“I need a bath, but instead of taking a shower, I’ll jump in the tub. Once in there, you can have me do whatever you want.”
I squint my eyes, then see a lightbulb flash on.
“YES!” I almost yell, running my hands up your torso and leaning in for a kiss.
“Yes,” I repeat, then press my lips against your sculpted ones. It is as if your lips curl to a smile amidst the kiss.
“Yes,” I say one last time, meeting your eyes, “If you get the water running, I’ll collect my gear.”
Your hands go wandering about on my hips again, dragging my robe up and making my hairs stand on end. You look down at me with a confident smile, saying, “great minds think alike.”
I fight off the urge to kiss you again and instead draw away from you. You catch the waistband of my robe and it slides off as I step away, revealing the new set of lingerie I’m wearing underneath. I stand, looking at you with what I imagine is the expression of a suspicious feline. You, on the other hand, make a low whistle and shake your head in slow motion, clearly surprised and pleased to see what I was hiding beneath. Then you nod toward the living room, signalling I get on with finding my camera.
It takes me a few minutes to find the right lens. When I enter the bathroom, you’re in the process of unbuckling your belt. The tap is running and there’s already a bit of water in the tub.
“Wait,” I say, stopping you just as you’re about to pull your jeans down, “I think I want you in the water dressed.”
You stare for a moment, shrug, say “sure,” then proceed to tug your jeans over your perky bum again.
“Right, erm,” I think for a moment, “No, you know what? Lose the pants, but keep the t-shirt on.”
“Lose the pants,” you repeat and let your jeans fall to the floor. As you stand back up, I realize something.
“We might have a problem,” I say, eyeing the hefty bulge in your boxers.
You follow my gaze, noticing the same problem, then nod in agreement.
“But then again,” you say, “what did you expect, looking like that?” you hint at my open robe and lingerie.
We both shrug, then burst laughing.
“I guess we’ll just have to make it work!” I say, “Now, in the tub with you, buddy.”
You feel the temperature of the water and deciding that it’s decent, turn off the tap, step in and lie down. There’s not a lot of water in there, but I’m assuming it will do. You look up at me with anticipation, “Now what?”
I squint at you, finding the bulge slightly distracting, basically towering above the waterline like another Burj Khalifa. Obviously, you notice my lack of response.
“Hey, babe!” you say, snapping me out of it. I feel my nether region clench.
“Okay, okay!” I shake my head to wake up. You shake yours too, smirking at me.
“We need to do something about that,” I say.
“I can try to hide it?” you suggest.
“How?” I squint. It’s a mastodon of a package you has stored down there, I think to myself.
“Anyway, I need to find a position to photograph you from.”
I begin taking random photos of you from various angles and perspectives, simultaneously adjusting the settings on the camera as I do so. Meanwhile, you roll around to one side, then the other, then back again. The squeaking sounds of your body rubbing against the sides of the tub while you change poses makes the whole situation rather comedic, and I'm convinced you're doing it even worse on purpose. Determined to be somewhat professional, I try to ignore your distractions.
“It’s a good thing we have such good lighting in here,” I say, gazing around the small room, pretending to be focused and ignorant of your attempts at sabotage.
“How do you want me, babe? I feel like… I don’t even know? A fish out of water,” you say, doubting your own wording, “or something like that.”
I sigh, “I know, I get it. I need to think. We’ve also still got that… situation… going on.” I gesture at the, no less apparent, tent between your legs.
“Okay,” you say calmly, “I’ll just lie back and relax, while you think of something.”
“Good.”
As you settle into a comfortable position, I mentally run through the various “golden rules” of photography that I can remember.
Then it’s as if I notice the obvious. The absolute god-like adonis carved in marble in front of me: My initial inspiration. Your white t-shirt, soaked from all the turning and splashing around you did, is sticking to your chest and abs, enhancing the lines of your muscular torso, yet still in a perfectly suggestive fashion; somewhat similar to the drapery you see on these same sculptures. In a fit of impulse, I crawl up to stand on the edges of the tub.
You open your eyes –awoken by my scramblings– fear in your eyes as you reach for me, “be careful, babe!”
“No no, darling! Stay put!” I say, “I’m perfectly safe. It’s dry. My feet are dry. I’m stable, but thank you.” I smile, reassuringly. Suspicious yet accepting, you lower your arms and lie back down. I notice your eyes trail down my exposed body. Lust now clear as daylight in your gaze.
“I think I’ve got the photo soon, babe, then we’re done,” I explain. “Just close your eyes for me.”
You shake your head and smile, then do as I said.
Your head rests on the back of the tub, but your fingers begin fidgeting … around your nether region.
“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask between photos.
“No…” you smirk, eyes still closed, but you shift and rest your hands awkwardly on your stomach instead.
“We can’t have that,” I say, “you’re covering the main part of the photo,” I tease.
You open your eyes, still smirking but not saying a word.
“And you’re revealing, exposing, what we need to hide,” I try to hold back my laugh.
“Okay,” I continue, “what about… what if you hold your t-shirt at the hem and stretch it down to cover your crotch. Place your other hand casually beside it. Yeah, like that! Exactly, babe. Beautiful.”
I take a couple of photos and look at them on the tiny screen.
“Right, hold that pose, but just… kinda relax, if you can. I’ll take a few shots more and then you’re done!”
You close your eyes again and begin taking deep breaths, lessening the tension that must have been building in your shoulders over the last few days. As peace falls upon your face and body, I take the last photos. After quickly reviewing them on the tiny screen, I decide that I’m done. I turn off my camera and place it on the shelf above the tub before crawling down to sit on the edge of the tub, my feet in the water between your legs.
“Okay, it’s a wrap!”
Your eyes flash open and you let go of your t-shirt. The fabric bounces back, revealing your hairy tummy, teasing me. You look up at me with mischief, then give your member a squeeze.
“Get down here,” you say, almost ferocious in your voice.
I feel myself get all giddy with sudden anticipation as you rise like Poseidon from the water. Before I can do anything other than yelp, you pull me down onto you and with a splash and a thud I land against your rock-hard body. I'm instantly soaked.
“Finally,” you mutter, drenching my face and neck with hungry kisses. Your hands tease the collar of my robe before sliding it over my shoulders. Your eyes explore the curves of my upper body, then you adjust me so that I sit straddled upon you. You don’t speak a word, but your eyes and body say everything I need to know.
I feel your girth throbbing against me. You slide my robe all the way off and without taking your eyes off me, you cast it aside. Then your hands slide up my body. You cup my breasts tenderly, admiring the lace and how the new style of bra suits my breasts. You lick your lips as your thumbs begin stroking my hardening nipples. I sigh and begin grinding against the tip of your member.
You sit up and proceed to kiss and bite the flesh of my breasts. Gently holding the lace aside with your fingers, you capture my nipples between your teeth, ever so gently, before circling your tongue around them with exquisite attention. While squeezing my breasts together, you kiss them one after the other, back and forth, before venturing up to my collarbone and neck. All I can do is whimper and moan.
Then you grasp my hair, pulling my head back. Between kisses and bites on my exposed neck, you breathe damp, sultry words onto my skin. Expressions of how I’ve been a tease, how patient you’ve been and how much you want me now. I want to answer, but I can’t do anything but mutter incoherencies; your throbbing cock eagerly pressing against my core and thus stealing all of my vocabulary.
My breath quickens as I grind harder, cursing the fabrics that keep our cores from meeting, merging. Then you push me towards you, allowing our lips to meet in hungry kisses. My bra loosens. You must have managed to open and take it off me with your other hand, before also casting it aside. You grab at my liberated breasts, then sit up and pull your drenched t-shirt over your head. It lands on the bathroom floor with a splash. My hands instinctively seek the wet fur of your stomach and chest, momentarily squeezing your pecs, then wander south again.
Your eyes read pure hunger and you buck your hips. As I fall back down from the jump, my core meets the powerful strength of your pelvis, bucking yet again. I gasp, overcome by a mixture of arousal and humor. You buck again, a laugh escapes me and somehow, after a few times of this, you’ve managed to free your erection from your boxers. I didn’t notice, but at some point you must have turned on the tap again, because I see you turn it back off. I guess this increased level of water also explains the more slow-motion-like sensation I experience as I land back down on your pelvis; a somewhat softer landing than before. In my own defence, I was entranced and my mind was not functioning at 100%, hence the questionable description. Anyway, both our hips are now submerged under water and I simply shake my head at your mischievous ways. You smirk and pull me down to a deep kiss, slapping my ass through the water, making more water splash all over the place. Everything in the room is certainly wet by now.
I grind against your exposed and infinitely hard cock as your fingers slider under the lace. Your hands grab my cheeks with determination, enhancing the force and enabling you to better thrust against my grinding motion. The friction is causing short-circuits in my brain, making me see colours that aren’t there. My first climax is staggeringly near, but just before I get to release, you buck your hips again, making me scoot off your cock. A devious grin is smeared across your chiseled face.
“You had me waiting, sweetheart. Now it’s my turn to tease.”
---
Thanks for reading my shitpost! Please leave a comment of your thoughts, however nonsensical they may be 💜🙏
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#henry cavill#henry daddy#henry cavill is daddy#henry cavill x ofc#henry cavill smut#henry#henry cavill x first person pov#henry cavill x poc reader#henry cavill x any colour reader#real person fic#real person fiction#henry cavill rpf#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill bathtub scene#sciapod writes smut
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Hey, can I ask, does bnha's message ever frustrate you in how the story/hero characters seem to be inching towards it's conclusion/lightbulb moment, when with just a little 'homework' they could come to that answer quicker? That empathy is learned and people in bad situations commit hostile acts to survive and hurt those who hurt them? That hero society isn't right and needs change on a lot of levels? I know action on that would be difficult but shouldn't they at least know this by now?
(Same anon): what I mean by home work is just talking to others, villains(captured maybe?) or other people in hero society that have problems with it. Deku and a few other students (shoto/shoji) have experience with those issues and it shouldn't be that hard to understand how it extends even from their point of view. Do you feel differently or similar? Thanks
Hey!
I'm not super sure I'm understanding the question fully. Do you feel that frustration because you think the hero kids should've been able to understand the point of view of the marginalized / victims of social injustice much sooner than this arc? If so, I do agree. I have spoken about my frustrations with Deku's writing before, particularly all the wasted potential of his unexplored relationship with his past quirklessness. I'm not going to dig all that back up because eh, I don't really enjoy lingering on the subject. But I also think that on some level Horikoshi considered that "fixed" when he gave him a quirk, and that he never particularly meant to change the hero system in any substantial or revolutionary way, despite all the focus he's given to all its flaws.
I don't mean this as a slight on the man, per se. His execution could've been much better, for sure, but that's pretty standard for a shounen series. I can't help but think of Kishimoto's work (which is an inspiration for Horikoshi), and how Naruto never really set out to change any of the institutionalized corruption of the ninja villages, and instead made the very MC, one of the kids who suffered the most at the hands of that corrupted system, a cog in that machine and called that an hopeful ending. I'm expecting bnha to be much the same at this point
Nagant's introduction in the story sort of cemented this idea in me. If bnha was really a story about giving justice to all the victims of the system—and I'm including Deku in this too!—by affecting change in how they're treated, then her mini arc wouldn't have ended on the lesson "yes, our society is irredeemably bad, and it does bend people to the point of breaking, but so long as there's a tiny 0.005% that doesn't break under duress and can become a light of hope for everyone else, everything will be fine in the end!"
... especially when one of the guys who got reframed as a light of hope is one of the guys who did the stabbing in the back of one of said broken people, lol
in short, I think that bnha could've been a much better (and much more hopeful) story if any of the kids who suffered injustice and ostracism was ever allowed to be angry about it, or to have that struggle be explored past an offhand mention. I think the problem here is that the growth doesn't feel organic, in a sense. Yes, we get the hero kids wanting to save the villains because they can relate to them to an extent. But imho that resolve could've been A LOT more powerful if Horikoshi had spent some narrative time exploring why saving them is personal. Why it should not be read as a good kid saving a bad kid, but as a kid who so nearly turned "bad", who's now reaching out a hand to another kid who wasn't so lucky.
Let me explain this better. Deku's past quirklessness and the fact that no one (not even his mother) saw him as hero material for it, will 100% come up as a way to relate to Shigaraki pre-decay (especially with all the foiling of the line "What I really wanted you to say was..."). Ochako's struggles to be a good girl for her parents at the cost of her personal aspirations will definitely have a role in her understanding of Toga, who tried so hard to be a good daughter but wasn't met with the same effort by her family. And Shouto's hatred for his dad and his subsequent self-loathing will likely play a role in his understanding of Dabi, who's still caugh up in that hatred. I just don't think we'll ever get a full exploration of why Deku, Ochako and Shouto, in so many ways, didn't have it easy either. That just because they didn't go "bad", just because they had people in their corner cheering them on, they didn't suffer any less for the fact that society looked the other way. That just because they're "kind", a light of hope for the future, they cannot have a complex relationship with the circumstances that were against them. I do think that in that sense bnha is a pretty naive and frustrating story.
But, as Nagant said, the MC is excessively naive; he's too blinded by the fact that he grew up idolizing heroes to see the rot lurking behind them. The point of that scene was to have Deku state that the world works in shades of gray, but... the intended depth of that line didn't really work for me. Deku might now see others in shades of gray, but not himself. Imho the fact that he can think of Enji&Dabi, of Shigaraki, of the ordinary girl's discrimination in shades of gray... but never question how shittily he was treated before he got a quirk kind of makes his conclusions fall flat, personally. It sort of proves Nagant's point. He's too grateful for what the system has given him to ever see it for what it is, to want to dismantle it to create something better.
I kind of see him as someone whose wings got plucked before they could fully spread because of the role he was supposed to play in the story. His naivety reflects in how he conceptualizes the world around him, too. So he literally needs the narrative spoonfeeding things to him because he lacks the maturity—and the depth—to reach those conclusions on his own. Hori should've expanded on those a long time ago, unfortunately. But I don't think that telling that kind of story was ever the plan, tbh
#ali replies#this is not very coherent. I'm sorry#I'm not even sure if I understood your point#if not I apologize
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While You Sleep
Chapter 7
Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: fluff, mentions of violence
Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.
(a/n: i know the ending is ehh but i promise more will be explored in the next chapter <3
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Your giddiness from the morning carried into the afternoon. You felt like you were floating half the time. The orders flying in flew out too as you moved flawless and happily through your work. Even when some customers would come up insisting their drink wasn’t correct, you accepted the complaint and happily presented a fresh cup. It was impeccable. A combination of feeling rested and feeling like you had someone.
You were at the tail-end of a rush when Steve came into the shop. He didn’t get in line, though, and instead took the last seat at the counter, watching you float about cheerfully.
You glanced up from the espresso machine. “Good morning, Steve.”
“Good morning,” he greeted back, watching you froth some milk for the newly brewed espresso.
You started pouring the milk into the cup, moving your hand delicately attempting to create some kind of pattern. “No coffee today?”
Steve shook his head as you placed the order under the pick-up sign and called out the name on the cup. You had a second to breathe and placed yourself back in front of Steve.
“I actually came to see how everything was going.”
You playfully rolled your eyes, a little smirk tugging at your lips. “I may be new to the whole soulmate thing but I am not clueless when it comes to friends. I’m sure Bucky is sharing everything.” You turned to start wiping down your workspace.
Steve frowned, “Bucky hasn’t told me anything.”
Your movements stopped. Brows furrowed in confusion, you asked, “He hasn’t said anything about me?”
Steve shook his head. “I just think he’s nervous. Probably wants to keep you for himself right now. I hear some soulmates can get like that at first.”
“Oh,” you hummed. “Well I can try to fill you in but there’s not much to discuss really. It's only been like a day. Dinner was lovely, though. Thank you for that, by the way.” Steve smiled. You continued, “He walked me home that night which was very kind, and then this morning he surprised me. He was waiting outside my apartment building to walk me to work.”
Steve’s jaw went slack. “Bucky walked you to work? Here?”
You nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically but you couldn’t help yourself. “We had a lovely walk and chatted along the way.” He stared at you as if waiting. “Steve, I’m not going to tell you what we talked about.”
Steve let out a light chuckle, throwing his hands up dramatically in defeat. “Alright, alright,” he said, “I won’t pry but can you blame a man for trying? My best friend is finally learning about his soulmate. That’s big for anyone but for Bucky in particular...”
You couldn’t help the blush creeping up on your face for what felt like the millionth time today. It was one thing to hear stuff from Bucky but to get an outsider's perspective, well, that was a rush. You held a little bit of pride from it as well.
“Well, thanks for getting us together,” you smiled, turning to wipe down a coffee machine.
“You’re not mad at me for the ambush?”
“Oh, no, I’m very mad about that.” You said, pointedly, as you glanced over back at Steve. He still had a shit-eating grin on his lips, not even an ounce of sorriness came off him.
“Well, once again, can you blame me? How else was I supposed to get you two to actually talk? Besides, I’m not actually hearing any complaints from you about it.”
Darn. He got you there. You sighed with a small nod and faced Steve once more. “No, of course, I’m not complaining,” you admitted, “you’re just lucky it turned out well.”
“It was always going to turn out well,” Steve said, matter-of-factly. “You two are soulmates.”
You frowned, “I could’ve moved on.”
Steve chuckled, absolutely dismissing the idea. “That doesn’t actually happen now does it?”
No, it doesn’t, but you didn’t want to admit it out loud. Once you actually stood in the same room as Bucky, you knew there was no turning back. However it may have ended up, you were always to feel that pull towards him. You think you were hooked the second you saw him on the television, despite that initial onslaught of fear.
When a few seconds had passed and Steve was still met with no answer, he gave you a smile. “Have a good rest of your day.”
As he turned his back to you, you called out, “I gave him my number.” Once the words left your lips you felt a bit unsure of why you were telling him this. “That’s another thing that happened this morning. I just really wanted to…” What did you want to do?
“Open that connection?” Steve guessed but you realized quickly that was correct. You wanted a more direct line to him, to maybe establish more happenings and dates. It sounded so fucking childish in your head but this all was so new to you.
Once you nodded, confirming his assumptions. Steve said, “He’s probably very thankful for that.”
Now he was really done speaking. Steve promptly left after that without any more goodbyes or chances for you to blurt out ridiculous updates. Why, anyways, were you actually updating Steve? Maybe because part of you felt you owed him. He sort of deserved to know a little about the couple he aided along in bringing together. Or maybe he was living vicariously through you two seeing as his own soulmate was gone. Perhaps, though, at the end of the day, he was a friend and from your previous observations, this kind of chatter over soulmates and first glances was what other people did. It felt good to finally sort of be in on it all with everyone else.
***
It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed. You were just starting to make your way to your apartment. Slightly confused, you turned on the screen to see a text message written more in the form of a formal letter.
Good afternoon. Did this send? Xo, Bucky
Despite the silliness and him clearly dating himself (not like it was a secret, though), you were practically wooed by the little hugs and kisses at the end. It really reminded you of some old-timey letter. You swore, it was always the simplest things with this man that just pulled you in.
Quickly, you crafted your message back: It sent! Was that your first text message ever?
After hitting ‘send,’ you started on the path back home. While maybe not expecting an immediate response, you also didn’t expect to be halfway to your building before Bucky texted back.
Yes, the text read. Can I call? -Bucky
You chuckled at the continuation of the sign-off but quickly replied, telling him you were free to talk whenever. Within seconds, your phone was ringing.
“Hello!” you said, fairly a bit too cheerily into your phone. You could practically hear Bucky’s smile as he answered.
“Hello,” he greeted you. “How is work?”
“It was good,” you said, “I’m on my way home now.”
“What?” Bucky gasped. “You should’ve told me what time you got off. I would’ve walked you home.”
You giggled, “Well, you maybe you should’ve asked what time my shift ended. I think this goes both ways, Buck.”
There was a moment of silence. “I forgot,” he eventually admitted with a sigh. “Someone had to go and kiss my cheek so I really couldn’t think straight.”
You let out a loud laugh at his comment, feeling a blush creeping on slowly on your neck and cheeks. Bucky matched your laugh.
“I’m sorry I’m such a distraction, I’ll do better,” you giggled. “Was there a particular reason you wanted to call?”
Bucky let out a bit of a disappointing sigh as if he didn’t want to admit something. “I’m not too skilled at this texting thing.”
“Oh,” you frowned, a bit uncertain. “It’s just like typing on a computer.” Sure, you said it like it was so obvious, but then you sort of hit you, remembering who you were speaking to. You stopped in your tracks, wanting to bang your head against a wall. “I-I mean-,”
“It’s alright,” Bucky let out a breathy chuckle. “I have typed on a computer but my phone doesn’t mimic that. It’s one of those flipping phones.”
“Flipping phones?” It took you a second but then the lightbulb went off. “Oh, you have a flip phone. No keyboard, then.”
“No keyboard,” he confirmed. “I figured out how to use the little keypad but it’s not exactly efficient. Plus, calling allows me to hear your lovely voice.”
You continued walking, suppressing a ridiculous, dopey smile as you passed others on the street. “You’re such a flirt.”
He let out a thoughtful hum. “Yeah? You think so?”
You caught yourself nodding before realizing he couldn’t even see you. “Absolutely,” you said out loud.
“Glad to know I still got some game.”
“Oh?” You inquired. “Were you swooning all the ladies back in the day?” The second the words left your mouth, you realized where this conversation was going and a sharp twinge of jealousy ran through you. Your eyes began watering at just the ridiculous thought of a hopeless Bucky thinking he had no soulmate and mindlessly pulling in girls left and right.
Bucky must’ve picked up on the sudden shift in you - possible perks of the bond - because he spoke very carefully after a minute. “Past me certainly did some things,” he admitted, “but he didn’t know there was a beautiful woman waiting for him way down the line.”
Your throat tightened a bit at the threat of tears. You took a couple of deep breaths completely shocked by how emotional one little thought could make you. The conversation on the topic hadn’t even lasted a full minute and Bucky was frantically calming you down.
You wanted to change the subject. Possibly putting it back on you. “When did you first learn about me?”
Bucky went silent again. You pressed the phone to your ear with your shoulder, waiting, as you rifled for your keys in your bag when you saw your building coming into view.
“They… I… I went, or really it, went dormant and I don’t know how I remember this, usually, my brain went blank in those circumstances, but one day I got this vision of you. You were playing with this bright, white cat on the lawn with this little house right behind you.” Mittens, you realized as you began unlocking your apartment door. He saw you with your pet cat Mittens whom you had when you were just a kid. “I was really confused until I felt that tug in the soulmate line or whatever they call it. I knew it was real because you never vanished. No matter what they did to me, when I was put away, you were there. Like some sort of angel sitting in my head. They couldn’t take that from me. They could never take you.”
You thought you were going to start crying as you stood in the doorway of your apartment hearing the sadness mixed with faint hope run throughout Bucky’s voice as he recalled the dreams. You could practically feel it all, too, within you.
“Bucky…” you sighed. A light sniffle came through on the other end but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, Bucky abruptly turned the tables on you as you probably should’ve expected. While you wanted to talk more of it out with him (Lord knows it seems like he needed it) you let him steer the conversation.
“I know you said we could discuss this later but I’m very curious,” Bucky began, changing the subject as easily as you had just prior, “when did you first learn about me? You said you’ve seen some things but I’m really curious what your first impressions were.”
It was like someone just stabbed in through the chest. You really should’ve known this was coming. The first memories of Bucky - the Winter Soldier - flashed through your mind chaotically.
“I really don’t-,”
“Please,” he begged. The tone in his voice now… You had made it all too obvious earlier that morning. Of course, this was bound to come back around and you had opened the fucking gates. “It doesn’t have to be detailed. Just… something.”
You sighed, running your hands through your hair in anger as you took a seat on the couch. “You weren’t really you.” That was all you felt you could say as your heart was now in your stomach and your throat felt like it was filled with razor blades.
“I wasn’t…” He sounded confused at first but then the words trailed off. You could practically feel the exact moment when it all clicked for him. You wanted to throw up.
“Bucky-,”
You were cut off by the line going dead and the sound of dial tone greeting your ears.
#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#the winter soldier#bucky barnes#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff#mcu#mcu fic#marvel fanfiction#marvel#avengers#soulmate au#angst#fluff#writing*#fanfic#fanfiction
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what i made.
| order no. | 7/21
| summary | With a new Japanese member in their midst, Aria knows that he must be feeling homesick. So, she takes it upon herself to try to alleviate as much of it as she can.
| word count | 1.7k
| warnings | sickening fluff
| era | circa. January 2021
“Are you coming?” Aria had her phone held between her ear and her shoulder, scooping two reusable plastic bags from the countertop as she moved past. There was a small clinking sound and she paused, peering into the bag to make sure the glass containers hadn’t chipped off each other.
Doyoung would have her head.
Satisfied that there was no shattering, Aria moved again, snagging her coat as she pushed past in her free hand. Yuta hummed on the other end of the phone.
“Yeah, I’m about to leave.” Aria could hear him rustling about on the other end of the line.
“His apartment is the second one on the third floor remember - he told me Sungchan was going somewhere with Jungwoo, shopping I think?” Aria paused to think. ���Anyway, he’s gone all afternoon, so Taro is alone.”
The shuffling paused on the other end of the line. “He’s been quiet with you too, right? It’s not just me?” Yuta asked.
Aria hummed sadly. “Yeah, it’s not just you.” She pulled the door firmly closed behind her, only moving away when it signified that it had been locked with a beep.
Living in the Dreamie dorms again had been a change. A nice change, don’t get her wrong, but for the last year she’d been spending most of her time in the 127 dorms. Now, with the Dream comeback on the horizon, she’d moved back into her old room - happy to see that the fairy lights she’d installed (meaning: stuck onto the walls with sellotape) were still functioning after she’d changed the batteries.
“Remember how I got? Right after debut?” Aria questioned, now moving away from the doorway and into the hallway.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Aria replied. “I think he’s just gotten homesick - it happened to me, and I hadn’t been training for that long before debut.”
“Makes sense. It’s probably harder because he’s older as well - the pressure might be getting to him.” Yuta’s voice was growing sadder, so Aria interrupted him before he himself could get down.
“So!” She cheered, lifting up the bag of ingredients that was hanging in the crook of her arm. “We go and we cheer our last musketeer up.”
“I told you not to call us that.”
“Why not!”
Aria giggled as Yuta began to list out the numerous reasons why he hated that nickname, tucking the phone into the other crook of her neck as one side began to cramp up.
She entertained the man with small hums and little rebuttals every now and then, walking out of the left apartment wing and into the right; where Shotaro and Sungchan’s apartment was located.
SM had moved their dorms into one apartment building for Mark, Aria and Donghyuck’s peace of mind. And also theirs. There had been several incidents of Donghyuck and Aria dashing down to the Dreamie dorm at one in the morning to grab something; and it was going to give their managers grey hair if something wasn’t done about it.
Now, the larger apartment block they all lived in had two wings; the right wing, where the two 127 dorms were located, as well as Shotaro and Sungchan’s, and then the left - where the Dream dorms were. WayV was still in a separate apartment building, much to the entire group’s irritation, but it was a work in progress.
As Aria stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor to see Yuta already standing outside Shotaro’s apartment door, she pulled her phone out from beneath her ear and hung up without warning.
She snickered at Yuta’s face when the man realized he had been hung up on, and just as he was about to click redial, she popped up behind him.
“You were saying? Mr. Musketeer?”
Yuta rolled his eyes. “Akari, you’re asking for it now.”
Aria gently pushed past him, knocking twice on the door. She turned to face him afterwards, batting her eyelashes innocently. “I’m doing nothing at all- Taro! Hi!”
Shotaro opened the door with bleary eyes, blinking at the light that blinded him slightly. The apartment behind him was dark, no lights on, and by the state of his hair Aria could infer that they’d just woken the boy up.
“Hm? Akari?” Shotaro blinked sleepily at her. “What time is it?”
Aria bit her lip to stop the smile growing across her face. “It’s almost two in the afternoon, Taro.”
Shotaro blinked rapidly at that, clearing the fog of sleep from his eyes. “Oh! Is it? Sorry!” He opened the door wider, flicking on the lights after his two members walked in.
Aria held up the two bags on her arm. “Can I put these down somewhere? I think my hand is slowly losing circulation.”
Shotaro gestured towards the table that was partly covered in old newspapers. At a closer glance, the newspaper had a few spots of dried paint in various bright colours. She looked back to him. “Sungchan’s newest artistic endeavor go well?”
“Yeah!” Shotaro pointed towards where an old ripped t-shirt was hanging off the back of a door - a small graphic square had been painted on in haphazard lines. “He’s really proud of it.”
“He should be,” Yuta stepped forward to examine it further. “It’s really good.”
Aria dropped the two bags onto the clean side of the table, rubbing her hands together to get the blood flowing back into her fingertips. “Ok!” She exclaimed, turning to face the two men.
“I,” She began, poking herself in the chest, “Have a little surprise for the both of you.”
Yuta’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Me?” He mouthed, pointing to himself in a question. Aria nodded.
“But! I need the kitchen to do it, so go, shoo. Get out.” She waved at the two boys, shooing them out of the kitchen.
Shotaro whined at her slightly. “But I could help?”
“Then it defeats the purpose of a surprise, doesn’t it?”
He opened his mouth before closing it, frowning at the ground. Aria waved at him. “Go go. I’ll be done quickly.”
Once the two boys had disappeared into the main living room, Aria returned to the two bags on the table and slowly began to pull out the ingredients. The red bean paste that she’d made the night previous was packed away in one of Doyoung’s glass boxes for food, and she was careful to place it near the wall and out of the way of where she might knock into it.
Dorayaki. The red bean pancake had been something she loved as a child, and Yuta held similar sentiments. She could only hope that Shotaro did as well - because at this point, it was almost a ritual for the original two Japanese members to go out and buy dorayaki when one or both of them were feeling off.
With the filling set aside, Aria moved quickly to set up a small work station beside the hob, pulling out a mixing bowl and a whisk.
The eggs went into the bowl, followed by honey and sugar. They were stirred together quickly, combining in a matter of under a minute.
Next, came the flour, which was to be sifted in slowly.
“Sieve, sieve.” Aria mumbled to herself, pulling open and closing drawers periodically. “Where would they keep a sieve?”
She contemplated asking Shotaro for a minute, but ultimately scrapped that idea and chastised herself lightly. “They’re teenage boys, Akari. They’re not going to own a sieve.”
With that, she had to make do; using two forks laid over each other and pouring the flour mixture very slowly into the eggs. It was messy, and she got more flour on the counter than in the bowl, but it worked out for the most part.
Aria set the bowl aside as she turned on the electric rings, letting them heat up. The boys only had a small frying pan, that she could do nothing but pray was non-stick; and Aria winced at the thought that this might take a little bit longer than she’d hoped.
She strained her ears for a moment, comforting herself with the fact that the two boys seemed engrossed in a conversation, and weren’t missing her presence too much for the time being.
The mixture was poured on one by one, and gradually Aria amassed a sizeable stack of small, circular pancake shapes on the plate beside her. Then, it was only a matter of making a small mountain shape on the inside, before putting a second pancake on top - like a little hat.
She sealed the edges of each dorayaki, placing them on a plate.
“Taro? Yuta? Do you want to come on in here?” She raised her voice, hoping that they’d hear her.
“Yeah? What’s up?” Taro was the first to appear, his eyes curious before they caught sight of the plate held in Aria’s hands.
His face lit up like a lightbulb, and his mouth dropped slightly. “You did not.”
“I did.” Aria grinned.
“Hey, look at you go little baker.” Yuta came over to snag one from the top of the plate, and had his hand batted away.
“Stop it, they’re for Taro. He gets one first.” Aria scolded, and Yuta backed away with his hands up.
Shotaro, on his end, looked like he was about to cry. “F-for me? Really?” He gnawed at his bottom lip.
Aria placed the plate down on the counter, moving to wrap the slightly younger boy in a hug. “Yeah, for you. Consider this your official initiation to the j-line. Very exclusive club. You’re the first member to be added since 2016.” She pulled back with a wide grin.
Yuta joined the group hug, longer arms encircling both Shotaro and Aria where they stood. “You’re never getting rid of us now, Taro.” He teased. “We know your apartment passcode."
The trio stood quietly, smiles on all their faces until the dorayaki went cold on the plate.
Not a single one of them cared; and if Sungchan came home to Yuta lying on the floor with Shotaro lying curled up to his left side, and Aria lying across his lap with her hand tangled in Shotaro’s - all three, fast asleep - and took a picture to send to Jungwoo for blackmail?
Then that’s between the apartment walls, and him.
#*moonlight café#nct 24th member#nct imagines#nct female member au#nct female member#nct extra member#nct additional member#kpop addition#nct addition#kpop additions#nct additions#nct female oc#nct female addition#kpop!oc#kpop#nct scenarios#nct reactions#wayv#SUPERM
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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 7.1
"Don't make me say it again," Scaramouche warned. He conjured his catalyst once more, this time holding his palm out to you rather than charging at you.
"You want to fight? I'll make sure it kills you." Your eyes shone enough to further illuminate the entire room. Dottore made one of the Fatui agents note the brightness of your eyes in a notebook.
You didn't wait for Scaramouche to make the first move, and instead lunged at him. He evaded easily. Then he sent another bolt of electricity your way. You barely managed to duck in time, making sure to lower your weapon as close to the ground as possible to avoid shocking yourself again. You put your weight onto your hands and flipped yourself over, then stabbed at him the second you were back on your feet.
He's no Childe, you realized with widening eyes. I can beat him.
Childe leaned forward, his breathe hitching from the excitement. He itched to join the scuffle while Xiao kept his eyes focused solely on you. You performed his combo almost as flawlessly as Xiao did in past battles, this time being the one to pin the harbinger against the wall.
"How far do you want me to go, Master?" Your taunting angered the harbinger until a wild look consumed his face. "Is this far enough? Or do you want me to injure you? Tell me, what do you want me to do?" You hit the catalyst out of the air and it clattered to the ground several feet away.
Xiao marveled at your sudden change in personality. He had thought you were breaking, but maybe it was his own miscalculation?
"Since when did I give you permission to issue your own orders?" He threw himself at you and conjured his weapon once more. A fury of lightning strikes hit the air around you, but you were too quick in moving your polearm out of the way. The air charged with electricity, but it didn't do anything to you.
Well, except ignite a metaphorical lightbulb above your head. You sent a quick glance in Xiao's direction, but your attention was focused mainly on Childe. I don't need a vision. I can outsmart them. You slowly drew Scaramouche towards you until he was in the middle of the room again, then you charged at Childe.
"Huh?" It took a second for Childe to realize you were gunning for him and not Xiao. An excited smile played across his lips, and he let go of Xiao's shoulder. "I think I'll take this as an invitation." He summoned his bow and aimed a charged shot at your head. You ducked just in time, and it hit Scaramouche's catalyst. It exploded in a fit of electrical bolts and shattered across the ground. Childe cursed under his breath.
Scaramouche was beyond livid at this turn of events. "You--!" He turned his attention to Childe and was about to throw a punch.
"Now, Xiao!" You bolted for the exit as a precautionary measure.
"What?! NOW?" Xiao scrunched his brows together and glanced between the group of harbingers. He immediately began to concentrate a force of anemo around his feet, and the power slowly came to its crest.
"Wonderful!" Dottore cackled as he watched the two of you work together while Scaramouche and Childe were at each other's throats. "These were exactly the results I was looking for!"
Almost there! You nearly reached the set of doors when something pierced the back of your knee and sent you crashing to the ground. "Ngh!" Your fingers wrapped around Childe's arrow and yanked it out of your skin.
"--But unfortunately, this little performance is over," Dottore finished. One of his previously sleeping machines awoke from its slumber and shot a dart that landed in your shoulder.
"No!" You looked behind you to find Xiao also being effected by the wounds. "Xiao! Leave me! Go!" A fierce kick to your jaw shut you up.
Xiao bit through the pain and was near breaking the seal when a few portraits flared through his head of a small, purple-haired girl. Time seemed to slow down as he remembered her. I can't... His gaze slowly floated over to you. ...hurt you too...
.......................................
You woke up in your cell with your hands tied tight behind your back. "Dammit!" Your growl caught Xiao's attention, but he didn't dare look over. "I was so close--Wait. Why are you still here? I told you to get out. Xiao?" When he didn't look over to you, you wiggled your way into a sitting position despite the pain in your leg and scooted next to him. Unlike you, his hands were free. "Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"...I'm sorry."
"H-huh? What are you saying that for?"
Xiao leapt from the balcony of Angel Tavern and had just about reached to your hand when the portal closed and he was met with the empty night air. 'If only I had been quicker to hear her--'
The image flipped.
'Forgive me.' The Guardian Yaksha closed the little girl's eyes as he whispered an incantation. 'I will give you a second chance at life.' The purple-haired child mumbled something about herbs as she gasped for a decent breath of air.
"I..." You trailed off. I wasn't the only one? But he did something different that time...what was that? Some sort of talisman? "Xiao--" You shifted so you were positioned in front of him, and he lowered his gaze to avoid yours.
His eyes were part of an expression that was the saddest you've ever seen before. The confident, collected yaksha had finally revealed his vulnerable side. It never occurred to you that he had one to begin with, so you observed his precious state for a few quiet minutes.
"Was...she collateral damage?" Xiao didn't answer. "Hey. Could you please look at me?" He reluctantly gave into your request and raised his head, but kept his eyes at chin level. "What happened to either of us wasn't your fault. I'm not upset with you for not reaching me in time, either. What matters now isn't failures of the past; we are here together. You deserve to be free and happy. I'm more than happy to sacrifice myself so you can escape and live on without me. I mean, I'm going to die eventually anyway, right?" You leaned your head forward so your foreheads touched.
"You are my...companion. Even if you wanted to sever our connection, it would be impossible now. It's too strong, even without my blood connecting the two of us."
"Just because I'm willing to sacrifice myself doesn't mean I want to sever our bond. I've...never wanted to sever it."
"Hm?" His eyes finally met yours, and his saddened expression held a tint of confusion. "You never wanted to sever it? ...You...really are a difficult being to comprehend..."
"That's because I..." the words caught in your throat. "I..." Archons, why can't I get the stupid words out? "Xiao, listen," you took a deep breath to steady your racing heart as you stared directly into his eyes.
"Let me untie your hands," he interrupted the moment and gestured for you to turn around.
"U-um, okay." His fingers made quick work of the rope that had dug into your skin so much that the slightest brush of fingertips made you wince.
"There's something we need to discuss," he continued once you faced him again, eyeing the hallway to confirm that the bird device was completely out of the prison. "The others will be coming soon."
"Others?" The sudden change in topic made you want to kick yourself. There's no way you could gather up the courage to tell him again. "You mean Zhongli and Aether?" Why did he have to change the subject like that?
"Childe intentionally set out to hunt us down on the Tsaritsa's orders. I was woken by the fighting," Xiao continued to watch the door out of paranoia. "I passed out before I could be of use in battle, and didn't wake up until I was brought here. "Zhongli gave me a vision, a message while I was unconscious. He said he will return soon with help, but something about this is off. Something doesn't sit right with Childe."
"You think he might be helping us in some way?" You scoffed. "I'm not putting my faith in that monster."
"I'm not saying you have to. Just trust me when I say they'll be here soon. Don't lose hope, and don't sacrifice yourself for me." He put some distance between the two of you, and your heart shattered when you recognized he was emotionally distancing himself from you again.
"Right..."
.......................................
You decided to chase after your own confession once more a few hours later. "Do you have any desires, Xiao?" You absently traced the seal lines on the ceiling while you lay on your back.
"Desire?" The yaksha scoffed. "Do not judge adepti by your mortal ideals. I have no desire." He too lay on his back, with his arms folded behind his head as he stared absentmindedly at the most powerful sigil that was painted above him.
"That...kind of sounds like you're hiding something," you baited.
"Hiding? I'm hiding nothing. I just won't speak of desire to others. Do you mortals not have a rule about spoken wishes never coming true? Hm?" The cute way he upturned his nose at you brought a blush to your cheeks.
"T-That's not really the same thing...!"
"What do you mean that's not the same?!" He peered over at you when he heard a giggle escape your lips. It was light and airy, and he cherished the joy in your eyes when you met his. A small but unmistakable smile formed upon his lips. The two of you were grinning at one another, and a comfortable silence ensued as you continued to hold his gaze.
"Okay then, since you put it that way," you grinned to yourself and faced the ceiling once more. Xiao did the same. "Do the adepti ever fall in love?"
"Occasionally, yes." This prompted a side glance from you. "There is a half-human, half-adeptus in the Liyue Qixing. Ganyu."
"I think I've heard of her before." His recollection ignited a portrait of her within your thoughts.
"She is constantly faced with living between two worlds, both never quite having a place for her. She fought alongside Rex Lapis and I in the Archon Wars. But returning to your question, yes, there are occasions in which adepti will fall for mortals. I've never understood it myself."
"I see." You fell into a small silence as you dug further into anxiety. "Have you ever loved anyone?"
"No." The answer was way too quick for your liking, but Xiao continued. "I know nothing but death and destruction. Love does not interest me."
A weird feeling of vertigo hit you, and your eyes illuminated the cell a bit. "That's a lie."
"Huh?" Xiao snapped his head in your direction.
"Why are you lying to yourself? What are you lying to yourself about?" You weren't exactly conscious of the words spewing out of your mouth as if you were in some sort of trance while you gazed at him.
"I'm not," he defended.
"That's another lie. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, right?" Your eyes dimmed back to regularity.
"Tsk." Xiao resumed his previous position on the floor and grumbled something under his breath that you couldn't hear. "Then what about you? Has a mortal as strange as you ever come to love someone?" This'll get her to drop it--
"Yes, actually." You regretted answering the second the words left your mouth, and heat rose to your cheeks. "Er, I mean..."
Xiao received a pang of what he assumed was the human emotion of jealousy. How absurd that he had been reduced to human standards of emotions ever since he joined Aether's team. "You haven't mentioned them before," he commented. "Does this happen to be the desire you spoke of earlier?"
"U-um...yeah..." Your fingers fidgeted over your stomach, and you clenched the fabric of your shirt as you contemplated your next words. You made a conscious effort to refrain from accidentally praying or wishing for him to know who you were referring to.
"Don't worry. I'll bring you back to them safely." He rolled onto his side so his back faced you.
"I-I...!" Your eyes wavered at his back. I can't do it. I can't bring myself to tell him. Dammit, why does this have to be so difficult? He's right here. We could die any day now. So why can't I just come out with it?
...............................
Coming up: Manipulating ojou-chan. The yaksha bears his mask. A breached contract. A deal with the devil.
#xiao x reader#xiao#xiao genshin impact#genshin impact xiao#fanfiction#xiao fanfiction#xiao one shots#genshin fanfiction#genshin x reader
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Any thoughts™️ or headcanons about Marty and his ADHD and executive disfunction Bc I heard you bring it up before?
ehgivjkfnwofhlekj YES. Also, you have opened such a can of worms in giving me free rein to talk about this. I have many thoughts about ADHD Marty and love talking about this and ADHD in general Because Of Reasons so.... *dumps out contents of head onto blog post*
• So yeah, Marty has ADHD because I mean...have you seen the kid? I think he’d probably be the “combined” type since he seems to definitely have features of hyperactivity and can also be inattentive and easily distracted.
• Obviously, this doesn’t bode well for him school-wise. Strickland seems to just dislike the McFly family in general, but I can imagine Marty might be considered a bit of a slacker by the rest of his teachers too, due to his difficulty focusing/ sitting still / keeping track of assignments. Also, this is the 80s. There is a very little chance of anyone realizing he’s got ADHD and making any moves to address it or accommodate him. So Marty’s probably one of those kids who can’t stand school and is always barely treading water as he tries to navigate all that’s expected of him in an environment totally not built for anyone who isn’t neurotypical.
• There’s just...a lot of executive dysfunction going on here. Marty strikes me as the type to be so focused on his own thoughts/ what he’s going to say next, that he tunes out the person speaking to him or interrupts them. (There’s a little bit of this in the movies, esp that scene in the mall lot where Marty starts asking questions about the DeLorean & the suit Doc is wearing and Doc is all Stay focused, I’ll answer your questions eventually. Plus the scene in part II where Marty is just like, wandering away, about to explore the future and Doc has to drag him back, all the while Marty is just talking about being a rockstar).
• He’s super impulsive. For examples, see, um...the entirety of the trilogy.
• Timeblindness. Which isn’t helped at all by the fact that his watch is broken, lol. See: Marty being late for school the previous 3 days, deciding to change his entire outfit when there’s literally no room for error in getting to the clock tower, setting the DeLorean to only 10 minutes earlier in an attempt to save Doc, etc.
• Dave’s “You sleep in your clothes again?” line tells us Marty has done this before, probably because he just can't be bothered to/bring himself to get changed at night. So, he just crashes in whatever he’s wearing at the moment and his family has to remind him to change into new clothes.
• Has problems with rejection and reacts to things in extremes. One rejection at the audition sends him straight to I’m never gonna be good enough, why even bother, I’m gonna give up music FOREVER. And I can imagine that Marty is that way with most things. Like, as soon as he’s unsure of himself or doesn’t do well at something, he spirals and shuts down, which is why Doc has to constantly remind him to put his mind to things.
• Speaking of Doc...he totally knows Marty’s got ADHD (known only as ADD in the 80s). He saw an article about it one day while reading through scientific/medical journals, and a lightbulb went off above his head as he connected the dots. He even speaks to Marty about it one day in the hopes that understanding what’s going on will help Marty figure out strategies to help in day-to-day life. Doc is super supportive, allowing Marty the freedom to be who he is and do whatever he needs in order to feel focused/calm. He’s sure to explain things in a variety of ways when they work so that Marty understands, he recognizes when Marty needs air and will send him out on a walk with Einie, and he’s completely unfazed when Marty is doing circles in the lab, chatting a mile a minute and fiddling with things he finds laying around.
• I have this lovely little headcanon (that makes an appearance in a couple of BTTF fics that may never see the light of day) where Doc uses tools and fasteners around the lab to make fidget toys for Marty. You know those nuts and bolts pencil toppers? Like, it’s literally a colorful bolt with a wing nut? He makes those, and Marty holds onto and uses them while they work/ at home/ even discretely at school sometimes.
• Doc also makes the connection that weighted items keep Marty grounded and help with a lot of sensory issues. One day, Marty is like, even more all over the place than usual. Just a blur of energy and anxiety and chaos. Doc is like, Um...are u ok? Maybe you should lie down ??? or something?? So Marty does, and Einstein goes right ahead and jumps on the bed and plops himself right on top of Marty, who becomes completely calm and falls asleep. And so, while Marty cannot walk around wearing a dog at all times, Doc is like, L A Y E R S?? and we all know how Marty dresses so....
• Last thing! Original timeline McFlys aren’t understanding at all of Marty’s various quirks and just don’t understand him at all. He’s constantly stifled in that house, told to sit still, be quiet, calm down, etc. He’s always getting yelled at for forgotten chores or bad grades or whatever, so he kind of learns to just repress his energy and emotions to avoid getting into trouble. (See dinner scene where our normally exuberant and talkative Marty sits completely still and says three entire words)
• Improved timeline McFlys are much more aware and in-tune to Marty. They’re understanding and supportive, doing whatever they can to help Marty be happy and successful in school and life in general.
And...I will stop myself there. Thanks for the ask! This was a lot of fun to think/write about. I saw the ask this morning and was like !!!!!!!!! all day, lol.
#back to the future#bttf#marty mcfly#adhd#asks#the ''Doc and Marty are both neurodiverse'' thing is a favorite of mine to ramble about#like...am i projecting??#HMMM mayhaps#also Alex P Keaton is Not Neurotypical either#thank u anons for sending me all these fun questions lately
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The Five Dates (Reid Request)
Summary: Reader decides that she wants to help Spencer experience the things he missed out on when he was a teenager.
A/N: I had a couple of people ask for a part 2 to The Five Times so here it is. Originally was gonna leave that fic as a standalone but writer’s block on my other WIPs led to this sequel. I strongly recommend reading the first part before reading this one so that the story-line makes more sense. As always, thank you to the lovely @spencer-reid-in-a-pool and @wishingwellwriting for being fantastic betas. They have amazing fics, so if you need another Spencer Reid fix, they can most definitely deliver. Enjoy!
Category: Fluff
Content Warnings: None
Word Count: 6.0K
Masterlist
The first date I had with my neighbor, I don’t think it really counted as a date.
Spencer and I were eating dinner at my apartment after he told me the man who tried to attack me was in custody. We were sitting on the couch with the TV on but I didn’t know what was playing since we were talking the whole time.
He told me that he does magic tricks, enjoys ghost stories, and loves to learn. In return, I told him my favorite hobbies, some habits that I can’t get out of, and food that I enjoy cooking. He listened with rapt attention, hanging on to every word I said. It was amazing being able to spend time with someone like this. It felt like I’ve known him for years rather than a few months.
“…and that’s probably my worst experience from school,” I finished, recounting the tales of my teenage years. “What about you? Anything you wish you can take back from the early days?”
Spencer suddenly turned away from me and became silent. I looked at him in confusion. Was it something I said? Did I offend him?
“Oh, I—I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” I asked, my voice coming out as a whisper because of how low I spoke.
He quickly shook his head, as if driving away some bad thoughts that plagued his mind. “It’s not you. It’s just that I was a 12-year-old prodigy at a public high school in Vegas. I didn’t have a lot of fun experiences.”
I could hear the sorrow in his words when he told me this. I know how cruel kids could be, especially to someone they considered an outcast. My heart ached for the little boy who went through so much misery at such an early age.
There were a few more seconds of silence before I had a lightbulb moment. “Well, maybe we can change that,” I suggested. “We can do some things that typical teenagers do.” A million ideas immediately came to mind. We can go bowling or ice skating or bike riding.
“I don’t know. I kind of got over that point of my life.”
“Oh.” There was no hiding the sadness in my voice, which made me feel worse. There’s no reason for me to feel dejected over his statement. I shouldn’t be so selfish.
Spencer must have sensed that something was off with me because he quickly tried to correct himself. “It’s not that I don’t want to have these experiences. I just find it embarrassing that I haven’t had them yet, even now.”
“I’m not going to judge you, Spencer. I don’t want you to feel embarrassed with me,” I assured him. I moved my hand towards his as an offer to hold, which he surprisingly took. His hand completely enveloped mine. “Tell me some things that you’ve always wanted to do when you were younger but never got the chance.”
He took a moment to think while I anxiously waited for his response. “I never had the chance to have a sleepover. I had too many responsibilities at the time. I always wanted to go to a festival or a carnival. I also—” he suddenly stopped talking. I noticed his face turning slightly red as he bit his lower lip, his other hand patting against his leg.
“What is it, Spencer?”
“I-uh always wanted to wine and dine a girl, maybe take her to see a play or movie. I wanted to take an evening stroll and just stargaze for a while.” His voice became smaller the more he talked. I hated that he started to feel self-conscious around me but knew that it couldn’t be helped. I was going to change that. I was going to make sure that Spencer Reid experienced teenage fun.
“Anyway, it’s getting late,” he said, removing his hand from mine. “I have to go in tomorrow and I am sure you have an early day as well.”
“Let me put these dishes away and I’ll walk you to the door.” I grabbed our plates and walked to the kitchen, placing them in the sink. My mind was racing with thoughts on what to do for Spencer. When I returned to the living room, he was already by the hallway, grabbing his belongings.
I slowly opened the door for him, watching as he stepped out of the apartment. Before he made it too far, I grabbed the sleeve of his arm, prompting him to turn around. Here goes nothing.
“Spencer Reid, would you like to go on a date with me?” I asked, the pitch of my voice a lot higher than normal. Despite feeling nervous, I made sure to look him in the eye and maintain contact. He stared back at me, mouth agape while his face was turning pink.
“Are you sure?” he questioned, looking down at his feet. Mental note: build up Dr. Reid’s confidence, at least around me.
“I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” I answered honestly. I smiled at him when I noticed his lips tugging upwards.
“Yes. I would like to go on a date with you, (Y/N).” The smile on his face was adorable and I was happy to be the cause of it. “Uh m-maybe I could get your number, so that we can talk,” he added.
“Sure.” I took my phone from my pocket before giving it to him. He put in his number, a bit slowly but I wasn’t complaining. I saw it as more time I got to spend with him. Once he handed my phone back, we just stood in front of each other for a while.
Before I lost my resolve, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his cheek. Before either of us could do anything, I muttered a quick “Goodnight Dr. Reid,” and closed the door. My heart thumped erratically as I slid down the door.
“Goodnight (Y/N)” I heard through the block keeping us apart. His footsteps got quieter and quieter until he eventually opened and closed his own door.
At that moment I couldn’t help but think that I was definitely infatuated with Spencer Reid.
●●●
The second date I had with Dr. Reid, I was a nervous wreck.
Spencer and I have been texting back and forth these last few days. Luckily, we were both free this weekend, so we planned on going out. I haven’t told him yet where we’re going, much to his dismay. The only hint I gave him was to dress casually.
I’ve done some research and found that there was a food festival happening Saturday afternoon. A lot of local restaurants will have stands and distant establishments will be sending food trucks. Their theme is “Around the World” so we’ll get to explore various cultures. I’m hoping we can learn some new things from the different cuisines that would be showcased.
Saturday came around and I made sure I had everything ready. I wanted our date to go off without a hitch. I wanted this to be one of Spencer’s best experiences.
I heard a knock on my door, causing my heart to pick up a bit. I don’t know why I started to sweat. Sure, I’m going on a date with a good looking and successful man but there’s nothing to be nervous about, right? Right.
I heard another knock, more hesitant this time. I quickly made my way towards my door, taking a deep breath before opening it. Thank the angels I took in that breath because I immediately lost it again at the sight of him.
Spencer was holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Lavender roses and red carnations were a few that I could identify. I think the purple flower might be an orchid.
He lifted them towards me, a slight tremor in his hands. “These are for you.”
“They’re lovely Spencer, thank you.” I grabbed the flowers from him, taking in the smell of the blossoms. “I’m going to put these in a vase. I’ll be right back.”
I made my way to the living room to do just that. I grabbed my bag and a jacket before checking myself in the mirror one last time. Happy with my appearance, I returned back to Spencer. I shut the door behind us as we walked towards the elevator.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” Spencer said as we entered the elevator. I can tell he was still nervous, the thrumming of his fingers against one another and the bouncing on his feet a few signs hinting towards his anxious state.
“You look dashing as well. Although I do remember telling you to dress casually, mister,” I said, a small smile appearing on my face at the sight of his own.
Spencer was wearing a dark pair of slacks with a light purple button-down shirt. His hair was slicked and combed back. He was rocking back and forth on his beat-upped chucks and I can see the mismatched socks peeking through. He looked a bit silly, especially considering where we are going, but handsome nonetheless.
“I don’t have casual clothing. Plus I wanted to look good for you.” I could feel my face getting warm because of his words. “By the way, it’s doctor.”
I giggled at his comment, which caused him to laugh as well. We exited the elevator and out of the lobby.
“We’re going to take the subway to our destination,” I informed him. “It should take less than half an hour to get there.”
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”
“It’s still a surprise, doctor,” I beamed at him.
Fortunately, we did not experience any delays on the train. We spent the duration of the commute getting to know one another even more. He told me some stories involving outings with his co-workers and I could tell that he really loved each and every one of them. I shared some work stories and funny memories with my colleagues as well.
Once we got to our stop, I grabbed his hand and led us to the festival. It was a 10-minute walk from the exit. I turned to him as soon as I saw our destination within our sights.
“A food and wine festival?” he questioned.
“Yeah, I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind when we were talking the other day but I thou—“
“I like it, especially since I’m spending the day with you.” There goes my heart again, picking up pace as if I ran a marathon. I’m sure he says these things on purpose just to see me flustered.
Spencer squeezed my hand in his and we explored the grounds. We decided to share a plate from each stall so that we can experience as much as possible. Spencer walked us to the first stall he saw, which showcased food from the Philippines.
“Did you know that Filipino food draws roots from their neighboring Asian nations as well as some Spanish countries?” he stated as we looked at the menu, “It is considered to be a perfect blend of Western and Eastern food. Actually—” he suddenly stopped himself. I looked at him curiously, wondering what caused his interruption.
“Sorry, I have a tendency to ramble.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I want to hear what you have to say. Let’s order something and you can finish telling me.”
He smiled brightly at me and squeezed my hand. After ordering a siopao to share, we sat at a table while he finished telling me facts about Filipino cuisine. As a matter of fact, he told me a lot of information about various cultures and countries as we walked from vendor to vendor.
We tried risotto from an Italian booth, which Spencer said was not as good as his friend’s cooking. We also got carne asada tacos from a Mexican food truck, where I discovered that tomatoes, dragon fruit, and vanilla originated from Mexico. We ate some sake nigiri sushi from a Japanese stand. I found out that Spencer cannot use chopsticks to save his life. I decided to feed him so that he doesn’t accidentally drop our food. We ventured to numerous vendors and had our fill in almost everything that was offered. We even had desserts and some drinks.
By the time Spencer and I made it back to our apartments, we were both stuffed. I was close to going into a food coma and I knew Spencer wasn’t far behind either.
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in my life,” he commented as we stood in front of my door.
“You and me both. I’m sure I gained 10 pounds,” I joked, enjoying the way he laughed at my attempt at being humorous. I still held his hand in mine, not wanting the evening to end, but I knew it had to. We had spent the whole day together and we were tired.
Spencer made the decision for us. He lifted my hand, placed a chaste kiss on my knuckles and wished me sweet dreams before he retreated to his own home.
At that moment I couldn’t help but think that I was definitely charmed by Spencer Reid.
●●●
The third date I had with Spencer was ruined, but then fixed.
I was organizing a picnic basket when I received a call from him. I was puzzled as to why he was calling, especially when we’re supposed to meet up in a couple of hours.
“Hey (Y/N)” His voice came out gruff as if he just woke up.
“Hi Spencer, are you okay?” I heard some coughs coming from his end and I immediately became concerned over his well-being
“I don’t think I can go out this afternoon. I’ve been sick these past few days. I was really hoping to get back on my feet by now. I am so sorry.”
Before he could say anything else, because I knew he would in his remorseful state, I interrupted him. “Spencer, it's fine. We’ll raincheck,” I assured him. He tried to thank me, but another set of coughs came over. These sounded worse than the first ones.
Spencer managed to get out a goodbye before hanging up the phone. I contemplated what to do. He sounded so sick and miserable on the phone. He likely has a sore throat, maybe even muscle aches. The idea of him alone and shivering caused a dull pain in me.
I decided that I was going to see this man. I could make him something warm to eat and lend him my thickest blanket. We could even watch a movie together too.
With that in mind, I made some chicken soup and herbal tea. I put the items in containers before placing them in my picnic basket. I grabbed my largest and heaviest blanket, placing it over my shoulder. It wouldn’t fit in the basket, no matter how many times I folded it. Lastly, I grabbed my laptop, so that we can stream movies. Spencer once told me he wasn’t big on technology so I had no idea whether he owned a TV or not.
Once I had all the essential items, I made my way across the hall, knocking on his door. Unsurprisingly, it took a while for him to open the door. I waited a minute or two before he answered and was disheartened by what I saw.
Spencer was pale, well paler than usual, with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. His under eyes were dark and his nose was so red. He wore a robe over his pajamas. He looked as if he was about to fall over any second now.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, eyeing the blanket wrapped around me. His voice was slightly slurred and he was leaning on the doorframe to keep himself up.
“Well I figured since I couldn’t take you out on a picnic, I’ll take the picnic to you.”
He looked down at my hands, noticing the basket I was holding.
“You shouldn’t be around me, you’ll get sick.”
“Spencer Reid, you’re worth the cooties. May I please come in?”
He relented, leaving the door open for me to follow. I took in his apartment, appreciating his more vintage style. He had a massive collection of books, some of them in languages I couldn’t even identify.
“You have a miniature bookstore in here,” I commented. I turned towards him, seeing his figure laying down on the couch.
“I like to read,” he simply said, the words muffled by the couch cushion he was lying on. I went towards him, shrugging off the blanket from me and placing it on top of his lap.
“If you get cold, use this to keep you warm. I’m going to heat up the soup and tea. Try to stay awake for me.”
Spencer nodded his head, bunching up the soft material in his hands. I quickly grabbed the content from the basket and dashed to the kitchen. It took me a few minutes to find where he puts his utensils, but I had everything taken care of in no time. I even found a tray to help me carry the food.
I brought the dishes to him, warning him of the heat. “I hope you like chicken soup and ginger tea. I added some honey to satisfy your sweet tooth.” He thanked me, holding the bowl close to him to keep him warm. I settled myself on the couch next to him, happy that he wasn’t complaining about our proximity.
“I have my laptop with me. We can watch some movies if you want.”
“I’d like that a lot.” We ended up watching The Matrix and Minority Report. Spencer tried his best to stay quiet during the films, but couldn’t help but to comment about certain technicalities and improbabilities. I found his rambling endearing, adding in my own opinions after he finished sharing his thoughts. I had to remind him to not strain his voice when he got on a tangent on how the idea of living in a simulation is not possible. He lost me once he started talking about quantum physics.
Spencer looked at the clock, noticing the late hour. “Are you going to leave?” His voice was low, and I am positive it was not because of his ill state. He was talking with passion and intensity a few moments ago.
“Do you want me to?”
“No. Is that selfish of me?” My heart skipped a beat. Knowing that he wanted me to stay with him gave me feelings I couldn’t quite describe.
“Of course not, Spence. We could have that sleepover you missed out on,” I stated enthusiastically. He stared at me for a moment, and I wondered if I misunderstood the situation. Before I could apologize for my assumption, he started talking.
“That’s the first time you called me Spence.” He’s right. All this time I’ve been addressing him as Spencer or Dr. Reid. “I like it,” he finished.
“Let me grab my pajamas and some toiletries. I’ll be back before you know it.”
I sprinted to my apartment, changing into my sleepwear and grabbing my necessities before returning to Spencer’s. I am sure I was there and back under five minutes.
Spencer and I continued our evening playing board games. We played some chess (which I lost at) as well as poker (which I also lost at). He showed some card tricks and tried to teach me a basic one. I couldn’t do it as smoothly, but he said that with practice I could become a magician.
I knew the night was coming to an end when he began to yawn every few minutes. Despite saying that he could stay up longer, his body needed to recover.
“You should take my bedroom,” he offered after coming back from the restroom, “You’ll be comfortable there.”
“Absolutely not. Slumber Party rules dictate that we sleep in the same room.” He laughed at my proclamation.
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. Now I’m going to use your bathroom. Do you keep your spare sheets in the closet?”
He nodded drowsily as I made my way to his bathroom. I did my nightly routine and grabbed a blanket from the closet. When I returned to Spencer, he was already dozing off.
He looked so peaceful at this moment, I’ve never seen such a look on him. I kissed the bridge of his nose and made my way to the armchair.
I settled myself as comfortably as I can.. Before I fell asleep, I could have sworn I heard a “Goodnight” coming from his direction. When I peeked to see if he was awake, his eyes were still closed but he had a wide smile on his face.
At that moment I couldn’t help but think that I was definitely captivated by Spencer Reid.
●●●
The fourth date I had with Spence, he was in charge.
Spencer told me that he wanted to take me out as a way to show his gratitude. I wanted to tell him that it was unnecessary, but he looked so eager and I didn’t want to take that away. Plus, I was looking forward to whatever he came up with. I know that with Spencer, I am bound to have a good time.
He kept everything a secret for me, which was no surprise considering how our first official date went down. The only thing he told me was to dress nicely, yet comfortably.
My body was pulsating with excitement. I made sure to spend extra time with my makeup. I didn’t want to go overboard, but I definitely wanted to accentuate my features. I chose to wear a maxi skirt with my favorite blouse. I added a few accessories and paired everything with some heels.
I didn’t have to wait long before hearing a knock on the door. He always seems to have impeccable timing. I practically floated towards my door with how happy I was.
Spencer was dressed in black dress pants and a deep blue button-down. The outfit was accompanied with a dark tie and blazer combo. He even had dress shoes on, which came as a surprise since this man loves his chucks.
“You look as handsome as always, Doc.” He smiled at my words. I love that he was more comfortable with my compliments. It seems like we came a long way from him stammering over his words and fidgeting with his hands. Although I must admit that I am going to miss his bashful behavior.
“I got this for you.” He revealed what appeared to be a corsage in his hands, the flowers of the accessory matching the one pinned to his blazer. “Uh- I-I know it is probably a bit um juvenile. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”
“Spence, I love it. And I’ll love it more if you put it on me.”
He beamed at me, taking the corsage out of the casing and carefully securing it on my wrist. He was so gentle and patient while doing the task. Once he was done, we headed down to the lobby.
“I hope you don’t mind that I am driving,” he said as we made our way to what I assumed to be his car, a two-door pale blue Volvo. I was not surprised, this is his exact style.
“As long as you get us to our location in one piece, I don’t mind at all.” He opened my door for me before settling in on the driver’s side.
As Spencer drove, we talked about the antique style of his possessions. He shared that his Mom had a similar taste and he was very close to her when he was younger. I wanted to ask more, elated that he was telling me about his family, but decided to hold back. The way his voice wavered as he was talking showed me that this was a major effort for him. I decided to share some stories about my family and their influence over my own lifestyle.
Time always seems to fly with Spencer because before I knew it we were already parked. Being the chivalrous man that he is, Spencer made sure to open my door for me. He held my hand as we walked to the restaurant. I admired the ambiance of the venue. There was a band playing soft jazz music and lights scattered upon the ceiling. The décor was beautiful and the overall atmosphere was very cozy.
The hostess led us to our seats after Spencer informed her of our reservation. We sat at a corner table, providing us the perfect amount of privacy.
“Have you been here before?” I asked.
“No, I haven’t. As a matter of fact, a friend of mine recommended this place. He said that it was the perfect place to...uh, woo a girl.”
“Well, I am entirely wooed. But that is mostly due to the present company.” He smiled at me, before looking at the menu. I decided to do the same after noticing the pink tint at the tip of his ears. I still got it.
The rest of our dinner went smoothly. We ordered our meals as well as a glass of wine, in which I was informed of the many health benefits that come with drinking a glass of red. I was able to convince Spencer to show me a magic trick using a coin and napkin. He did it multiple times, yet I couldn’t find out how it worked. We talked about music, literature, art and so much more. We were so deep into our conversation that we didn’t notice our food had arrived.
My food smelled amazing and tasted even better. I couldn’t help but ask Spencer for a bite of his. He was willing to share as long as he got a piece of my food as well. We ended up splitting our meals with each other.
After paying for the entire bill, much to my protest, Spencer took my hand and led me out of the restaurant. I thought it would be the end of our night together but was wrong. Spencer said that there was one more surprise for me.
The car ride this time was a bit on the longer side and I wondered where on earth he could be taking us. It wasn’t until I saw a sign that a large smile appeared on my face.
“A drive-in theater?” I excitedly asked.
“Yes,” he confirmed, “I hope you don’t mind watching a scary movie.”
“As long as you don’t mind me holding you when I get scared.”
“Deal.”
It was not difficult to find a good spot to enjoy the film. I screamed and jumped multiple times for two hours straight, much to Spencer’s amusement. He attempted to distract me by telling me facts about certain aspects of the movie which marginally helped. By the end of the film, I had started to get drowsy due to all the mini shots of adrenaline.
“Did you have fun?” he asked as he drove us home. I could hear the uneasiness in his question. I’m not sure why he was nervous, this was hands down the most fun I ever had on a date.
“Of course, Spence. This had to be the best date I ever went on. Thank you.”
He smiled widely at the road and I made sure to cherish the moment. It was not often that I got to see such a large grin on Spencer’s face. Happiness was such a good look on him. It makes him appear much more lively and handsome.
I closed my eyes, allowing them to rest momentarily. I didn’t expect to be so tired from an outing. The motion of the car driving on smooth pavement was almost like a lullaby that lured me into a light slumber.
I’m not sure how much time has passed before I was lifted into someone’s arms. If it wasn’t for the scent of coffee and cinnamon, I surely would have panicked. I felt the press of warm lips on my forehead and couldn’t stop the sigh that left my mouth. I buried my head deeper into the arms that cradled me.
At that moment I couldn’t help but think that I definitely adored Spencer Reid.
●●●
The fifth date I had with Spencer was unplanned.
Spencer has been going on cases more often recently, so we didn’t have a chance to meet. We’ve been texting one another, even calling if time allows it, but I wanted to see him.
When he told me that he was finally flying back home, I decided to meet him at his job. I considered whether or not this would be crossing boundaries, but chose to accept the consequences of my actions later.
The drive to the building where Spencer works was not as long as I imagined. After receiving a visitor’s pass from the front desk and a vague direction of where to go, I found myself lost on the sixth floor.
“Can I help you sweetheart?” a feminine voice asked me. I turned to see a brightly colored fashionista in front of me. I was in awe of her vibrant attire. “Hun?”
“Oh uh, I’m sorry. I’m—I’m waiting for Spencer Reid to return. Umm, is there a place where I can wait for him?”
She beamed at me, her comforting smile providing me some relief. “The team isn’t coming for another half hour. You can wait in my office if you’d like.”
I nodded my head and followed her, taking in my surroundings. I have never been in such an official building before.
“Here we are,” said the kind stranger, leading me to a room filled with a bunch of monitors and computers. “I’m Penelope by the way. I work with Spencer and friends.”
“I’m (Y/N), Spencer’s neighbor.” I practically saw a lightbulb go over her head as she let out a squeal. Penelope started talking a mile a minute, I couldn’t understand what she was saying. It wasn’t until she saw the bewildered expression on my face that she paused and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that Spencer has spoken about you a few times. I didn’t want to assume initially but I figured who you were earlier. Our resident genius doesn’t get many visitors here.”
My face heated up. I was stuck on the fact that Spencer spoke about me to his colleagues, the people he considers his second family. I wondered what he said. Hopefully nothing too embarrassing, he always seems to catch me at some mortifying moments.
“Anyway,” Penelope continued, “you have to tell me about yourself. Spencer doesn’t share enough details and I promised not to search you up.”
For the next half hour, Penelope and I traded information about ourselves. She told me how she got the job as a technical analyst and some other activities she does outside of work while I told her about my typical routine and favorite pastimes.
Penelope’s phone vibrated and she immediately looked at her screen. “They’re here. Let’s go meet them upfront.”
We walked back to where I came from, standing in front of the elevators. We didn’t have to wait long for the doors to open before I saw a pack of people exiting. My eyes instantly landed on Spencer, he was the tallest in the group.
Spencer was currently looking at his phone, typing something on the screen. He finally brought his head up once he put his cell away and I felt mine vibrate with a notification. Once his eyes landed on me, he pushed past the people he was with and darted towards me.
I opened my arms as he drew me into a tight hug. It is a shame that I have not embraced Spencer more because he gives the best hugs. Everything about him automatically puts me in a tranquil state of mind.
“What are you doing here?” he asked once he put some space between us.
“I wanted to see you. Is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay. I missed you.” That beautiful smile graced his face one more. How is it possible that this man is in my life?
The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled Spencer and I away from our bubble. My face heated up as I saw his friends surrounding us.
“Who’s this pretty lady Reid?” asked the muscular man. I looked at all his colleagues, recognizing the blonde as the woman who was at his apartment a couple of months ago. That was when I mistakenly thought she was his girlfriend. She smiled at me, no doubt knowing who I was.
“This is (Y/N), she’s my gi—uh she’s my ummm …” he trailed off, glancing at me. I didn’t notice that we have yet to establish our relationship with one another.
“I’m his neighbor,” I finished. Spencer introduced me to his team before telling me to wait while he gathered his belongings. During his absence, Penelope convinced me to join her for a girl’s night out in the future with the other ladies. I couldn’t say no to the offer, her enthusiasm was seeping through her pores.
When Spencer returned, he grabbed my hand and said his goodbyes while leading us to the elevator. I saw Penelope whisper excitedly to the muscular man that I learned was named Derek, before the doors even got a chance to close.
“My car is here. I can drive us back home,” I informed Spencer.
He nodded his head as we exited the building and made our way to the car. I know that Spencer does not particularly like to discuss his cases, so instead I asked him questions of the places he has been at recently and whether he had the chance to explore. He animatedly told me of a book he purchased that was in a foreign language as well as a vinyl record he got at a music store.
“Can we go to the park?” he suddenly asked. I was a bit confused but decided not to question him.
“Yea, sure.”
The park was not far from where we currently were. After finding a spot and getting out, he took my hand in his once again, leading us down a serene trail. The sound of crickets chirping while the soft wind breezed through us was very relaxing. I looked up at the sky, taking in the tiny visible stars and full moon.
Spencer stopped walking in the middle of the trail, tugging my hand so that I was closer to him. He stared at me as his tongue brushed across his lips.
“(Y/N)?” His voice had that shy tone once again.
“Yes, Spencer?” He brought his hand up to tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear.
“May I kiss you?”
My heart started racing at his question. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. My voice was stuck in my throat so I nodded my head instead.
Spencer’s hand gently held my cheek as he leaned down towards me. I closed my eyes once his soft lips landed on mine, wrapping my free hand around his neck. He tasted sweet, as I knew he would. I pressed more firmly against him, enjoying the sound of his moan when I swept my tongue across his lower lip. He allowed me to explore his mouth as he did the same to me.
I pulled away after a while to catch my breath. Spencer placed his forehead against mine, breathing heavier than I have ever seen.
“(Y/N)?” he panted out, his voice a lot more confident than it was beforehand.
“Yes, Spencer?”
“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”
I looked into his gentle hazel eyes, embracing all the emotions he was showing me through them. That gorgeous smile adorned his face once more. He looked so beautiful right here.
“I would love to be your girlfriend, Spence.”
I captured his lips this time around, relishing the warmth of his mouth on mine.
At that moment I couldn’t help but think that I was definitely in love with Spencer Reid.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#reid fluff#reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid reader insert#dr spencer reid#fluff#mgg
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Hii can I request Murasakibara crush hitting on him ?
i am here to offer you cute headcanons mwehehehe
Murasakibara x Reader
[Headcanons]
“Muro-chin… Am I too tall?” it was quite an unusual question considering it was coming from Murasakibara
“Well, you are the tallest here. Why do you ask?”
“Tch, never mind.”
while Murasakibara never really thinks about anything other than having a steady supply of snacks and how bothersome basketball can be, sometimes he gets agitated at the fact that Himuro is quite a popular looker himself because 1.) it’s way too noisy with people around and 2.) it does remind him that Murasakibara is universally feared by everyone and by all walks of life
he really is tired of the strange/fearful looks he gets from everyone: the little kids, his own peers, the elderly, and even some strays, but it’s something he’s mostly grown accustomed to
but recently, he’s been thinking about his physique ever since he fell a little too hard for you
since meeting you, you never gave any indication that you particularly cared about his height or limb length, but he still wonders if there is ever a chance in a million where you would actually like him romantically… like he’d admit that
it’s no surprise that he and Himuro are the default two peas in a pod everywhere they go, so every time someone would approach them, Muraskaibara immediately zones out or hobbles away to look for something interesting to do, assuming that they’re always here for Himuro
which is what he exactly thought when you approached them one day with a quite determined face (he wouldn’t zone out on you though, you’re the only exception where he’d stay to hear the conversation)
but your face immediately brightens up seeing Murasakibara, which lowkey gets his mind racing in confusion… did his heart thump a little faster? nOOoooOO what are you talking about??? that’s not happening right now, totally not…
“Murasakibara-kun!” you call out to him. “I wanted to tell you how cool you were in the Winter Cup! I actually always think you’re really captivating to watch when it comes to your basketball! If you don’t mind, if you still have upcoming practices, do you mind if I tag along? I already asked the coach and she was totally okay with it as long as I’m not disruptive, and I’ve already introduced myself to the other Yōsen teammates.”
Murasakibara blinks very slowly to process what you just said to him
“I don’t do anything but stand to defend.” You adamantly shake your head in such a cute way that he almost blushes at the sight… almost
“No way! You practically zoomed across the other side of the court so easily! Your dunks are so jaw-dropping too…!”
see, he’s not used to such positive attention that he can’t help but start mumbling, insisting that he’s tired of the sport and might quit soon, so therefore, you were “wasting your time with him”
Himuro was meanwhile standing there observing, his smile growing wider the more he sees that his suspicions were correct
he couldn’t believe it: all your compliments completely flew over Murasakibara’s head
for the next few practices you sat yourself on the bench, watching Murasakibara practice with stars in your eyes, and if someone looked really closely at you, your cheeks were tinted pink too
with his crush constantly at practice now, Murasakibara actually has an incentive to actually try and put effort into practice for you, albeit not too hard because he didn’t want to accidentally scare you if you suddenly changed your mind about his strength/looks
these actions definitely didn’t go unnoticed by his teammates; while it’s a relief that they don’t have to spend their time shoving the giant to practice, it’s a bit… weird
you’re always showering him with compliments, giving him snacks and bento boxes (not even with an excuse, just like LITERALLY straight up “I got this for you”), and always cheering him on when he does something you thought was cool in practice… you always even flock to him to give him water in case he needs it
the teammates, even the COACH herself, get a kick out of you laying it really thick on this giant and he’s here assuming you’re like Himuro and just a nice person
sometimes, you really try to send the signal by giving featherlight touches, whether it’d be a gentle brush, an encouraging pat on the back, things of that nature, but he’d just asked, “What are you doing, Chibi-chin?”
yeah, he grew comfortable enough to talk to you and give you a nickname (he’s very happy on the inside about this milestone)
pickup lines don’t work on him, he won’t get them; the best way for Murasakibara, you knew, was to give direct (but genuine! he can sense the fakes from a mile away) compliments, even if he doesn’t interpret them with romantic intentions/undertones
persistence is key when flirting with him… he’ll eventually get it, like a lightbulb would go off eventually
but he’d probably second-guess himself because he thinks that no one would really see him as desirable in a romantic sense; he’s someone to keep it to himself unless his crush makes a move
luckily for you, you’ve been someone who’s always been making the first moves since day 1
lo and behold, you ask him to a date at whatever place he wanted to go, and at first, he just thinks it’s another trip like the ones he would take with Himuro
you insist that it’s an actual date and he’s like, confused
“You’re not scared of me?”
“Why would I be?”
“Because I can take down a backboard easily, Chibi-chin.”
“You’re very gentle outside of basketball though. Besides, if I was scared, would I really go through all this effort just for it to go to waste?”
“... Why do you try for me?” He’s rubbing his neck and looking away. “Don’t you know that people who try the hardest but aren’t skilled at all annoy me the most?”
“If I annoyed you, you would’ve easily shooed me away. But you didn’t~” You definitely hit the nail on the head with this one. “So do you wanna come? It’ll be my treat, I’m serious!”
“A… date…” Murasakibara silently mouths the word, the syllables sounding completely foreign on his tongue, but you noticed what he was doing
“Oh my! That’s so cute!”
“Wh-Wha? C-Cute?! Tch, that’s… not what you call someone who towers over you and can easily crush you…”
“Still cute, though! But you’re also very handsome to me! And attractive!”
super effective against Murasakibara!
he’s unbelievably red and quite speechless, but even still, he wanted to ask the question that’s been nagging at him for a while and get it over with… how can you be so shameless and honest? that’s a mystery Murasakibara would have to solve sometime later
“Even if… I’m too tall?” (this came out way too quiet of a whisper but you heard it loud and clear, nonetheless)
“Well, I think you’re the perfect size to me! Does height really matter about whether I want to go out with you or not?” You cutely tilt your head to the side with an intentional pout while you delivered your response (you DEFINITELY know what you’re doing, you sly one)
1-HIT KO against Murasakibara!
Bonus: when Murasakibara is sitting/bent down, sometimes you draw near his face as if you’re about to kiss him, but when he expects it as such, you merely blow cold air against his temples, forehead, nose, lips… anything is fair game to you; he doesn’t know whether to tackle you to demand those kisses or stomp away like a child who didn’t get his candy
you never stop with the compliments and affection even after you both started dating; your flirtations and antics give him daily doses of serotonin
#knb x reader#knb#knb headcanons#knb fics#knb fic#murasakibara atsushi#murasakibara#murasakibara x reader#murasakibara atsushi x reader#himuro tatsuya#knb murasakibara#knb fluff
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