#and they don’t even know how many. how many more young lives to add to the tally? how many more kids died so they could live?

[trevisos]

when you fuck around and find out

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Remembering how I went from Child of God™️ with the strength to resist Wordly Temptations to a hardcore agnostic within a year.

[bloobydabloob]

Holy shit I love your Dirk interpretations, it's so true and I could talk about this shit forever. I feel like another part of his character that people seem to forget (along with Roxy for some reason) is that he's from the future in solitude in an apocalyptic wasteland. I just see that part of his character always removed which is disappointing because I feel like that's a pretty big part, especially regarding his themes around technology, his brother's theme of Time, his own isolation, and how he plays in the vastness of the universe and spacetime.

Art I drew related to the subject because I like to respond to asks with art.

But absolutely. I certainly understand where the lack of discussion over his isolation + upbringing comes from, considering a majority of the fanbase that I have seen builds their ideas based on their own version of postcanon. I’m not entirely sure how that would be fixed, but certainly even in the somewhat recent past I would see a lot more content regarding his upbringing both literally and symbolically. I don’t have much to add regarding the things you’ve mentioned, because they just are what they are. Dirk being confined to a singular room left to him by a father figure he never met, in a future where the only other person left on the planet is someone he cannot pursue a relationship of because of himself, with purely 3 robots to keep him companion, one being an exact replica of his own brain who is *also* trapped inside a pair of glasses, is about as literal as it gets to me.

The contrast to me involving the flooded, organic world in comparison to the little speckle of Dirk’s apartment packed with the dude and his technics is not only a representation of his isolation and entrapment within himself, but also of his lack of control. I think his obsession with & themes of control are a direct product in the case of Dirk specifically *of* this kind of upbringing. His themes of technology are also related to his themes around control. So much of his character is actually revolved around this to me like so much. Dirk is so deeply disconnected from humanity in every way and so much of his character + symbolism is based around that.

It doesn’t even have to be about the symbolism or anything though. It’s just pretty *interesting* in the literal sense that he lives in the middle of the ocean in the future. There’s not only a lot to theorise on to do with his young life there, but on how it might affect him in the way he acts for the rest of his life. The latter part is probably what I see mentioned the most by people talking about Dirk regarding this, I’m surprised I don’t see more discussion on the former too though. I really ought to actually talk more about Homestuck stuff on here. I will do it myself.

Roxy & Dirk’s relationship is largely ignored though because there is a narrative a certain demographic spreads that Dirk resented and blamed Roxy for her interest in him, and thus too many people believe that their relationship was or would continue to be an abusive one. Realistically, I believe it’s important to acknowledge that the way Roxy treated Dirk regarding his homosexuality wasn’t right while still acknowledging the obvious amount of respect and admiration Dirk had for Roxy. I mean we have a huge piece of dialogue from their post trickster mode conversations on the quest beds from Dirk purely stating how he feels about Roxy that people completely ignore somehow. I think this usually happens to characters that are women though. I know everyone says it, but it is true. Jane gets the exact same treatment of boiling her down to solely her negative aspects. The things I see completely mischaracterising both of them are horrific.

I mean how much more explicit can it get that their relationship is obviously very important to Dirk? But I digress. I think the best or I should say “most interesting” interpretations of their relationship usually come from DirkRoxy shippers actually.

I would be interested to hear about Dirk’s relation to his brother’s theme of time though. I don’t have any thoughts on this and I don’t recall ever hearing anyone talk about it before. If you or anyone else would be willing to enlighten me I’d be thrilled.

[cupcakeslushie]

For your brainwash au, do we get so see exactly how Donnie got captured by Kendra? And would this au be a full comic or just bits and pieces here and there? (Not pressuring just curious) Love the au and I hope you’re having a good day! :)

Don’t know why, but I felt like writing this part out instead of drawing it! (Sorry for bad grammar. I wrote this lying in bed, sleep deprived and did no editing)

——

The sad, pained look on his little brother’s face is enough to set off that dark protective fire in Donatello’s belly. And Michael has been a tiny storm of negative emotions since Leo slapped the small cast on his ankle. Donnie may not be able to pick apart and decipher all of the subtitles his brother is feeling right now, but he knows he’s in pain, and that’s enough.

“How many strips of bacon do you think we can get from Meat Sweat’s corpse?” Donnie ponders as he wraps an arm around his little brother’s shoulders, and carefully pulls him closer. Mikey lets out a quiet huff, but the joke doesn’t land the way Donnie had been hoping.

“Michael?”

“I’m okay,” Mikey assures. Then a hesitant second later adds, “it’s stupid.”

“Oh well if it’s stupid, allow me to grab ‘Nardo. He might be able to help you better.”

That gets the laugh he was looking for.

“I’m not in pain or anything. It’s just, tonight was the midnight signing of Joshua Bear’s new cook book. He’s a YouTuber chef that I’ve been following for years, and I went to his first release…I really wanted the second for my collection.”

Donatello does vaguely remember Angelo telling Raph something about this event last night, during dinner. He’d been so excited, and now he looks crushed at the idea of missing it.

“What if I went?” At the suggestion, Mikey’s face becomes brighter than a super nova, almost too bright for Donnie to stare at directly. It takes a moment for Michael to really calm down enough to speak.

“You’d really go wait in line for three hours? Just to get a book?” Donatello laughs at the question. Any opportunity in which his brothers were interested in the world of literature, no matter the subject (except maybe geology) was a time to be supportive.

Mikey pulls him in for a tight hug, and holds up his phone to snap a picture of them. Donnie snorts and slides out of his little brother’s hammock, careful not to disturb it too much. Mikey is already bouncing enough that he’s in danger of falling out.

“Yes, yes. Sing my praises on all your media socials. Let the world know how I’m your favorite older sibling!” Mikey drops the phone to his chest and holds his arms up, practically vibrating for one more hug. Donnie complies. He’s long given up maintaining his bad boy image when it’s just the two of them.

“You’re the best, Donnie! Really!” The words do a hell of a job replacing that previous fury he’d been harboring, the smile and warmth coming from Mikey, now fully restored. The proper order of the universe righted with a simple solution. This was what he loved most about being a brother. Fixing his siblings problems, in any way he could. And if healing the broken bone outright was (for now) out of his control—at least he could do this.

Donnie glances at his watch and notes he should get going if the turn out is going to be as big as Angelo predicts. He sneaks past the living room where he can hear his other two brethren yelling over a game of Mario Kart. He has zero interest in either of his brothers tagging along. He loves them, but neither are suited to standing in a long line for hours. For the last Jupiter Jim reboot, Donatello was seconds away from a double fratricide before they were even allowed into the theater.

Besides. He’s practically 18 (in four weeks). He can run up to the surface for a few hours, without having to call upon the archaic buddy system.

———

He’s in line for about an hour, when he sees suspicious movement out the corner of his eye. A young woman, parting the line a little ways ahead from where he stands, walks quickly into the closest alley. That alone might be no cause for alarm—maybe it’s a short cut. But the tall, hooded creep trailing after her, has his metaphorical hackles rising. It’s a clear case of sinister intentions. He quickly glances around to see if anyone else has witnessed this, but he’s the only one who seems to be showing any type of concern. Typical New York.

“What a town” Donnie sighs. He doesn’t bother asking the old man behind him to save his spot, seeing as he’s practically at the end of the line, and quickly races to the alley to play hero.

It’s a deep one, the lights of the street not quite hitting all the eerie nooks and crannies. Plenty of blind spots.

“Hello there? Stalker and or damsel in distress? Is anyone in need of assistance? Anyone hopefully bear maced and in need of a being escorted to the nearest precinct?”

No answer.

The non-existent hairs on Donnie’s arms stand straight up. Just as he’s reaching for his ninpo to materialize a bo-staff, something thick wraps around his neck from behind. The arm is almost as big as Raphael’s, if lacking in the muscle department.

But before his can break the hold, the solid feeling of a needle slides into the meat of his neck and something rushes into his veins. Within seconds he’s released and stumbling from the lack of support.

Someone is talking to him. It takes a second of his gaze bouncing around to pick them out. Mildly embarrassing, considering they’re standing right in front of him now. Out of all the colors popping in and out of his vision, Donnie only just catches the same turquoise hoodie that seemed to belong to the unassuming young woman.

A honey pot trap, he realizes, stumbling and falling pathetically backwards on his own ass.

He sees pink hair and is almost relieved, if humiliated. With all their enemies, the Purple Dragons are D tier. But the chances he can free himself before his brothers even notice his absence is high. Just the thought of the savage teasing he would be forced to endure if his brothers found out—Donatello is not eager to hear any of it.

As the nauseating colors finally bleed away, and start to leave black growing in their wake, Donatello swears to cause a big explosion on his way out.

[krewekreep]

Baby Daddy Red Flags: Bleach Edition (😜🤍)

This one…this one for the sluts! 😭💕 I’m an old anime bitch like lemme get it out my system! (We gonna tag this #ToxicTalk lmaoo, this is a safe space)

(If you wanna know who we share 😒, I’ll add an asterisk or whatever. ((They still mine first 😂💝🫡)) (will update and repost with new additions, semi-live post)

***ICHIGO: Lemme get my baby daddy out the way. Biggest issues would be his availability before and after the kid. Probably got pregnant in a makeup sex situation anyway. Ichigo doesn’t seem to type to breakup but will say let’s break. Based on how selfless he is it also can be seen coming from him not being able to save his mom—so he may have a savior complex. It may seem valiant at first like “oh wow you became friends with Chad helping him with bullies? You became closer to Orihime (😒) after helping her grieve her brother? You’re such a good person!” Til you realize seniority is in place and when his friends call he drops whatever he is doing to go help. It’s been time, money, etc and increasingly his selflessness comes off as codependent. Like he can’t stop trying to make up for something that wasn’t his fault.

He will also randomly reserve to right to become reclusive. Not necessarily secretive but less energetic, talkative, or engaged. (You def realize your baby got some functional depression going on. Iykyk). Might not annoy you but the random times he doesn’t want to be touched or seemingly avoids you does hurt…but he sincerely comes back letting you know he was in a weird space etc.

Ichigo’s biggest yes or no is if you’ll be able to sometimes come second or third (likely til you marry and/or have kids with him.) His father and sisters are absolutely #1, his friends are #2, and his oath to the Soul Society and humanity at large is a consequence of him protecting the first two so that’s of course #3. See where I’m going? Even on your best days you might be upset he runs off to Rukia’s or Orihime’s aid. That he has to “save the world,”to save you too. Jealous types might really become frustrated with Ichigo. And tbh I don’t see him breaking out of his ways. He won’t see a need to because there’s real results of his good deeds in his life. He knows he’s saved lives, so he knows he can continue to—so will you be able to handle the fact his duty and mindset will be self sacrificing? I don’t know I think I’d tie him down with a baby and move on.

**KENPACHI: I fully accept and am attracted to his animalistic tendencies. I absolutely can admit that about myself 😭 but…realistically you’d def have to tell him he’s too rough during sessions. He’s grown up wayward, defensive, survival mode, stomach touching his back— during a time so seemingly historical and old who knows how bad the conditions of poverty were—most kids died if they simply weren’t rich and able to eat. Or turned to crime at extremely young ages or exploited….That’s just global history in real life. And the soul society is that much more complex and arduous. Kenpachi will be a man of few words but immense action. If you want someone who will open up even eventually that is not Kenpachi Zaraki. You will highly likely never know of his past because he will never say he is excruciatingly doing everything to never have to. And no, he won’t communicate ever if anything terrible is on his mind. Although kenpachi is coded as barbaric he really is just that protective—he’s as angry as he will be based solely upon someone’s proximity to him emotionally. You and Yaru will be so exclusively held in a regard he won’t even understand. Just the black hole of his awareness he’ll surpass anything to save y’all. He won’t speak on why Lady Unohana isn’t around anymore (new anime, manga lore). But again, when he ends up rough too many nights in a row you distance yourself from him. He can’t admit to you he disassociates and goes back to bad times. He can’t tell you your comfort and warmth makes him remember the times he needed it before—he doesn’t mean to hurt you but he lives for a fight. But he wants to stop making everything and everyone something to “conquer.” He’ll be a real deal handful and it will solely up to you to either tell him you can’t be with him until he figure shit out or you’ll stick beside him and work through it together. (In this case Yaru is the “kid” yall share, I see him being weary of birthing a child and being a dad in such a “visceral” way. Will have total abandonment trauma and just can’t see him getting over it completely to bring new life into a world he already sees the worst in tbh.) but in terms of “baby momma” treatment? Or your prioritized and protected best believe. 💕 he also will force you to learn combat cause you should be able to take care yourself too. Which might either be hot or burdensome. You’re gonna know how to fight. And tbh he might try to bring it into the bedroom on some weird let’s play fight shit so watch yourself. That’s a BIG MAN! 😭😂💕 “HA! Now that you know how do a few things why don’t you test it on me?” Big cheeky sneaky ass grin girl don’t fall for it!

BYAKUYA: This is the guy who will match your freak everywhere but in public. No PDA—actually don’t even look at him or try to talk to him in public…be professional. He will be joking with others and you’ll get upset saying “Hey! You let the other members of the society tease you?” And in private he’ll admit it’s just to keep up appearances and he hates it all. 😭 I think his biggest issue will be coming off fake or disingenuous or you’ll have a hard time sincerely seeing him cause he’ll be so different depending on where y’all are. People wouldn’t know he’s like a mom boyfriend who makes sure you eat, sleep, and keep up with yourself. Yes, he will absolutely unintentionally say something insulting like “This doesn’t suit you. Find something else.” And yes he will be very clearly on guard when in public. People will openly wonder why you’re with him tbh. Which will frustrate the both of you of which neither of you ever bring up to the other. Byakuya has lost a love before—he won’t talk about it ever. You MIGHT get something out of Rukia about it cause it was her sister but I doubt she’ll go super intimate about THEIR relationship cause she respects both his and her sister’s privacy. So you might be stuck on an eavesdropping side quest with Renji that amounts to nothing cause he’ll sense yall. He’ll be amused and somewhat touched you wanted to watch him work though. He’s usually the one keeping check or track of things so he’ll never say he likes that you peep on him and mind his business. You care about him and he knows he’s a bit unfair not allowing any PDA. But he so openly loved on Rukia’s sister he couldn’t help the shameful self imposed embarrassment once he had to walk the halls alone…Byakuya will be a very intentional, quiet lover. I doubt he’ll moan very much tbh unless he’s exhausted and allowing you to take care of him. Sometimes he’ll absolutely disappear all day into work. Other times he’ll be sure to direct his underlings to wait on you in his stead. He’s more manageable if you can accept his sometimes snarky, distant, super private ways. As a father he’ll be annoyingly big on exceptionalism and them being smart and talented. You’ll have to be sure he isn’t burdening your kid when you aren’t around. And you’ll have to be sure he doesn’t inadvertently impart his insensitive habits too. Likewise, you’ll ABSOLUTELY have to “deal or no deal” him about giving affection to your kid in public. You will absolutely have to go off and tell him it’s y’all or his image. And yeah now he’s holding both yall hands albeit defeated. 💕😭

AIZEN: Shit…girl (im black my “girl…” is gender neutral don’t be annoying 💕) you already know what it is. Yandare, selfish, self righteous, MEAN, EVIL…but fine and rich as fuck. 😔🫤 it will be a doozy to be with this one. You literally have to know and accept what you getting into bestie. I can’t even warn you, you know! 😭 but seriously if your an aizen bias you accept him as is 😭 psycho ass. So I wanna just write how’d he be as a baby daddy. Now not to get…too mature…but if you happened to be someone captured/kidnapped by him and pregnant…baby you is a victim! BUT ITS FANFIC SOOO if you were the captured baby momma that’s in his realm with him…well girl you in the realm lord you stuck. “Can I go to the human world?” “For what?” “Uh, sun?” “Humph what do you need sun for…” He’ll look down at your crying child and be like “Ugh okay whatever but Grimmjow is your chaperone.” And you won’t care cause Grimmjow lets you run off and live life. Which Aizen knows but the minute you aren’t overtly scared and submissive to him he’ll lose his weird sense of “power.” You’re man crazy bestie. He’s definitely someone you won’t talk back to until you’re a parent and equally going to advocate for your kid. He’ll realize and laugh to himself “Their not really submissive at all…little minx…” and hold you in completely new regard. “So you took me as is because you wanted to?” He’ll start thinking shit that confuses him and decide to randomly kill a grunt to distract himself like no he’s not gonna reflect into a better person. 😂 you’ll have everything you want cause you can’t go nowhere 😭. Mind you yes the sex is mind blowing so you sadly do take what positives are there…his eyes don’t fall sexually to anyone but you. His body doesn’t respond certain ways to anyone but you. And as you stand next to him more and more he’s leaning into you and your baby’s energy rather than tryna to overtake yall with his. Just don’t speak about the change and it’ll be fine. The minute you tease or openly acknowledge his becoming softer and less controlling you’ll ruin all the progress you made. Let him feel like he’s in control or whatever.

New Additions (1):

Hitsugaya: (adult of course) Hitsu will be a blend of Byakuya and Ichigo. The best aspects of him will be how attentive and actionable he is about his love for you. But — he will shy away from PDA and sometimes have moments of separated solitude. Unlike Byakuya, he will absolutely open up to PDA, just will never be the initiator of it. Maybe grab your hand at the end of the day to hurry back home or stare at you as long as he can while he observes your dutiful working. He’ll be shy always which keeps your love feeling young and refreshed. You’ll always be able to make him blush and unlike Ichigo, he’ll warm up to you imposing yourself on his alone time. He’ll be big on love making and planning when to have a child so it will be less spontaneous. He’ll have the baby registry and wishlists prepared, printed, and passed out to members of the Soul Society. He’ll enjoy trips to the human world to acquire new toys and trinkets for your baby.

As a baby daddy he’s almost too protective. You wonder what he’s been through as he’ll have a firm grip of your hips as you cradle your child. He’ll have a habit of looking at your baby and then between the both of you stunned at how he can see the perfect blend of your features on your child’s face. He’ll be very close to a simp honestly (which I’m a fan of) and be at your beck & call no matter the hour. Definitely the dad to tell you don’t worry about tending to the little one, keep resting cause he knows how tired you get. He’s honestly the perfect idea of a new father as he’ll be bumbling a bit but with so much to prove. I realize I kinda didn’t write red flags cause I truly see Hitsu adjusting to parenthood and a long term relationship the best. Only thing I can think is that he’ll be overtly willing to sacrifice himself for your family’s safety. So any massive issue in the Soul Society will make your heart sink a little because while he’s capable he’s been in enough life threatening predicaments to cause ample, appropriate worry. He’ll be hard to break out of working I think until your child starts schooling which could be frustrating cause he’ll overcompensate parenting in lieu of his work commitments. Overall, I think he’d be the baby daddy with the least to really worry about.

Renji: Oh lord— all tea, all shade this man will STRUGGLE. « What do you mean the baby is hungry AGAIN ? You just breastfed! WAIT DO NOT PULL YOUR TIT OUT IN PUBLIC WOMAN ! » He’ll have a hard time adjusting to your freedom as a breastfeeding mom for sure (if you choose to). Work ? What’s work? One thing you can count on is that he will absolutely commit to being a family man and even a stay at home dad. He’ll take all his PTO or even « quit » (basically will say don’t call me to help unless the Soul Society is about to die.) He will wait on you hand & foot because he can’t imagine how much your body and mind has gone through and the strength it takes to be so tired but smile and laugh with him and your kiddo. But, he may end up a bit controlling about you leaving the house without him. He’ll either become a sad puppy or an angry old man. « Baby…what do you mean you want me to stay home ? 😓🥺 » or «  Woman, what did I tell you about going out without me ? What if a crazy person tried to rob you ? » You laugh at him always being some level of dramatic but it may get annoying how clingy and worried he’ll become. You’ll have to remind him you lived this long for a reason…and plan to live longer, so he can chill out sometimes cause his worried nature worries you…you might benefit from guilt tripping him into apologizing and giving you a breather on leaving the house. But just know someone is watching over you. Renji would be a great cook or a terrible cook who improves over time. He might be great at catching the baby right when they poop or…end up shat on rushing to a sink. I really see him either being weirdly good at being a dad or definitely suffering from the learning curve.

Your baby will definitely be conceived in a wild love making, (maybe rough, passionate sex) session. And you’ll catch him blushing when he holds your baby and looks at you remembering the night you had. You’ll be the type to walk in on them sleeping crazily on the sofa, his arm instinctively holding your baby firm. He’ll be grateful to not have to jump up to go to work honestly. His biggest red flags will be being overbearing, needy, and likely requiring a lot of overt reassurance. (Which isn’t necessarily a red flag given he just will want to be a really good dad and partner.) Otherwise he’ll become a stubborn dad who will try (and fail) to « put his foot down. » Which will likely result in him sleeping on the sofa…💕

[pucksandpower]

Oooh the grid kids series is pure joy! I think it's really cool idea, especially because the drivers spend so much time around one another. Can i request one where maybe back in the day, rbr!seb and y/n were the grid kids of like mark and michael and jenson and back to present times, seb's grid kids are weirded out to see jenson and mark treat seb and y/n as their grid kids please. If that makes sense

Grid Kids: Gentlemen, a Short View Back to the Past

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: once upon a time, the grid parents were grid kids themselves

Series Masterlist

When We Were Young

“Oi lovebirds! Stop canoodling in the garage, will ya?” Mark Webber chuckles, teasingly nudging Sebastian as you blush, having been caught stealing a quick kiss with your boyfriend in the middle of the chaotic paddock.

Michael, ever the protective figure, chimes in, “Leave them alone, Mark. It’s sweet. Remember when we were young and in love?” He winks at Sebastian, who grins, clearly relishing in having backup.

Jenson, leaning against a tire stack, chuckles, “Speak for yourself. Some of us still have it.” He sends you a playful wink and you laugh.

Sebastian wraps an arm around you, “Honestly, with the three of you as mentors, I’m surprised I’ve learned anything about racing.”

You smirk, “Maybe they're preparing you for the important race — the race of life?”

Mark snorts, “Deep, Y/N. Very deep.”

Michael smiles, a nostalgic look in his eyes, “You know, Y/N, you remind me a lot of my wife back in the day. Always grounding us racers, making sure our heads don’t get too big.”

Jenson nods in agreement, “True that. You have a way of making sure Seb here doesn’t drift into the clouds.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, “Oh come on! You guys are just trying to get on Y/N’s good side because she’s the only one who brings proper coffee to the track.”

You giggle, “Guilty as charged. Can’t have my grid parents falling asleep at the wheel now, can I?”

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Sebastian and you stand with Jenson and Mark, sheltering under an awning as rain pours down, delaying the race. Michael ambles over, shaking off his umbrella.

Sebastian grins, “Typical Spa weather, huh?”

Jenson chuckles, “Isn’t it just? Every year I hope for sun by some miracle and every year...” He gestures at the rain dramatically.

You sigh, “I packed for a summer trip. Look at this!” You motion to your very damp sundress.

Mark smirks, “Rookie mistake. Always pack a wetsuit for Spa.”

Michael nods sagely, “And flippers.”

Oh Simple Thing

The smell of grilled meat wafts through the air as Jenson mans the BBQ at his home. You and Sebastian arrive, bringing along a homemade salad and plenty of sides.

“Ah, the dynamic duo!” Mark greets, pulling you into a friendly hug.

Michael points to the salad, “Trust Y/N to ensure we get our greens. Good on you!”

You wink, “Can’t have you all living on steaks and grilled chicken alone.”

As the evening progresses, stories from their early racing days are exchanged, often leading to fits of laughter. At one point, Mark shares an embarrassing story about Sebastian’s rookie mistake during a test session.

Sebastian groans, burying his face in his hands, “Do we have to bring that up again?”

You pat his back sympathetically, “It’s alright, Seb. Everyone has their moments.”

Jenson, taking a sip of his drink, adds, “That’s true. Just remember, no matter how many times they tease you, you’ve got Y/N in your corner. And that’s worth more than anything.”

Prank or Be Pranked

“Seb! Did you move my helmet?” Jenson calls out, rummaging through his locker as the five of you prepare to go karting, his face a picture of confusion.

Sebastian, feigning innocence, replies, “Why would I do that?”

You, smirking, lean in and whisper to Mark, “Five bucks says he put it on the highest shelf.”

Mark grins, “You’re on.”

As Jenson continues his search, he eventually finds his helmet perched high up, just out of reach. Michael, catching on to the prank, laughs, “Looks like our young prodigy here has learned a few tricks.”

Sebastian shrugs, “Consider it ... training. For reflexes and stuff.”

Jenson, using the handle of a dusty broom to retrieve his helmet, retorts, “Wait till you find out what I’ve done with your boots.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen in horror, “You didn’t!”

“This is going to be a long season.” You lean back against the brick wall as the overgrown children in front of you continue to bicker, fighting a smile.

Thanks for the Memories

Jenson, lounging comfortably in the hospitality area, raises an eyebrow as he watches you try to subtly wipe some oil off Sebastian's face. “You sure you’ve got him all cleaned up for the camera?”

You laugh, looking at a sheepish Sebastian who had been poking around his car earlier. “It’s like looking after a kid sometimes. He’s always getting into something.”

Michael chuckles from across the room, “Ah, young love. Sebastian, she’s got your number. But honestly, Y/N, good on you. We older ones have been trying to teach him some discipline.”

Mark smirks. “To be fair, Michael, I recall a certain someone ending up in a pool with his clothes on in Monaco just last year.”

Michael grins mischievously, “That was different. And anyway, Seb, Y/N, don’t get any ideas.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Trust me, if he ends up in the water, I won’t be the one pushing him.”

Sebastian wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “But you’d jump in to save me, right?”

You pretend to ponder, “Hmm, depends on how cold the water is.”

Jenson laughs, “Sebastian, you’ve found your match. But seriously, both of you, cherish these moments. The grid, the races, it’s all fleeting. But the relationships, the memories, they last.”

Michael nods in agreement, “Jenson’s right. One day you’ll be the veterans, guiding the young ones. Remember these days, learn from them.”

Mark clinks his water bottle to yours, “To memories and the journey ahead.”

Flintstones, Meet the Flintstones

Michael leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, “You know, when I started in F1 we didn’t have all this fancy tech and simulations. We relied on instinct.”

Jenson, faking shock, retorts, “Wait, you mean they didn’t have cars back then?”

Sebastian chuckles, glancing at you, “I bet he drove a dinosaur to the track.”

You laugh, “A very fast dinosaur, mind you.”

Mark, trying to keep a straight face, adds, “Michael, be honest. Was your racing suit made of ... loincloth?"

Michael plays along, “Yes and our helmets were carved out of stone.”

You chime in, “I heard they used saber-toothed tigers as pit crews.”

Jenson nods, “Oh, absolutely. And the pit stops? Ten minutes. Had to give the tigers a break.”

Michael rolls his eyes, laughing, “Alright, alright, mock the legend if you must. But remember, young ones, we paved the way.”

Mark grins, “And we’re grateful, old man. But don’t forget, it’s their turn now.”

Sebastian, ever competitive, challenges, “Race you to the track?”

Michael raises an eyebrow, “You sure about that?”

You laugh, “Careful, Seb. He might just bring out his dinosaur.”

Passing the Torch

Michael stands, his presence commanding the room’s attention even without a word spoken. Holding a helmet delicately in his hands, he clears his throat. “In every racer’s life, there comes a time when the tracks call to you a little less, the roar becomes a distant echo, and you realize there’s a world waiting for you outside the paddock.”

He glances over at Sebastian, then to you, emotion shimmering in his eyes. “But before I step into that world, I wanted to leave behind something, a token of gratitude and hope.”

Sebastian’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity evident. “Michael, you’ve already given so much to all of us …”

Michael interrupts with a soft chuckle, “Seb, always impatient! Let me finish.”

He then looks at you, his gaze warm and fatherly, “Y/N, you may not race on the track, but you’ve raced in all our hearts, guiding, supporting, laughing, and cheering louder than everyone else.”

“Sebastian, Y/N,” Michael continues, his voice imbued with emotion, “This helmet, from my last race, isn’t just a piece of equipment. It’s a symbol. A legacy.”

Gently placing the helmet on the table, he pushes it towards the two of you. “It’s about the weight of responsibility, the dreams it carries, the hopes it’s seen, and the love it’s felt.”

The room is silent, the magnitude of the gesture palpable.

Sebastian, clearly moved, speaks up, voice choked with emotion, “Michael, this ... this is ... I’m not sure if we can ever fill the space you leave behind.”

Michael smiles, placing a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, then moving to hug you tightly. “That’s the thing about spaces. They evolve. They change. You two won’t fill my space. You’ll create your own.”

Pulling away, he raises his glass, “To new beginnings, to timeless legacies, and to family. Always to family.”

Back to the Future

As Max saunters into the room, he stops short, eyebrows raised in surprise. Jenson is teasing Sebastian, ruffling his hair like he’s a teenager, while Mark playfully nudges Y/N’s arm, offering her a drink.

Max blinks a few times, trying to process the scene. “Is ... is Jenson giving Seb a noogie?”

George peers over from his conversation with Lando, both their eyes widening. “It looks like it ... and Y/N’s being drawn into some sort of mock arm wrestling with Mark. What alternate reality did we walk into?”

Charles, mouth agape, chuckles, “It’s like watching a nature documentary: Here we observe the older generation asserting their playful dominance over the younger one.”

Lando giggles, nudging George. “Mate, should we jump in? Even the odds a bit?”

Before George can answer, Mick, who’s been observing silently, leans in. “Guys, it’s kind of sweet. You remember the stories they've told about the old days? This is just ... history repeating itself.”

Max, still trying to wrap his head around the scene, shakes his head with a laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day when Seb gets his hair messed up and doesn’t immediately fix it.”

Lance calls out, “Maybe we should start taking notes. This might be us in a few years.”

Grid Kids and Grand-Grid Kids

Charles saunters over to Mark and Jenson, holding up a race boot he’d just had signed by both of them. “Thanks for this, mates. It will be a special addition to my collection.”

Mark pats Charles on the back, “Anything for our grand-grid kid.”

Charles stops mid-stride, turning to look at Mark with a puzzled expression. “Your what now?”

Jenson chuckles, handing Lando a signed cap. “Didn’t Seb and Y/N mention? Since they’re your grid parents and they’re our grid kids ... well, that makes you our grand-grid kids.”

Lando bursts into laughter, while George, overhearing the exchange, raises an eyebrow. “Wait, so we’re like ... the second generation of grid offspring? This is getting complicated.”

Mick leans in with a smirk, “Hold on. So if I’m following this logic properly, that would mean double the birthday gifts, right?”

Jenson grins, “Well, perhaps but it also means double the expectations on the track.”

Lance playfully rolls his eyes, “Great, double the pressure. Just what we needed.”

Max joins the banter, “Are there grand-grid kid initiation rites we should know about? Because I’ve seen old photos of Seb and Y/N with you guys and let’s just say that fashion has come a long way.”

Mark feigns shock, “You’re dissing our style from back in the day? Careful, young one.”

Charles, cocking an eyebrow, shoots back at Max, “Especially considering the only thing in your closet is Red Bull merch.”

The group bursts into laughter, Max chuckling and nodding in acknowledgment. “Touche, Leclerc. Touche.”

[grandline-fics]

Hi! Hope I’m no bother but I fell upon your blog and I couldn’t help but love it. I wondered if I could have a hcs, drables, one shot, any format who arrange you, with Shanks and Mihawk (Sorry if you aren’t comfortable with those characters, pick up other if you prefer) who meet their first love after years and years of no see? I heard a lot that you will forever love your first love, so I wondered how they would reacted to meet them/her once adults and mature. They stay with their first genuine love quite a long time, 5-7 years, and broke up for no real valid reasons, just because they were young and else, they met their first love maybe at 16-17 yo. Sorry my English is awful :,)

DESCRIPTION: You’re their first love and reunite after so many years

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks

WORDS: 2,388

A/N:  Sorry I've gotten so behind on these, it's been a rough few weeks but I'll hopefully be back on track soon. Thank you for this request. I really hope you like it!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

MIHAWK

Love wasn’t a word Mihawk considered to be heavily used in his vocabulary. Some would call him heartless and cruel but he was a realist. If anything he thought the world overused it to the point of it losing it’s depth and importance which was why he tended to rarely let it fall from his lips. Yes he had ‘lovers’ from time to time but were they ever considered someone he loved? No. None of them even came close to that. How could they when the one that had claimed his heart, the one that taught him the true meaning of the word love, was you. 

Although it had been so many years, the memories he had with you were still so clear and sharp that they could have rivalled any blade. Your paths had crossed at the very beginning of his travels across the world in the hopes of training and claiming the title of the world’s greatest swordsman as his own. He had been pointed to your home by the locals after asking who the best sword fighter was, eager to add another victory to his steadily growing list. However when he appeared at your home he was a little thrown to find you tending to a small plot of farmland. Mihawk knew you were the only one living here as the locals had told him that much, so there was no confusing you were the one he was looking for. He wasn’t expecting someone who looked as young as him to be his supposed opponent. Still he was proof that age had no bearing on talent. So he challenged you.  

Quickly he was thrown once more when you lifted your head from your work to fix him with a look he’d never forgotten. Your eyes were bright and silently assessing and whatever it was you saw in him made your lips quirk into an amused smirk that in his youth had made Mihawk skin prickle with an unfamiliar warmth. He could only watch as you rose with the basket of freshly pulled vegetables in your arms and firmly refused his challenge and walked towards your house. He’d never been refused before and demanded to know why, following you inside. “I don’t need to give you a reason.” Had been your cool reply before you looked over your shoulder at him. “I just don’t want to.”

“I’m not leaving until you fight me.” Mihawk had boldly declared, the intense sincerity of his words causing you to laugh. At the sound, he had originally bristled but it wouldn’t be long before he found that it was his among his favourite things in the world. True to his word, Mihawk had stayed on the island far longer than he had intended. Every day he came to your home and challenged you. Every day you refused and watched him storm away. Eventually though after your refusal you would invite him to stay; sometimes to share something to eat, or even to go on a walk, or to help you with your chores. At first he hadn’t understood why he so readily spent the time with you but then he did. He wanted to be with you more than he wanted to fight you. When he realised that, his time with you each day grew more and more until he didn’t go and stopped challenging you completely. 

You loved him completely and never wanted to be apart from him, because even though you were both young you knew what you felt was real and unshakable. However you knew that it wasn’t right. He couldn’t remain on a tiny island when his ambition lay out in the large and unseen world. As much as it pained you to do so, you insisted it was time to stop things. Mihawk had to go and become the greatest swordsman and you had to stay on the island because as it stood, you were the only one that could protect the others living there. Your reputation kept many away but as Mihawk had proved, some would come looking for a fight or to cause harm to the innocent. Begrudgingly Mihawk saw the sense in your words and he left but you were never forgotten. 

Now here he stood in some nowhere town on some random island, watching you talk to an elderly woman tending to a flower stand in the middle of the market square. It was you, he knew it was you. Time had aged you like the finest of wines, your beauty matured for all to see. Then you laughed and it proved what he’d already known. After all this time without you and even though any free moment he had he thought of you, to see you now and know that you were just a few feet away from his touch he couldn’t help but let his mind wonder about you beyond his fondest memories. What if you’d married? What if you didn’t remember him? What if you didn’t want to see him? 

When you said goodbye to the woman and started to walk away, Mihawk found that his previous worries disappeared instantly, not wanting to risk losing this chance. Immediately he set off through the crowd in the direction you went in. Thankfully you hadn’t gotten too far and when he was close, his hand lightly touched your shoulder and took a step back when you turned suddenly to face him. 

Your expression flickered from confusion to shock and then joy at the unexpected sight of your first love standing in front of you. It gave Mihawk a feeling of relief to see the smile light your face before your expression became playful. “Well? Aren’t you going to ask me?” Mihawk blinked in confusion but quickly he realised you meant a challenge and let out a small breath of amusement. Slowly he shook his head. 

“No, I just don’t want to.” He answered simply, smirking when you finally stepped closer and slid your hand around his arm.

“In that case, I’m not leaving you until you do.” Mihawk chuckled and started walking down the street with you. Finally reunited with the only person he ever loved? There was no way he was going to let you go again. 

SHANKS

When Shanks was young he never fully understood why Roger, Rayleigh and the other older members of the crew got so distracted and frankly stupid in his opinion when they were around ‘attractive’ people when they were visiting an island. It always went beyond just enjoying being off of the ship for a while and making friends. Curious one day as they sailed on a calm stretch of water, he turned the question to the vice-captain who laughed at the question. So Shanks pressed more. “It just doesn’t make sense. What’s so special about them that makes you all so goofy and red faced? The Marines would lower your bounty if they saw you like that, the Captain too.”

“Oh, you’ll understand when you’re older Shanks.” Rayleigh told him with another laugh and light clap on his shoulder. Still that answer wasn’t good enough for him and he stared at the older man. If he was old enough to ask the question, surely he’d be considered old enough now for an actual answer. Seeing that the issue wasn’t going to drop, Rayleigh relented just a little more and sighed. “Look Shanks, it’s a little hard to explain but it’s another way of enjoying life and our adventures. We don’t know how much time we have at sea before finding a new island so it’s best to enjoy all it has to offer. Company with attractive people who feel the same about you is another aspect of that.”

“Doesn’t it make you sad though? You never see them again. Don’t you miss them?”

“Not really. It’s not love and they know that.”

“Huh…” Shanks felt even more confused then. The older crew always had a sickly loved up expression during the encounters he’d witnessed before they disappeared with their new ‘friends’ for the evening. So if it wasn’t love what was it? More to the point a new question came out of his mouth. “So what does love feel like?”

“Love? What’s with the hard questions today, lad?” The vice-captain muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean it’s different for everyone. Sometimes it’s slow, other times it’s fast and comes out of nowhere. Still I suppose at the same time, love feels similar. It’s like lightning hitting you mind, body, and soul. It’s powerful. When you’re in love and know it, it’s like nothing else matters but them. It’s like their very presence can calm and excite you all at once.” Shanks slowly nodded. He could understand that in theory but one person being the only thing he could think about seemed dangerous to him. Satisfied with the answer given, he finally let Rayleigh continue with his day.

Looking back on that conversation now that he was older, Shanks would laugh at his own naivety as lust was certainly something he knew when he hit puberty just as Rayleigh had predicted and know it a lot. Love however, he only ever experienced once. Only a year after the conversation about love, the crew had docked on an island and headed straight for a restaurant in desperate need of plenty of good food and drink. Taking a seat, Shanks sat back and waited for the usual fun to start. Given the sudden increased size of customers, the owner called for you to help out the family business and take the orders. 

You made your way to Shanks’ table and took the orders. Shanks was distractedly looking at the menu and had zoned out, only snapping out of it when your hand lightly pushed the rim of his straw hat up and leant in to smile at him. “Anything catching your eye or do you need more time?”   

Shanks’ lips parted as he stared blankly at you, feeling like something shot right through his body. He was frozen in place and yet he felt warm, lost completely in your eyes. It felt like an age before his mind began to work again but really it had been only a few seconds. Quickly he managed to clear his throat and picked the first thing he saw when he forced his eyes back onto the menu. At the sound of you moving onto the next table, Shanks let out a breath only to wince when Buggy’s elbow caught him in the ribs. “Jeez, what came over you?” He’d asked, finding his friend and rival’s reaction to you funny but at the same time it was concerning to see Shanks so out of sorts. However the others at the table smirked, knowing the signs immediately. 

It seemed like luck was truly on Shanks’ side when he was told they would be staying on the island for a few months to ensure they had enough supplies and preparation done before continuing on the next stretch of the journey. That meant he got to spend more time with you which was all he wanted. Luckier still, you seemed to be as equally taken with him. It had been just as Rayleigh had described love, you were all that mattered in his waking and sleeping moments and you brought him a sense of calm he’d never felt before but at the same time just being near you made his entire being feel restless and excited. 

While he fell in love first you fell in love with him just as fast. Sadly it never got to last because in what felt like a blink, he and the rest of Roger’s crew were saying goodbye to those they’d gotten to know in their time on land. You’d done your best to keep a brave face and seem cheerful for Shanks’ sake. “You can always come back and visit some day, right?” You told him with a tight smile. “You’ll have plenty of stories of your adventures to tell me when we see each other again.”

“I promise each one will be more impressive than the last. The next time you see me, I’ll be Captain of my own ship.” Shanks promised with a proud puff of his chest that made you smile through the hurt of having to say goodbye. 

True to his word, Shanks did become captain of his own ship and his great adventures took him over the world, some distracting him from the promise he had every intention of keeping. However as the years passed, he’d idly considered had time only made his feelings for you seem stronger than they had been through mere nostalgia. When he did finally manage to return to your island, he had been shocked to hear that you’d left many years ago. The disappointment he’d felt at the news told him that no, it wasn’t nostalgia; his feelings for you had been real. 

Another handful of years passed and one evening in a tavern, Shanks and his crew talked and laughed as drink and food flowed freely. As Shanks drained the drink in his hand he faintly heard the sound of the chair beside him being taken. At first he thought it was Benn or Yasopp but when he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw you there, his entire body locked. Choking on his drink, Shanks felt the painful burn in his throat as he forced his drink down instead of coughing it up. Wheezing he slammed his hand against his chest and could feel his heart beating rapidly and he knew it wasn’t because he nearly drowned on his drink. “Y-you!” He managed out, finally able to look at you, the same feeling he’d had in his youth crashing into him hard. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself.” You grinned, taking in the sight of how much the boy you’d fallen in love with had changed yet still felt the same. “So, got any stories for me, Captain?” Shanks laughed and turned properly in his seat to fix you with his full attention, his eyes set firmly on your face. 

“I’ve got a lifetime of stories for you, just as promised.”

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere.”

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

What do you need to know about lgbt+ history as a lgbt+ person? 

Well, if you ask like that: nothing, actually. You do not disqualify from being lgbt+ if you know nothing about history whatsoever. There’s no exam to pass. 

It also doesn’t make you a bad person or a disgrace to the community or an embarrassment if you haven’t heard about a specific chapter of lgbt+ history yet - saying so would be really unfair! Maybe you live in a situation in which you don’t feel safe to do a lot of research on lgbt+ related stuff. Maybe you are a young person growing up in hard times and you’re busy just surviving. Maybe your brain works in a way that makes it harder for you to learn or retain new information than for others. Or hey, maybe you already know lots - but your learning simply focused on a different chapter than the one that hypothetical exam would be on!

Of course there are many benefits to learning about lgbt+ history. You get the general benefits of learning new things (such as training your critical thinking skills, which will help you in your everyday life, and even supporting your brain health!) but there’s also specific benefits to learning about this specific subject.

History isn’t all “learning boring stuff about dead people” - learning about past events and their consequences also helps you understand present events and gauge their potential consequences for your future. This will for example empower you in your voting decisions (or help you understand how politics influence everyday life at all, if that’s your starting point!). 

Knowledge about lgbt+ history also helps you to notice misinformation more easily and enables you to counteract homophobic myths with facts. 

It may even help you on a more personal level: reading up on all the people who came before you can foster a sense of identity and belonging. It might make you feel more confident to know that people like you have been around forever and have achieved so many things! 

So, rather than “what do I need to know”, I think the much better question is “where do I want to start?”. 

Nobody knows everything about lgbt+ history (or about any given topic, really!) and unrealistic expectations will only set you up for disappointment. It’s best to let your curiosity lead you! You’re much more likely to actually read up on something you are genuinely excited to learn about than something you’ve only been told to read. 

With that in mind: it can feel overwhelming to pick a topic to start with! Especially if you’re pretty new to lgbt+ history, you may not even know where to start. So I do want to make some suggestions here. Not as a “you need to research all these today or else I’m revoking your license to gay”, just to spark your curiosity! I will not add explanations right here in the post, I just want to give you some terms you can easily put in the search bar. (Important: these are in random order, not ranked by importance or anything like that!) 

US-Centric lgbt+ History

1. Stonewall Riots

2. Harvey Milk

3. Marsha P. Johnson

4. Sylvia Rivera

5. The Lavender Scare

6. Obergefell v. Hodges

7. Don't Ask, Don't Tell

8. The Mattachine Society

9. The Daughters of Bilitis

11. The AIDS crisis

12. Bayard Rustin

13. Lawrence v. Texas

14. The Gay Liberation Front

15. The Human Rights Campaign

European lgbt+ History

1. Section 28 (UK)

2. Oscar Wilde

3. Alan Turing

4. Magnus Hirschfeld

5. Paragraph 175 (Germany)

6. The Homomonument (Netherlands)

7. EuroPride

8. James Barry

9. The decriminalization of homosexuality in the UK (1967)

10. ILGA-Europe

11. Homosexual Law Reform Act 1986 (New Zealand, part of the Commonwealth)

12. The Equality Act 2010 (UK)

13. Transgender Europe (TGEU)

14. The first same-sex marriage in the Netherlands (2001)

15. Dora Richter

Have fun learning! 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

P.S: You may wonder “But what about places other than the USA or Europe?” (or those of you who already know a lot about lgbt+ history, “but what about (topic I haven’t mentioned here)”) - and that’s actually a really great point! It highlights what we talked about above: nobody knows everything + lgbt+ history is way too rich of a topic to put it all into one short list! This isn’t meant to be a comprehensive list of everything important, just some potential starting points that hopefully lead you to topics beyond ones mentioned on this list.

[peaches-creek]

“What if they don’t like me.” You say.

“They have begged me for months for a day like this, do not worry my love.”

“So, what if they finally meet me and they-“

“They will love you, just as I do.” He interrupts.

As you walk up the stone walkway leading into Konig’s childhood home, you can’t help but feel insecure. You have been dating for a little over a year, and have a small apartment off base together. You haven’t met them yet due to busy work schedules. Though you did feel as though you were putting it off, you couldn’t help but felt as time passed that they must resent you, keeping their son away from them for so long. You walk up to the door and Konig gives three loud knocks to the white-painted wooden door.

Now you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but with the way Konig explained his mother, you would’ve thought she was a tiny old lady. He had said his parents were a bit older, having him in their late thirties, making them around 65-70 years old. He mentioned two siblings, a brother who lives in the states, and a younger sister who lives at home. His father and mother owned a bakery in town, right near a church. He worked there when he was a teenager.

Anyways, as the door opens, you have to look up to greet her. She had to be about 6’2, with grayish blonde hair, and just the right amount of wrinkles that tell you she has lived a happy life.

“Hallo! You must be the girl I hear so much about. Come in, come in, we have so much to show you.” She greets, guiding you inside, she seems like one of the nicest women you have ever met, she looks young for her age.

The house is beautiful, everything looks handcrafted. Then you see his father and realize Konig gets his height from his mother, his father couldn’t be only taller than 5’8

“How do you like your tea?” He asks.

“Milk and sugar please.”

For the next hour, you will see countless albums of baby Konig, kid Konig, and even awkward phase Konig. All so adorable and dorky. His mother is nothing but kind, asking you questions about yourself and seeming genuinely interested. His father is more quiet, but he has this kind smile that just rests on his face, you can see it as he catches up with his son. It was a wonderful afternoon.

“So you two live together?” His mother asks. Konig and his father were outside, talking about their garden.

“Just a small apartment off base, not too far from here actually.” You say.

“That’s nice, it seems very serious between you two.”

“Well it is to me, your son means the world to me.”

“That’s a very refreshing thing to say to a mother you know,” she starts, “I was always so worried about him, He is very hard on himself, I was even more worried when he joined the military.”

“He is very good at his job I hope you know, I worry as well but he is very diligent and precise.” You soothe

The front door jingles as if a key were being used. In walks in a woman, about the same size as your boyfriend. About 6’9, same red hair, and same sweet smile.

“Hello.” You greet.

“Ah, it’s very nice to meet you.” She says giving your hand a firm shake. She sits down at the table right across from you.

“Yes, I agree.” You say.

“So how did you to meet?”

“We met through work, I’m a medic.”

“Yes, I met her when she had to give me a few stitches,” Konig interrupts, walking back inside, “She was very gentle compared to the rest of the medics that work there.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You say.

“I disagree, anyways she didn’t actually talk to me until we were on a job, She had to reset my knee, again very gentle.”

“As gentle as a person can be while pushing a bone back into its place.”

“You seem very accident prone, my son.” His father adds.

“Yes, he is, I think he does it on purpose.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Konig says.

“When did you get the courage to ask her out.” His sister asks.

“She had to ask, I was very nervous and backed down many times. She asked if I liked tea, to which I said yes, and then she asked if we could go get some the following morning, I said yes.”

“Very romantic.” His mother gushes.

The afternoon turns to evening and it’s time to go back to your apartment.

“It was very nice to meet you all, I don’t know why I was so nervous, you guys are so lovely.”

“Come back anytime, I can teach you how to bake strudel.” His mother offers.

“I would really like that.”

You exchange goodbyes and get into Konig’s truck.

“Wasn’t so bad, now was it?” He points out.

“No, it was awesome Your family is so kind, I see where you get it from.”

He grins, and continues driving.

What you didn’t know, was that his mother slipped his grandmothers ring in his hand before you guys left.

[primehyuck]

MOVES

aka good things take time (the happy ending version)

word count: 11.3k

i first started writing this because i’ve been listening to the song Moves by Suki Waterhouse on repeat, but it became much more than that

contents: long time best friend!haechan, slice of life, pining and yearning, chronological time jumps (mostly college and young adulthood), other members mentioned (Mark and Jeno!roommates), kissing, fluff, wet dreams, a good example of two people who seriously need to communicate, face sitting, morning sex, lots of pet names

“Do you think we’ll be friends for a long time?” Haechan’s soft voice distracts your attempt to focus on a blade of the blurry ceiling fan, unable to keep you cool despite it spinning so fast you think it might fly away.

“How do you mean?” the bed squeaks when Haechan sits up to lean over you.

“Growing up, I feel like my parents didn’t have many friends aside from each other. My mom told me that it’s because when you get older your priorities change and you realize who adds value to your life, and that’s who you decide to keep.” His eyes are glowing with sincerity, body blocking the flow of air from touching you at all “so when we’re older, and married with kids and other priorities, and we maybe live in different cities, do you think we’ll still be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment before shoving his face out of the way of the fans air stream.

“Definitely,” your confidence soothes him enough that he lays back down “if I ever muster up the creativity to come up with a reason to stop being your friend, you have to swear you’ll tell me how stupid I’m being, swear to me.” you smack his chest before he can even answer.

“I swear!” He smiles to himself, staring up at the ceiling with you, rubbing his hand over the warm spot where your hand made contact, melting into the mattress.

———

Growing up people always joked that Haechan and you would fall in love, that it was inevitable, practical even. Because, if you fall in love with your best friend you’ve already conquered one of the highest mountains - finding someone that you like, and who likes you back.

You had both seen the other in a relationship, an inevitability when you’ve been friends with someone since puberty. He’d cheered you on when you had your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school, forced you to come out on double dates with him and a friend of his you didn’t even like just so he could take someone else out, and freshman year of college he’d even introduced you to the person you'd lost your virginity to.

The only time he cockblocked you was when you tried to get to know any of his friends more than platonically, so eventually you gave up and settled for real friendship with all of them.

“Trust me, you don’t want to touch him with a six foot pole.” He’d said freshman year when you had mentioned your attraction to his roommate, Mark.

“He seems so nice, though.” you pouted

“He is nice, but that doesn’t mean you want to be with him.”

“How would you know what I want?” you scoffed, and he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Has the wind beneath my wings ever led you into the wrong arms?” He was highly animated, offended that you would question his judgment.

By the start of sophomore year it was obvious to everyone else that you were strictly off limits. All of his friends had decided unanimously that even if you did attempt anything with them they had no choice but to shut you down. The cold stare Haechan unknowingly serves them from across the room whenever they got too close was enough to keep them away. None of the boys ever minded the boundaries with you, there always was an ease in your friendship since they all knew it could never go further, but that didn’t mean they never thought about the possibility.

One night, at the end of junior year, Haechan is nowhere to be found at his own party and you graciously accept Jeno’s invitation upstairs when you complain of a headache, “we can play Mario Kart, and it won’t be all competitive like when Haechan plays with us.”

It starts like normal, and you're having fun when you realize that your tipsy brain can’t focus on the screen and the conversation simultaneously, opting for the latter as you relax into Jeno’s pillows. You don’t even notice him inching closer to you until his nose touches yours, tugging at a strand of your hair. This is the first time any of Haechan’s friends have shown interest in you, you’d never even been on the receiving end of a flirtatious stare from across the beer pong table, so you take the reins.

Kissing Jeno feels a little bit like winning, like you’ve finally made it past the invisible forcefield Haechan had put up around his friends. The kiss is lazy and hot, Jeno props himself up on one elbow and presses your back into the mattress with his chest. Your eager fingers run beneath his shirt, his abs tightening when you trail them over his sides. Your spine tingles when he groans into your mouth, the hand on your cheek moving to grip your knee and hike your leg over his hip. His hand holds strong around your thigh, and you sigh when he grinds into you.

Jeno pulls away too soon, stopping your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt with a pained sigh as he drops your leg to roll onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Fuck, I should not be doing this with you.”

“Why, you don’t want to?” You want to curl into yourself, sitting up to stare down at his shaking head.

“No, definitely not that.” he pulls his arm away to meet your eyes, the alcohol in his veins making him brave enough to admit “Haechan would be pissed.”

“Haechan?” you question “did he say something to you?” Jeno groans, sitting up and hooking his elbows around his knees, staring at the mattress between his legs.

“No, no. He’s never actually said anything,” he knows he’s revealing too much, but he also knows he’s gone too far to stop “we just know he would never want us to cross that line with you.”

“We?” you can feel embarrassment bubbling in your chest at the idea of all of your friends talking about this.

“Yeah, you know, all the guys. We figured you were just off limits, I don’t know.” he grimaces, looking up at you with apologetic eyes when you don’t respond. You huff and climb off the bed, feeling rejected in more ways than one.

You’d crossed a boundary tonight, but Jeno was still a close friend, someone you’d spent a lot of time with since he met Haechan freshman year. He still knows you, so he grabs your wrist before you can leave, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so he can stand you between his legs.

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad.” He envelops your hands in his and brings them to his chest.

“I’m not mad,” you mumble, avoiding his apologetic gaze “I’m embarrassed that all of my friends agreed not to touch me.”

“Did you really think not a single one of us was ever interested in you?” you shrug and he squeezes your hands tighter, heart tugging in his chest.

“When people don’t act interested, that’s usually a safe assumption.” you pout and Jeno’s laugh buzzes through your linked fingers "I gave up on all of you halfway through freshman year."

“Well, some of us are better actors than I remember.”

He has you laughing by the time you leave his room, sealing the night with one more self indulgent kiss and a pinky swear to never tell Haechan about what happened.

———

Halfway through the first semester of senior year Haechan bangs angrily on his roommates door before swinging it open and Jeno is genuinely shocked that it's taken this long for the gossip to hit his ears. The rest of the boys had clocked Jeno the next morning for being ‘too happy’ and he had to make them all swear not to tell, wanting to protect your pride and his own friendship with Haechan.

"You slut!" Haechan points an accusatory finger in Jeno's direction, dragging his feet slowly toward him until he's so close Jeno has to bat his hand out of his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Haechan's voice is low and angry, something new and unpleasant sparking in his gut at the idea of Jeno kissing you, touching you.

"No, I don't." Jeno can’t help but antagonize. Pleased with the perfect opportunity to trick Haechan into saying out loud what everyone else seems to have known for years.

"You kissed my best friend!" He shrieks, tossing his hands up in the air dramatically.

"So what, she's not allowed to kiss people?" Haechan squints his eyes at Jeno’s response, scrunching his nose in annoyance “how did you even find out?”

"She can kiss whoever she wants, it's all of you that aren't allowed to kiss her." Haechan waves his hand wildly toward the bedroom door, alluding to the large group of boys living in the house “you know Mark can’t keep a secret, he’s been bursting at the seams for months. All I had to do was ask.”

"It happened forever ago dude, why are you so pissed? You've never even given us a chance to get close to her in that way, maybe one of us could really like her." Jeno reasons, tugging at Haechan's strings, watching the gears in his brain turn as he tries to come up with a real argument.

"She has a boyfriend," Haechan finally says with a frown at the thought of the guy he’d only recently met, he doesn’t like him at all. From his stupid hair to the shoes he wears, there’s not a thing about your new boyfriend that Haechan thinks is good enough for you. He collapses into the gaming chair across from where Jeno is relaxed on the couch, not having moved at all since Haechan stormed in "plus, I think any of you would know by now, you've all known her for four years."

"I think, that it can take a lot longer than four years to realize how much you like someone." Jeno bites, "how long have you known her?"

"Since middle school." He picks at the hole in the knee of his black jeans, realizing what Jeno is alluding to, defensive exterior quickly crumbling.

"Right, I think that if you're blind enough then it can take ten years to realize how much you like someone."

"Well, maybe ten years is too long and that person missed their chance." Haechan turns his head to stare out the window, anxiously spinning the chair side to side.

"You know I'm talking about you, right?"

"God, yes, I know you're talking about me." Haechan glares at his friend, fidgeting stopping abruptly "and I know I've been a complete idiot about it, but like I said, I’m out of time."

———

Haechan can’t stop his free hand from clenching and unclenching as you sob into your pillow, his less angry hand rubbing over your back.

“He told me he saw us moving in together after graduation,” your voice shakes “how do you look someone in the eyes and say shit like that and then sleep with someone else?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan replies earnestly, feeling as helpful as flip flops in the snow from where he sits on the edge of your mattress “I’m so sorry.”

He takes your silence as an invitation, lying on his stomach, face turned toward you, fingers still drawing soothing circles over your shoulder blades. He waits patiently for you to calm down, unease swarming his stomach knowing that even after years of friendship he can’t truly comfort you in this moment.

“I’m so embarrassed.” you sniffle, smearing your face over your pillow before turning to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting for you to collect yourself enough to explain.

“I’m so gullible, he even told me he’s cheated in the past and for whatever reason I believed that he’d treat me differently, that he’d love me enough.” Haechan has to count to five in his head to stay calm before he speaks.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The most natural thing you can do is believe someone when they say they love you.” He murmurs, turning onto his side so he can pull you into a hug. When you curl into his body to bury your face in his chest he can only pray you can’t hear his heart pound against his ribs.

“He’s an idiot, and he didn’t deserve any of the love you gave him. I promise, you’re so much better off.”

Haechan hates the piece of himself that’s relieved your relationship has ended. The same piece that hated your ex the minute he met him, that feels heavy in your absence whenever you’re busy with anyone who isn’t him. The piece that crosses it’s fingers whenever you get this close in hopes that you’ll be the first one to cross the line, to finally do what he’s thought about doing for the last few months since he realized exactly how he felt about you.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his tear dampened shirt, lifting your leg over his to cuddle in even closer “thanks for always being my friend, even when I do dumb shit, like let boys be mean to me.”

He nuzzles his nose into your scalp, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of your shampoo “Thanks for letting me. Besides, even Beyoncé got cheated on, so you clearly aren’t that dumb.” the crowd in his brain cheers when you giggle into his chest.

“You’re so annoying.” He holds you even tighter.

———

“I can’t believe it,” your jaw drops and Haechan whips his head up nervously to look at you from across the couch

“What happened?”

“I got it, I got the job!” you shove his feet off your lap to jump up excitedly, bouncing on your toes as you read the email out loud. Haechan’s ears are ringing so loud he barely catches the first half, trying to shake off the dazed look he’s sure appears on his face.

“We were extremely impressed with your resume and even more so with the impression you left on the board during your interview, blah blah blah, excited to offer you this position, blah blah blah, and a relocation bonus to join us in in our new office!” the pitch of your voice rises a few octaves as you finish reading.

Haechan stares at you from his spot on the couch, eyes wide with shock that you’re too excited to notice, skimming your screen as you re-read the details in your offer letter.

His entire body is buzzing, torn between feeling excited at your accomplishment and sorry for himself.

He had a plan, a really good one, he thought. After your breakup you’d made it painfully clear that you wanted to be single for a while, and he knew if he could just be patient, it would all be worth it. So Haechan decided to bottle his feelings up, sitting patiently by your side where he had been for so many years, waiting for you to heal and hoping that when you were finally ready to start dating again he’d have mustered up the courage to make the first move.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you even listening to me!?” you drop your phone to pull him up off the couch, bouncing up and down with your fingers intertwined “I’m moving to my dream city, to start my dream job.” you reiterate and he snaps out of it, sweeping the imaginary shards of glass that his plan had been made out of under the rug and pulling you into a hug.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” You deadpan, but squeeze him back just as tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you is all.” He admits, "I'd follow you if my job didn't keep me here."

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss me too much, don’t worry.” you plant your cheek on his chest, surprised at the relief you feel in hearing him say it first.

———

This feeling was still a little unfamiliar, nerves. Haechan had never made you nervous growing up; excited, annoyed, passionate maybe, but never nervous.

The nerves began last summer, when he’d come out to visit you for the first time to celebrate his birthday. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met, almost ten full months and the anticipation was palpable.

When he steps through the airport doors you think that it’s the relief of finally being near him again that knocks the wind out of you. Running into his open arms and being squeezed so tightly in them that you tap his shoulder to let you breathe. Ruffling his hair when he steps back and ignoring the fact that he had grown so much since you’d seen him last.

But as the night goes on, the slight changes to the person you have memorized become glaringly obvious. The way his cheeks have lost some of their cushion, revealing a sharp jaw and pointed cheekbones. The natural wave in his once unruly hair now falling perfectly over his brow bone, he had dyed it a little darker which made his tan skin glow even in dim lighting. Even his smell seemed to draw you into a trance, a much more expensive version of the Haechan you know.

“You know, that group of girls has been staring over at you since we walked in.” You raise your eyebrows playfully, pointing your glass toward the pretty gaggle that keeps walking past the booth you and Haechan occupy.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you before shrugging, “I didn’t come here to see them, I came to see you.” he smiles, punctuating his thought by reaching over the table and tapping your nose.

“I know, I know,” you laugh, batting him away “It never hurts to know when people are staring, though”

His face is unreadable as he rests his arm lazily up over the bench of the booth, body sinking into the seat while he lifts his glass to swirl his drink, biting the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue the entire trip, and at the end of every phone call since you started your new job.

“How are you, seriously.” You push. In the time since you moved he’d started and ended a relationship with a girl that you’d never met. Your new job kept you so busy that you hadn’t even learned about the breakup until a week later, when you finally had the time to call him back. The guilt of your absence weighs you down, resenting your inability to be there for him the way he had been for you in the past.

“I’m over it, seriously.” You know he’s telling the truth, but it’s in your nature to pry.

“You never really talked about, why, you know.”

“Do I have to?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just feel so behind on your life.” You sigh and push your empty glass to the side, swirling your finger in the ring of cold water it leaves behind.

“It’s okay, really. You’ve been busy, I understand.” He reaches across the table to stop your anxious fingers “I didn’t love her the way I knew I should, that’s all. It’s a good thing that it ended, and I’m happy that it did.”

“That’s all that matters, then.” and he’s grateful that you drop the subject.

You eventually get back to your apartment, both giggly and flush from the alcohol still fogging your brain despite the long walk you'd hoped would lessen it. Haechan holds your hand the whole way back, even when he stops suddenly to pet a dog, dragging you down to the ground with him. He can’t help himself, grateful that at this point you'd touched one another in every way other than what he dreams about most, and you seem oblivious to his need to be so close to you.

As you get ready for bed he lets himself watch you undress facing the wall away from him, unaware of his gaze burning into your backside and the way his fingers tingle at the thought of pulling at the meat of your hips. He scolds his heart for thudding so loud when you squeeze your eyes into a smile at his reflection standing next to yours at the sink while you brush your teeth, the domestication of your friendship that he used to appreciate now suffocating him.

You put on a movie and invite him to rest his head on the pillow in your lap, wishing he could bury his nose into the skin of your thighs beneath it. Halfway through the movie he has to sit up to hide the way his cock is hardening at the feeling of your nails combing through his hair and down his shoulder, occasionally thrumming over his chest. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs as casually as possible, pulling you into his side by your shoulder, the other arm stretched across the back of the couch.

"Are you cold for the first time in your life?" Haechan never wants to use a blanket, but you’re grateful for the position giving you access to bury your face into his chest, gripping his shirt.

"No, just want to be warmer." he presses a blushing cheek onto the top of your head, trying to think of anything except the way your hair smells, or the feeling of the side of your breast brushing his wrist through your shirt. Haechan feels eighteen again and like he's discovering the connection between romantic and sexual feelings for the first time in his life. He tries to match his breathing to yours, holding his breath whenever you shift in his hold and reconnecting his stomach with your back as quickly as possible. The temptation to pour his heart out is overwhelming, but when he feels your body completely relax into his and your breathing slow down, the words become trapped in his throat, so he lets you sleep.

Haechan had never experienced a shorter 48 hours than that weekend he spent following you around the city you now call home.

You’re shining in your new space, and he happily trails behind you to all the places you’ve discovered in the almost year since you moved. His stomach does somersaults whenever you point something out that reminds you of him.

“I’ve been waiting to come here until you could come with me!” you're so excited to take him to the video game themed coffee shop that your co-workers had recommended “I thought about coming to see if it was even worth it, but I only want to play these kinds of games with you anyway.”

Sometimes he can forget about his feelings for you, when things are just as they always have been. You talk with and touch him the same, laugh at his jokes the same. He thinks that if he were to ever say out loud what he’s been feeling, that the two of you would still be the same but with a little More, ‘you guys’ but on steroids. So when everything is normal he can pretend like it���a not. He can act like the More is there when you hold his hand to drag him around to the different machines, play games he wants to play even if you don’t want to, you even wipe ice cream off of his chin when his cone starts to melt because he’s talking too much to eat and he wonders why it took him so long to see it this way, and if you could too.

He keeps thinking the moment will come, when he’ll know spilling his guts to you is the right thing to do. But between you gushing over how much you love your new life and your willingness to point out every girl who has blinked at him this weekend, he completely loses the steam he’d gained during his flight, regardless of how his imagination runs wild with the More.

He curses himself the entire weekend for his lack of bravery, hoping that keeping his feelings in is the right decision. After his recent relationship crashed and burned because of his feelings for you he thought he had no choice but to come clean. But watching you, being with you in your new life makes him realize that his role in it hasn’t changed even if his feelings for you have.

The lump in his throat as he stands outside the departure doors is more than just sadness at the thought of leaving you, it’s the realization that he has to let the romantic idea of you go.

“How come you never cry when we have to leave each other,” you hiccup into his chest, and he coos your name lovingly.

“Don’t worry, you know I save my tears for the plane to make everyone in my row uncomfortable.” He knows that you hate that he’s making you laugh at a time like this, pulling away so you can swat his chest and he raises his hands in surrender.

“When will we be able to see each other again?”

“As soon as possible.” He nods reassuringly, wiping your tears with his thumb, heart pounding as he stares into your watering eyes “hey, you’re my best friend in the world, you annoy me every day, and I love you.”

“Whatever, I love you too.” you laugh, but his heart speeds up at the words that you’ve said to him thousands of times. You sweep your arms around him one last time before pushing him toward the airport doors “you better go, if you miss your flight I can’t guarantee I’ll let you leave at all.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He walks backwards slowly, staring at you with a ‘kicked puppy’ kind of face he mastered years ago and you wave enthusiastically, blowing loud kisses into the air that he catches and clutches to his heart.

“This is it,” he thinks, “this has to be it.”

———

Haechan is dreaming about you. He has been nightly ever since he got back from his birthday weekend. He’s grateful the dreams have variety, since some of them overwhelm him to the point of waking up and not being able to fall back asleep.

Sometimes, you’re young again and whenever anyone says “You know, it’s just a matter of time until one of you has a crush on the other.” you both theatrically gag, laughing at each other as if it were the most insane idea in the world. Or, you're sitting on his childhood couch watching your guys' favorite movie for the hundredth weekend in a row, vocalizing the parts of the two main characters and recreating all the best scenes.

Sometimes you’re at his apartment just hanging out together, which are dreams that feel so real he almost expects to see you in his kitchen when he wakes up. Most of these dreams spark a deja vu laced flame in his gut so deep he finds himself confusing them with memories. The ache of missing you wakes him up before his alarm some mornings, and he finds himself face timing you once he knows you're awake just to watch you make coffee and wash your face.

But sometimes, he has dreams that make him feel so ashamed he can barely text you back in the morning. Dreams where he reaches to touch you and you let him, where you tug at his hair and moan his name while he does all the things that he can only do to you in his sleep. He hates to say that these are his favorite, but it's the one dream he knows he'll never actually achieve and he goes to bed every night praying for them.

That’s the kind of dream he’s having when his phone buzzes him awake. He answers without looking because there are only a handful of people who can reach him when he’s on ‘do not disturb’, and you’re one of them. He hums a sleepy greeting into his phone, putting it on speaker next to his pillow and nearly drifting right back into the dream and between your thighs.

“Donghyuck” his eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice “did i wake you up?”

He can practically hear the pout in your voice, squinting at the time on his phone, “Yes, it’s three in the morning,” he stares down to where he’s half hard, running an embarrassed hand over his face even though there’s no possible way for you to know “are you okay?”

“No, well technically yes but I miss you which means things could be better.” you slur your words and Haechan smiles, somehow he's never annoyed that you call him pretty much every time you drink. He thinks it's because he's familiar with this version of you, though he definitely hasn't seen it often since college graduation. This version of you loves him hard, and is never afraid to say it.

"I miss you too," he takes a beat before adding "I was dreaming about you just now."

You gasp excitedly "Really! What were we doing." He smirks at the thought of telling you that you had been sitting on his face, hand reaching back for his cock while he guides your cunt over his tongue until you were shaking above him.

"Just, hanging out." he shrugs. It's his second time this week alone dreaming of your clit bumping his nose, and the thought makes his mouth water.

"I don't believe you." You say accusingly "that's way too boring for a mind like yours to dream up."

"What exactly is my mind like?" He yawns, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

"Oh, you know," you hum "your mind is a galaxy, with at least a billion planets and twice as many stars. I wish I could fly into your head and explore it, but NASA doesn't have the funds."

Haechan holds his breath at your compliment, the smile on his face so wide he can hear it in his own voice "That sounds like an episode of Magic School Bus."

"Your brain is definitely cooler than some cartoon, it's pretty much my favorite place on Earth."

"How would you know, you've never actually been inside?" He shakes his head, teasing you gently. Hearing words like these come out of your mouth breaks his heart and glues it back together at the same time.

"Are you saying you never think about me?" you ask him, not an ounce of sarcasm in your voice.

"I think about you all the time, I promise, all the planets in my brain are shaped like you." You hum, pleased with his response. He shuts his eyes and waits for your answer.

"Yeah, all the planets in mine are shaped like you, too." you pause for a second and add "plus all the stars, I win, I think about you more."

———

This time when Haechan comes to visit you, you know the nerves are more than just excitement at seeing your best friend. It’s a feeling that is nestled so deep in your stomach it makes you a little nauseous. You haven't seen him since you went home for the holidays and he only has one night in the city. You find yourself grueling over your reflection in the mirror, not used to being self conscious in front of him. You’re only going out for happy hour, but you put yourself together to last all night.

When Haechan finally arrives he whistles lowly, making you blush when he pulls out of your hug and requests a spin.

“I appreciate that you got so dressed up for me.” He teases, hoping you don’t catch his eyes sweeping over your legs, wanting to commit you in this dress to memory.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours making sure you looked as perfect as possible. Hoping he doesn’t see the pile of clothes shoved into your closet from all the failed attempts.

“Never,” he grabs your purse off of the counter and opens the door, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically “after you. There are some strangers outside who are waiting to catch a glimpse of you, they just don’t know it yet.”

“You are so dramatic.” You lock the door behind you, using the moment facing away from him to collect yourself. Lately you catch yourself wondering if he'd always been so flirtatious, or if you're just forcing meaning behind his words because of how badly you want him to be.

“What, a guy can’t compliment his best friend?”

You smile widely at him and grab your bag out of his grasp, popping your key inside and walking toward the entrance of your building. Praying your fingers stop shaking when you finally get a drink in you. Haechan throws his arm around your shoulders while you walk down the street to your favorite cocktail bar and you're grateful for his usual chatter, talking to you about work and his slow climb up the ladder.

“They put me in a hotel this time, so you don’t have to worry about making me breakfast in the morning.” He smiles at you, sipping his drink gingerly.

“You know I never cook you breakfast.” He feels so far away across the table and you wish that you were sitting next to him instead, shoulders cold without the weight of his arm around them. It feels so good to have him touch you, to feel like you're his. There's a small part of you that feels guilty for using his knack for physical affection to your advantage, he has no idea what the heat of his skin on yours does.

“I know, but all the meetings are in the hotel anyway so it’s easier this time to just stay there.”

You try not to let yourself visibly deflate at the news, wanting to keep him for yourself the whole time he’s in town. His knee presses against yours under the table and you focus all your energy into acting the way you would have before, but you can’t focus on anything else and cross your legs to pull away from him as casually as possible. As badly as you want to touch him, sometimes you can’t.

“What time do you have to be up?”

He groans, leaning back enough that his knee now slides against your shin, “too early,” and glances down at his now empty glass, motioning to the bartender for another “which means you need to drink faster, so I can stop at a reasonable hour.”

You smile, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp, when his foot taps against yours you know it's going to be a long night.

The end of the night finds you together on your couch with a shared bottle of wine sitting empty on the coffee table, his early meetings temporarily forgotten. You and Haechan have been in this position plenty of times, drunk, slap happy and overly touchy in a way that you had always been comfortable being with one another. The difference now is you, this version of you who wants your best friend in an entirely different way.

Every time he pulls you closer you feel electricity shoot straight to your heart so intensely that you have to duck out of his grasp. You don’t know what to do with the feelings that have been growing gradually from your toes up, now practically sprouting out of your scalp with a neon sign blinking “I’m in love with you” over and over.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Haechan whines when you all but flinch away from his hand reaching for his phone near your arm. He’d been aware of it all night, the space you left between the two of you while you walked back from the bar, your sudden inability to maintain the eye contact that he craved. The complete lack of physical touch makes him feel dejected.

“Doing what?” You give him a panicked look, practically sober at the thought of being found out, of what it would feel like to be rejected by him.

“You’re not letting me touch you,” he frowns, and the alcohol buzzes through your veins again “not that you need to let me, but you only avoid it like this when you’re upset. Did I do something?” he pouts, tired eyes low when he flops his head onto his bicep resting on the back of the couch. You forget to breathe for a second when he looks up at you under dark lashes.

“I’m not upset. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” you’re lying through your teeth, but scoot an inch closer to him to make your point. He doesn’t look convinced, and if you’d had less to drink you may have noticed the mischievous glint in his eye before he grabs you by your arm, knocking you off balance and into his chest.

“See,” he sighs happily, wrapping his arms around your body and you can feel his chest buzz when he hums, cheek pressed to the top of your head. You have no choice but to ungracefully shift your lower body closer to him, making yourself a sponge and soaking in his familiar touch “isn’t that better?”

You nod, “Yes, it is better.” and you really wish he didn’t know you so well, that even in his fifth hour of being drunk he can read your mind. He pulls your ear off his heart to grab your cheeks, smushing them together and whispering your name with a shake of his head.

“What is it?” he urges, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist to loosen his grip. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and count to three in your head before you can talk yourself out of leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

You feel him falter for a half second before he’s kissing you back, pulling your face closer and pushing his body toward yours. You can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears when his tongue touches yours, and then suddenly his mouth is gone. He moves so quick you have to put your arms out to stop yourself from face planting into the cushion he had just been sitting on.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you gasp “i shouldn’t have done that, Haechan, I’m so sorry.”

It takes everything in you to look up to where he’s now standing with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. You have no idea what he’s thinking, staring down at you with wide eyes. Insecurity sweeps through you under his intense gaze, and you almost beg him to say something.

“I’m seeing someone,” the way the confession rings in your ears would have you believing that he screamed the words, but his voice was barely above a whisper “shit, I’m sorry.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your life that flashes before your eyes, or your years of friendship with him, at this point the two tend to blur together.

“That’s-” you sit back on your calves and inhale shakily, knowing it’s not even worth it to attempt to fake any sort of excitement for him “why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, swallowing thickly and pulling his eyes away from your face to stare at the ceiling “It’s new and I didn’t know how. It just never came up.”

“Well then, I’m sorry that it didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me.” grateful that he’s finally the one avoiding eye contact with you so he doesn’t see your legs wobble when you stand “probably best to pretend that never happened. I’m just drunk and I missed you-”

Your name sounds so pathetic when he says it this time and you think it’s the eighth wonder of the natural world that you haven’t started crying yet. You shake your head instead, wishing so desperately that you had changed out of the dress you were wearing as you pull the slinky material down your thighs.

“Honestly, Haechan,” You regret your next words before they even hit the air “you should probably go. You have an early morning.”

The shock on his face pains you, but you can’t stand to see what you can only assume is pity growing in his eyes for another second.

“I don’t want to go, I want to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry.” you say again and his shoulders slump in defeat, recognizing that you’d made up your mind.

“It’s okay.” He means it, shuffling forward and the look on your face is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. His breath catches when you shift away the inch he moved toward you, eyes locked on his and he can see the desperation in them before he hears it in your voice.

“Text me when you get to the hotel?” your voice cracks with a heavy mix of exhaustion and embarrassment that makes him nods once, grabbing his things and walking slowly toward your door. He turns to look at you, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your eyes begin to water, mustering up all his energy to offer what he prays is a reassuring smile before letting himself out.

You sink back into the couch when the door clicks shut, head hanging in your hands as the tears finally start to flow. You cry so hard you feel like you could throw up, replaying his rejection over and over in your mind, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Pure embarrassment heats your body at the look on his face when he told you he was seeing someone, and you’re not sure if it was disgust or pity in his eyes.

On top of the rejection, knowing that he didn’t feel like he could share something as big as meeting someone with you was a dagger to the heart, up until recently you had never kept a secret from him, and even this one you clearly couldn’t keep in for long.

You force yourself into the shower, scrubbing angrily at your skin under the scalding water. You get out once your fingers have pruned and your skin feels raw, avoiding the mirror on your way to your bedroom. You kick angrily at the dress you'd left on the floor, watching it land near the pile of outfits you had discarded while getting ready.

Haechan had texted you nearly thirty minutes earlier

“made it back”

you give it a thumbs up before turning your phone off, setting an alarm with the clock on your side table and letting the emotional exhaustion lull you to sleep.

------

Haechan is realizing that there is no way in hell that you need space more than he needs to talk to you. He tries to call you multiple times the first week after you kissed him but you never answered, and Haechan doesn’t want to push you to the point of no return. What he really wants is to go back in time and not leave you that night, but the pain in your eyes was so pronounced he couldn't bare to make it any worse. The only physical proof that you had kissed him at all being the stupid blue thumbs up on the text he had sent you that night. It's followed by a slew of reassuring texts, saying that he broke up with his girlfriend and if you would please just talk to him, that he's not mad.

This is the feeling he carries with him nearly two weeks later on the flight to you, when he’s sure that another minute of silence from you will kill him. By the time he gets to your apartment it’s almost midnight, so he knocks loud enough to wake you up.

When you open the door in a shirt he thinks might be his, Haechan knows he has no choice. He's speaking before you can say anything, before he can change his mind.

"I came here to tell you that I think you're being really stupid." He curses internally for the obvious nerves in his voice, your tired eyes widen with shock at his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Years ago you made me swear that I would tell you if you ever came up with a reason not to be my friend anymore. So I'm telling you now, I think you're being really fucking stupid."

"I'm not doing that" You defend yourself, tearing up at the sight of him. He pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and standing close enough to touch. He’s staring you down with pleading eyes, and you bury your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why are you ignoring me? Why won’t you let me fix this?”

“I don’t know I just,” you inhale shakily “I don't know how to do it right now, not like this."

"Like what?" He hopes he already knows the answer, but needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re as serious as he is. Your mouth feels full of cotton when he forces you to look at him by whispering your name, pulling your hands from your face and his heart pinches tightly at the tears welling in your eyes "please tell me, please. Like what?"

"You already know," your bottom lip betrays you, voice weak beneath heavy emotion when you speak "I love you, Haechan. I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I fucked everything up, but I can’t undo it."

He feels his lungs fill with relief. Haechan steps forward to close the small gap between your bodies, grabbing your jaw to rest his forehead against yours. You falter, but his hand on the small of your back keeps you from going anywhere, he's practically panting and you can barely stand, dizzy with the feeling of him. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when he whispers "You didn't fuck anything up."

He ghosts his lips over yours for a moment until he's sure you're not going to stop him. When he finally kisses you it's with years of pent up adoration, directing your arms around his neck and pressing his thumb firmly into your jaw, long fingers wrapping around the side of your throat. He practically whines when your fingers tighten in his hair and your lips part for his warm tongue. His arm wraps around your waist so tightly you have to hinge backward to keep your mouths connected, gasping at the strength you didn't know he had.

He keeps your stomach flush to his own and kisses you until you're practically limp in his arms, pulling away to breathe. His eyes are shut as he rubs his nose over yours

"I love you, too. I've been meaning to tell you for a while." All the blood rushes into your ears at his words and you can't stop your biggest worry from spilling into the air.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago, there's nothing you could do to change it." He blinks his eyes open, pulling his face away from yours just enough to see you, the trepidation in your eyes makes him say your name quietly.

"It's only me, you know me," he assures you in a hushed tone "you have to know by now that you are my entire world."

You could laugh, only him, as if he hasn’t been one of the most important people in your life since the day you met. As if he isn’t someone who has seen you at every stage of it so far. It’s Haechan, who has always been funny, who has witnessed the worst sides of you and never made you feel bad, who has never left your side.

You kiss him again, fingers wrapping in tight fists around his shirt to keep yourself grounded. Haechan’s heart pounds happily in his chest and he hopes you can feel it this time, both hands nestling into your hair. He kisses you gently in an effort to slow down your urgent movements, moaning at the taste of your mouth. You fall into his rhythm easily, the way his tongue rolls gently over yours makes your body go up in flames. You move your hands to slide beneath his shirt, landing on the strong muscles in his back and teasing your fingers up his sides.

When you finally come up for air he stares at you for a minute before laughing, stomach tightening beneath your fingers when he does.

"What's funny?" you shut your eyes, leaning your forehead into his chest, letting the pretty sound ring in your ears.

"Nothing, I'm just-" he cuts himself off with a shrug, nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head "I love you, and you love me back. That's all, that's how easy it is."

"It hasn't been easy at all, in fact my life has been very very hard since your birthday last year.” He pulls away from your head to ogle at you.

"My birthday last year?" You nod, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, it had really been that long "God, I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot."

He's kissing you again before you can ask him to elaborate, grabbing hold of both wrists in one hand while he walks you backward and guides you up onto the counter as slowly as he has to in order to keep his lips on yours. His hips are the perfect height for you to wrap your legs around, gasping in surprise when he slides his hands around your ass and presses your core tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You feel shy when you pull away to ask if he wants to go to your bedroom, feeling frozen in place when he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his plump lips swollen and red.

"Tonight, I'm just kissing you." Every cell in his body is screaming in protest at his own words. He can't express how badly he wants to do everything else, to recreate his dreams, to learn the parts of your body he'd never seen before. But he can't imagine doing anything but this tonight, just this; his lips on yours, your breath in his lungs and your body melting into his.

"Why?” your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You practically shiver with need, tucking your arms between your stomachs and burying your nose in his throat. His laugh buzzes against your face, rubbing his hands gently over your shoulders and trying to control his own breathing as your lips brush over his skin.

All he can say is, “Because I’ve been needing to for a long time.”

“How long?” You pull away from his chest, leaning back onto your hands and closing your eyes when he runs his own down your sternum and over your waist, groping at the flesh of your hips and trying not to regret his romantic side.

“Way too long.”

“Your birthday?” you ask, tugging gently at his shirt. He plants his hands outside of your legs to lean in close, one corner of his mouth pulling up.

“Much longer.” Your eyes widen in shock, and he interrupts you before you can question him “can we talk about it later? I have something really important to do tonight.”

———

He tells you that he's had feelings for you since senior year of college, when you kissed Jeno. He tells you about his plan to admit everything when he had seen you on his birthday, but that he was too scared. He assures you he ended his relationship the moment he got back home the previous week “because everyone has felt like a matter of 'when' it will end, not 'if',” He tells you that just two weeks of your silence hurt worse than any previous heartbreak, and you agree. And before you fell asleep next to him he tells you again, ‘I'm so in love with you.’ and shimmies excitedly when you say it back before kissing you until you can barely keep your eyes open. He holds your cheeks in his hands and practically lulls you to sleep with his tongue, plush lips pressing to yours so gently you can hardly feel them dotting around the rest of your face. He thinks he could do this forever before sleep finally catches up with him, his arm slung over your side to hold your face to his chest.

You wake up curled into a familiar side, your first emotion being giddy as the night floods back to you. Despite your obvious willingness to go further, Haechan had meant it when he said he'd only be kissing you. It made you crazy at first, but when the two of you were staring at each other in the mirror with shy eyes while moving through a nighttime routine you had gotten familiar with years before, you were happy he had the self control you clearly lack. The idea of him actually seeing and touching you in ways he never had before, of doing all the things you'd found yourself imagining him doing over the last year; it was overwhelming. Kissing until your jaw was sore and your lips were swollen felt easy.

You’re startled by Haechan’s hand reaching for yours, holding your palm and bringing your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to each one, “good morning.” his voice is deep and tired, mouth landing on the crown of your head.

"Good morning." You press your nose into his chest happily, gripping his hand in yours and resisting the urge to squeal with delight.

"What are you so excited about, me?" He teases, hand falling on your thigh to guide your leg up the front of his, stopping just below his crotch and you hope he's going to give you what you'd been wanting all night, for the last year.

"You, I just can't believe how happy I am." You admit, lifting your head off of his chest to smile at him. He pulls you right back down, kissing your lips once before rolling you both over so he's on top of you. He presses a hand over your collarbone and drags his lips down your chin and over your throat.

"You know, this means you're all mine now." he smirks against your neck when you nod, gasping when he sucks gently at the base. He has one forearm on the mattress, the other hand too gentle on your ribs. You can feel that he's hard and you immediately roll your hips up.

"Does this mean you're gonna do more than just kiss me now?" you intend to sound confident, but it comes out as a whimper. His nose brushes over your jaw before he presses lingering kisses to your chin and cheek.

"Yes, baby, if you'll let me." You nod eagerly, shifting your face so your lips are beneath his and sighing happily when he lowers his weight onto your torso, licking into your mouth. You shiver with anticipation when he pushes at your shirt, long fingers tickling up your side before landing on your breast. You gasp into his mouth when his thumb brushes over your already hard nipple.

Your impatience is overwhelming, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up to his shoulders. He pulls away reluctantly, reaching one hand toward his back and pulling his shirt over his head. You gnaw at your lip, running your hands over his stomach and hooking your knees around his hips as much as you can while stretching your arms over your head.

“Cute.” he murmurs, pulling your shirt up and tossing it to the side. He gropes at your chest, tongue wetting his lips before he leans down to wrap them around one of your nipples. He’s trying to act without thinking, to let the dreams he’s had pave the path down your body because he knows the second he acknowledges his nerves he won’t be able to shake them off. His heart thrums when you gasp above him, arching your chest into his mouth. He’s greedy for your sounds, his hands squeezing your breasts together and licking between them to get to the other nipple. When your hips buck up into his he groans, pulling away from your chest and staring down at you with wondering eyes.

“Can I?” He feels unnaturally shy, leaning back on his calves and watching his fingers press dimples into the flesh of your hips above your underwear, tugging at the hem.

“You don’t need to ask.” He smiles, forcing you to sit by grabbing the back of your neck for a kiss. His fingers press into your clothed core and your hips roll into his hand. He sighs into your mouth at your desperation, torn between teasing you and touching you everywhere.

You can’t keep your legs from shutting around his arm when he pushes your panties to the side and slides his middle and ring finger up your wet center, circling over your clit.

You pull away from the kiss, blinking up at him and your mouth falls open when he presses firmly on your clit, rubbing in slow circles. His head hangs as he lets out a quiet “fuck” at your reaction, moving his hand off your neck to stroke over your stomach and without it behind your head you have to lie back, he presses your legs open. Haechan stares at your chest while he settles between your knees, pushing two fingers inside your dripping core. His jaw hangs open, watching his knuckles disappear inside of you.

“So soft,” he breathes, staring down to where his fingers glisten when he pulls them out to rub over your clit again, palming over his cock getting harder in his sweats “want to be everywhere at once.”

“Want you everywhere.” you whine when his fingers pull away to hook into your underwear, tugging them down your legs. Haechan stands to strip and you hold your breath and soak in the soft swell of his hip that leads to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs. It’s pretty like the rest of him, and thicker than you'd expected with a leaking tip that matches the color of his tongue, he strokes himself once and you don’t get the chance to reach for him before he lays back on the bed, rolling you to sit on top of him. You shudder when your pulsing clit rubs over his stomach, inner thigh squeezing into his ribs. He runs his hands up your waist, scooting you an inch higher and grabbing onto your tits.

“Do you remember a few months ago, when you called me drunk and I told you I was dreaming about hanging out with you?” He shivers when you grind down in response, wet pussy sliding easily over his skin “I lied.”

Your hands press into his chest, tilting your head “what were we doing?” you can barely speak above a whisper when he pinches gently at your nipple with one hand, the other rubbing over your ribs when he smirks up at you.

“You were about a foot higher than you are right now,” you gasp and reach out to grab the headboard when he jolts his hips to move you up his chest, staring down at him with wide eyes as he shifts to wrap his arms under your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs.

“You dreamt about this?” you let him bring your hips to hover over his face, hands falling into his hair when he brushes his nose over your clit as he nods.

“All the time,” he moans and drags you down onto his face, lips wrapping around your clit. You shudder above him, letting some of your weight collapse into your heels and he groans happily at the pressure of you on his chin, pressing you harder onto his mouth to fuck his tongue into you. He wants to devour you, every sound you make goes straight to his cock which is already rock hard at the taste and smell of you. Even just thinking about the fact that it's your hips grinding over his face right now is enough to make him moan into your pussy.

You slur out praise, one of your hands shooting up to grip the headboard. His hands wander gently up your sides, eyes opening to stare up to where he plays with your tits, hard cock pulsing at the sight of your head thrown back, hips moving in gentle circles over his face. Haechan’s hand tugs yours down to his hair, trying to restrain himself from thrusting into the empty air at the feeling of you all over him. He hums happily into your pussy when you start to grind over his mouth, flattening his tongue for you to ride until your legs are shaking.

He lets out a deep “mmhmm” when you warn him that you’re going to cum, suckling hard on your clit until you’re practically begging him to let you go, body crumpling forward with both hands tangled in his hair. He's grateful you didn't touch his cock, just the thought of your fingers wrapped around him is enough to make him cum and he has other plans.

You can’t speak when you collapse onto the mattress beside him, immediately warmed by the weight of his body on top of yours as he slots himself between your thighs, sucking a hickey onto the front of your throat.

“Taste too fucking good,” he hums, mouthing over your chin and cheek “been dreaming of eating your sweet pussy for so long.” you practically swoon when he kisses you, pre-cum wetting the inside of your thigh when he relaxes his stomach onto yours.

“Hyuck, want you in me, please” Your vision is blurry, whining into his swollen lips. He works them over your cheek before pulling away from you, bringing one of your legs up to his shoulder and you rest the other knee on his hip. He can feel himself pant when he taps the head of his cock on your swollen clit, practically drooling when he sticks barely the tip inside before pulling back and repeating the tantalizing motion.

“Been waiting for too long to be teased,” you pout, trying to encourage his hips toward yours with the ankle he’s not pressing his cheek into. He smirks and circles his leaking tip over you again, watching his cock spread your arousal around before he pushes into you a little further.

“I’m taking my time with you, feels so fucking good.” He can’t look away from between your thighs, messy hair hanging over his forehead while his fingers grip your ankle tightly. You whimper when he pulls all the way out again, one more hard tap against your pulsing clit before he pushes himself halfway into your leaking pussy. You rise onto your elbows, trying to reach one hand to grab for his hip but he releases the base of his cock to stop you by lacing your fingers together. When Haechan finally looks into your eyes he bottoms out, stretching your leg toward your chest so he can lean in. His hips stutter, a choked groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Oh my god, Hyuck please.” you beg him to move with a gasp. His forehead presses to your chin, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Fuck, baby, been needing you," he thrusts into you slowly, lifting his head to look down at you glowing beneath him with your eyes shut. He pulls out all the way before thrusting back inside, quickening his hips when your eyes flutter open, the look on your face enough to make his balls tighten slightly, shutting his eyes to regain self control "knew you'd feel so fucking good."

"M’so full, Haechan." you moan at his words and the rapid slap of his hips on the back of your thighs, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see his face. The way his nose scrunches with focus when he pulls away from your chest, both his hands wrapping firmly around your hips while he watches his cock sink into you. Brown, shaggy hair sticks to his damp forehead, full lower lip taken between his teeth. He’s pure, unadulterated boyish beauty, and he’s all yours.

You squeak when he lets your leg drop off his shoulder, pressing your thigh as far open as it will go with your heel digging into his backside. He fans his fingers over your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to push your clit side to side and your hips tuck up for more pressure, Haechan moans loudly when the movement causes you to clamp around his cock, "Perfect fucking pussy, can't believe it's mine now. Like my fingers on your pretty clit?”

You nod enthusiastically, letting go of your breasts to hold the backs of your thighs, Haechan's eyes move up your body to stare at your chest move beneath him, nipples looking sweet as candy. He’s dying to sink his fingers into the softest part of your stomach, the way you’re moving for him makes his mind turn to sand. You stare down to where his thumb is making circles over your clit, perfectly timed with the head of his cock bruising your g-spot. You feel a second orgasm build and the corner of his mouth pulls up proudly when your legs shake. Your head hangs back as you gasp for air, "yes, please, Haechan feels so fucking good."

"Make the prettiest noises for me, want you cumming all over my cock." he leans forward just enough to trap your throat beneath the weight of his palms, other hand still moving over your swollen clit. You smile at the pressure of his body on yours, eyes fluttering shut while you moan. You nod desperately when he asks if you can do that, "if you can let me make you feel that good, please, my pretty girl."

He takes his hand off your throat when you cum, wanting to hear every sound you could possibly make. You repeat his name like a blessing that has him cumming with you, moaning and breathless as his hips start to slow, milking you both through your orgasms.

You wrap your arms around him when he pulls out of you, reveling in the feeling of him when he lowers himself down, burrowing his face into your neck and warming your skin with his breath. You hold him there for a minute until he pulls his head up, dopey smile lighting up his eyes and making you laugh.

“What?” you scrunch your nose at him “better than your dreams?”

He nods, “so much better, best I ever had, my body belongs to you now.” he smirks at his own words, but his tone is so gentle he can’t even call it a joke.

“Just your body?” you tease, and he leans his nose onto your lips for a kiss that you carry onto the mole under his eye.

“Body, mind, heart, soul,” he sighs happily when you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently “all the planets in my head.”

"All the planets in my head too."

————

masterlist

authors note // this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, maybe the longest one shot i’ve ever actually written! i appreciate everyone who voted for happy ending because when i was originally thinking of a sad ending it was too hard lol. this feels forever unfinished because there is so much good to this version of haechan, i adore him.

[libertyybellls]

FEMALE ROBBERY !

pairing; finnick odair x dist4!victor!f!reader

summary; meeting finnick at your capitol victor party, he is nothing short of entranced.

contains; fluff! just pure fluff, innocent- sweet, comforting, brief mentions of forced prostitution but no detail.

a/n; i was lowkey turning into anakin skywalker when i started writing about how much reader hates sand but it adds personality ok…

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you were shivering, teeth practically chattering. the wide doors that led to the back of the luxurious party-mansion were wide open. your dress offered little warmth and neither did the people around you- their arrogance and bright colors offered no heat, no coziness, no reminders of home.

your wearing a corset dress- low cut, your chest on great display, you feel like the short hemmed bottomed makes you out to flash everyone at this party.

your hair has braids scattered about- your original hair texture is long gone with the amount of heat styling they’ve done on it throughout your victory tour and interviews. bows adorn the ends of each small braid that lays on your now, flat- straight hair.

the meaningless conversation, and congratulations throughout this party is enough to drive you mad. you need air- oh-so cold but nonetheless you needed more air. you’re feet are moving past people- people who grab at you, yelling praises, trying to get a passing word with you.

but you’re mind is racing, you need to sit in silence and breath.

you find a garden- you don’t have enough greenery back in your district, more ocean, too much sand, too much heat.

the sand got everywhere. you couldn’t complain about the ocean- oh, how you loved the water. but once the sand got in your hair, your shoes, your towel, your clothes- it couldn’t get out. it seemed sand would never leave you alone- president snow reminded you all too much of sand.

it felt like an infirmary sentencing, a life estimation. once the words ‘capitols doll’ left his mouth, ‘desirable’, ‘young, sweet, and pretty’ you felt sick- you’d live your life in misery until another innocent tribute would come along and take all of the heat. but you’d always be in a hotel room, in the capitol, entertaining the people like a puppet on a string.

you don’t think you’ve been warm since you heard those words, you don’t think there’s been enough air- but now, in this garden, everything seems okay.

you sit on a bench, rose bushes surrounding you, a few flowers you can name but never seen- only in books.

your hands are in your lap now, fingers playing with one another- your deep breathes began to lower your blood pressure.

until you hear footsteps nearing on the cold- crunchy grass that’s been frozen over from the weather.

he’s tall- shirtless. what stylist would do that to someone in this nippy weather? but you think your stylist would send you off to these parties naked if he had no decency, too.

he’s finnick odair. even the wind flirting your eyes can recognize that. how couldnt you? the poster boy of your district, sex symbol of panem, but you don’t comprehend any of it.

“you’ve found my spot.” he’s smirking, you can understand why people in the capitol swoon over him- not even six seconds and your body rushes with warm blood.

then you process his words, slowly scrambling to grab your clutch and rising to your feet. he puts his hand up, signaling for you to halt your movements.

“it’s nice to have company.” and so you move your bag over , allowing him more room to sit on the bench.

you don’t speak, atleast you don’t know what to say- you don’t ask questions or say something stupid. finnicks voice breaks the thick barrier of silence; “nice party they gave you.”

he’s joking, and his slight laugh makes you laugh. you’d won nearly a month ago- many sleepless nights covered with makeup and fake eyelashes. “yeah, i’m so grateful for them all.” you breathily laugh off.

the playfulness of this all is refreshing. it almost makes you long forget about your grim past and even darker impending doom.

he turns his head towards you, scanning your face- then to the rose bushes surrounding the both of you- then back to your face. “too many roses every where, i’m starting to hate the smell of them.”

you pick up on his small talk, and you almost laugh a little- he’s acting like a grade-school boy. “i’m beginning to think it possibly the ugliest thing natures created now.”

“mags told me about how mentoring you went, we were all relieved when you won.” you wince when you think about that, he knows that better then anyone here. the heart sinking feeling when your brain slips up for a second- that you don’t let yourself think to hard about, nor too long.

“thanks.” he doesn’t even know you yet, but he know that even if you don’t speak too much the ones you do vocalize have meaning, no vacancy in them. “are you cold?” you can’t help but voice your curiosity.

he looks down on himself, almost as though his body brings him guilt in a way. like he’s ashamed to own it, you’re sure you’ll understand soon.

but within seconds his guard is back up, back to the capitol darling. he simply places your hand on his shoulder, he’s forcing your body to move but in the most genuine way anyone has ever done so.

you feel your cold finger tips merge with his radiant shoulder, like a hypothermic to a heater.

finnicks aura is simply heat, not a touch of coldness. you wonder if it’s his insides pouring into his physical being. does he not have any cold feelings in his heart? is he genuine? “how are you warm right now?”

he only laughs as you try to remove your hand from him in the least awkward way you can, placing your hands back into your lap. there’s so many things you want to ask him, tell him. his soul is like a confession booth, that you’ve heard before. all the secrets he knows, all of the words only he’s been told.

“does it get better? even if you’ve been told something that doesn’t make you think it will?” he can only imagine what your last words mean, and now his heart drops. no- not someone like you? so young so unsuspecting, but weren’t they all?

“if you have someone to lean on, you’ll be okay.”

you frown at this, despite your fear of making yourself seem like a complete and utter loser to the golden boy of panem- you say; “and if i don’t?” you can’t help but think about your overworked tired parents, never home, never cared too much. your friends who you don’t see all too much.

“if you don’t,” he looks up from his lap now, eyes locked onto yours, only your eyes ever- not your exposed chest or the dress that rides up your thighs. “you have me if you’re willing, i think we’ve gotten on well.”

this makes you smile to yourself, you can’t look into his eyes any longer you think you’ll get lost. you feel like a school girl, unable to breathe around the presence of your crush. “i don’t know you all that well, finnick odair.”

he shakes his head, “haven’t you read the news, y/n l/n?” he’s mimicking your words, almost in a sing-song way.

“i don’t tend to make premeditated decisions on who someone is based on what the capitol news says. i prefer to get to know them instead.”

“well, let’s get to know eachother then.” his body turns toward you. flattening his hands onto his lap. “favorite color?”

you look at the grass before you, the stems of the flowers around you, the feeble, poor excuses of barely full bushes that line the sand before the water in district four. “green, not a dark green. something in the middle.” your eyes flick back to his, almost the perfect green you were talking about. “and you?”

“blue.” his two fingers pick up the bows at the end of your hair, you almost roll your eyes at this. too charming you could laugh.

“what are you scared of?”

he thinks about this one, taking a moment to relay his thoughts. it wasn’t death, no. he wouldn’t be scared when his time came, he would just hope the people he loves would be okay, that they’d get through it without him.

“becoming one of them.” he nods his head back to the people scuffling about in frilly dresses and skirts around the main party center. “so moral-less, so demanding. so many things i don’t want to be.”

you shake your head now, “i don’t think you could ever be one of them.” to anyone else this would be an insult, being apart of the capitol was little girls and boys dreams. to live so lavishly and carefree. but once you’ve seen it all, you just want to be by the ocean- at peace, unbothered with those who meant the most to you. “you’re much too good for that.”

finnick believes you, it’s like all he’s needed his whole life was your words that had no hint of second meaning. only pure, true, clean. “if it means anything, i know you couldn’t be anyways. no matter how many bows they put in your hair.” he laughs again, that charming chuckle that sends a butterfly to your stomach. “you have a good heart, i hope that it stays that way.”

it’s all so honest , the whole interaction. but you’ve been away from your own party far too long and you’re almost scared to upset people. “i have to go. i’ll see you around, finnick.” his name is foreign to your tongue almost, but its welcome.

finnick then stands quickly, “when will i see you again?” he almost looks worried.

“soon. we live in the same village after all.”

-

inspired by my favorite, @mrsnancywheeler ‘s fic

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inbox open!

[ivysangel]

hello angel 💕

as much as i love confident, cocky jason in bed, i also think he doesn’t have a lot of experience (just go with me here). between dying young and his all consuming question for revenge, i don’t think he’s actually had that many sexual partners or relationships. simply where would he find the time? like he’s familiar with the mechanics, knows what feels good and how to make a partner feel good, but he doesn’t really have a frame of reference for his preferences.

but that’s the exciting part! he gets to discover what really turns him on and gets him off with you! he figures out that he likes pinning you down and immobilizing you with his body but that ropes are a no go. that fucking you through at least four of your own orgasms first has him cumming so hard there’s stars in his vision. that he doesn’t like pain unless it’s from your nails clawing up his back. everything’s up for grabs and you get to figure it all out with him.

sunnie (@fic-over-cannon)

let out audible noises reading this...my entire body is tingling sunnie like you just CANNOT do this to me. i really don't even...how do i add to this??? what do i say other than i love you!!!!

this basically being the precursor to confident jason?? the first time you guys have sex, it's pretty vanilla, he makes you cum regardless, and it's still amazing and better than most guys with experience, but you can tell he's still a bit unsure of himself. he still hesitates to move too quickly, he's still scared to hurt you, and he still asks, "is this okay?" and "does this feel good?" but not in a sexy "i want to hear you" kinda way, in an "i'm worried i'm doing a bad job" kinda way.

like i said, the sex was never bad, but boy, does it get better when he discovers what he likes. you're play fighting when he finds out he likes it when you can't move under him. he's got you pinned between him and your living room carpet, trying to get out from his hold, and he's literally got a growing boner pressed into you through his pants. ropes are a no-go because not only does he have awful memories associated with them, but the prospect of not being able to touch you and you not being able to touch him pisses him off.

he finds out he likes it when you leave scratches on him one random night after you successfully sneak out of a wayne enterprises gala. expensive shoes and an even more expensive dress on the floor, but those pretty red nails you'd gotten on a whim stay attached to your fingers, leaving bright red lines up and down his back.

he likes it when you wear lingerie but thinks it's hotter when you wear cute matching pajama sets. he's fond of red, but green's his favorite color; you have to stay vigilant with birth control around christmas time. he'll never do public places but a bathroom or car here and there he won't say no to. he likes sex in the morning and in the shower. he likes it in the kitchen and on the couch but prefers the bed. he's not opposed to the floor, but he'll only do it there when he's desperate.

he gets turned on when you show interest in his hobbies and even more turned on when you talk about yours. he likes overstimulating you but not to the point where you're in pain, and he loves getting head but loves eating you out more.

his biggest turn-on is verbal consent; he wants to hear that you want him, and if you want him to do anything unconventional in any way, that's how you go about it. tell him in the middle of dinner how badly you need him, and he'll politely excuse you from the table, drive you guys a few miles away and then pull over and fuck you silly.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Can I just say how in love I am with the way you draw Marika? Like every art you post of her has my jaw dropping…you add such a beautiful layer of humanity to her with her dynamic expressions and poses—it’s so refreshing to see especially when so many fan arts of her needlessly sexualize her or dial her down to a one-dimensional stone-faced villain (which a villain she is—but she is still complex)

And I adore how you draw her partial nudity as something natural, meaning that you don’t draw her without a top for the sake of objectifying her,

Your art is overall so pleasant and colourful and fun to look at, and your takes of Marika’s character in your fanart is literally what made me more interested in who she is in-game.

Thank you for drawing her the way you do! (And for drawing Elden Ring fanart in general💕)

i've been letting this ask stewing in my inbox for a while because it makes me so emotional 🥲

if you look at how i drew Marika before anything in the DLC was announced, it did fall into the two categories you were talking about, because despite having a little more positive view on her than the rest of the fandom at the time, i still had no idea who she was as a person. and by that time i were more interested in Malenia, so even though i did try to envision how Marika was, it's a very distant and vague image. which is what i love about Elden Ring lore in general: we see Marika via how her children see her.

it was easy back then to conclude we'd never get her, and "mother" is a distant term that will always be overshadowed by "God", so i just went along with the general haha evil sexy girlboss thing that the fandom was doing. but then the DLC teaser dropped the another elusive (possibly firstborn) child of her, with a statue of her holding a baby in his boss room, she started to get more little quirks that's so human in my work (the small smile, the little lock of hair that curls gently) because for the first time, we see her through the eye of a son that evidently adores her, so she gets a bit more human, because someone views her with emotions that are not fear nor distance.

then the DLC drops, and it's not just through Messmer's eye (or the entirety of his being that carry so much of her love it weighs him down and twist into the most horrible curse in the end), it's through the eyes of her family that were no longer there at all. it's the jar innard enemy that huddled in a jar and clutched at a piece of raw meat, it's the Grandmother's gentle smile as she rest among a sea of flowers, it's the solitary minor erdtree that bathed the whole place in the kindness of gold, it's the Fire Knights and soldiers that clearly viewed her as Mother as much as she was God, it's Miquella throwing away his love and doubt because he didn't know how to deal with the revelation that his mother was once a fallible human just like the rest of them, it's Trina's entreaty that Godhood was just a cage that would kill him slowly, it's the final boss music with the female voice belting "Hail, Marika the Eternal" - in the place where she had to wade through a sea of flesh and blood, her family included, to ascend to Godhood. it's finally understanding that to her, Eternity is to live for all her loved ones that have fallen down.

and somehow, it all comes back to this portrait at the base game, right at the Roundtable Hold, of a woman with permanently lowered eyes.

yeah i know after the DLC i've put on such a Messmer-style protective glasses for her, it shows very clearly in my art. now she could cry, looks sad, small smile, big smile, looks silly, looks cute, looks serious, her hair is pulled up in twenty different ways, she jokes and talks to animals and goes back to be just a simple young girl rolling around in the grass, blah blah... im drawing all these with eyes wide open. and i have no intention of stopping lol.

sometimes, things that already come alive will never go back to be a cardboard cutout anymore. if ppl don't like it, block me or whatever, in my space, i'll do that makes me happy. and im very glad that other ppl could find their own happiness and solace with my work too :) thank you for such a thoughtful and kind messages!

[amethystarachnid]

Hello, I would like to request 19. A Second Chance with Tony, please 😊 this "someone important from their past" is the reader. They dated when they were young, but reader had to move, but they never stopped loving each other... now reader is back and they meet again, they talk about their lives and start to reconnect... Tony invites her to spend Christmas together and she accepts, and Tony prepares Christmas with everything she loves just to see her happy, in the end they kiss and spend the night together (I know you don't write smut, but you can add some spicy things) and the next morning they make their relationship official again, and this time forever ❤️

SECOND CHANCE - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.2k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said <3

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ TW(s): some spicy scenes but nothing too descriptive

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The cold New York wind bites at your cheeks as you step out of the cab, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck. The city is alive with December’s usual frenzy—twinkling lights strung between lampposts, store windows crowded with holiday displays, and the steady hum of a thousand conversations weaving through the streets. It's beautiful, in a way, but the sight of it doesn’t fill you with the usual seasonal warmth. There’s an ache deep in your chest, one that no amount of bright lights or carolers can thaw.

It’s been years. Almost ten, to be exact, since you’ve stepped foot in New York. A decade away, and yet it still feels like the city breathes in sync with your heartbeat. You left when you were twenty-three, thinking you’d be gone only for a few months, maybe a year at most. Life, as it turns out, had other plans. Now you’re back, but the thought of being here again fills you with more nerves than nostalgia. It’s not the city itself that haunts you—it’s what, or rather who, you left behind.

Your suitcase wheels clatter against the pavement as you pull it toward the apartment you rented. The holidays have turned every corner into a whirlwind of red and green, gold and silver, but your mind is elsewhere. You can feel it creeping up on you like a shadow, the memory of Tony Stark’s face when you said goodbye.

“I’m coming back, you know,” you’d told him back then, the words as fragile as the tears streaking your cheeks. “It’s just for a while. I have to help my mom get settled. You understand, don’t you?”

He’d nodded, but his silence had been deafening. The weight of it sat between you as you hugged him goodbye, his arms tightening around you like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go too soon. And then you left, not knowing that “a while” would stretch into years, that the life you’d built with him would dissolve into memories.

You wonder if he’s the same person now, all these years later. If he still walks with that easy swagger, the cocky grin always threatening to crack his face in half. If he still talks like he’s three steps ahead of everyone else, like the world is his personal chessboard and he’s just having fun moving the pieces around. Or maybe he’s changed. Maybe the years have softened him, carved some of the arrogance out of his sharp edges. Or maybe he’s even sharper now, the weight of everything he's achieved since you left pressing harder on his shoulders.

You try not to think about it as you unpack, the simple routine of organizing your things grounding you for the first time all day. But no matter how many sweaters you fold, how many toiletries you arrange on the bathroom counter, you can’t shake the sense that this city, this moment, is leading you straight back to him.

It’s late afternoon when you decide to venture out again. Snow flurries are beginning to fall, dusting the sidewalks and piling up on window sills. You find yourself wandering without purpose, letting the city guide you. The streets feel familiar but different, like they’ve been rearranged slightly in your absence. You take it all in—the hum of the subway beneath your feet, the scent of roasted chestnuts wafting from a vendor’s cart, the laughter of children building snowmen in the park. It feels like home, and yet it doesn’t.

You’re not even sure how you end up at the Christmas market in Bryant Park. It’s bustling with holiday shoppers, the air thick with the scent of mulled wine and pine. You weave through the crowd, pausing now and then to admire the handmade ornaments or the glittering string lights overhead. It’s almost enough to distract you, but not quite.

You’re looking at a small booth selling intricate metalwork—ornaments shaped like snowflakes, reindeer, and stars—when you hear it. That voice. That unmistakable, sharp-edged, honey-smooth voice that’s haunted your dreams for years. Your heart stutters, and for a moment, you think you might have imagined it. But then you hear it again, clearer this time, cutting through the chatter around you.

You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat. And there he is.

Tony Stark stands a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of a sleek black coat, a scarf draped loosely around his neck. His hair is shorter than you remember, a touch of silver at the temples that wasn’t there before. But his eyes—their rich, whiskey-brown warmth—are exactly the same. They lock onto yours, widening slightly in surprise before something softer, something bittersweet, settles over his face.

“Y/N?” he says, his voice quieter now, like he’s not sure if you’re real. “Is that…?”

You nod, your throat too tight to form words. The noise of the market seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there, caught in the gravity of a moment you both thought would never come.

He takes a step closer, his breath visible in the cold air. “I can’t believe it’s you,” he says, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought you were—God, how long has it been?”

“Ten years,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Almost.”

“Ten years,” he echoes, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. You look… you look good.”

“So do you,” you reply, and it’s not a lie. He does look good. Better than good. He looks like the kind of man who’s spent the last decade conquering the world, but there’s something else there too—something tired, maybe even lonely, that tugs at your heart.

The silence stretches between you, thick with everything you want to say but can’t. You don’t know where to start, don’t know how to condense ten years of absence into a single conversation. And then, as if sensing your hesitation, Tony speaks again.

“You’re back,” he says, his tone somewhere between a question and a statement.

You nod. “Just for a while. I’m… I’m not sure how long yet.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Well,” he says finally, “it’s good to see you. Really good.”

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “You too, Tony.”

Another pause, and then he clears his throat, glancing at the booth behind you. “Are you shopping for ornaments?” he asks, his voice lighter now, almost casual. “Because, uh, I should warn you—some of these vendors are scammers. I mean, who pays fifty bucks for a metal snowflake?”

You laugh despite yourself, the sound breaking the tension between you. “I wasn’t planning on it,” you say. “Just looking.”

“Well, in that case…” He steps closer, his gaze softening. “Maybe I could buy you a coffee? Catch up? I mean, unless you’ve got somewhere to be.”

You hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest. Every rational part of you is screaming that this is a bad idea, that reopening this door will only lead to more heartache. But then you look at him—the way his eyes flicker with something like hope, the way he’s holding himself like he’s afraid you might disappear again—and you know you can’t say no.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Coffee sounds good.”

He smiles, a real, genuine smile that sends a warmth through you you haven’t felt in years. And just like that, you’re walking side by side through the snow-dusted streets, the weight of the past trailing behind you like a ghost.

The coffee shop is warm, its windows fogged from the contrast between the bitter cold outside and the cozy heat inside. The scent of roasted beans and cinnamon wafts through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. Tony insists on paying for the drinks, brushing off your protests with a lopsided grin and a comment about “old-fashioned chivalry.”

You find a small table near the back, the kind meant for two people to sit close, elbows almost brushing. The mugs between you steam faintly, but neither of you seems in a hurry to drink. Instead, you’re both looking at each other, trying to reconcile the people you’ve become with the people you once were.

“So,” Tony begins, leaning back in his chair. His hands wrap around his mug, but he doesn’t lift it. “Ten years. I feel like I should’ve prepared a slideshow or something, highlight all my achievements since the last time we saw each other.”

You chuckle, the sound soft and a little shaky. “I think everyone already knows your highlights, Tony. I mean, you’re everywhere. Stark Tower, the Avengers, the headlines. It’s not exactly subtle.”

His grin tilts, more boyish now, and you see the flicker of the man you once knew beneath the billionaire persona. “Yeah, well. I’ve been busy. You know me—can’t sit still. But what about you? What’s been going on in Y/N-land? I feel like I should’ve hired a PI just to keep track.”

You roll your eyes, taking a small sip of your coffee to stall for a moment. “Nothing that exciting, honestly. I spent a lot of time moving around. Different cities, different jobs. I stayed in Chicago for a while, then Boston. My mom moved again, so I went back for a bit to help her. Life just… kept happening, I guess.”

“You always did like to keep moving,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “But I thought you’d stay here. You said you’d be back.”

The words aren’t accusatory, but they hang between you like a ghost. You look down at your hands, tracing the edge of your mug with your finger. “I thought I would too. I didn’t plan for it to take so long. But every time I tried to come back, something else got in the way. And then so much time had passed, I didn’t know if it even mattered anymore.”

“It mattered,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours. The intensity in his gaze makes your breath hitch, but he pulls back quickly, leaning on humor like a crutch. “I mean, you missed out on a hell of a ride. Turns out, saving the world is a full-time gig.”

You laugh lightly, grateful for the change in tone. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve been keeping busy, huh? Flying suits and alien invasions, not to mention the whole playboy billionaire thing. I’m surprised you even have time for coffee.”

“For you, I can make time,” he says without missing a beat, and there’s a flash of something mischievous in his grin that makes your heart do a little flip.

The conversation shifts after that, flowing more easily now that the initial awkwardness has passed. He tells you stories about the Avengers—ones that don’t make the news, the kind that leave you laughing so hard your sides hurt. You tell him about the small things he’s missed—your favorite city, the time you tried skydiving and almost chickened out, the stray cat you adopted and had to leave with your mom when you moved again. The minutes stretch into hours, the outside world disappearing as you fall into a rhythm that feels both new and achingly familiar.

Eventually, there’s a lull in the conversation, and Tony takes a sip of his now-cool coffee before setting the mug down. “So,” he says casually, though there’s a hint of tension in his voice. “Is there, uh… a guy in your life? Or a woman. Or anyone, really. Not that it’s any of my business, of course. Just… curious.”

The question catches you off guard, but the way he’s trying—and failing—to appear nonchalant is almost endearing. You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “No. There’s no one. I guess I’ve been too busy to really settle down.”

For a split second, you think you see relief flash across his face, but he hides it quickly, taking another sip of his coffee to cover his reaction. “Busy, huh? Yeah, I know the feeling. Sometimes it’s easier to focus on work than deal with all the… complications.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “What about you? Anyone special? Or is Tony Stark still the most eligible bachelor in New York?”

He chuckles, the sound low and a little self-deprecating. “No one special,” he admits, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “Turns out, being a genius billionaire superhero doesn’t exactly make for a stable love life.”

“Shocking,” you tease, and he laughs again, the tension between you dissolving once more.

The two of you talk until the light outside begins to fade, the soft glow of the coffee shop’s string lights casting warm shadows over your faces. When you finally glance at the time, you’re surprised at how late it’s gotten.

“I should probably let you go,” you say reluctantly, though you don’t actually want to leave. “I’m sure you’ve got a million things to do.”

He shakes his head. “Nothing that can’t wait. But if you’re in a rush, I won’t keep you.”

You both stand, the air between you suddenly charged with an unspoken tension. As you reach for your coat, Tony clears his throat, his tone shifting to something lighter. “Hey, before you go… can I, uh, get your number?”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips twitching in amusement. “Are you serious?”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “It’s just… you know, for old times’ sake. In case I need to call and complain about overpriced Christmas ornaments or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you pull your phone from your bag. “Fine. Give me your phone.”

He hands it over with a grin, and you quickly type in your number before handing it back. He glances at the screen as if to make sure it’s real, then pockets the phone with a satisfied smirk.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice softening. “I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too,” you admit, your cheeks warming despite the cold.

You step outside together, the air sharp and cold against your skin. Snow has started falling again, the flakes catching in the glow of the streetlights. For a moment, neither of you moves, the world around you quiet and still.

“Well,” you say finally, pulling your scarf tighter. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice filled with a quiet kind of hope. “I’ll see you around.”

And as you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze lingering long after you’ve disappeared into the snowy night.

That evening, you’re lying in bed, bundled under layers of soft blankets as the city hums faintly outside your window. It’s a kind of stillness you haven’t felt in years—a quiet moment in a place that never really stops moving. Your phone is in your hand, the glow of the screen lighting up the dark room. You’re scrolling aimlessly, flipping through pictures of friends you haven’t seen in months, ads for holiday sales, and the occasional post about how magical Christmas in New York is.

Your thoughts drift back to the coffee shop, to Tony. The way his smile had felt like both a memory and something entirely new. You’d been nervous to see him again, worried that the years would’ve changed him into someone unrecognizable. But he was still Tony—sharp, witty, and magnetic in a way that made it impossible not to be drawn to him. And yet, there was something else there, too. A softness you didn’t expect.

You let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to process the strange, bittersweet day. Just as you’re about to set your phone down, it vibrates in your hand, the screen lighting up with a text from an unknown number. Your heart skips a beat as you unlock it, curiosity bubbling up.

Unknown Number Hey. Hope I didn’t screw this up already. It’s Tony, by the way. In case you know five other genius billionaire playboys who might randomly text you.

A laugh slips out before you can stop it, and you type back quickly.

You Hey, Tony. Took you long enough to text. I was starting to think you just wanted my number for your contacts collection.

The response comes almost instantly.

Tony What can I say? I like to keep people guessing. Besides, had to wait until I was sure I wouldn’t come across as desperate. How’s your evening?

You pause for a moment, then reply.

You Quiet. Just scrolling through my phone and pretending I’m tired enough to sleep.

Tony Exciting stuff. Let me guess—scrolling through pictures of old friends and feeling nostalgic? Or online shopping?

You Wow, you know me too well.

Tony Well, I did spend a good portion of my youth trying to figure you out. Some of it must’ve stuck.

The words send a ripple of warmth through you, and for a moment, you just stare at the screen. It’s strange, this feeling of slipping back into a rhythm with him. Familiar and unsettling all at once.

You Okay, your turn. What’s your evening like? Saving the world? Inventing something mind-blowing?

Tony Tempting, but no. I’m sitting in the workshop pretending I’m working while Dum-E tries to build a snowman out of scrap metal.

You Dum-E? Your robot is into holiday crafts?

Tony He’s been into crafts ever since I taught him to use a glue gun. Worst mistake of my life. Anyway, speaking of holiday cheer…

The ellipsis hangs there for a moment, and you wait, your fingers hovering over the screen, wondering where this is going.

Tony What are you doing on Christmas?

Your brow furrows as you read the text. Christmas? You’re about to type something vague about not having plans when another message pops up.

Tony Before you say you’re busy or it’d be weird, hear me out. I’m having a party. Nothing too crazy—just some friends, a lot of food, good music. You should come.

Your first instinct is to hesitate. Spending Christmas with Tony? It sounds… complicated. And risky. Too much like stepping into a world you’ve worked hard to keep at arm’s length.

You I don’t know, Tony. It might be a little…

You don’t finish the sentence, but he seems to understand anyway. His next message comes fast, as if he’s already anticipated your reaction.

Tony Awkward? Intense? Weird? Yeah, maybe. But it’s not just the two of us. Lots of people. A proper party, I promise. Consider it a chance to mingle with people who probably have weirder lives than yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile despite yourself. You can almost hear his voice in the words, the playful tone that somehow manages to coax you into considering things you wouldn’t otherwise.

You Lots of people, huh? Not just a sneaky excuse to lure me into some one-on-one reunion?

Tony If I wanted one-on-one, I’d just invite you to dinner. But no, this is legit. There will be other people, music, fancy hors d’oeuvres, the works.

You stare at the screen, weighing your options. A part of you knows this is a bad idea—that being around Tony, especially during the holidays, could stir up feelings you’ve tried to bury for years. But another part of you—the part that remembers the way his eyes lit up when he saw you earlier—can’t help but want to say yes.

You Okay. I’ll come.

His reply is almost instant, and you can practically see the grin behind the words.

Tony Good choice. I promise it’ll be worth it. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.

For a moment, you don’t respond, letting the conversation linger there as you try to process what you’ve just agreed to. Then, finally, you type one last message.

You Goodnight, Tony.

Tony Night, Y/N. Sweet dreams.

You set your phone on the nightstand, your chest feeling oddly tight. The room is quiet again, but your thoughts are anything but. You roll onto your side, pulling the blankets closer as you stare at the faint glow of the city lights filtering through your curtains.

What have you gotten yourself into?

The next morning, you wake up to another text from Tony, this time with the details for the party. It’s set for Christmas at his penthouse—a place you’ve only seen in magazines and on television, its sleek, modern lines standing in sharp contrast to the traditional warmth of the holiday season.

For the rest of the day, you try not to think about it too much, but it’s impossible to push the thought of him out of your mind. Every time you catch sight of your phone, you half expect another message from him, something teasing or clever to remind you that he’s still there, waiting on the edge of your thoughts.

By the time evening rolls around, you’re already second-guessing your decision. But a part of you knows you won’t back out. Not now. Not after the way his voice sounded in that coffee shop, like seeing you again was something he didn’t even realize he’d been hoping for.

And maybe you’ve been hoping for it too.

The snow crunches faintly beneath your boots as you step out of the cab, pulling your coat tighter against the biting Christmas night air. Tony’s penthouse looms above you, a sleek, towering testament to his larger-than-life personality, its sharp edges softened by the glow of festive lights from the surrounding buildings. You clutch your purse in one hand, the other tightening around the strap of your coat as you take a deep breath.

You’ve spent hours deciding what to wear, second-guessing every choice. Eventually, you settled on a deep green dress that flows like water when you move, its simplicity understated yet elegant. It feels festive without being too much, but standing here now, you wonder if you’ve overdone it—or maybe underdone it. You remind yourself this is just a party. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet your pulse quickens as you step inside the lobby and take the elevator up, the mirrored walls reflecting back the nervous anticipation in your eyes. When the elevator dings and the doors slide open, you’re greeted by a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the New York skyline, a breathtaking view that momentarily makes you forget where you are.

You cross the polished floor to the massive front door, hesitating for a second before knocking. The sound echoes faintly, and you clutch your coat tighter, waiting.

The door swings open a moment later, and there he is—Tony Stark, leaning casually against the frame, a glass of something amber in his hand and a soft, almost shy smile playing on his lips. He’s wearing a dark suit, tailored to perfection, with no tie and the top buttons of his shirt undone, giving him an air of effortless charm that feels so quintessentially him.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, stepping aside to let you in.

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, stepping over the threshold and glancing around. The penthouse is warm and inviting, filled with soft golden light and the faint sound of jazz playing somewhere in the background.

And empty.

Your steps falter as you realize there’s no hum of conversation, no laughter, no clinking glasses or distant chatter of guests. The space is completely silent, save for the music.

“Tony…” You turn back to him, narrowing your eyes. “Where is everyone?”

He looks at you for a moment, then shrugs, his smile turning slightly sheepish. “Okay, so, full disclosure: there’s no party.”

“What?” Your eyebrows shoot up, disbelief mingling with suspicion. “You said—”

“I know what I said.” He cuts you off gently, raising a hand. “But if I’d told you it was just going to be the two of us, you wouldn’t have come. And I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

You blink, trying to process his words, unsure whether to feel flattered or annoyed. “So you lied to me?”

“Technically, yes.” He winces, but his tone is light, almost teasing. “But can you really blame me? I mean, would you have said yes if I’d told you the truth?”

You open your mouth, ready to retort, but the answer dies in your throat because he’s right. You wouldn’t have said yes.

Instead, you sigh, slipping your coat off and handing it to him when he holds out his hand. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” His grin widens, and he gestures for you to follow him.

As you step further into the penthouse, your initial irritation begins to ebb, replaced by a quiet sense of wonder. The space is decorated beautifully, but not in a flashy, over-the-top way. There’s a massive Christmas tree near the windows, its branches adorned with delicate white lights and ornaments in muted gold and silver tones. A fire crackles in the sleek modern fireplace, filling the room with a cozy warmth. The scent of pine and something faintly sweet—maybe cinnamon—lingers in the air.

It’s not what you expected.

It’s… perfect.

“Wow,” you murmur, glancing around. “This is… not what I thought it would be.”

“Good or bad?” he asks, watching you carefully as he sets your coat on a nearby chair.

“Good,” you admit, your voice soft. “Really good.”

You walk toward the tree, letting your fingers brush lightly over the soft needles of the branches. It feels almost surreal, being here like this, the quiet intimacy of the space at odds with everything you know about Tony Stark.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he says, breaking the silence. “Because I may or may not have gone overboard with the food.”

You turn back to him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You? Overboard? Never.”

He laughs, gesturing for you to follow him into the dining area. The table is set for two, covered in a crisp white cloth and adorned with simple, elegant decorations—a few candles, a small vase of red and white flowers, and plates of food that look like they belong in a five-star restaurant.

“Tony…” You glance at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Did you do all this?”

He shrugs, leaning against the edge of the table with that same boyish grin that used to drive you crazy. “Well, I had some help. But yeah. It’s Christmas, Y/N. I figured, if you’re going to spend it with me, I should at least make it special.”

There’s something in his tone, something unguarded, that makes your chest tighten. You glance around the room again, taking in the details—the understated decorations, the carefully chosen music, the food that looks suspiciously like some of your old favorites.

It hits you then.

This isn’t just a random attempt at holiday cheer. Everything about this night feels… familiar. Comfortable. Like he’s gone out of his way to make it something you’d like.

But you push the thought aside.

“Wow,” you say finally, sitting down at the table. “I’m impressed. You actually know how to do Christmas.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He sits across from you, pouring a glass of wine and sliding it across the table. “I’m a man of many talents.”

The evening unfolds slowly, the tension between you easing with every passing moment. The food is incredible—some dishes you recognize from years ago, others entirely new—and the conversation flows easily, the years you spent apart slipping away like they were never there.

At some point, you stop caring about the fact that he lied to get you here. Instead, you let yourself enjoy the moment, the laughter, the way his eyes light up when he teases you about how much you’re enjoying the dessert.

It’s only later, when the plates are cleared and the fire has burned down to embers, that you realize how much the night has meant to you. Tony pours you another glass of wine and sits back, his expression softer now, his usual bravado dimmed by something quieter, something real.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, his voice low.

“So am I,” you admit, surprising yourself with the honesty of your words.

The fire in the penthouse burns low now, the soft glow casting flickering shadows on the walls. The two of you sit on the couch, side by side but not quite touching, a bottle of wine nearly empty on the coffee table. The jazz music from earlier has faded into silence, leaving only the occasional crackle of the fire and the quiet murmur of your voices.

You’ve been talking for hours—about everything and nothing. The way the city has changed since you left. The kind of tech he’s been working on. The new hobbies you’ve picked up, the old ones you’ve let slip. It’s easy, the rhythm of your conversation, the laughter and teasing slipping in naturally, like no time has passed. But as night falls, the mood shifts, turning softer, tinged with something neither of you is willing to name.

Tony leans back, one arm draped across the back of the couch, his fingers just barely brushing your shoulder. His gaze lingers on you, warm and thoughtful, and then he speaks, his voice quieter now, almost wistful.

“Do you remember that time we got caught in the rain?”

You blink, startled by the sudden shift in the conversation. “Caught in the rain?”

“Yeah.” He smiles faintly. “We’d gone to that outdoor concert—you wore that sundress, the one with the little flowers on it. You were so mad at me for dragging you out there in the first place.”

A laugh escapes you, unbidden. “That’s because you said it was going to be a ‘relaxing evening.’ You forgot to mention the part where we’d be standing in a muddy field with about a thousand drunk strangers.”

“Hey, it was a great concert,” he counters, feigning indignation. “But then the sky opened up, and it started pouring.”

You shake your head, the memory coming back to you in vivid flashes—the cold sting of the rain, the way the crowd scattered, the ridiculousness of it all. “I was so mad. I wanted to leave, but you—”

“—grabbed your hand and dragged you into the middle of it,” he finishes, a hint of mischief in his voice. “You were furious at first. But then you started laughing. Do you remember that?”

You do. You remember the way the rain plastered your hair to your face, the way Tony had spun you around in the mud, completely unbothered by the downpour. You remember the way he’d looked at you, his eyes full of something you couldn’t quite name then but you understand all too well now.

“I couldn’t help it,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You were so ridiculous, dancing around like that.”

“I was trying to impress you,” he says, his voice light but his eyes serious. “Always trying to impress you.”

The weight of his words settles between you, and for a moment, the air feels heavier, charged with something unspoken. You glance down at your hands, your fingers toying with the stem of your wineglass, and then you look back at him.

“What about you?” you ask softly. “Do you ever think about it? About… us?”

“Are you kidding?” He leans forward now, his eyes locked on yours. “I think about it all the time. About you. About everything we had.”

His words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you can’t speak. The vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty, is almost too much.

“Tony…”

“I screwed it up,” he says, cutting you off gently. “I know I did. I let you walk away, and I’ve regretted it ever since. But God, Y/N, we were good together, weren’t we? Even when we were fighting, even when we were driving each other crazy—we were good.”

You nod, your throat tight. “We were.”

The silence stretches again, and then he laughs softly, the sound tinged with both fondness and sadness. “Do you remember that time we tried to cook dinner together?”

You laugh, the memory bursting out of you unbidden. “Oh God. The lasagna.”

“I still don’t know how we managed to set the fire alarm off three times,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, who burns noodles? Isn’t that supposed to be impossible?”

“It’s not impossible if you’re you,” you tease, and he grins, that boyish, heart-stopping grin that you’ve never quite been able to forget.

“Fair point,” he concedes. “But hey, it wasn’t a total disaster. We ended up eating cereal on the kitchen floor, and you still called it a ‘memorable evening.’”

“Because it was,” you say, your voice softer now. “Not because of the food, but because of you.”

The words hang there, heavy and unguarded, and you can see the way they hit him, the way his expression shifts, the teasing replaced by something deeper.

“And then there was that weekend in the cabin,” he says after a moment, his voice dropping lower. “Just the two of us. No distractions. No one else.”

Heat rises to your cheeks as the memory floods back—the way he’d looked at you that weekend, the way he’d touched you, the way you’d both let yourselves forget the rest of the world existed.

“Tony…” you begin, but your voice falters as his gaze locks onto yours, dark and searching.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every damn day.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as the distance between you seems to shrink without either of you moving. His hand brushes yours, tentative at first, and then firmer when you don’t pull away.

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

You shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, Tony. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Maybe not then,” he says, his thumb stroking lightly over your knuckles. “But now… now, I don’t want to waste another second.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as desperate as it is tender. You freeze for a heartbeat, the shock of it coursing through you—and then you’re kissing him back, your hands tangling in his hair as you pour years of longing and unspoken words into that single moment.

The world falls away as the kiss deepens, his hands sliding up your arms to cup your face, pulling you closer like he’s afraid you might disappear. You shift, your body pressing against his as his fingers trail down your back, igniting sparks wherever they touch.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together as you cling to each other.

“Are you sure about this?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he says, his voice firm.

He stands, pulling you to your feet, and then he’s guiding you toward the bedroom, his hands never leaving yours. The door closes softly behind you, and then the night dissolves into a blur of heat and urgency and the kind of passion you thought you’d lost forever.

Tony is everywhere—his lips tracing a path down your neck, his hands exploring every inch of your skin, his voice low and breathless in your ear as he murmurs your name like a prayer. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel as he worships you with a fervor that makes your heart ache.

He takes his time, his touch reverent as if he’s memorizing you all over again, rediscovering the parts of you he thought he’d lost. And when he finally claims you, it’s like coming home—familiar and electric all at once, your bodies moving together in perfect sync.

The night stretches on, a tangle of limbs and whispered words and stolen kisses, until you’re both spent, lying tangled together in the soft glow of the city lights streaming through the window.

As you drift off to sleep in his arms, his hand resting over your heart, you can’t help but think that maybe, this is the start of something new. Something worth holding on to.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is warmth. Tony’s body is curled around yours, his arm draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling against your back in a slow, steady rhythm. The faint scent of his cologne lingers on the sheets, mixing with the hint of sleep-warmed skin. For a moment, you lie there with your eyes closed, letting the quiet contentment settle over you like a blanket.

When you shift slightly, his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy with sleep.

You smile, turning your head to glance back at him. “Morning.”

His eyes blink open, soft and warm in the morning light filtering through the windows. A lazy grin spreads across his face as he looks at you, his hair delightfully tousled and his expression free of his usual quick-witted guard.

“Sleep well?” he asks, his hand brushing the curve of your hip beneath the sheets.

“Better than I have in years,” you admit, your voice soft.

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin. “Because I plan to make sure you wake up like this every morning from now on.”

You laugh, a light, teasing sound. “Confident, are we?”

“Always,” he says, his grin widening as he shifts onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you.

The morning stretches lazily between you, filled with quiet laughter and gentle touches. His hand traces idle patterns along your back as he tells you about the ridiculous amount of effort he put into planning last night, and you tease him for going all out while secretly marveling at the thoughtfulness behind it all.

“You really thought wine and a Christmas tree would win me over?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

He smirks, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. “It worked, didn’t it?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe a little.”

His fingers brush your cheek, guiding your gaze back to his. “You’re impossible,” you say, your voice softening.

“And you love it,” he counters, his grin turning mischievous.

Before you can respond, he leans down and captures your lips in a kiss—slow and sweet, yet with a simmering heat that has your heart racing. You melt into him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you tangled together in the warmth of the morning light.

Much later, when the morning is well underway and the coffee you promised to make has been forgotten entirely, you find yourselves curled up on the couch again, his arm slung over your shoulders as you lean against him. The city hums faintly beyond the windows, but inside, the world feels still, as if time itself has paused just for the two of you.

It’s Tony who breaks the silence, his voice softer than usual. “So… last night. This morning.”

You glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want this to be just a one-night thing, Y/N. I don’t want to go back to pretending I don’t need you in my life. Because the truth is, I do. I always have.”

His words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your chest tightening with the weight of everything you’ve both left unsaid for so long.

“Tony…”

He shifts, turning to face you more fully. “I know it won’t be easy,” he says, his voice steady now. “We’ve both got our lives, our responsibilities. But I’m not letting anything—or anyone—get in the way this time. No moving, no excuses. Just us.”

Your throat tightens, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. “You mean that?”

“With everything I’ve got,” he says without hesitation.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his as you search his face, looking for any hint of doubt. But there’s none. Only raw, unguarded honesty.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” you say, your voice trembling. “Not ever.”

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Stay. Be with me. For real this time. No running. No hiding. Just us.”

The sheer simplicity of his words, the certainty behind them, leaves you breathless. You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he reaches up to wipe it away, his touch impossibly gentle.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Okay.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, one that lights up his entire expression. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he’s afraid you might change your mind.

“You won’t regret this,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple.

“I know I won’t,” you reply, your voice muffled against his chest.

It’s sometime later, after more laughter and kisses and whispered promises, that the air between you shifts again, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something more urgent.

Tony’s fingers trail down your arm, his touch light as a feather but enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens, his hands finding their way to your waist as he pulls you into his lap.

“You know,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and teasing, “I don’t think we ever properly celebrated our reunion.”

You laugh softly, your fingers tangling in his hair. “And what exactly do you suggest?”

He grins, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes as his hands slide up your back. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.”

Before you can respond, he’s kissing you again, his lips moving with a fervor that leaves you breathless. The world narrows down to the feel of his hands on your skin, the way he pulls you closer as if he can’t get enough of you.

He stands, lifting you effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist, his lips never leaving yours as he carries you back toward the bedroom.

The morning gives way to a blur of heat and passion, of whispered words and tangled sheets and the kind of closeness you’ve both been craving for far too long. Tony is everywhere—his hands, his lips, the low, gravelly sound of your name on his tongue sending shivers through you.

When it’s over, you lie tangled together once more, the morning sun streaming through the windows as you catch your breath. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, and you can’t help but smile, your heart full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm.

You glance up at him, your fingers brushing lightly over his cheek. “So did I.”

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and you close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you.

For the first time in years, you feel like you’ve found your way back home. And this time, you’re never letting go.

[kipercrow]

Stardew Gas (Shane x Male Farmer) (M/M)

The Luau was a wonderful tradition in Pelican Town. Omar being the town’s farmer, always made sure to bring his best ingredients for the big Soup! Everyone gets to put in their own ingredients, and Omar always wanted to show the fruits of his farming. Especially since the governor would come to town just for this event. Since he began getting close to Shane, Omar had been perfecting the way he grew his chillies. It was after all one of the ways he got Shane to see him as a friend, and then eventually a partner. They’ve been dating for a year now, and Shane with the help of Omar, town doctor Harvey, and his therapist in Zuzu City, he’s been able to work on his mental health, and improve a lot! After Joja Mart closed down following the completion of the Community Center, Shane started spending more time with Omar, helping around with the animals. They loved working together. It’s why when it was their turn to add something to the Luau Soup, they both added chillies! The soup was delicious! With the approval of the governor, everyone celebrated, eating more food and joking around with each other.

Late at night, after the Luau ended, full of food Shane and Omar walked back to their shared home together. “Ughh... *gurgle*... I feel a little bloated... oof... too much Joja all-purpose dipping sauce.” Shane said, rubbing his belly. “Same here. We ate so much. Elliot’s bean casserole was phenomenal. I have to ask him for the recipe the next time I see him. You know he told me that he was working on a cookbook.” Omar said. “Oh is that so? Do tell him that chickpeas don’t work in a bean casserole. Too many different textures.” Shane said before smiling. The two of them entered their home, and removed their shoes and walked over to their bedroom to change into their pajamas. Shane put on his blue plaid pajama pants, and an old band tee for Bimar, both Shane and Omar were fans of the band and loved their song ‘Distressed Position’. Omar changed into his black pajama shorts, and a normal t-shirt that just had a cat on it. The two men sat on the couch, and turned on the TV. Even though the Luau was lively, they weren’t tired. Omar’s dog Buddy sat on his bed next to the couch, it was the same dog that Shane’s aunt Marnie found and brought to Omar. Buddy took a liking to Shane almost right away, and has been very beneficial to Shane’s mental health improving. 

Shane rubbed his belly, the food from the Luau was beginning to mix and become gas in his stomach. This wouldn’t be a problem if he was back at Marnie’s home. Shane would usually just take a walk around the barn, and walk past the forests and let out any farts he had on the way. Hell, he’d probably be letting all of his gas out in his bedroom, as long as he kept his window open Marnie wouldn’t mind. But here with Omar things were different. He hadn’t farted in front of Omar yet. Sure he assumed that his loving farmer boyfriend had farted before, he by all proof was a human, and humans fart. He couldn’t fart no matter how bad the gas pains were, he didn’t want to ruin this love. But through the corner of his eye, Shane saw Buddy, sleeping peacefully in his bed. Dogs fart, Shane could totally blame his release on Buddy, Omar has probably blamed his farts on Buddy many times before. Omar was focusing very much into the movie about a team of young adults solving a mystery, he wouldn’t notice Shane farting. 

Shane slightly shifted in his seat, and released a fart blast.

PRBPRRRRBBTTRRTTTTT

The fart was a quick rumble, Shane had hoped that it would be an SBD but oh well, better now to blame the dog. “Ha Wow Buddy that was a good one!” Omar looked at Shane smirking, unbeknownst to Shane, Omar was not buying that at all. He knew that Shane had farted, breaking the barrier in their relationship, it would have been broken weeks ago but Marnie had called the home asking if Shane could bring over some fresh eggs from the barn, before Omar could be the first to let rip. Shane looked back at Omar, and began to internally panic. “W-What? That was the dog. I swear” Shane said, trying to seem calm. Omar shook his head and looked deep into Shane’s eyes.

BRRRAAAAPPTTT

“Yes, the dog.” Omar said, smiling. Shane didn’t know what to say, Omar didn’t buy his lie, and then farted in front of him. “I-I’m sorry Omar. I didn’t mean to lie to you” he said, feeling absolutely awful. “Oh Shane, don’t apologize. You tried to blame a fart on the dog, so what? You’re not the only one feeling the effects of tonight’s Luau meal.” “I just felt embarrassed to do it, in front of you. I was afraid that you’d think that it was gross and wouldn’t want to be with me.” “Shane, I would never ever dump you, especially not over a little fart. It’s not even that gross, heck I have to clean up cow poop now that’s gross. I know it stinks, but they’re happier when they get to let that shit go. So you know it’s like us, I’m happier when you’re able to fart freely in front of me.” Shane smiled after hearing that, and kissed Omar on the cheek, it’s what he needed to hear. Shane and Omar continued to watch the movie together, feeling better now that they’ve broken the fart barrier. Almost 30 minutes later, Omar got hit with a smell of rotten eggs, he looked towards Shane. Shane with a smirk on his face looked at Omar, “What? I’m at my happiest.” Omar cracked up at that comment and he kissed Shane on the lips. “I love you, you smelly cow.” “Moo.” Omar and Shane continued to laugh together and watched the movie till its end.

After the movie ended, Omar and Shane turned off the TV and walked to their bed letting out little farts along the way, taking full advantage of their newfound comfort. They got into bed, Buddy in his bed. Shane felt really happy, he was soaking it in how he was sleeping with his boyfriend, he didn’t need to worry about Jas and Marnie, Buddy was sound asleep, and he was comfortable with Omar. He was so comfortable in fact that he didn’t think twice about releasing some of his gas.

PBRRT

It was a little fart, nothing big to write home about, but it made Shane happy to not have to hold back anymore. “Don’t blame the dog on that weak one.” Omar said cheekily. “Weak?” “Yes baby, weak. That was alright. Here, let me show you better.”

BRRrruuuRRPBRRTT

Omar released a loud fart that slid into a low rumble before coming back up in volume. “That’s how you do it.” “I see, I see. Here, I’m going to take credit for this one.”

PPPRRRBBRTTTTT

Shane let out a big fart, showing how serious he was to prove that he wasn’t weak. “Good Good. That’s better to see babe.” “You got anymore?” “Oh Shanny boy, you won’t be able to beat me. I used to out-fart my dad, and that man is why Mayor Lewis is a mayor and not the town farter.” “Town farter?” “Yeah Lewis used to fart a lot in town when he was younger. My dad beat him so bad in a contest, with a fart that some say is still going on.” “Really? I can’t believe Lewis would be so open about farting. He never seemed like the type to even burp!” Shane, now sitting up, was surprised to learn that Mayor Lewis would be so nonchalant about farting. Sure he knew that Lewis had his secrets, he thought to himself, “I mean Omar did catch Lewis kissing Marnie one night after a pretty eventful night at the Saloon. There was also the time Lewis forgot his underwear in Marnie’s room, Omar doesn’t know but I saw him bring it to Lewis. They don’t think I know but Lewis climbs in through the back window in Marnie’s room.” Omar sat up too, and began talking about the memories his dad told him about Mayor Lewis. “Yeah, when my dad lived here with my grandpa, my dad and Lewis would challenge each other in things. Lewis mainly farted when he was alone, but some days he’d fart in front of my dad to see if he’d do something. But he never thought my dad would fire back, so when one day that he did they set up a contest. My dad said it lasted for about an hour, they were firing back and forth within seconds of each other, they did it in this old home near the lake, he said that place stunk so bad! But after my dad let out a big 10 second fart, Lewis had nothing to return so my dad was declared the winner. Nowadays I notice that whenever Lewis walks by my barn he scrunches his face, like he’s letting something out. I think he uses my cows to block the farts.” Shane couldn’t believe his ears, Lewis a farter? And Omar’s dad beating Lewis, and Omar beating his dad? “Omar can’t be that impressive, if he’s using Lewis as a base.” Shane thought to himself. “Well Omar, if you’re such a pro-farter let’s see who can stink out this joint. Make Pelican Town think your cows have started to rot!” “You really want to go for it?” Shane pulled his knee to his chest and let out a 4 second bassy fart. “Yeah I’m going for it.” after saying that Shane let out 2 smaller farts back to back. “Oh! I see how it is, watch this!” Omar said before leaning slightly to the left, with his butt facing Shane and let out two bubbly farts that were 3 seconds. “Still want to go against me?” Omar said. Shane stood up and turned around and stuck out his butt, before letting out a wet 5 second fart! “And that was all air baby!” Shane said gloating. 

Omar and Shane kept their eye contact, the room falling silent until they both began to laugh and Shane fell onto the bed. “I love you honey” Shane said, kissing Omar’s cheek. “I love you too. Now if you truly want to start a contest we gotta do it by my dad’s rules.” Seeing that Shane was confused, Omar gave more information. “We pick a day, pig out on a bunch of fart inducing food, and whomever runs out first loses.” Omar punctuated his dad’s rules with a low rumble of a fart. “That sounds like fun, I mean I think we could do some damage to Pelican Town if we go full force-” Shane paused, letting out a wet note. “We should go some place far. Where no one can hear us-” Shane lifting his leg, releasing a loud bubbly fart “Where no one can smell us”. Omar smiled at Shane, letting go a short pop of a fart. “That sounds perfect, we can make the paint peel, in more ways than one.” Omar said, tracing Shane’s arm and stomach with his fingers. Omar releasing a longer bassy fart, punctuating it with tapping Shane on the tip of his nose, “Boop”. Shane smiled. Shane and Omar laid there in silence except for the bursts of gas releasing into the air, it wouldn’t be long before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

[bludhavens-finest]

Ok so this is the biggest blog I have so I will be talking about it here, also comics have always been inherently political so it makes sense to talk about here, this will be posted to the rest of my blogs as well

I’m going to tag this with tw’s, if you don’t want to see more shit about the election I get it believe me I do, that’s fine. If you do stay around I’m going to be incredibly blunt about this shit

1. Do not fucking kill yourself. The amount of queer and especially young people I have seen saying that they are going to is astronomical, these people are not worth loosing your life. If you need help, get help, talk to someone, at the end of this post I’ll add numbers/websites

2. If you are disabled like me, and you need something medically whether that be vaccines, surgeries, procedures, mobility aids, medications, or even certain information; get them now while you can. The medical system in America is a bitch to deal with and even harder to get into, most of my appointments take at least three months, but if you can get in and get things done before they switch who’s in office, get it done now.

3. If you are trans and planning to get gender affirming surgery or healthcare in the next few months same goes for you, get the surgeries while you still can and get on meds now, if you get on them now it’s going to be easier to keep the prescription for as long as you can.

4. If you’re a woman or afab, get birth control while you can. Because they are going to get rid of birth control at this point, they’ve already gone after abortions and this is the next step.

5. But queer/feminist/punk media and books while you still can, because yes they can and will ban books they already do it in schools

6. Honestly I would even go so far as to say start buying physical copies of certain bands if you can, because most hardcore and just regular punk bands will probably be less accessible

7. Honestly probably just get a vpn at this point, I know you’ve gotten an ad for one from a YouTuber before, look into the company’s, find one you can afford and like

8. If non-Americans or even just some Americans who are republicans (which if you are fuck off.) think this is an over-exaggeration it’s really not.

America is the only first world country without universal healthcare, most people in this country either die waiting for a doctor, die because of a doctor (medical negligence and malpractice are leading causes of death in America, over a quarter of a million people die a year because of it.), public transit is non-existent, disabled people have been fighting for our rights for decades, women lost the right to control their own bodies after having that right for less then a life span. Many woman were there when roe v wade passed and still alive when it was overturned. Because it all happened in the span of 50 years. The amount of violence in our police departments (that are only getting more and more funding), the lack of education and lack of historically accurate information taught in public schools, the literal fucking constant brainwashing campaigns.

This is all coming from someone who is Afab, a Minor, living in the south, mentally and physically disabled, a lesbian, and trans. Believe me I understand how fucking scared people are.

It is 2024 almost 2025, not 1970. You have access to information and you are entitled to being informed, so inform yourself. Check your own sources, do your own research.

I’m well aware that this all seems fucking dystopian, I know that it seems like there’s no point, but keep yourself safe. If you need a break from seeing all this filter your tags, go outside for a while, get off the internet, play with your pets, talk to friends. Just don’t let yourself sit in this and worry yourself to death, it’s not going to help anyone.

Numbers you can call: 1-866-488-7386 (Trevor project), If you go to their website you can also text if talking isn’t safe, 988 (suicide and crisis line),