#he’s the kind of guy that will just eat the pickles he asked to not have cause he thinks it’s the universe punishing him

[afterartist]

I try to write Barrier being all vengeful and intimidating but he cried for a solid 40 minutes after seeing a kitten sitting on a fence

My guy is such a mess and I don’t state that enough

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSTURNIOLO'S GO TO THE SUPERMARKET * NATE DOE

SUMMARY　::　Where Y/N, younger sister of the triplets and Nate's girlfriend, participates on the 'Sturniolo Triplets go to Europe' video.

FEATURING　Nate Doe x sturniolo!reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The car hummed softly as Chris maneuvered through the Burger King drive-thru lane, his hand resting lazily on the wheel. Matt sat in the passenger seat, holding the camera aimed casually toward the rest of the group while Nick sat directly behind Chris, leaning forward slightly to catch glimpses of the menu ahead. Nate was behind Matt with his arm draped comfortably over Y/N, who was nestled between him and Nick.

"You getting your apple pie, babe?" Nate asked, his voice low as he turned his head to Y/N, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over her shoulder.

She glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with mock offense.

"When do I not get my apple pie?" She quipped, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"Fair point." He said, chuckling, his pearly teeth making an appearance. Nick, overhearing, snorted.

"She’s literally more predictable than Chris when it comes to Pepsi." Nick teased, earning a playful nudge from Y/N.

"You're just jealous." Y/N shot back with a grin, sticking her tongue out at her older brother.

"Yeah, okay." He replied sarcastically. "Jealous of having a partner who steals half my fries every time we eat."

"Nate, blink twice if you need help." Chris chimed in, earning laughs from Matt.

"She doesn’t steal them." Nate answered Nick, purposefully ignoring Chris. "She claims what’s rightfully hers."

Y/N snorted as Matt turned to face the camera, raising an eyebrow.

"This is what we have to deal with every time we come to Boston, folks."

When they reached the intercom, Nick leaned forward with a gentle smile, his tone dripping with kindness.

"Hi! How are you?"

Y/N looked at the woman from above Nick's shoulder, quickly joining in.

"Oh, you’re the pretty woman who got our orders last time!" Her voice sounded warm and cheerful.

The woman on the other end chuckled.

"Back again, huh? Can you just... just give me one second?"

"Of course, no problem!"

As they waited, Nick turned to the rest of the car, holding up his phone.

"Okay, Matt, you’re getting two plain cheeseburgers. Nate, two plain cheeseburgers with pickles. Chris and Y/N, one plain cheeseburger each. Everybody’s getting fries. Chris wants a Dr. Pepper, Nathan wants root beer, and you’re splitting it with Y/N. Matt, you’re skipping soda. Y/N, you want an apple pie."

Everyone stared at him for a beat before nodding in unison.

"How do you remember that every time?" Nate asked, meeting Chris’s eyes through the rearview, widening his as if asking 'how crazy is he for that?'.

"Because none of you have the courage to make your own orders." Nick retorted smugly, folding his arms.

When the woman returned to the speaker, Y/N jumped in to help Nick relay the orders, letting him list the items while she clarified little details, like, "No ketchup on Matt's burger, please", and, "Yes, we want mayo packets".

Once it was finalized and paid for, they pulled forward, settling into a comfortable buzz of conversation while waiting for the food, the sound of Chris's fingers tapping the steering wheel with a rhythm only he could hear echoing as background noise.

Y/N leaned back against her seat, a realization look crossing her face.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you guys." She started, her voice soft but filled with excitement. "I talked to Breanna this morning. She’s so excited about the wedding. And honestly, the way she talks about Ryan..." She trailed off, shaking her head with a soft smile. "She just sounded so in love. It’s the sweetest thing. You can tell how happy they make each other. It’s amazing."

Nick nodded quickly, letting his phone fall from his hands to his lap, turning to Y/N.

"True! I texted her yesterday, and she told me about how Ryan's been so involved with the wedding planning." He commented. "I can't wait to see the decor-"

"I was the knight in shining armor in your-" Chris cut Nick's trail of though, singing a song that, apparently, was on his mind the whole day, showing how little attention he was paying them.

"Chris." Y/N interrupted sharply, rolling her eyes before looking at Nate with a 'is he being serious right now?' look. "Shut the fuck up. That’s the fourth time today."

Chris spun around in his seat dramatically, almost hitting Matt's hand still holding the camera.

"You shut the fuck up."

Before Y/N could fire back, Nick cut in, groaning loudly.

"Can you both shut your gay mouths, please?"

Chris cackled at Nick’s deadpan delivery.

"Nick, don’t call me that with your gay mouth... unless you want me to kiss you on that gay mouth."

"Great, now I forgot what I was saying." Y/N leaned back, sighing loudly.

Nate laughed at them, exchanging a shake of head with Matt while pulling Y/N closer.

Before long, their food was handed through the window, bags crinkling as Matt took them from Chris and carefully distributed everything while the youngest triplet found a space to park.

"Okay, who’s plain cheeseburger with pickles?" Matt asked, holding up a wrapper.

"That’s me." Nate said, taking both burgers with one hand while the other stayed firmly holding the cup full of Dr. Pepper.

As they began unwrapping their food, Matt reached over to steal a fry from Y/N’s box - which she had out on the car console, earning him a swat on the hand.

"Touch my fries again, and I’ll start charging you rent." She warned, narrowing her eyes.

The conversation turned light and casual as they ate, filled with the usual teasing and laughter, with comments directed to the camera. Between bites of her burger, Y/N turned to the group.

"So, are you guys excited? Milan, first fashion show, Prada? Kind of a big deal."

"Are you kidding?" Matt said, wiping his hands on a napkin. "It’s insane. I’m still trying to figure out why they invited us."

"Because you’re their model now, Matt. And they obviously also love Nick and Chris. Do you realize how many gifts you three received from them just in the last three months?" Y/N replied matter-of-factly.

Chris shrugged.

"She’s not wrong. I mean, we’re kind of a big deal there."

"She's right." Nate nodded, noticing that she had just taken the last bite of her cheeseburger. "Matt will be a real model in no time."

His hands were quick to leave his own second burger on top of his legs and pick Y/N's apple pie from the car console, opening the packaging carefully before taking the crumpled wrapper from her hands and tossing it into the paper bag at his feet, finally handing the sweet pie to her.

A bright smile stretched across her face, directed at him, silently thanking him before taking a bite.

"And I'll be waiting for Sebastian Stan's autograph."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The bright fluorescent lights of the supermarket reflected off the aluminum cart Matt was pulling, the squeaky wheels occasionally echoing down the empty aisles. The five of them walked together, Chris holding the camera and making sure to record everything.

"All we need to think of is what we’re eating tonight, and then we’re leaving tomorrow." Nick said to the camera, his tone matter-of-fact.

Y/N, holding Nate’s hand tightly, froze mid-step. Her eyes widened as she turned to Nick, her expression a mix of shock and disappointment.

"Wait, no! Is it tomorrow already?" She asked, her voice laced with sadness. Her lips formed a pout as she stared at her older brother, the reality that she just had a few more days with her brothers before they went to Milan and their routine went back to the usual - them in LA, her in Boston - hitting her hard.

Nick turned his head to her, softening at her expression.

"Yeah." He said, almost apologetically. "Tomorrow is Saturday already, so we’ll have breakfast, lunch, and maybe dinner, depending on how late we leave."

Her shoulders slumped slightly, her pout deepening. Nick sighed softly before stepping by her side, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him as they kept walking.

"Come here, sweetheart." He muttered, ruffling her hair gently with his free hand. "Don’t look at me like that. You know we’ll be back soon."

Y/N let herself melt into the hug, though the pout didn’t leave her face.

"I just don’t want to be away from you guys again." She mumbled. "It’s been so nice having you here for so long."

Nate watched them with a soft smile, his hands buried on his hoodie pockets.

"We’ll miss you guys, you know? It’s been fun having all of you back." He added.

"We’ll be back in no time." Chris lowered the camera slightly, his tone unusually sincere. “Let’s not think about that now, though. Let’s enjoy the rest of these days, alright? We still have the whole wedding together."

Y/N nodded reluctantly, her spirits lifting slightly as Nick gave her a squeeze before letting her go. Nate reached for her hand again, threading his fingers through hers and giving her a reassuring squeeze.

They turned into an aisle lined with shelves of sweet treats, and Nick perked up instantly, scanning the options.

"I think we should get powdered donuts or something." He suggested, pointing to a shelf. "You guys like those, right? And then we should get milk and cereal." He looked at Chris and Matt expectantly, but neither answered, both seemingly distracted by something on the shelf opposite them. "Yeah?"

Noticing the silence, Nate chimed in, chuckling.

"Yeah, Nick, I agree. Powdered donuts sound good."

Chris snorted at Nate’s answer, glancing up from the camera.

"Yeah, sounds good." He said, finally catching on. Matt nodded in agreement, still looking at the random colorful items on the right shelf.

Y/N looked around them, quickly spotting the sweet treat. She wandered a few steps ahead, grabbing a pack for her brothers. As she walked back toward the group, she glanced at Nate.

"Babe, do we still have powdered donuts at home?" She asked him.

Nate frowned, seeming to think for a second before shaking his head slightly.

"Nah, it’s almost gone. I think there’s like one left."

Y/N frowned thoughtfully, then turned back to the shelf to grab an extra pack, tossing it into the cart.

"Alright, one for you guys, one for us."

Nick watched her as she added the donuts to the cart, then turned back to the camera.

"Okay, so tonight, we’re going to make pasta with sauce-"

"I want Mac N Cheese." Chris interrupted from behind the camera, speaking over him.

At the exact same time, Y/N also talked, turning to them from a shelf full of cookies that she adored.

"If you’re having pasta, I’m having dinner with you again."

Nick stopped mid-sentence, looking between them with exaggerated annoyance.

"Alright, listen." He said, holding up a hand to stop any further interruptions. "We can get mac n cheese to eat tomorrow..." He compromised. "And you both can stay with us tonight." He added, looking at Nate and Y/N. "Deal?"

Y/N beamed, her earlier sadness momentarily forgotten.

"Deal." She said, happily observing Matt grabbing a box of Mac N Cheese from the nearby shelf and placing it in the cart.

Chris turned the camera toward her with a grin.

"The way she’s acting like this is some grand negotiation is crazy."

"Because it is!" Y/N replied, laughing as she moved to stand beside Nate again.

"Y/N’s just excited to spend more time with us." Nathan slid an arm around her waist, pressing a light kiss to her temple.

"She loves us too much." Matt teased, earning an eye roll from his sister.

"Can’t argue with that." Y/N shot back with a grin.

Nick resumed his walk, pulling the cart and making his way to the front of the group as they approached the refrigerated section. Without a word, he reached for the milk, sliding two cartons into the cart Matt was pushing.

"Milk’s in." He announced to no one in particular, already walking again, pulling the cart with him this time.

The others followed behind, their laughter and chatter echoing softly.

As they passed the hygiene products aisle, Matt - who was looking around while talking to Y/N and Chris - slowed his pace, his mischievous grin already forming as he placed his hands heavily on Nate’s shoulders.

"Hey, shouldn’t you grab some condoms, Nate?" His voice carried just enough volume to catch the attention of the rest of the group, quickly bursting into exaggerated laughter, reacting as if he was the funniest person in the world.

Nate froze mid-step, his face going red as a chuckle immediately erupted from his throat.

"Bro, what?" He choked out, his tone both incredulous and amused.

Y/N, walking beside Chris, immediately rolled her eyes, clearly used to Matt’s way. But instead of letting the comment slide, she crossed her arms and tilted her head with a sly smirk.

"Nah, we don’t need them anymore." She quipped, her tone light as if she was talking about the weather, keeping walking.

The air froze for a split second. Matt’s jaw dropped, Chris nearly dropped the camera, and Nick snapped his head around so fast it was a miracle he didn’t break his neck.

"Wait, what?" Nick blurted, his voice high-pitched and absolutely panicked as his wide eyes locked on Y/N.

Nate froze, blinking in confusion before looking at Y/N with a gaze that screamed 'you didn’t just say that', noticing the playful glint in her eye and the way she was trying not to laugh.

Matt, however, didn’t.

"Excuse me?" He shouted, his voice filled with a mixture of horror and disbelief. "You’re kidding, right? You’re kidding!" He gestured wildly between the couple, his eyes going from them to the camera in Chris's hands and back, clearly unsure if he wanted them to keep filming or put the camera down and probably faint.

Y/N, unable to keep a straight face anymore, burst out laughing, doubling over as she clung to Nate’s arm for support.

"Oh my God, you should see your faces!" She wheezed, her shoulders shaking as tears of laughter formed in her eyes. "I'm not pregnant. We're safe. It was a joke, Matt! A joke!"

Nick groaned, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation.

"You are the worst." He muttered, though his lips twitched like he was fighting back a smile, shaking his head while returning his walk.

Chris exhaled a long, dramatic breath, trying to steady the camera above his trembling fingers.

"What is wrong with you?" He asked, his voice still tinged with lingering panic. "I almost had a heart attack, you know?"

Nate chuckled, nodding his head as he looked down at Y/N, who was still laughing.

"You’re trouble." He teased, his tone soft and affectionate, kissing her temple softly before nuzzling her hair, exhaling the fresh scent of shampoo from their shower earlier. "Pure trouble."

Matt finally straightened up, pinching his nose bridge with his fingers.

"You're not my favorite sibling anymore after that." He affirmed, shaking his head.

Still giggling, Y/N waved her hand dismissively.

"You’ll get over it." She said, sealing her lips with Nate's for only a second before walking toward Nick, leaving the others behind.

"Anyone want juice?" Nick asked over his shoulder, his attention already shifting to the brightly colored juice aisle.

"Lemonade!" Matt called out immediately, forgetting about what had happened not even 5 minutes before, spinning on his heel and heading down the aisle without waiting for anyone to answer.

He grabbed a single plastic bottle of juice, walking just some steps closer to the group before placing the lemonade bottle in front of his covered crotch.

"Come drink it, Nate." He said, wiggling his eyebrows and holding the juice suggestively.

Nate let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he looked at Matt and then at Chris, who was with a disbelief look on his eyes.

"You’re sick." He said, his tone dripping with mock disgust, waving his hand at the triplet.

Y/N, who had just turned back to pick some apple juice for her, froze for a second, her eyes wide.

"Oh my fuck, Matt." She muttered, running a hand through her face before glancing at the camera. "Well, my boyfriend’s boyfriend, everyone." She said dryly, throwing a pointed look at Nate, who was still laughing.

Nick, who was now at the cart putting some strawberry yogurt in, looked up sharply at Matt's figure approaching with the juice still in front of his dick, his face stern.

"Matt, put it down." He said, his tone that of an annoyed parent dealing with a disobedient child.

Matt laughed harder, but he did as Nick said, setting the lemonade by the yogurt's side with an exaggerated sigh.

"You guys ruin all my fun." He muttered, though the smile never left his face.

Their next stop was the cereal aisle, where Chris immediately zeroed in on a brightly colored box of cereal.

"Fruit Loops Rainbow Sherbet Scoops." He read aloud, holding up the box so everyone could see. His tone was a mix of awe and disbelief while reading the small descriptions.

Nick wrinkled his nose, looking at it over Chris's shoulder for a second without stopping walking.

"That looks horrible-" He began, but Y/N cut him off, her face lighting up as she stepped forward.

"No, shut up, it looks cute! I want it." She said, her excitement clear as she moved to Chris’s side to get a closer look at the box. She tilted her head as she read the description over his shoulder. "Wait, it cools your mouth? That sounds so cool."

Chris grinned, passing her the box.

"Alright, it’s yours, kid." He said, handing it over like it was a prized trophy.

Nick sighed, though there was a hint of fondness in his expression, his eyes meeting Nate’s, who just shrugged as if to say 'there's nothing you can do besides accepting it, bro, I've tried'.

"Fine, put it in the cart." He said, waving a hand dismissively. "But don’t complain to me if it tastes like toothpaste."

"It won’t." She said, grinning.

After that, he group made their way to the pasta aisle. The shelves were stacked high with every type of pasta imaginable, from spaghetti to bowties, and Nick was quick to reach for a box of rigatoni and a jar of vodka sauce, stopping in front of the cart and holding them up for everyone to see.

"Okay, rigatoni and vodka sauce." He said, looking around the group. "Do you guys want to get a different pasta shape, or is this good-"

Before he could finish, Matt’s voice rang out from behind the camera in an exaggerated baby tone.

"I want ice cream sauce..." His voice was so ridiculous that it was impossible not to laugh, and he immediately broke into a fit of giggles at his own joke.

Nick’s expression didn’t falter, his face a mask of pure boredom as he glanced directly at Matt.

"You’re so funny, Matt." He deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

"I’m kidding." Matt said between chuckles, zooming the camera in on Nick’s annoyed face before panning back to the group.

Nick turned back to Y/N and Nate, ignoring Matt entirely.

"So, are you guys okay with this for dinner?" He asked, holding up the rigatoni and sauce again.

Y/N, standing close to Nate, was quick to respond.

"Nick, you know I love vodka sauce." She said, shrugging as she placed a hand on her hip. "You could’ve picked any pasta, and I’d still be happy."

Nate nodded in agreement, his hand resting lightly on Y/N’s lower back.

"Yeah, I fuck with it." He said with a grin, his casual tone earning a laugh from Chris behind the camera.

"Perfect." Nick said, tossing the items back into the cart. "Dinner settled. Let’s find a cashier and get out of here."

The group began walking toward the front of the store, their chatter light and easy as they weaved through the same aisles. They were almost at the registers when Matt, who had been walking beside Nick, suddenly froze mid-step.

"No way!" His tone was incredulous and loud. The abruptness of his reaction startled Nick, who jumped slightly, his hand tightening on the cart.

"What the hell, Matt?" Nick snapped, his tone exasperated as he turned to his brother.

But Matt wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were wide with excitement, and he bolted toward a nearby fridge like a kid in a candy store.

"Y/N, oh my God!" He shouted over his shoulder, his voice filled with pure glee. "Look at this!"

Y/N, initially confused by his sudden outburst, followed his gaze. When her eyes landed on what Matt was pointing at, her face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"No way!" She gasped, her excitement matching Matt’s as she grabbed Nate’s arm. "Babe, it’s apple cider!" She exclaimed, giving him a light shove before sprinting toward Matt.

"I can see that, angel." Nate's soft voice echoed from behind her, a laugh escaping his lips.

Matt was already standing by the fridge, practically bouncing on his heels as he pointed to the neatly lined rows of apple cider bottles.

"I thought it wasn’t the time of year anymore!" He said, his voice still filled with amazement as he grabbed one of the bottles and held it up for Y/N to see.

Y/N joined him, her eyes wide with joy as she stared at the cider.

"This is amazing!" She declared dramatically, picking up a bottle of her own and cradling it like it was a prized possession.

"Kids are losing it over apple cider." Chris said through his laughter, zooming in on Y/N and Matt, who looked like they’d just won the lottery.

Nick, who had finally caught up with the group, shook his head in disbelief.

"You two are ridiculous." He muttered, though there was a fondness in his voice as he watched his siblings freak out over something as simple as apple cider. "Are you actually going to drink that?"

"Absolutely." Y/N said without hesitation, handing the bottle to Nate, who rolled his eyes lovingly, taking it from her before putting it in the cart.

"We can come back after LA to get more, yeah?" He said softly, his voice low enough that only she could hear as his hand found her hair, brushing a strand out of her eyes.

Y/N opened the biggest smile, her eyes meeting his full of love.

"That would be awesome!" She exclaimed, making him laugh, nodding softly.

"Alright, let’s pay and go before these two decide to move into the store." Nick said, steering the cart toward the registers.

As they made their way to the checkout, Matt turned to Y/N.

"I call first sip when we open it."

"Not a chance." Y/N shot back, crossing her arms while frowning deeply.

"Over an apple cider." Chris said sarcastically, shaking his head as he filmed them bickering all the way to the registers.

© vanteguccir

[ggukivrse]

falling for you | myg

summary. you and yoongi have been best friends since childhood, and you pride yourselves in knowing everything about each other. well… everything except the quiet, growing warmth neither of you dare to name

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (they’re both so oblivious omfg), fluff, angst

word count: 5.5k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, kissing, lmk if i missed anything!

note: it’s my birthday :> i mentioned this in my wip update, but i’m posting this cuz i feel bad that i’m not able to get the jk fic out in time and wanted to give you guys at least something. i wrote this ages ago and only briefly edited it, so it’s probably not amazing loll. likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are really appreciated!! enjoy reading my angels <3

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

The sun is way too hot for a Saturday. It’s one of those summer days where everything feels too bright and too loud — ice cream truck music echoing down the street, kids screaming over who’s “it” in tag, and the cicadas loud in the trees.

You sit on the curb in front of your house, legs stretched out so far that your toes are practically cooking on the asphalt. Your thighs are sticking to the concrete, and the back of your shirt is damp with sweat. You’re a little bit miserable, but not really. Because Yoongi’s next to you.

He’s got his usual half-annoyed, half-bored face on, like he can’t believe he let you talk him into running around the neighbourhood all morning.

His knees are scraped — both of them. One of them is still bleeding a little, but he doesn’t seem to care. You care more than he does. You tried to wipe it earlier with your sleeve, and he just grunted like an old man and told you to stop fussing.

Now, he’s eating a blue raspberry popsicle like it betrayed him. Slow bites. Little scowl.

You glance over at him and then back at your own red one. You’ve already got sticky syrup running down your wrist because you keep forgetting to lick the sides.

Yoongi nudges you with his shoulder. “You’re making a mess.”

“So?” You lick your wrist dramatically. “I’m still eating it.”

“That’s gross.”

“You’re gross.”

He doesn’t argue. Just takes another angry chomp out of his popsicle and kicks a pebble with the tip of his shoe.

There’s a comfortable silence for a bit. Not quiet — nothing’s ever quiet in your neighbourhood — but the kind of silence that feels like its own little bubble. Like you and Yoongi have your own world, just the two of you, sitting on the curb with sticky fingers and banged-up legs.

You glance over at him again. He’s squinting into the sun, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, a little piece of popsicle juice on his chin.

You say it without thinking.

“I’m gonna marry you when I grow up.”

Yoongi freezes.

You blink. You weren’t really planning to say that out loud. It just slipped out of your mouth. But now it’s out there, just floating between you like a bubble that’s either going to pop or land.

He turns to look at you slowly, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking.

You’re not. You shrug like it’s no big deal. “I mean, you’re my best friend. You’re funny. Sometimes. And you always give me your pickle slices when we eat burgers. That’s boyfriend stuff.”

He snorts. It’s a weird, sudden little laugh, like he can’t stop it in time. “You’re so weird.”

“You’re weird too.”

“Yeah, but you’re weirder,” he says, but he’s smiling now, and there’s a faint pink blooming on his ears that you don’t notice at the time. You just smile back like you’ve won something.

“So you’re saying yes?” you press.

“I didn’t say that,” he grumbles, and looks away quickly. “You’re gonna forget, anyway. You’ll probably marry some tall idiot who plays guitar or something.”

You kick at his foot. “Nope. It’s you.”

He sighs like he’s got the weight of the world on his tiny shoulders. Then he turns to you and says, “Fine. But only if you stop stealing the last popsicle.”

You hold up your half-melted red one. “Deal.”

And he bumps your shoulder again — lighter this time — and finishes the rest of his popsicle in one bite like a monster.

You don’t know it yet, but this is the moment that will live in the back of his head forever, long after the popsicles are gone.

You just know the sun’s still too hot, the ground is still too hard, and Yoongi’s still here. Right next to you. Where he always is.

You’re laughing again.

It’s loud — too loud for the classroom, and definitely too loud for whatever dumb joke just came out of Hoseok’s mouth. It's probably not even that funny, but you’re leaning over your desk, face buried in your folded arms, shaking with laughter like it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever heard.

You’re wearing that white top again — the one with the fraying sleeves that you play with when you’re thinking. Your hair’s a little messy from gym. There’s a tiny smudge of ink on your cheekbone.

And Yoongi is staring at you.

He doesn’t mean to. His eyes just find you like they always do. Like it’s a reflex.

You throw your head back and laugh harder, and something happens in his chest. Not a big, dramatic boom or anything. It’s smaller than that. Quieter. A weird little flutter, like his ribs just skipped.

He blinks. Looks down at his notebook. It’s blank.

Focus. Come on.

The teacher’s still talking about sentence structure, and Hoseok’s still trying to make you laugh again, and you’re still glowing in that obnoxious, infuriating way that makes it impossible to think.

Yoongi grips his pencil tighter.

You’re just his best friend.

You’ve always been his best friend.

Since the popsicle days and scraped knees and pinky promises made without thinking. Since birthday parties with too much sugar and movie marathons where you fell asleep on his shoulder and drooled on his hoodie.

You’re his person. That’s it.

Right?

He sneaks another glance at you.

You’re trying to stifle your giggles now, hand covering your mouth, shoulders trembling. And Hoseok looks at you like he’s proud of himself, like he wants to make you laugh again. Yoongi wants to tell him to shut up. Wants to drag you out of this classroom, down the hall, outside, anywhere.

Away from everyone else.

Just so he can have you to himself for a little while. Just so he doesn’t have to share.

He swallows.

What the hell.

This isn’t... this isn’t how it's supposed to feel. He’s supposed to roll his eyes when you get like this, not sit here with his heart doing gymnastics over your smile. He’s supposed to find you annoying when you poke him in the ribs during class or call him "Grumpy Yoongi." But instead, he finds himself hoping you’ll do it again.

He looks down at his notebook again. Still blank.

Great.

He tries to tell himself it’s just a phase. A random glitch in the system. You’re still just you. Still loud and stubborn and kind of a disaster. Still his best friend. That hasn’t changed.

He glances at you again — now you’re doodling little stars on the corner of your worksheet, tongue poking out in concentration — and something in him quietly, undeniably shifts.

He turns back to his paper, presses the pencil down too hard, and curses under his breath.

Because he knows.

Even if he doesn’t want to know yet.

Middle school parties are always weird.

Too many kids crammed into someone’s basement, bad pop music echoing off the walls, the lights dimmed just enough to feel scandalous. Someone's older sibling is “supervising” from upstairs but mostly just stealing snacks and pretending they don’t hear anything.

You’re sitting on the floor with a half-melted cupcake in your lap and Yoongi next to you, shoulder grazing yours every few minutes.

There are about ten of you in the circle. Everyone’s either trying to act too cool or trying too hard. You’re somewhere in between — buzzed on sugar and nerves, pretending you don’t feel weird sitting this close to your best friend.

Truth or Dare starts like it always does: harmless. Embarrassing questions. Dares to do a cartwheel or chug a Capri Sun in under ten seconds. You're mostly laughing, swatting at people’s arms when they try to rope you in.

Until Ari — a classmate of yours — grins at you like she’s plotting something.

“Your turn,” she says, eyes flicking to Yoongi. “Truth or dare?”

You toy with the edge of your sleeve. “Dare.”

Her grin widens.

“I dare you to kiss Yoongi.”

There’s a chorus of gasps and dramatic “ooooh”s. The kid next to him starts laughing. Someone else claps like this is the best thing they’ve seen all night.

Your face burns instantly.

You glance at Yoongi. He’s frozen. Stiff. His hands still on his knees, his mouth slightly open like he was mid-breath when the dare landed.

You laugh it off. “Wow. Okay. Real original.”

“Come on,” Ari says, nudging you. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it’s just a dare,” someone adds. “It’s not like you guys haven’t known each other since diapers.”

That doesn’t help. If anything, it makes your stomach twist harder.

You look at Yoongi again. He meets your eyes this time.

And something… flickers.

His expression isn’t teasing. He’s not rolling his eyes or laughing with everyone else. He looks nervous. Careful.

He clears his throat. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

You try to sound casual. “It’s fine. Let’s just get it over with.”

But you can’t stop your heart from racing.

You both shift toward each other, awkwardly, slowly, like two magnets confused about which way they're supposed to go. He’s so close now you can see the way his lashes touch his cheeks, the tiny mole just above his lip, the uncertain way he tilts his head.

Someone counts down, loud and obnoxious. “Three! Two! One!”

You kiss him.

It’s not long. It’s not deep. It’s just a press of lips — barely there, barely breathing.

But it’s soft.

Way softer than you expect.

Yoongi doesn’t move. Doesn’t push forward. Doesn’t pull back. He’s just… there. Warm. Still. His lips are chapped but gentle, and his breath stutters against yours for a half-second before you both pull away like the floor’s about to collapse.

The room explodes. Cheering. Laughing. Someone yells, “They’re in love!”

You grab the cupcake from your lap and toss it at them.

Yoongi stares at the floor. He scratches the back of his neck and mutters something you don’t catch. His ears are red.

You force out a laugh. “You guys are ridiculous.”

But your voice cracks on the end.

He doesn’t meet your eyes for the rest of the game. You pretend not to notice, but you do. You notice everything — how quiet he gets, how he taps his fingers against his knee, how he shifts away from you just a little when someone else sits down on his other side.

And you tell yourself it was nothing.

Just a stupid dare.

Just a game.

----

You’re lying on your stomach on Yoongi’s bed, chin propped on your hands, staring at your phone like it’s a live grenade. The text is typed out already. It’s stupidly short. Two sentences. Fourteen words. You’ve reread it twenty-seven times.

Yoongi’s next to you, sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall. He’s flipping through the songs on your playlist like it’s the most boring job on earth. His thumb pauses on a song you like and skips it.

You glare at him. “Hey. I like that one.”

“Yeah, and I’ve heard it a million times. Get a new personality.”

You kick at his leg. He dodges without looking.

The light in his room is warm, and the windows are cracked open just enough to let in that late-afternoon breeze. You’re both still in your school uniforms, slightly wrinkled from the day. His tie’s loose. Your shoes are off. It feels normal. Comfortable.

But it doesn’t feel easy anymore.

Your phone screen dims. You tap it back on and sigh, loud and dramatic.

“I think I’m gonna send it.”

Yoongi doesn’t look up. “Send what?”

You roll onto your side so you can face him, and your heart kicks like it’s trying to climb out of your chest. “The text. To— uh— Taehyung.”

Now he looks at you. Blankly. Like you just said something in a different language. “Taehyung?”

“Yeah. From science.”

His expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes shifts. Slight. Quick. Like a flicker of static.

“You like Taehyung?” he says flatly.

You nod, even though your stomach doesn’t. “I think so. He’s funny. And he smells nice.”

Yoongi snorts. “You’re so shallow.”

“I never said I wasn’t,” you shoot back, but it’s softer than it should be. You’re trying to keep it light. Playful. Like this doesn’t feel wrong already.

There’s a pause.

Then he shrugs and holds out his hand. “Let me see the text.”

You hand it over without meeting his eyes.

He reads it silently. It’s short, awkward, obviously written by someone pretending not to care too much.

hey, i was wondering if you maybe wanna hang out sometime? no pressure lol

He raises an eyebrow. “You used lol. That’s tragic.”

“I panicked!”

“You sound like a robot. A sad, nervous robot.”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it. “Then fix it, genius!”

He laughs — really laughs — and wrestles the pillow away from you like it’s a life-or-death situation. His fingers brush yours in the process.

You still.

It’s barely a touch. Just a moment. But your body reacts like it always does now; your stomach flips; your face burns. And then the guilt rushes in.

You asked him to help you text another guy.

He doesn’t notice. Or pretends not to. He’s busy editing your message, adding a line about how you liked Taehyung’s project on sustainable energy (you did not). Then he adds a smiley face. The old-school kind, with a colon and a parenthesis.

“There. Now you sound like a dork, but at least a sincere one.”

You take the phone back and read it.

hey, i liked your science project btw. wanna hang out sometime? :)

Your thumb hovers over the send button.

You glance at Yoongi.

He’s staring at the ceiling now, one leg bouncing absentmindedly. He looks bored. Normal. Like this doesn’t matter.

You hit send.

It feels like swallowing a rock.

----

You don’t see him at first.

You’re on the couch, curled into Taehyung like you belong there — knees tucked between his, hand lazily draped over his arm, head thrown back in that kind of laugh you don’t fake. The kind that starts in your chest and takes over your whole body.

Taehyung’s saying something low in your ear, his voice too soft for anyone else to catch. You lean in, partially to hear him better, partially to get closer to him.

Yoongi walks into it like a punch.

He hadn’t planned anything dramatic. He’s holding a plastic bag with snacks — some random things he knows you like — intending to drop by like always. Just show up, sit too close, talk about nothing until the day disappears.

But you’re already laughing. And it’s not at something he said.

He stops halfway into the room.

You still haven’t noticed him.

Taehyung sees first. He looks up and gives a casual, almost smug nod. “Yo, what’s up?”

You turn your head fast, like you’re caught doing something wrong. But your smile doesn't fade. “Hey! You didn’t text me you were coming.”

“I did,” Yoongi says. “Like ten minutes ago.”

You blink. “Oh. Sorry.”

You shift slightly, pulling your legs back, not completely — but just enough that you can pat the spot beside you like nothing’s weird. “Come sit.”

He does. He sits. Of course he does.

He drops the bag on the table and slides into the open space next to you, but it feels exactly like what it is — too late.

The three of you make some awkward, half-hearted small talk. Taehyung says something dumb about your chemistry class and you laugh again — less wild this time, but still bright.

Yoongi forces a smile. It stretches across his face too tight. “Didn’t know this was a thing now.”

“What?” you ask, but your voice has that careful edge to it. You know what he means.

He shrugs, cool and neutral. “You and Taehyung.”

Taehyung answers for you. “It’s not, like, official-official. Yet.”

You laugh under your breath, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, not looking at Yoongi when you say, “We’re just seeing where it goes.”

Right.

Cool.

Yoongi leans back against the couch and nods like that makes perfect sense. Like it doesn’t feel like someone just hit the mute button on the world around him.

You look happy. And not in a fake, putting-on-a-show kind of way. You’re relaxed. Glowing, even. And Taehyung? He’s just there. Confident. Comfortable. Sitting way too close.

Yoongi swallows it all.

The way your fingers had been resting on Taehyung’s arm like it was nothing. The way you pulled your legs back but didn’t move farther away. The way his name sounds too easy coming out of your mouth.

He laughs dryly at something Taehyung says — he doesn’t even hear what it is.

And he stays. Of course he stays.

Because he’s your best friend.

That’s what he is. That’s what he’s always been.

And if it hurts, if it feels like the room is spinning just slightly off-axis — well.

You don’t need to know that part.

----

You don’t cry right away.

At first, you just laugh. Too loud. Too sharp. The kind of laugh that feels like it has nowhere else to go.

You sit on the edge of your bed, phone still in your hand, screen black now. The last text from Taehyung stares back at you in your head, branded there like it wants to stay.

“I just don’t think this is working anymore.”

No call. No warning. Just a half-hearted paragraph and a stupid, passive “sorry.”

You set your phone down on your nightstand. It slides a little and stops.

You stare at the wall across from you. It’s the one with the old polaroids and dumb notes and a drawing Yoongi made of you in sixth grade that looks like a potato with hair. You don’t blink. You barely breathe.

The first tear slides out before you even notice it. Just leaks out. Quiet. Like your body knew before your brain caught up.

And then you’re crying.

Not pretty, dramatic crying — the ugly, silent kind where your chest hurts more than your heart and you can’t quite breathe right. Your hands shake. You press your face into the pillow to muffle the sound, and it doesn’t help. You feel like you’re sinking through the bed.

It wasn’t even a long relationship. A few months. A few kisses. Some hand-holding and shared playlists and awkward texts. But Taehyung made you feel seen. Liked. Wanted.

And now you feel... disposable.

There’s a knock on your door. Light.

Hesitant.

You don’t answer.

It creaks open anyway. You know the sound of his footsteps before he even speaks.

Yoongi.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands in the doorway, taking you in — all curled up and messy and miserable. Then he crosses the room, slowly, like he doesn’t want to startle you.

“Your mom said you weren’t feeling good,” he says softly.

You turn your head, just enough to look at him. Your eyes are puffy. You’re not even trying to hide it.

His brows draw together instantly. “What happened?”

You open your mouth, and it takes two tries before anything comes out.

“Taehyung dumped me,” you mumble.

It sounds small. Childish. Not even worth the weight in your throat. But the look on Yoongi’s face shifts — his whole posture softens, and before you can stop him, he’s sitting beside you.

He doesn’t ask for permission, just reaches out and pulls you into his arms.

You fall into him without hesitation.

It’s warm there — his hoodie smells like detergent and the faintest trace of cinnamon gum. His chin rests on top of your head. His hands stay still on your back, not moving, not rushing you.

And you just let yourself cry.

Not because of Taehyung, not entirely. Not even because of the rejection. It’s all of it. The hurt, the disappointment, the slow-burning truth that you were hoping for something more than what he gave.

Yoongi holds you like he’s done this before in a dream. Like he knows exactly how to steady you without needing words. Like he feels what you feel.

But he’s quiet. Too quiet.

There’s something in the way his fingers curl into your top, in the way he presses his mouth into your hair and doesn’t move for a long time, like he’s clinging to something he’s not allowed to want.

You don’t say anything.

Neither does he.

Eventually, your breathing slows. You wipe your nose on your sleeve and shift in his arms, suddenly aware of how close he is. How good he smells. How warm he feels. And how badly you wish this was something else.

“Thanks,” you murmur, voice hoarse.

He just nods. “Yeah. Always.”

And you don’t talk about it again.

Not the breakup.

Not the way you cried into his chest.

Not the way his shirt smelled like you for two days after.

----

You’re still his favourite person.

That hasn’t changed.

What has changed is everything else.

He still walks you home when it’s late. Still sends you memes at 2 AM. Still saves the red gummy bears for you and pretends it’s not a thing. But it’s not like it used to be — not the same easy closeness, not the same comfort.

You date people now.

Sometimes you talk about them like they’re no big deal. Other times, your eyes light up in a way that makes something twist deep in his stomach.

He listens. He nods. He laughs when he’s supposed to. But underneath all of it, something grows. Slow and impossible and heavy.

Love is a quiet thing, he’s learned. Sometimes it lives in the silences. Sometimes in the way you pass him a drink before he even asks. Sometimes in the fact that you always take the seat next to him, even when there’s room on the other side.

It’s been building in him for years.

And tonight, it almost spills.

You’re both on his bed, legs stretched out, backs against the wall. It’s late — later than you said you’d stay — but neither of you mention it. A movie plays on his laptop, mostly ignored. Some old favorite you’ve both seen a dozen times.

You’re in a hoodie that doesn’t belong to you — his, probably — and your hair’s a mess and your socks don’t match and you look like home.

He can’t remember what the movie’s about. He hasn’t looked at the screen in a while.

You say something, soft and tired, and laugh at your own joke. Your head drops lightly against his shoulder, and he freezes.

You don’t move.

And he doesn’t either.

You just stay like that — your cheek resting against him, your breath slowing, your body slowly going still. You’re warm. He can feel the shape of you through his top, the weight of your trust in the way you lean into him like it’s nothing.

It’s not nothing.

Not to him.

He looks down at you. Your lashes flutter slightly. Your lips are parted. You smell like your shampoo and something sweeter underneath. And he wants to say it.

He almost does.

The words rise in his throat like a wave, a whisper, a fragile truth he’s carried for too long

But he doesn’t say it.

Because you’re tired. Because the timing’s wrong. Because he’s afraid you’ll look at him with surprise , or worse — pity.

So he sits there, still and aching, while the credits roll and your breathing deepens.

You fall asleep on his shoulder.

And Yoongi memorises everything — how your head fits perfectly into the curve of his neck. How your fingers twitch in your sleep. How you murmur something he can’t quite catch and then go quiet again.

He thinks, If this is all I ever get… maybe it’s enough.

But he knows it’s not.

Not really.

You’re drunk.

Not sloppy or reckless, just that warm, loose kind of drunk where the room spins slightly and everything feels a little softer. Someone's phone is plugged into the speakers, playing something moody and bass-heavy. The lights are low. People you barely know are dancing in the kitchen.

You’re on the couch, legs curled up, red solo cup half-empty in your hand. And Yoongi is beside you, same as always.

Except nothing feels the same anymore.

He’s wearing black jeans and a simple, grey t-shirt, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. His knee brushes yours every time he shifts. You’ve stopped pretending not to notice.

He says something dry — some sarcastic comment about the guy doing shots off a frisbee — and you laugh too loud. You’re tipsy. You’re floating. But your heart’s not light. It’s buzzing. Loud and tense and full of every little thing you’ve been holding back.

You look at him.

Really look at him.

The way his mouth curves slightly when he talks. The way he never quite meets your eyes when you’re this close. The way he smells like laundry and something distinctly him — faint mint, skin-warm cotton, late-night comfort.

And it hits you all at once.

You want to kiss him.

Not because someone dared you. Not because you're drunk and stupid. Not even because you can’t stop thinking about that first time years ago. But because you mean it. Because you’ve been meaning it for a long time.

You lean in before you can talk yourself out of it.

Soft. Slow. Hesitant.

Your hand brushes his cheek. His eyes widen — just barely — and then your mouth is on his.

And he doesn’t move.

Not at first.

For a second, he kisses you back. Long enough to make your whole body hum.

But then he pulls away.

Not roughly or dramatically. Just enough. Enough to break your heart a little.

“Hey,” he says, voice too gentle. “You’re drunk.”

You blink, confused. Hurt blooming fast behind your ribs.

“So?”

His jaw tenses. He looks away. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and wish you hadn’t.”

Your chest goes tight. “You think I didn’t mean it?”

He doesn’t answer.

And that tells you everything.

You pull back slowly. You don’t say another word.

The rest of the night blurs. Someone turns the music up. You make some excuse about needing air. He drives you home without being asked, hands tense on the wheel the whole time. The silence is too loud between you.

You lean your head against the passenger window, pretending to be asleep before he can try to explain.

You don’t want to hear it.

Because you meant it.

And you thought, for a second, maybe he did too.

It’s been weird for weeks.

Not explosive. Just off.

A slow shift. A stretching silence.

You're still around. Still close enough to touch, to laugh at his jokes, to send dumb videos to in the middle of the night. But there’s something behind your smile now. Something guarded. Distant. And he knows it’s his fault.

You kissed him.

And he pulled away.

Not because he didn’t want it — fuck, he wanted it — but because you were drunk, and he was scared, and it felt too real too fast. So he froze. You backed off. And neither of you brought it up again.

But you’ve both been pulling back ever since.

He doesn’t know how to fix it.

You’re in his room now, sitting on the edge of his bed, tapping your foot, eyes on your phone but not really reading. Yoongi’s at his desk pretending to study. The silence has weight. It presses on the back of his neck.

You exhale through your nose. Not loud, but sharp. Tired.

“Do you even want me around anymore?”

The question hits him like a slap.

He turns slowly in his chair. “What?”

You glance at him. “You act like you don’t care anymore. Like I’m just— I don’t know— there.”

He sits back. His jaw tightens. “I’ve just had a lot going on.”

“Yeah?” you say. “Cool. Same.”

Something in your voice snaps.

He straightens up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stand now, phone forgotten on the bed. Your arms are crossed. “It means I’m tired of pretending everything’s fine when it’s obviously not.”

He doesn’t answer.

“You don’t talk to me like you used to. You barely look at me.”

“I look at you all the time,” he mutters.

You laugh once, the sound sharp and bitter. “Right. When you’re not busy avoiding me.”

He hates this. He hates how defensive he feels, how all the words he wants to say get trapped behind the ones he thinks are safer.

You step closer. Not too close. Just enough for him to feel it. “If you didn’t want me to kiss you, you could’ve just said so. You didn’t have to make it this awkward.”

His throat tightens. “You were drunk.”

“And you made it clear it was a mistake.”

He flinches.

“I get it now,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “It was a stupid moment. One I shouldn’t have started.”

His heart is pounding.

You look away like you’re ashamed, like you regret all of it. And maybe you do. Maybe he should’ve let you believe he didn’t feel anything, because that would be easier than this — than hearing you call it a mistake like it meant nothing.

He wants to stop you. Wants to grab your hand, say your name, rewind time.

But he just says, “Yeah. Maybe it was.”

Your mouth opens a little, but you don’t say anything. Just blink, like you’re trying not to show how much that hurt.

Then you grab your phone. “I should go.”

He doesn’t stop you.

You close the door behind you a little too gently, like slamming it would give away too much.

And Yoongi just sits there, staring at the space you left behind, hating every second of the silence that follows.

Because the kiss wasn’t a mistake.

But letting you believe it was? Might be the biggest one he’s ever made.

You haven’t talked since the fight.

No texts. No “are you home?” No memes.

No Yoongi.

It’s only been a few days, but it feels like weeks — like something’s gone missing in the background of your life. Like you keep reaching for something that isn’t there anymore.

You’ve reread the last texts between you two more times than you’ll admit. The tension. The things you said. The thing you didn’t say.

It’s past midnight when your phone buzzes.

Yoongi [12.36 AM]: Are your parents home?

You stare at the screen, heart suddenly in your throat. You don’t know what propels you to reply, but you do.

You [12.37 AM]: no

Less than ten minutes later, you hear the sound of pounding rain outside.

And then — knocking. Hard, fast, urgent.

You open the front door.

Yoongi is standing there, soaked to the bone. Hair plastered to his forehead, hoodie clinging to him, chest rising and falling like he ran here.

You step aside without saying a word, and he walks in like he’s scared you’ll change your mind if he hesitates.

Water drips onto the floor. He’s breathing heavy. His eyes are locked on yours.

And then he starts talking.

“I didn’t mean what I said. That it was a mistake. I didn’t mean any of it. I was scared. I didn’t want to screw up what we have and I—fuck, I already did, didn’t I?”

You don’t move. You just stare. Let him unravel.

“The kiss wasn’t a mistake,” he says, voice breaking just slightly. “Nothing with you has ever been a mistake.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t let you.

“I’ve been trying to stay away because I thought maybe you were better off not knowing. But I can’t do it anymore. Not talking to you is— it's fucking unbearable.”

His eyes meet yours.

And then he closes the space between you in two steps.

He kisses you.

For real this time.

Not soft or scared or careful.

It’s soaked and breathless and honest — his hands cradling your face like he’s been waiting years for this exact moment and couldn’t risk wasting another second.

You melt into it. Everything inside you aches with how much you missed him.

He pulls back, eyes searching yours, his thumb still brushing your cheek.

“I love you.”

You blink once.

Then you grin, so wide it almost hurts.

“Took you long enough, asshole.”

He laughs. Breathless. Relieved.

And then you kiss him again.

Not because of a dare.

Not because you're drunk.

Not because you're trying to get over him.

But because you finally don’t have to pretend anymore.

taglist | click here to join: @thegreatdepressionme @golden-loona @kissyfacekoo @cookysstuff @whoa-jo

[solarmorrigan]

In honor of the approaching summer, have this Incredibly Silly A Goofy Movie AU that I tormented my poor friend in the chat with. It's been sitting in my drafts for months

-

So, like. Eddie fails senior year. And is dealing drugs, probably, because they need the money, but not a lot of people want to hire him. The school administration can't prove that he's dealing, but they do know he's failing, and the principal still calls Wayne all "Your son nephew is a delinquent and is going to end up in jail just like his dad" and Wayne's like. Well, we can't have that. And he's got a lot of time saved up at the plant, he's been there for years, he's a loyal employee, so he decides that they can take the hit and he'll take some time off and HE AND EDDIE ARE GOING FISHING

And Eddie's like, great, that's great, glad you want to bond, BUT. No can do. Because (and this part he does not tell Wayne), he finally got Steve to agree to go on a date with him (and by "finally got him to agree" I mean "he finally fucking asked," because it's not like Steve would've said no - at least not since going from being kind of a popular idiot to a much more down-to-earth guy in the last year or so). And he can't miss that. But Wayne is adamant. So Eddie's finally like, I promised my friend Steve that I'd spend time with him this summer. And Wayne's like, he can spend time with his family this summer. And Eddie tells him, no, actually, he can't, because his parents are dicks and are going to be gone all summer. And he'll be alone 🥺 ALL ALONE, WAYNE. THE WHOLE SUMMER

And, like, Wayne's not thrilled, but this is one of those soft, caring little pieces of Eddie he's been worried about losing so he's like, "Okay, invite your friend Steve along, then." And Eddie's brain does the record scratch thing, because this was not what he was angling for. He would not be OPPOSED to going on a road trip with Steve, but not one chaperoned by his uncle?? But now he's penned in. He can't back out or Wayne will suspect something is up. So he goes and talks to Steve, saying that Wayne sprung this trip on him, he doesn't want to miss their date, but Wayne said Steve could come along, yaaay...? Except he assumes a (formerly) Cool, (currently) Rich guy like Steve won't want to go on just a fishing trip, so he spins up some story about how they're actually going to some big concert (which actually happens to be taking place very near to their actual fishing destination). Eddie knows this is An Incredibly Stupid Idea, but he thinks maybe he can swing it. Also the words kinda came out before he could really think about them

Of course, he didn't need to lie to Steve because a) Steve would probably follow him anywhere anyway at this point, and b) the boy would be fucking thrilled to go on a family bonding road trip. He would eat that shit up. He's never been fishing before. It sounds kind of terrible, but in a good way

So now Eddie's in a pickle, but it all works out. Bonding shenanigans and brief romantic moments that are accidentally crashed by Wayne and some actual fishing and they also get to see the concert and they all end up closer for the trip etc. etc.

[k4rinaviiz]

ʚɞ sukuna x fem!reader. grumpy x sunshine. reader described as girly. based off this tiktok.

You and Sukuna have been dating for a couple of months now. None of your or his friends expected it. I mean, you were like sunshine, and he… well, let's just say not sunshine.

Nonetheless, no matter how much people talked, you were still one of the healthiest couples on campus. You handled the pleasantries and made sure Sukuna was not ripping people's heads off, while he made sure people were not trying to use your kindness against you.

Here you were, sitting in your guy's favorite fast-food place after classes had finished. You too had grown to enjoy the same food with your spent time together. This time was no different, you had both ordered burgers and drinks. He paid of course. You sat near the window with the hot summer sun leaking in the gold liquid.

You didn't miss the side glances that workers gave to the two of you. Just like how your personalities were opposites, so were your styles. He was tall, and muscular, and had tattoos. You on the other hand wore light colors, frilly clothes, and bows. You didn't pay any mind though, instead sending a small smile to the worker who brought out your food.

“When did they have pickles on them…?” he muttered in his usually grumpy voice. You looked up from your own burger, your eyebrows rising in confusion at his words. Leaning forward in your chair to get a look at his meal, and low and behold there was the one food he despised most.

He looked towards you with a scowl shadowing his face “You could ask them to remake it…” you suggest but there was clear hesitation in your voice. You both knew you hated any sort of confrontation, even though he usually did it anyway. This time he just let out a low grumble, crossing his arms “They’ll just end up messing it up again.”

You didn't say anything, instead soundlessly pushing your burger. The right order, towards him. “here we can trade.” you shrug, your voice showing him how happy you were to do it. He stared at you for a moment, he knew no matter how long you two were together he would never get used to your, small selfless acts. “You would really do that for me..?” his voice filled with skepticism.

“yeah, of course.” you nodded quickly. That sweet, slightly lopsided smile he loved so much was spread across your face.

You both started to eat in comfortable silence, you really didn't mind the messed-up order or even lack of conversation. What did surprise you was when he quickly blurted something out "If anyone ever hurts you, you come to me.”

honestly sukuna and sylus are like the same person to me so I just kinda had to write this… even if I lowk should be doing work.

Anyway tell me if you like it, all feedback is appreciated.

@k4rinaviiz please do not repost, translate or copy my work. all my work is originally mine.

[swizzlemynizzle]

Underneath the Noise - George Clarkey

—————————————-

Chapter four: Heat of the Moment

Masterlist

———————————————————————————

By pub eight, Y/N is starting to question every decision that’s led her to this moment—specifically the one that resulted in her standing outside a Camden dive bar, belting Wonderwall with a man who smells like weed, tambourine in hand, and absolutely no concept of pitch.

But she’s also… kind of thriving?

The man throws a soggy arm around her and howls the chorus like it’s a football chant. ArthurTV is filming through tears of laughter, nearly dropping his phone.

“Alright,” Bach wheezes, clutching his knees, “That’s challenge five complete. Again?”

“Oops,” Y/N giggles.

“Sing with a stranger— double check,” ArthurTV confirms between giggles. “And possibly lose all credibility online—also check.”

Y/N wipes a strand of damp hair from her forehead, offering the tambourine man a fist bump. “I’m not even drunk enough for this to make sense.”

“You will be by pub ten,” Bach assures, waving his phone with the ever-smudged bingo list like it’s a sacred scroll.

“So far we’ve got:

* New outfits? Done. The pink is blinding and iconic.

* Selfie with a wild animal? Shout out to Pickle the ferret and his confused owner.

* Stranger shot? Our guy Sandy in the cowboy hat—absolute legend. Cost me that fiver though.

* Shoe swap? Y/N’s now proudly wearing size elevens and mild trench foot.

* Sing with a stranger? Grammy-worthy.”

Y/N looks down at the muddy trainers now occupying her feet and grimaces. “These better be haunted by good luck or I swear.”

“They don’t even match your shirt,” ArthurTV notes, pretending to be offended.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she deadpans. “Do my clown shoes clash with my Hot Bitch Ready To Party shirt?”

“You’re offending fashion as an institution,” he says solemnly.

Bach is howling. “The internet’s gonna eat this up.”

Despite the squelching in her socks and the ache creeping into her ankles, Y/N’s smile lingers longer this time. Something’s shifted.

Somewhere between the tambourine guy and Bach trying to harmonize with a stranger who didn’t speak English, she doesn’t feel like an outsider anymore.

She’s still anxious—of course she is. It pulses quietly beneath her skin, the way it always does. Not loud, not debilitating, but there. A background hum, like a buzzing fridge. Constant. Easy to ignore in daylight, harder at night.

But for now, it’s quieter than it used to be. Drowned out by laughter and chaos.

They’ve just convinced a hen party to join them for a round of tequila (not a challenge, but still very on brand), when Chris’s team appears like a sitcom cutaway.

“There she is!” Chris crows from across the street, arms open dramatically. “Y/N! Have you been ticking off bingo boxes, or just making heart eyes at George all day?”

Y/N nearly chokes on her shot.

George, of course, looks completely unfazed. Amused, even.

“You wish,” she shoots back, voice still hoarse from the off-key Oasis performance.

Chris gasps, hand to chest like she’s wounded him. “Excuse me, I’m merely an observer of undeniable chemistry.”

“Observer or instigator?” Arthur Hill asks, sipping from what looks suspiciously like his eighth Guinness of the evening.

Y/N pulls a face. “Chris made the bloody bingo list. He’s hardly impartial.”

Chris beams, completely unbothered. “Guilty. And if I didn’t make it mildly humiliating, what’s even the point?”

“You made me swap shoes with a man who just finished a 12 hour shift at Greggs,” she says, holding up a mud-smeared trainer like evidence in a murder trial.

“And now you carry the soul of sausage rolls with every step,” Chris says solemnly, raising his pint in toast.

George chuckles beside him, the corners of his mouth twitching. He hasn’t said much, as usual, but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes. Y/N tries not to notice.

Fails.

“Nice shoes,” he offers, gaze flicking to her mismatched mess.

“Oh shut it, Hobbit,” she fires back, grinning.

There’s a pause.

Then: “That’s Chris,” George corrects smoothly. “I’m the one with the large head, remember?”

Y/N winces. “Shit. Right. My bad.”

George leans a little closer as he passes, just enough for his voice to reach her ear. “At least you’re paying attention.”

Her breath stumbles. She rolls her eyes too late to hide the smile forming, but ArthurTV notices.

“Someone’s flustered,” he sing-songs, already pointing the camera in her direction.

“I will eat that camera,” Y/N warns.

“Y/N!” Bach calls suddenly, waving the phone like a flare. “We’ve got two left—skulling a pint with a stranger, and the swim.”

“Skulling?” Y/N echoes, eyebrows raised. “You do realise this isn’t Freshers’ Week, right?”

“Which is why we’re doing it in Soho,” Bach says brightly. “The locals live for this kind of energy.”

ArthurTV groans. “I swear to God, if I end up in a viral TikTok titled ‘Millennial Man Dies Doing Pint Challenge’...”

“You’ll get at least 200k likes,” Y/N offers helpfully.

They move on, weaving through Soho’s Friday night crowd, dodging kebab wrappers and trailing glitter from the hen party. The buzz of the city carries them forward, pulsing with possibility.

Eventually, they find a willing pint partner—a bald man named Gaz who insists on racing Bach in a Guinness-downing contest. It's over in seconds. Gaz wins. Barely.

Challenge: complete.

“I think I’ve got a bit of head trauma,” Bach mutters, clutching his forehead. “From the beer or the shame, I can’t tell.”

“Alright,” ArthurTV says, checking the list with exaggerated flair, “We are one swim away from glory.”

Y/N eyes him warily. “Where exactly are you planning this aquatic adventure?”

“Trafalgar,” he replies instantly.

“Oh brilliant,” she says, “Can’t wait to get chased by a security guard named Gary in high-vis.”

“I’ve got a towel,” Bach adds, like that makes anything better.

———————————————————————————

I might post the next few chapters so the bingo video is finished and we can move onto streaming with Georgie xxxxx

Tags

@madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at

[6okuto-moved]

KENMA RELATIONSHIP HCS

gn!reader, timeskip mentions

isn't a pda guy, but will fall asleep on your shoulder/rest against you as he games, and if you play with his hair, who's he to say no?

if you change your contact name in his phone, he keeps whatever it is, even if it's super silly or cheesy. like okay call "my honeybear darling angel 😚". he says it's because he's lazy but he does find it kinda cute/amusing

you cheer for kenma at practice in like, a sort of exaggerated way, like "gooo kenma!!! yeaahh!! let's go kenma!! kenma! kenma!" and he tries really hard not to look at you—not because he's annoyed, but because he doesn't want you to notice how red his face has gotten. his teammates point it out anyway

lol his team using you as motivation. "don't you want to impress them?" and kenma's like 😒😒 but gets up from the floor

kenma teaching you how to play his favourite (co-op) video games!! he's pretty patient and explains things well, so if you don't have a lot of gaming experience, don't worry too much ^^ buttt if you're competitive, get ready to Compete. he seems like someone who doesn't take it too seriously unless you start (jokingly) shit talking him

he'll try out any games you like too, even if it isn't something he'd pick himself. he doesn't really plan to when you're describing it, but then he thinks about it, or sees a post mentioning it, and the curiosity (And Affection 4 U :3) gets him

easily notices if you've gotten quieter/tired when you're out. if you're with a group, he'll tap your shoulder and offer his own, ask if you're alright, and or make up an excuse so you can both leave. if it's just the two of you, he's quick to find a place to rest for a while

he'll never make you join if you don't want to, but fans eat up any videos or streams with you—they make edits and compilations of you walking in during streams and everything. the amount of begging for a q&a and story time of how you met is crazydsjdhsj

chat is soo annoying about it too /lh "no they're not single," "i know they're out of my league," "yes they were my first subscriber," kenma telling you not to answer them when they ask if he's clingy, etc etc

! i think it'd be cute if you guys had matching phone cases, but his fans didn't know until you showed up with the other one. and they realize Just how much he has on that's matching you—the bracelet and necklace that they catch glimpses of under his hoodie, the hoodie itself from the same line as yours... yeah.

time for "he said no pickles." unless you also don't like asking/don't care,, then you guys can just take the pickles off together <3

^ if it's a serious mistake they made with your food, kenma's a lot more compelled to approach the counter.

would teach you about stocks. if you asked

mutual info dumping and yapping... he's very aware of how much he's telling you the first couple of times, but gets more comfortable when you do it back !

^ kind of guy to do his own research afterward. he makes a semi-obscure reference/joke the day after and you're like ???? Who told you that.

kind of boyfriend who hears you go "i want him" "wait why's this character kinda..." and isn't like, that offended or put off by it. says "understandable" (or questions your taste), but knows they're a character at the end of the day

quality time kind of guy. people know you're special even if they don't know you're dating because you can convince kenma to go to events or try something new when they wouldn't expect it. (obviously it's never something crazy out of his comfort zone, and it's probably because he knows you'd feel better with someone with you, but he's going all the same!!)

kenma isn't the best with receiving words of affirmation or gifts... he appreciates it, but gets awkward and doesn't know how to react ^^; you reassure him that he doesn't have to jump for joy or be super affectionate back—he shows his love in his own ways !

his gifts are very thoughtful. he gets you something practical, and then things that you've really wanted for a while. his cards aren't filled with long letters of adoration, but they're genuine and very much kenma. (+ having money in the timeskip doesn't mean he'd ever buy something expensive or flashy just because it might be 'easier.' it means he gets to buy you way more merchandise for your favourite media, paying the shipping fees that kept you away.)

you get him a super thoughtful (and maybe expensive) gift and he Lights Up. and then he's like ? you remembered / really paid that much ? really ? and he keeps smiling when he looks at it..

kenma coming downstairs with super bad bedhead and pouting when you snicker. but then he relaxes as you comb your fingers through to fix it

tying up his hair... a little ponytail or bun...

matching pajamas... or those fluffy headbands you wear to wash your face... he looks so silly and cute

university student kenma who walks in visibly irritated, and you know you're about to shit talk his group members or professor together.

late night breakfast. sitting in the kitchen eating bowls of cereal past midnight

! late night gaming sessions... and or sometimes you fall asleep waiting for kenma to finish, then wake up to realize he fell asleep at his desk. you have to coax him into bed after saving the game for him

very nervous during the first year you're together any time there's a holiday, especially valentine's day or your anniversary. he wonders if his plans and gifts are enough, not romantic enough, too boring, if you'd rather do something exciting, even if logically he knows you'll like anything he thinks up

sometimes you guys will just lie on the floor, stare at the ceiling together, and talk. maybe there's music, a game menu screen playing in the background, or you're just listening to the birds and neighbours outside. floor time is healing all the same

bleaching kenma's hair + him helping dye yours... timeskip where chat asks if you've done your hair recently because his hands have been stained :')

it's super easy to team up with kuroo to tease him but also ! teaming up to taunt and prank kuroo !! think of kenma laughing bright and loudly, eyes squinting and arms clutching his middle !! kuroo can't be that mad because he's happy someone else can get kenma this happy too

🏷️ | @icekitgeorge3 @dira333 (hey guys) @pelicanpizza @godoffuckedupcats @causenessus @priv-rose @ur-local-simp @respitable @deepenthevoid

[sexycornenthusiast]

eden's garden minecraft server headcanons

Damon: Guy who loves elaborate piston doors. Thinks he's a better builder than he actually is. He and Eva take turns upgrading random stuff in each other's bases while they're offline as a show of dominance. His storage "system" has been a disaster since she was banned. Keeps finding chickens all over the place and doesn't understand where they're coming from.

Eva: Dug herself into a mountain 10,000 blocks away from everyone to build absurdly complicated redstone contraptions, none of which have much utility beyond being cool (eg. working calculator, world's most efficient pickle farm, machine that automatically launches chickens all the way to Damon's base, etc). Likes to build traps in random places. Currently serving a month long ban sentence for blowing up Wolfgang's entire base in a fit of rage (nothing survived. you can see bedrock in some places)

Wolfgang: Has been living out of Grace's basement since The Incident and spends most of his time out on quests to get her whatever items or blocks she asks him for. Building anything stresses him out because he's a perfectionist so he's pretty much embraced the homeless lifestyle.

Grace: Builds almost exclusively out of white concrete. Surprisingly good at making minigames and has recently been preoccupied trying to find the best way to build Minecraft golf. Never collects her own resources. Anything Wolfgang can't get for her, she steals from someone else's storage - usually Damon, Wenona, or Diana. She would love to steal from Eva, but Eva only has one chest with two string and a poppy.

Jett: Also makes minigames but they're kind of bad in a charming way. Claims that Mark lives with him, but Mark has never been to his base. Teamed up with Cassidy and Jean to build a subway system (ice boat tracks) between everyone's bases and has since become enamored with the idea of iceboat racing.

Mark: Does nothing but dig perfect 16x16 holes to bedrock. No beacon, no enchantments, just pure love of the game. It's stress relief for him. Anything he doesn't directly need for crafting more tools gets left behind in a chest. Every once in a while Jett comes by and throws him 4 stacks of cooked pork chops so that's all he eats. The others eventually realize that if they fence off an area and label it as 'to be cleared' he'll just show up and do it.

Cassidy: Technically the server owner but hates admining. Flexed her speedrun strats by beating the ender dragon on day one. Gave everyone a free elytra in the first week (Wenona threw hers into lava in front of her and they've been Minecraft enemies ever since). Spends most of her time either doing community projects or pranking people. Was in the middle of trying to convince Eva to help build a fully functional postal system before The Incident.

Wenona: Has a huge villager trading hall and a farm for pretty much everything. Half the server is indebted to her in some way. The true extent of her infrastructure is unknown even to her closest friends. If you visit her at the wrong time your game WILL drop to 10 fps. Has been caught online at 3 AM multiple times but always claims she was "just AFKing" (this is a lie).

Ulysses: Bad at video games. Can barely play and has a death count in the multiple hundreds. Makes a full map of the server every week or so. Whenever he isn't doing that, he just finds someone doing something interesting (usually Wenona but not always) and watches them like a personal livestream.

Ingrid: Better at the game than anyone expected and has died the least amount of times. Obsessed with armor trims and has a downright unreasonable amount of dogs. Doesn't trade with villagers but uses them as "background characters" for her medieval city build. Constantly the target of pranks like turning her house into an aquarium or encasing it in obsidian, but seems to genuinely believe her friends are just giving her gifts in silly ways.

Toshiko: Building in the same city as Ingrid but in completely different style. Somehow they've made it work. Never affected by the pranks against her basemate because the last time that happened she made them regret their entire lives. Tries and fails to hide the fact that she's afraid of the nether. Types in chat in full grammatically correct sentences complete with punctuation.

Jean: Has admin privileges and does most of the work on that front. Had the final say on Eva's punishment after The Incident. Can never stay in one area for very long and has built something unique in every one of his classmates' bases. Not all of them are aware of this fact. Has sooo many tridents and no one understands how he gets such good drop rates.

Desmond: Spawn-proofed his entire area immediately and now plays the game as a chill farming sim. Only leaves said area on special occasions. Has more food than he could ever use and doesn't care if people take it.

Eloise: Beat all the in-game bosses in a span of like a week then got bored and stopped playing (this is valid).

Kai: Built an actually really impressive castle, but it's all facade and no function (there are no lights on the inside and it doesn't even have a back). Lives in a pile of chests and shulker boxes in an open field. Can never find anything in it. Has a pink bed.

Diana: Plays with shaders. Builds beautiful landscapes like a painting in Minecraft and focuses a lot on little details and atmosphere. Loves doing interiors. Don't ask her what a repeater does because she will not know. Gets all her materials through hand-gathering and generous donations. Eva also tried to blow up her base, but she found the TNT and dug it all up, leaving behind only a few minecarts that did minimal damage.

[lemonisntreal]

TONE DEAF :: Rosita and Norman <3

The first in a [hopefully] series of redesign + headcanon posts where I give you my take on a character for my AU

I'm grouping the two together because a] a lot of fluff headcanons I have, they share [because they're literally husband and wife]. And b] if I made an individual post for every single character, I... would go insane. So yeah. A bunch of characters are gonna get clumped together.

[FULL MASTERPOST HERE [yet to be made <3]]

HEADCANONS // BACKSTORY ⬇️

Me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic [also autistic]

Both of them are the same age, mid to late thirties.

In terms of general intelligence: Rosita has gifted IQ, while Norman is at genius level.

I know. I know Norman seems kinda dim in the movies. But guys [LMAO]. "I know it looks like there's nothing happening behind those eyes, but...... he can make entire computers!"

He's so smart yet so stupid. He's that kind of character. Like he can do all of this super impressive shit, and is super talented and can do math like BOOM done, but he's also kinda a "deer-in-the-headlights" when it comes to life [I LOVE HIM 👹]

Both of them worked hard and have their college degrees almost completely paid off at this point because of the scholarships they earned.

Rosita has a degree in engineering, Norman's a computer scientist.

They're both in STEM, it's just that Rosita likes to handle more of the mechanical aspects of things while Norman's better with the technical stuff, which I think is cute af.

Yin and Yang <3

This dynamic is just how they are too. How they act. Like for example, Rosita can be very to-the-point-

She's very much a problem solver and will get right to it once she understands what she's doing. Like yeah, she often takes a very methodical approach to it [see the scene where she's got all the papers laid out to try and learn to dance- very new territory for her], but once she learns, she gos all in. And EATS.

Norman's gotta have a plan before doing anything, meanwhile. He has a morning routine that can't be interrupted or else his whole day and mood will be thrown off. He reads through a recipe twice before even starting. That kind of stuff.

He's a lot more hesitant to even try.

A lot of people find Norman boring. But Rosita is enraptured by every word he says, she LOVES his long spiels about hyper-specific [and often mundane] things.

AAAA--

Norman is also a closeted DORK. He ran a tabletop games club in highschool with a couple other of his geeky ass friends [he's still into D&D to this day and has introduced Rosita to the game too]

[she's fun to play with, but super competitive. This goes for ANY game, actually, not just D&D. She'll kinda accidentally turn everything into a "contest" due to her inability to not do her very best] [it's mostly inspirational, not annoying, if that makes sense?]

I also wanna say Norman was in a weird amount of drama that he didn't want to be in at this time. Like all of his friends had falling-outs, and he was just always caught in the middle of it.

He's afraid of confrontation [UNLESS IT'S FOR HIS WIFE] [HE STANDS UP FOR HER RAHHHH] [this is gonna happen when I get to rewriting Sing 2, he's NOT just gonna take Crystal calling his WIFE "mommy pig"]

They're sooo "excuse me, he asked for no pickles"

Norman and Rosita technically met in high school, in Junior year when Norman first moved to Calatonia.

WHICH, he and his family did this because this was a point in time where laws having to do with the rights of animals were VERY flimsy, and Calatonia was one of the first and only safe places at the time-- for Pigs especially, actually.

The 3 Little Pigs is deadass CANON TO SING. So Pigs were/are actually a marginalized species in this universe.

[[during the warring period that I have yet to really talk about, they were often victims of the anarchy and poaching, so stigmas and insults around them still exist to this day]]

[[[[see Jimmy Crystal]]]]

So anyway, they "met" in high school- Norman totally crushed on Rosita from afar whenever he'd catch her in volleyball matches-

Rosita had a major tomboy phase throughout high school, slowly falling out of it during college [still only saves dresses and skirts for special occasions really]

[[Fun fact, Rosita is also sapiosexual [attracted to intelligence] [Roxanne Ritchi ahh] ]]

[[Norman is bi]]

They actually got introduced to eachother and had a proper arc when they went to the same college [which might've been a college in Redshore actually? But I'm not 100% sure on that headcanon. It would line up since Rosita's "wanted to perform in Redshore since she was a little kid" and Redshore is obviously a massive city with a lot of notoriety. Idk though- and it's not really that important to the story anyways]

Norman and Rosita had plans together- they were gonna make it big and live freely. Things were looking up with the lawmakers, who were finally repealing a bunch of nasty stuff that was put in place during the war times. And the two had hope that their dreams could actually be accomplished.

Rosita, who was originally gonna play it safe and become an engineer, was now thinking about attempting to become a performer [which Norman has supported since the beginning, he LOVES her singing, and often tells her that she's "better than some of the people I've heard on TV!"]

But. Life got in the way...

Present day, Norman works in Redshore at Crystal Enterprises. He's the head of some sort of organizational team- not really working on what he loves at this point.

And this is because of their children, who were a very sudden appearance in their lives [which is why we see so much struggle in the chaos at the beginning of the movie in this AU]

Rosita stopped everything, and Norman grabbed the first high-ish paying job he could, spending all his spare time on clocking in overtime hours.

The kids are all adopted, and there's only 6 now: Oldest Caspar [13], twin boys Mickey and Moe [11], middle child Kelly [9], little bro Freddy[8], and Zoey the sweet baby sister [6].

They became foster parents after the death of Rosita's sister [this hc is kinda subject to change, but this is the story rn. I'll specify on this later ☝️]

So Rosita's kinda put her life on hold for these babies. She's such a great mom to them, and they love her and Norman so much

But some of the older kids [Caspar specifically] are kinda in a rough phase since they feel like she resents them [which she doesn't], or that she isn't their "real mom" [which she IS]

This is like an E plot in the story, but definitely's gonna get at least a little bit of focus.

Rosita and Norman's marriage is falling apart just a little bit due to burnout, but it'll get better <3 [I can't do anything tragic to these two they're too sweet]

Norman snuggles up to Rosita in his sleep. Rosita starfishes LMAO

They wake up entangled. This is normal.

"Pig piles" are also a thing- there have been several nights where all six children "had nightmares" and so the family of 8 all slept in the same bed.

Norman has the best bond with the two girls out of all the children. They immediately latched onto him to be their level-headed dad.

Rosita can carry two kids at once easily, and often "relocates" them like this :>

She's probably the strongest out of everyone in the troupe if you don't count the potential Meena has. She solos.

She's constantly taking notes on everyone and everything around her. At the theater, you'll catch her tidying stuff up she spots out of the corner of her vision while you're having a conversation with her [she's still listening]. She knows everyones favorite foods, and allergies, and their preferences in things, etc. She's the most attentive and considerate out of all of them [the mom]

She may have a touch of OCD.

She gives the best hugs.

Rosita is also a FANTASTIC cook [not even a headcanon, I'm pretty sure the entire fandom agrees on this one] and often bakes stuff for her sweet-toothed children [and husband]

This is actually how she initially connected with Caspar, who refused to eat or speak at first when they were all placed with Rosita.

Cinnamon rolls.

Kelly will only eat the frosting off the top, and has ruined an entire pan before by doing this.

Rosita actually isn't the biggest fan of chocolate, small detail.

Idk why she just strikes me as not being an enjoyer.

Loves vanilla though. People are furious when she answers "vanilla" with zero hesitation to the chocolate vs vanilla question.

Norman is kinda a hopeless romantic, or at least really enjoys the aesthetic of it [in a sweet and not shallow way ofc], and goes all out every Valentine's Day: balloons, flowers, the works. He's learned that Rosita prefers strawberries over a box of chocolates, however. Has a tradition of getting a fruit basket for her <3

They also have a tradition from all the way back in college, where they go out to eat at specifically the in-universe equivalent of Olive Garden [which was the fanciest thing they could afford at the time] and eat a shared giant plate of spaghetti.

Norman loves coffee. Insists he likes it black but actually prefers a good 50:50 ratio of creamer and coffee.

Norman is also ☝️ lactose intolerant LMAO

[[or would be, if traditional milk was widely accessible/a thing. I say "lactose intolerant" but what I really mean is he's allergic to most milk substitutes- like nuts and soy [gives him tummy ache, not anaphylaxis] ]]

God, parenthesis are carrying me so hard rn.

Stopping here because I'm tired, but I could go ON about these two omg-

Normita forever rahhhh <3

[sabrinajenre96]

"Elastic Waistbands and Emotional Landmines"

Pairing: Conrad Hawkins x Pregnant!Resident!Reader

Setting: Chastain Memorial Hospital

Chastain was buzzing with its usual symphony of beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, and slightly terrified interns. For Y/N Hawkins, it was a pretty normal day: rounds with Conrad, managing an intern who seemed to think WebMD counted as a second opinion, and dealing with her ever-growing cravings for anything salty and crunchy. Oh—and carrying a very active, bladder-punishing six-month-old fetus that liked to kick every time she paused to breathe.

Everything was fine. That is, until VIP guests arrived. Specialists. Researchers. “Prestigious partnerships,” Bell had said with his politician smile.

What Bell didn’t mention? One of them was Y/N’s ex.

And not just any ex. The ex. The one who dumped her right before med school interviews. The one who once told her he needed someone "less ambitious." The one now swaggering into Chastain like he owned the place, shaking hands, and—of course—locking eyes with her like no time had passed.

Immediately, Y/N turned on her heel and walked in the other direction.

---

The rest of the day was... chaotic. She avoided every meeting he was in, ducked into stairwells, fake-paged herself. Interns began whispering. Bell raised an eyebrow. Pravesh side-eyed her choice to eat three different vending machine snacks before noon. And Conrad—oh, he noticed.

Especially since Y/N started stress eating on top of her pregnancy cravings.

“Sweetheart, are you eating... barbecue chips dipped in pickles?” Conrad asked at one point, glancing at her plate with caution.

“Don’t question the genius,” she snapped through a mouthful.

Nic was the first to corner her in the staff lounge.

“You’re spiraling,” Nic said softly, arms crossed, concern all over her face.

Y/N sighed, hand on her bump. “One of the VIP guests is my ex.”

Nic blinked. “That guy?”

“Yes. The one with the smug face and the voice like a nasal TED Talk. He keeps trying to talk to me. And Conrad is having some testosterone-fueled dominance-off with him.”

Nic smirked. “So that’s why you’re on your third bag of chips.”

“I had to put on pants with an elastic waistband, Nic. Elastic. My pregnant ass can’t take this kind of stress!”

Nic, hiding her laugh, nodded. “I’ll talk to the troops. You just... keep eating those chips.”

---

Within the hour, Nic had recruited Dr. Kitt Voss, and the two of them orchestrated a very pointed intervention in front of the group—including Bell, AJ, Devon, Leela, Billie, Cade, and yes, the smug ex himself.

Voss turned to the group. “Tension is not conducive to hospital productivity or to the sanity of our very pregnant residents.”

Conrad opened his mouth to retort something snarky—likely at Y/N’s ex—but Y/N raised a hand mid-chew.

“Don’t. Just—don’t. I’ve held it in all day.”

Everyone turned to her, surprised.

Y/N stood up, holding her half-empty chip bag like a microphone. “This day was going fine until he showed up,” she pointed at her ex, who blinked, surprised. “Then suddenly I’m doing emotional dodgeball across the hospital while you two,” she looked between the men, “try to out-alpha each other like it’s Grey’s Anatomy. I haven’t peed in two hours because the minute I go near the VIP lounge, he’s there! And now I’m eating so much I’m going to literally waddle by third trimester!”

She paused, breathing hard, chip bag still in hand. “These pants weren’t my first choice, but I can’t even button my usual ones, so now we’re here—with an elastic waistband and a fashion disaster. And if anyone comments on my snack hoard again, I will cry.”

Silence.

Even Bell looked stunned.

Y/N pointed at her ex. “And you—don’t smile. You’ve caused enough trauma for a lifetime.”

She took one more bite of chips, looked around, and added calmly: “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need the bathroom. Dr. Hawkins’ baby is killing my bladder.”

She walked out. No one dared say a word.

---

Conrad found her fifteen minutes later in a rarely-used hallway alcove, where residents sometimes hid to cry or nap or sneak vending machine meals. Y/N was seated on the floor, munching on her chips again.

He sat beside her and gently took the bag from her hands.

“Hey—give those back,” she pouted.

He smiled, soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how hard today would be. Your ex is... well, he’s a piece of work.”

Y/N sighed. “He really is. I just—I wanted one normal day, you know? One day where I could pretend I wasn’t waddling around with heartburn and cankles.”

Conrad leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re still the most beautiful woman in this hospital.”

She gave him a look. “Don’t flatter me. You’re just trying to distract me from my chip loss.”

He laughed. “Maybe. Were you joking about the elastic waistband?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, then stood up and lifted her scrub top slightly to reveal her waistband.

“Does this look like a joke, Hawkins? I am one pickle-flavored Pringle away from exploding out of these pants.”

Conrad burst out laughing, pulled her back down beside him, and cupped her bump with one hand. “God, I love you.”

“I know,” she said, snuggling in. “Now give me back my chips.”

---

End.

[nyuoqi]

            — SO I MARRIED MY ANTI-FAN     ౨ৎ     SES

OO7.    old times

✸ SYNOPSIS !  : congratulations! you have been invited to korea's #1 romance reality show 'We Got Married' where you will be living with your co-star like a married couple. but what will you do when you find out that your husband is actually your anti-fan?

(626 words, not proofread)

"MY MANAGER JUST TEXTED me that he will come pick us up for today's activities. " EUNSEOK mutters as he munches on his breakfast. 

the breakfast in question being a sugary pancake paired with pickled radishes. despite you telling your friends that this dish is not that bad, you must admit that it indeed, tastes terrible. never once in your 22 years of life have you ever thought that you will be eating such combinations for breakfast but here you are, munching down the food while pretending that it tastes nice.

besides how could you point out the terrible taste when your fake husband is clearly enjoying them. you can't just reject such act of kindness, can you?

"do you know what the activities would be? " you push your plate away from you and reach for a glass of water, thanking the heavens for giving you a way to escape from eating this hell of a breakfast.

EUNSEOK stays silent for a while as he types on his phone before nodding negatively. "he did tell me to dress up casually though, said something about how we have a costume time change into later. " his words a bit muffled as a result of him talking while eating. 

you chuckle at the sight, cute.

spending a day at your old middle school is definitely not what you think you will do with your future husband— maybe not really, considering the fact that he graduated from here unlike you who left to debut at an early age.

now with the both of you clad in your old school uniforms, you must admit that you're quite confused about how you didn't noticed EUNSEOK back then. he's an eye candy after all.

"for today's activity, you guys will be spending a day as a middle schooler. worry not, you will only do fun activities such as lunch times, recess, after school and so on. no classes nor learning! " the pd explains. both you and EUNSEOK cheers when the pd says that you will not be learning.

your first stop is the cafeteria. the both of you rushing to get in line which nearly ended in an argument— well at least not until EUNSEOK decides to make your heart flutter by saying ladies first.

settled down in your seats, you and EUNSEOK dig in your lunches while talking about old days.

"i don't want to make myself sound entitled but how have i never noticed you before? i'm pretty sure i knew everyone back then. " you asked, your chopsticks hanging mid-air. 

EUNSEOK furrows his eyebrows, "you don't remember me? " he mutters, making you panic slightly, "i'm sorry but what do you mean by that? "

"oh nothing. it's just that we actually participated in the same maths competition, i was in my 2nd year while you were in your 1st year of school, you won and i was the runner up. " despite him smiling while telling you that information, the fire and sirens going off inside EUNSEOK's brain says otherwise.

you cover your mouth with your palm, "oh my god, you were in that competition? how could i not recognise you? " you pout, "i remembered the runner up being a guy but i thought he looked different. but well, i guess it was you all along. "

EUNSEOK laughs through his gritted teeth, "haha, i had quite a glow up, didn't i? " he jokes.

you are still in awe at the unfolding scene in front of you. "i can't believe that after all these years we would reunite with each other as husband and wife. it's almost as if it's fate! "

"yeah, fate. " EUNSEOK swears he can feel his right eye threatening to twitch but he contains it for the sake of the rolling cameras.

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[libraford]

The Pickle Ball drama is wild!

For those that don't know, pickleball is like if you played ping pong on a full size tennis court. It is generally considered an 'old people's game.'

Retired people wake up early in the morning and the first thing they do is go play pickle ball with their likewise early-rising friends. I'm talking like... 5:30am. And the first thing they do when they get there is complain that the bathrooms aren't open.

Of course they're not open. The park employees don't get to work until 7 and the facilities don't open until 9 at the latest because we only got two guys to unlock the whole city. Calm down. Go before you leave the house or get comfy with the bushes.

Well, someone gave the Head Complainer a key to the bathroom. Because we seem to reward this kind of behavior, I guess. So when I get to Madeline Park at like 8:30 the bathroom is already unlocked. But I still have to clean it.

Before I do that, though, I have to take care of the trash. Today, it is full to the brim with beer bottles. I'm pissed about this because it was clearly the pickleball folks who were drinking, which is illegal on the premises, but as previously mentioned- I'm not a cop.

But more than that I'm pissed that there's broken bottles in there, which is a hazard to me. I have to double bag the trash and be really careful or I'll have a sparkly glass shard bracelet.

I run my arm along the rim of the bag and it comes out...red? I didn't think I got cut. It is undeniably blood, but more notably it belongs to someone else.

Well, I'm washing that arm thoroughly. I scrub it off my arms in the women's room and use hand sanitizer, and then clean the bathroom while im there.

I go into the men's room to do that one next. There is blood on the sink, the floor, and the toilet. And y'know, I'm used to blood in restrooms, I'm just not used to blood in the MEN'S restroom. It's not like... a fatal amount of blood, but more blood than should be outside of a person.

Well, that's no good. I clean it up, but it's eating at me that I've already encountered human blood twice and it's not even 9 yet. So I go over to the Head Complainer and I ask him:

"Hey uhhh... there was a lot of blood in the men's room. Is everyone alright? Do I need to file an accident report?"

He gives me a good-natured laugh. "Oh, that's just Greg. He came over from Kauffman Park and I have to say- didn't like the rules he played by."

Oh my God what a vague and horrible answer. I cant tell if nes joking or not. "Is... is Greg okay?"

"Oh, ha hah ha! He's fine, he's just back at Kauffman Park where he belongs."

"Oh! Okay then. Ha...hahah..." Absolutely terrifying.

Day 7/50.

[strongermonster]

went to an absolutely gorgeous outdoor red/white/pink themed vday wedding on valentine's day, the day after it dumped 20+cm of snow and was still going strong, and it was like a little fairy tale snow globe, just so picturesque and perfect.

they had an open diy snack bar thingy there where you could build your own sandwiches and some guy said "oh thank god, i can never eat at places where an employee makes it for you bc i like an abomination sandwich that's shameful to ask for" so ofc i asked what this sandwich was. it's:

american style white bread

miracle whip brand mayo

if they don't have that is HAS to be regular mayo + sub sauce

2 packets of white sugar sprinkled across the mayo (regardless of the variation)

sausage or salami of some kind (has to be this, nothing else will do)

the meat slices have to be layered with american style cheese slices (or mozzarella slices, depending on how he feels that day)

then they have to be rolled into little blunts and tightly packed across the bread

sweet cocktail onions crushed so the layers fall apart and can be scattered on top

sweet gherkins placed in the valleys of the cheese/meat tubes

"sometimes paprika plays a role, if i have it"

one final light layer of mayo across the conveyor belt of cheese/meat/pickles/destroyed onions

"when i lived at home i at this 3x a day, every day, but now i have roommates who hate it and won't let me."

all of this was non-negotiable. if the sandwich couldn't be made because it lacked one of these ingredients, it was pointless and he'd eat something else or not at all.

other than his sandwich choices and the fact that he admitted he goes through about a jar of mayo a month (despite being the skinniest guy i ever did see) he was really cool and we played checkers and cards together at dinner because he carries around a little travel checkers board.

[silentmoths]

Acts of Service

The voices are still whispering and @dustofthedailylife may or may not have implanted some brainrot as we both sat and mutually gushed about how blade is a misunderstood wet dog of a man.

Blade x Reader (gn, no actual gender mentioned)

SFW, fluff and Comfort ig...honestly I dont really knoww hat to tag this one as other than just...my own ramblings abt how blade isnt just a bloodthirsty killer just LOOK AT HIM PLEASE- Not proofread, 1.2K words

When asked about Blade, most everyone would reply that he is cold, standoffish and intimidating. He looks like the kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to end you if you accidentally put pickles on his burger.

The Stellaron Hunters would say otherwise; sure, he looks intimidating, but he’s actually a calm, thoughtful guy. The kind of man who, after several years of living with solely women, doesn’t even question when Silver Wolf, Kafka or Firefly ask him if he can go to the store, he already knows, hell- half the time, he’s already got what they need, and if he doesn't? He knows what they want before they even say it. 

He’s more attentive than people give him credit for, like a cat, lingering in the corner, but keeping watch over his territory and those he has deemed ‘his’ people. A wallflower some might say…just...one that would occasionally lash out if he deemed someone’s presence unworthy or unwelcome.

He is far sweeter than people believe, the rumours about his bloodthirsty and violent nature, and the bounty to match only serving to cover up the man beneath, the man he keeps out of the public eye the most.

Because for you? For you, he’s never been anything but attentive and kind.

He would never say it, but everything he does for you screams the lengths he would go, he would move mountains for you, destroy planets, solar systems, entire galaxies if he had to. 

It was in how he touched you; bandaged fingers always always careful, no matter how many times you assured him that you were not made of glass. It wasn't fear, you think, that kept him in this state, more like a reverence, like he was a child, and you were his most precious treasure, something he would not, or could not dare break, fold or crease. 

It was the way he always leaned his head down whenever you spoke to him, not condescending, but acknowledging. Even if his eyes were elsewhere, he always makes a point to let you know he’s listening. He takes your suggestions to heart always, he listens to your woes, sometimes he will offer words of encouragement, and sometimes he will offer his sword, if that was what would rid you of your problem faster.

(you had yet to take him up on the offer of the sword)

It was the way he cooked, despite seldom eating himself. He claims that food is simply nutrients for his body, and when he eats for himself, it is almost always something plain and easy to procure…but if he had deemed it long enough that you, or the other’s had gone without, he would rise from the couch and cook a meal that was far more complex, he was a surprisingly good cook, Xianzhou cuisine etched into his muscle memory to the point you’re sure he could make some of these dishes with his eyes closed…and yet it was only ever for you, for the girls, for literally anyone he cared enough for but himself, that he would showcase this ability for. 

You knew he struggled with memory, with himself, with his past and his present. He never verbally acknowledged it, and you think it’s because he doesn’t want you to worry; but you worry anyway, because it’s Blade, and with all the time and care he puts into you and the other Stellaron Hunters, you think he deserves that much. 

He’s far fonder of physical touch than he lets on. He claims he cares little, but the fact he seemingly physically cannot fall asleep unless he’s holding something close to his chest states otherwise. In the privacy of his own quarters with you, it’s rare that you part. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, Blade wants to be a part of it, no matter how big or small. Reading? You find yourself pulled into his lap as he leans against the wall, working on something? There’s usually a hand on your thigh, or an arm wrapped around your waist.

He liked to bite on occasion too. Nothing wholly terrible…a love language with no words. The soft nibbling of teeth along your shoulder as he holds you, or the way he would timetimes lift your hand, just to bite down onto it- this could could mean a thousand different things that he couldn’t say; ’I missed you’.

’Don’t be gone so long, next time.’

’I love you.’

You don’t need to know the exact meaning, his presence, and the act in itself was enough.

Blade liked to claim his body was nothing but a weapon, he did not understand why you saw attraction in it, but he doesn’t stop you either as you carefully unbind the bandages to see him properly. 

Nor does he realise that the scars littering his body are far more sensitive than he gave them credit for. Each scar was a story, but a story lost to the mara; his memory too foggy to discern most all of them.

All but one.

His chest, the large, jagged scar that took up near all the space of his right pectoral, long, long since healed over, but still visible. Slightly redder than the rest of his skin, pulled tight, especially just over his heart. You knew, of course, about Dan Feng, about why Blade hunted his reincarnation, but to see the scar made something twist in your gut.

Slowly, you reach out to brush your fingers along the centre, for a brief moment you feel Blade’s rabbiting heartbeat before the man lurches- his hand gripping your wrist like a vice, the pressure only growing stronger as he scowls, you gasp out as you feel your bones creak.

And just like that, the pressure lifts, the wild, frenzied look in his one visible eye fades and you see the rare flicker of concern as he hunches, his hand no longer squeezing, but cradling your wrist as his other arm comes to brace against your back. He looks horrified with himself, at what he’d done. 

“I-” He chokes out after a long moment of just…staring. “I didn’t-” 

You know, you know he didn’t mean it. You weren’t upset; perhaps a little spooked yes, but not upset. Scars held pain long thought healed, yet no matter how faded, they could still sting.

“It’s ok.” you whisper, lifting your other hand to brush some of his bangs out of the way, catching a rare glimpse of his usually covered eye. He looked like a kicked puppy, like he was expecting you to toss him out in the rain. 

You could never.

You don’t need to say anything else, knowing too much reassurance would only lead to Blade second guessing things, so you content yourself with pressing your uninjured hand to his cheek and smiling. Watching as Blade leans down and quietly presses kiss after kiss along the wrist he’d nearly snapped.

It was in these acts of service that he showed he truly cared.

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y @queen-belial Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[mysticwastelandkitten]

Can the Killer Chat! LI's cook?

My lil headcanons! Probably OOC :P

Misaki:

Misaki doesn't cook. Not for lack of trying, more so lack of funds. Have you ever noticed that buying ingredients is 10x more expensive than takeout? Misaki definitely has! Their day to day meals mostly include instant Ramen and whatever takeout that's in her area of assassination- but sometimes when the money is rolling in and her spirits are high- she'll bang out the most beautiful flavorful meal that has ever graced humanities lips. So good that it can only be made once cuz they didn't follow a recipe and wrote none of what they did down. Oopsie.

Misaki also makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. Only thing she knows how to bake.

Angel:

Angel is a great chef for someone who's self-taught. She knows how to follow a recipe to a tee. You will not catch her lacking. It's gotten to the point she can perfectly recreate dishes she's watched people make only once. However, she's not the kind of cook that experiments and crafts new recipes. With Angel you get consistent, precise meals. It's also one of the reasons she's really good at baking. Exact measurements and times for things is her safe place.

V:

V is probably the best and most traditional chef of them all. He knows how to balance flavors and textures- no recipe needed- to craft a delicious symphony in one's mouth. He definitely took cooking classes at his fancy smancy private school growing up, but I also like to think that his mother was the biggest factor in why he's the cook he is today. She taught him how to truly perfect a meal.

You can ask V for the craziest combinations of food and he'd find a way to make it work AND look good while giving you a silent judgmental look.

Pastries are his jam.

Ronin:

Ronins an average cook. Nothing particularly wrong with what he makes (unless he wants it to be particularly wrong) he just can't compare to Mr and Mrs perfect V and Angel. He cooks to sustain himself.

I will say tho that his fridge and cupboards are a mess. How he gets any cooking done is beyond me. Everything and I mean everything is in a different container.

"where's the butter?"

- "In the jar that says pickles"

"Wait then where's the pickles"

- "In that open can labeled beans"

He'll also put nonfood items in food containers and vice versa, so be on guard when you're eating at his house. You might just down a sprite bottle of bleach. And he's not helping you, he's just gonna laugh.

This guy also can't bake for shit. He even fucks up cake mixes.

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

Probably did a lot of things wrong here. Feel free to yell at me in the comments 😭

[baraturts]

Hi, Baraturts!

I am the guy on BlueSky who requested you make the art on Donnie doing some super kinky stuff with one of his brothers! This is just my non-freaky blog hehe

So, I just wanted to ask, what would you think some of the turtles kinkiest interests would be? Here’s some that I think:

Donnie, as I mentioned before, is the freaky freak of the brothers. I’d say he’s into a bunch of control stuff, being super into sounding, orgasm control, and other stuff like that. Along with the other BDSM stuffs lol

Leo I’d say is the most vanilla (which was good for the drawing since Donnie would make him do much more kinky stuff). I’d say he’s just more into basic sex, maybe having a bit of an interest in musk. Working out, fighting the bad guys, and getting worked up from the smell his brothers get.

Raph would be SUPER into being dominant. Completely dominating his brothers and making sure he had control over how the sexy scenarios went. BUT. I also say he’d have the ittiest bittiest little urge to have one of the others completely destroy him. But he’d never admit it.

Mikey would be into the weirder stuff along with being into the stuff his brothers are into. Musk, bondage, being dominated, and being the dominant one along with a lot more. While I do still think Donnie would be the one into the darkest stuff, I’d say Mikey would have the most kinks in general.

I’d love to know what you think they’re into! Sorry for the long one hehe

Hey there! Thank you for the request on BS, it was quite a fun one, hehe. (to anyone reading, not taking requests right now, as I'm working on Magnet)

As one would guess, I've had my thoughts on the turtles kinks and I might as well use this opportunity to share some. Obviously, I don't share all your head canons (since we're... you know, different people) but some do line up a bit.

Donnie: Big voyeur, likes watching and has cameras set up in certain common areas so that he can sit back and enjoy when others are having some "fun time". Is completely transparent about it, off course. So if someone wants privacy, they can just go to their rooms or an area that is not monitored. Obviously likes his kinky gadgets a lot and get's very excited when he gets the chance to use them on any of the others. Stuff like sounding, electro stimulation, fucking machines etc. Occasionally combined with edging. Also uses a lot of them on him self, you know, for... "testing purposes".

Leo: "Loss of control" is a major kink for him. Any kind of restriction, sensory deprivation and submission gets his engine going. Shibari/Kinbaku is off course a personal favorite. Not all the time to the full extent, off course. Can even be a bit of a bower-bottom when the mood strikes. But some times he really needs to let go of those "leader" rains, and let go of them hard! Likes getting rimmed, prostate stimulation and high-quality toys, preferably stainless steel. In to some impact-play and other rougher acts, but don't leave marks in visible places!

Raph: The most vanilla, probably. Likes dominating, but using his hands, mouth, tongue and dick instead of most toys. In to dirty-talk (but only in appropriate situations, Mikey has made him groan on more then one occasion) Ass-eating champion! Will loose contact with most of his braincells when seeing his partner in a jock-strap. Not opposed to having his face sat on. Not suuper in to being restrained during, he likes having his options open, but not completely put off by it. Likes doing things the old-fashioned way, not in to too many nick-knacks and doohickeys, but does enjoy using rope in play. The guy known his way around yarn already, so it comes pretty natural to him.

Mikey: Likes... everything! Okay, not everything. But most things that are more on the playful side of the spectrum. In to role-playing, sexy get-ups, exhibitionisms, "surprise" sex and such. The blow job champion! Just really enjoys sucking pickles, what more can I say. Can deepthroat. Digs rimming, both giving and receiving. Loves his toys, be it flesh lights, butt plugs, dildos, you name it. If it has some cool colors and/or glows in the dark, even better. Likes bothering Donnie with all his wacky ideas for sex toys and Don tries indulging him as best as he can. Also "group activities" are high on his list. Very versatile guy. He's here to party, dude!

Edit: These are just my personal head canons, off course. You can like anything you want your self.