#i literally said ���what the fuck is that” when i first say him a year ago

[queerculus]

@gemder I'm gonna take it at face value that you hadn't started paying attention to politics much yet and lay out a series of events because I think a lot of younger people on this site don't know about it. This is not to put you in particular on blast, this is to try and educate people who genuinely were too young/politically disconnected to know about it.

During the first term of the Obama administration, there was a bad bird flu outbreak. Not as bad as the one we're having now, largely because the Republican party had not yet devolved into a total obstructionist shitshow and worked with him to prevent it from getting worse, but still pretty bad.

In the aftermath of this, Obama formed a Pandemic Task Force because it had become increasingly apparent that at some point in the near future we would encounter another severe health crisis. This effort took several years, a lot of resources, and cooperation from Republican lawmakers to put together.

During the first year of the Trump presidency, the pandemic task force was completely dismantled. Like totally ripped out with no replacement. The reason for this was because it was something Obama did, and Trump's entire first two years were about destroying every program Obama started.

Because a significant amount of our emergency response planning had been rewritten with the pandemic response task force as a central figure, the incompetence and malice of the Trump administration left a gaping hole in our public health response plans. When covid came, that became extremely apparent and over a million people died.

The Biden administration attempted to resurrect the pandemic response task force, however Republican obstruction of literally everything they tried to do made this incredibly difficult and they had to choose what goals were possible to accomplish in the time they had and which ones were not. Lack of political momentum made this pretty much a guaranteed flop to pursue, so it was put aside for more viable goals.

I'm not saying Biden was perfect at all. His handling of the pandemic when he took office was not good in many ways. But that said, this is not a "both sides" issue. Republicans intentionally gouged out a chunk of our public health crisis response plans and it killed over a million people, and has recently spawned two new outbreaks because their obstructionism prevented us from rebuilding these systems. Their grievance politics has and will continue to kill people through mismanagement, incompetence, and zero planning for our future.

So like I said before:

Trump disbanded the pandemic response team and we now we have bird flu and tuberculosis outbreaks

and to add on to that:

Trump disbanded the pandemic response team and over a million people fucking died.

Keep your messaging simple:

“Trump fired everyone in charge of airplane safety, and a week later planes started crashing into each other.”

That’s it. That’s the messaging. Don’t get bogged down disputing Trump’s false claims. Just blame him, in short and repeatable sentences.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐬 || 𝐢𝐧-𝐡𝐨 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟎𝟏 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ short scenes of how in-ho thought he didn’t care about you, but he realized he actually did after seeing you almost overdose for doing drugs with Thanos and Namgyu.

warnings_ AGE GAP! (not specified), lots of restroom scenes lol, protective! in-ho, mild brat!reader, brat tamer!in-ho, reader ingests Thanos’ pills, blood, angst, fluff, slight canon divergence, NOT PROOFREAD

Notes_ I wish I had added more details to this one but I have been busy and I’m slightly drunk rn, sorry

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 lee byung-hun

✰ Index (+ fics here)

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Ride or die, you heard once.

Even when you think you have it all, there’s still more to get.

Five days ago you were partying hard at some elite club, three days ago some asshole tried to poison you and now you were playing Korean children's games to death.

Player 153, you got. The green tracksuit unintentionally made your eyes highlight, as you had noticed the first time you visited the restrooms.

You knew what and where you were getting into. After all, your father was more than a big sponsor of the games. He wanted you to marry an asshole, and you flew away. He tried to kill you, the only option left was death or death. It was dramatic, but sadly the truth. Nobody was waiting for you outside of the deadly games.

Your gelish nails were surviving the whole thing. The bright burnt orange color matched the dress of the big doll of the first game. The cheeky asshole of Thanos befriended you because of that. Then you met Nam-gyu and there was some odd connection.

It never occurred to you that you would be recognized. Even when you were the only foreigner in the games of that year.

It was on your way back to bed when you met him.

Hwang In-ho melted into the crowds of players, ready to assume the role of player 001. He was alert to every single movement and was trying to hear everything that was said when he heard some annoying voices.

“And did you see how that asshole started screaming? Dude that was crazy!” When In-ho turned, he saw the mediocre rapper with purple hair shouting and moving like a little kid through the maze of pink stairs at his other assholes friends.

“STOP!” Namgyu mocked player 456, making Thanos initiate a horrendous rap verse about the first game.

And then a female laugh joined them.

“Say he’s telling the truth, Wouldn’t that be crazy?” In-ho gently dodged some people to get closer, and he ended up walking literally behind you.

All he could see was the back of a short woman, with nice legs and an attractive silhouette; In-ho almost rolled his eyes at the thought, already feeling stressed because he had lost sight of Gi-hun.

“You’re already on a trip, y/n-su” Thanos took you and Namgyu by the shoulders and the three of you started cackling like idiots.

Player 153, y/n….

In-ho couldn’t remember who exactly was said player. But there was something about your name that resulted oddly familiar to him. You were definitely a foreigner.

In-ho was almost convinced there was no report of a foreign player being recruited.

A bad omen settled in him.

…

The cold lights of the room make your head feel disoriented, but it’s an appealing feeling since you feel like you are lying in a big puffy cloud. Instead, you are actually laying your head in Nam-gyu’s lap while Thanos is seated on the other side of the bed, whispering and gossiping about the players.

“That fucking asshole over there is not going to last,” he said pointing at an old man who looked like he was in shock after the first game. And it’s not like you were insensible but everyone with a number embroidered on their tracksuit was supposed to read the agreement policies before playing. “Just look at him”

“More money for us!” Nam-gyu adds.

You didn’t need the money, you just wanted to make your father angry, to escape, to feel the rush of something that wasn’t running away while living in neglect.

“Nam-nam, don’t be like that!” You say, chuckling and nudging him in the stomach. He joins you and then Thanos and is just the three of you high as fuck. “I need a cig…”

“Me fucking too” Thanos agrees then looks back at the crowds. When he sees Lee Myung-gi, you know it’s over, Thanos will likely go to argue and Nam-gyu would follow and subsequently you.

And indeed, that’s exactly what happened.

You roll your eyes, following the pair to the other side of the room.

“Guys! Leave him alone. He’ll likely die in the next game…” you argue, trying to get their attention. But the males are so invested in their stupid fight and you are so disoriented thanks to the drugs that you don’t see a man coming to separate them.

You only see the number 001 in the green jacket and soon the man ends up punching your friends.

“Hey, stop!” You try to interfere but it’s useless.

That’s when you identify the man, it was the man who outcasted the votes in favor of keeping playing.

“ENOUGH!” You yell, loud enough to stop the fight.

The man turns to look a you and he finally sees your face.

In-ho’s face turned pale. It couldn’t be you, it made no sense.

But he remembered very well the family portrait of your family resting in your father’s office in London.

You miss the way he sees you because you hurry to tend to your friends.

‘Fucking asshole…” In-house hears you whispering as you help Thanos and Nam-gyu to stand up.

In-ho felt himself getting extremely curious and irritated. Now his plans would get more complicated.

…

It’s almost time for lights out when every player is allowed to use the restrooms before bed. In-ho finally made contact with Gi-hun and he felt slightly under control of the situation. But you were still on his to-do list. So he rushed to wait the moment you separated from your assholes companions.

And when you started moving away with a bunch of female players, he made his move.

He grabbed from the forearm and ushered you to walk a few steps away, both of you passed to pink guards and let him yank you inside an empty hallway, near the stairs maze.

He heard you mumbling curses and trying to go back until In-ho lost his patience and pushed you against the wall.

“How did you get here?” He harshly asks, making you gasp at the sudden pressure in your forearm.

“Who the fuck are you?” You ask, trying to get out of the man’s grasp. “Let me go!”

You are pushed inside the restroom and you are about to yell but you finally face your captor.

Player 001, is a handsome old man. Still, you didn’t know who the fuck he was and what he had to do with you.

“How did you get here?” He repeats his initial question, looking extremely serious.

“Who the fuck are you?” His grip softened but the pressure remained, keeping you between him and the wall.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His English is very good, but it isn’t his pronunciation that makes you almost gasp in surprise.

You can his tired eyes, fine nose, his hair. The vague memory of your father meeting with a man in your home, talking about expenses and finances, gives you enough answers.

“Congratulations, frontman. You just exposed yourself to me…” he seemed surprised, but hid it very quickly.

“You are no threat to me. Now speak…” He wasn’t expecting you to take very long to discover who he was given his approach to you.

“I met your salesman. He was very cute…”

“He must have recognized you. He wouldn’t give you a card…”

Your father was more than a generous sponsor. The island was also to his name. Everyone knew your name and who you were despite never being seen. For your father, it had been a disappointment your arrival. He always wished for an heir. And you resented him for that. You were useless to his eyes, an heir with no regard.

“He wasn’t as smart as you thought he was, dear. One glimpse of my cunt and I had him twirled around my finger…” his eyes lock with yours in a deep gaze, he wasn’t happy. “I miss him. I wish he wasn’t dead…”

“You think this is a game?” You chuckle, looking around the empty restroom.

“I think it is…” your finger points around the room. “I won’t tell a soul anything about you. Promise, Mr. Young-il”

“Listen because I won’t repeat myself. You’ll have no special treatment. If you mess this up, you die like everyone else” he says, leaning closer, intimidating you. But you don’t flinch. “It really is true that money can’t buy happiness, right?”

“Dying in the middle of this horror is better than dying at the hands of my own father” In-ho almost pitted you. He wasn’t a good person but there was still humanity inside him. You were not innocent, but you were so full of life, you were gorgeous. And he couldn’t believe your father despised you so much.

“I don’t care. Just don’t interfere with my task…” he says, looking you up and down before letting you go and urging you to get out of the restroom.

He said you wouldn’t get any special treatment. But he already felt feeling doubtful.

…

You can’t sleep. It’s completely dark and you can hear soft snores. The memory of you playing ddakji and seeing player 001 cheering for you repeated over and over in your head.

He was the leader. He knew your father and yet, it seemed like he was trying to protect you. So many questions popped into your mind, almost making it impossible for you to conceal sleep.

And suddenly, a hand touched your hip bone.

You scream but the hand covers your mouth.

“Come with me…” you know his voice. The frontman disguised as 001 was right there next to you.

Maybe your questions were about to be answered.

Carefully, you take the hand he offered you and follow him outside.

There are only two pink guards, everything else is empty.

It was unclear if it was day or night. The bright hallways changed from purple to bubblegum pink and then, green.

“Where are we going?” You ask, feeling your hand starting to sweat, but he doesn’t leave the embrace.

“To take a breath…” he simply says.

At the end of the green hallway, he opens a door and it’s dark, barely illuminated by warm bulbs. Is a stair and when you reach the end, it leads to the outside.

“I always forget this is under the island,” you say, out of breath, looking at the beautiful fawn and the sun peaking.

You don’t see the way the man beside you is looking in awe at you.

He doesn’t even know how invested he was in you.

“Why are you such a burden for your father?” He went straight to the point.

“He wanted a boy, I was born a girl” you admit, looking at the barely visible sea in the distance. “The only thing I could’ve been useful for him was to marry another wealthy man. But I refused…”

“That’s why you entered the games?” You nod, walking through the dirt and grass.

The sunrise was just starting, with orange, pink, and yellow, it was a beautiful sight that almost made you forget where you were.

“Don’t do anything stupid, other than what you already did. If you do, I won’t be able to protect you…”

“I appreciate your concern for my safety” you admit, locking your eyes with his. “But my life is not a priority for me anymore, Mr. Young-il,” you say and he almost smiled at you mocking him.

“In-ho…” he says.

“What?”

“My real name is In-ho” You couldn’t deny his revelation surprised you. “Young-il is just a facade”

You weren’t expecting him to trust you enough to share that. But once again, you were surprised.

“You really think you can keep 456 in place?” You ask him incredulously. “Prevent the voting to withdraw the games and convince my father to leave me alone?”

“I can negotiate with your father so he can leave you alone” Your eyes snap open at his words.

“No. You must know what he’s capable of” he smirks, eyeing you briefly before returning to look at the sunset.

“Don’t tell me you are growing fond of me” You turn to look at him and it’s your turn to smirk.

He meets your eyes and for some reason, you don’t erase the smile on your face.

“Never, Mr. Young-il” Your mocking is obvious, making him smile as he admires your profile. “I’d love to stay here, but we must go back before the music starts playing…”

When you turn to look at him, you see he had been eyeing you previously, making you unconsciously blush. Thankfully it was still dark enough to cover your embarrassment.

He nods and walks past you.

And there’s an odd feeling lingering in the air. Both of you conclude it’s odd but pleasing.

…

A carrousel, How bad it could go?

You are locking arms with Se-mi, your only female friend. Thanos, Nam-gyu, and Min-su are a little far away from you.

“Are you nervous?” She asks.

“Not really. And you?” She shrugs, looking around.

When you turn back, you see In-ho and other players talking around. He spots you and tells you to move away, probably to talk.

“Let me see if I can see some clue around, to give us an advantage” Se-mi nods, walking away.

You move close to the door where many players are still entering the room and soon In-house joins you.

“Run as fast as you can, it doesn’t if you end up alone in a room,” he says whispering in your ear.

“That would be cheating” you whisper back, checking around if Thanos and Namgyu were looking, but they weren’t.

“Then stick around me, especially if pairs are announced…” you know what he means. Thanos and Namgyu had been loyal to you. But they would likely team up and leave you alone at any time. “Okay”

He nods at you and watches you go back with Se-mi and Thanos.

“Pick your pill,” Thanos says smiling at you, handing his pendant and taking a pill for himself.

That’s the last thing you remember. Vague flashes of you running with your friends. And then you saw In-ho grabbing your hand and urging you to get inside a room. You believe he killed a man.

You don’t know what is happening. Each step you take makes you feel more and more dizzy. Your head feels heavy and the memory of you laughing in the male restrooms only to fade into the image of Thanos lying dead while Nam-gyu looks as shocked and under the effects of the drugs as you. A man accidentally pushing you and blood covering your hand after touching your arm.

You could still hear the mess inside the room. You cursed being the only woman inside there. And you somehow feel pity for Thanos. Making you realize nobody deserved to die inside the damn island.

One of the pink guards opened the door for you but could not recall it. A lot of people started looking at you.

“Young woman, What the hell happened inside the male restroom?” Player 100 asks you impatiently, but you don’t even look at him, you can’t hear him. “I’m talking to you, little brat!”

Gi-hun points at you and the group turns to see the scene. It’s In-ho the first one to step up, slowly walking towards you.

He hears Player 100 yelling at you and he cringes.

“It’s enough!” In-ho yells back in the distance.

Your hair is a mess, there’s blood all over your tracksuit. Your jacket is in your hand, barely grasping it, making an irritating sound with the zipper against the floor.

And your arm is bleeding.

Before In-ho can reach you, you faint.

A lot of people gasp and he runs towards you.

“BRING A DOCTOR!” he ordered to the pair of pink guards standing in a door.

They hesitated a couple of seconds, then quietly left. Nobody would know it was because player 001 was their leader. Everyone thought it was because someone was hurt outside of a game.

“What happened?” Gi-hun asked, kneeling beside In-ho. Both tried tapping in your cheeks but you seemed to be extremely disoriented.

People started gathering around and In-ho was tremendously trying not to look panicked.

“Hypotension and low blood pressure,” Jun-hee says, standing right next to Gi-hun and holding her belly. Gi-hun and In-ho turn to look at her.

“I took two semesters of nursing training,” the young woman says, trying to see the wound in your arm. “She needs stitches and something sugary or an IV”

In-ho takes your jacket and makes an improvised tourniquet in your arm, he breathes carefully, moving your head slowly, hoping to see you regaining consciousness.

The pink guards arrive and take you away, indicating no one else can follow.

Soon a crowd enters the room making a bloody mess.

…

You open your eyes, and every single thing you look at is green. Green like the room leading outside that In-house took you. The bed, the blanket covering your lower body, the little couch. Everything is green.

“Where did you get the drugs?” You almost jump, startled. A hand of yours ends on top of your chest and the heart rate monitor indicates an increase in your beatings.

“You’re safe here” In-ho is there, seated next to you. “But you kept doing stupid things outside…”

You stand your arm and see the stitches and dry blood. Your head throbs but it isn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

“The drugs were from… Thanos” You can’t believe he’s dead. Half of you expected him to leave and get out alive.

“You were so close to overdosing” he failed to not sound worried.

“Don’t tell me you are growing fond of me” You say the same thing he told you two nights ago, but he doesn’t smile. “I’m not playing, y/n”

“I’m sorry” you admit, looking at your hands. Finally feeling the weight of your actions.

“I’m convinced Seong Gi-hun will try to lead a rebellion” the man beside you adds, trying to soothe the tension. “He will try to stop the games”

“And would it be so bad? To end the games?” You ask surprising him. “There’s enough money to disappear from the country”

In-ho had thought about it but never did anything to make it true. However, now that had been growing fond of you, he could see himself running away. Almost…

“I would… but I can’t” You only nod, ignoring the tiny ache in your heart. You start trying to seat and he helps you.

You point at your dirty tracksuit and In-ho hands it, helping you to stand up at the same time.

“Seong Gi-hun will try to disarm the guards. If they are lucky they’ll succeed. Probably will recruit players to advance. You will volunteer and grab a gun” he sounds very serious, saying each word delicately as if he was scared you wouldn’t pay attention. “I know you can shoot and have good aiming. Your family used to take you to hunt deer in Scotland…”

“Damn well, you really know everything about me…” he rolled his eyes, making you realize he was indeed being serious. But his soft touch makes you feel weak. “Help me take off this thing, please”

“I’m not playing, y/n. That’s the only way I will be able to get you out of this if things turn against us. That’s the only way to save you…”

Your heart beats faster, and your hands feel numb. Even worse when you turn around and he untangles the laces in your patient gown. Your naked body flashes him and it takes all his strength to not touch you.

You take his vulnerability to ask what you had been trying to hide from yourself.

“Tell me why…” you say with your eyes lost, knowing he was staring at your soul. “Say those three words I’m desperately thinking and I’ll do anything you ask me to”

In-ho sighs, throwing his head back, he looks at his own feet, wondering what he should say.

You grow disappointed at his silence. And when you’re ready to leave, he stops you.

“I lov-“

You kiss him. You kiss him so deeply that it takes him by surprise.

His hands don’t know where to go but even with your eyes closed, you grab them and place them in your hips.

Soon, he takes control, just like you expected. Of course, he had to have experience. His lips expertly move against yours, and then his tongue perfectly melts with yours, leaving you made a mess.

“You didn’t let me say the three words…” he says, whispering in your lips as you pant for air.

“I thought you weren’t saying anything. It took me by surprise…” you admit, offering him a shy smile that he tries to mimic.

He wasn’t completely evil. He still had some humanity inside of him. He was conscious of his feelings and knew he wanted to protect you, to know you better, and see you alive, outside of the island.

“In-ho…”

“Hmm?” He asks as you lay your head on his chest. “Don’t hurt them…”

“That’s not on me, darling” Your wounded hand caresses his cheek and it makes him close his eyes. “Please, In-ho”

“You are going to go back with me. If Gi-hun succeeds, I won’t be able to protect you from this side of the island” he explains. “You’ll take a gun and stick with me. You don’t move away from me. You heard me?”

You nod, accepting his strong gaze on you.

“Promise me, y/n”

“I swear I’ll stick to you, In-ho,” you say, kissing him again. “I promise”

______________________

Salesman Valentine’s Day fic coming next Friday <3

[tapenbreak]

𖦹. “𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄.” —(𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐘)

𖦹. — 𝐬;𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. losing a stupidly made bet has its consequences, it seems. oh, what a moron he can be. although, too late to back out now, is it—dearest whitney? a nice , round 5.0k words.

𖦹. — 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩���𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 . . . younger, therefore underclass man whitney who thought it was such a nice idea to suggest a bet, only to lose in the process, ‘first’ kiss, whoever lasts the longest wins, quite tame, actually—in comparison, though it’s mostly unspoken yearning. fat, puppy crush on upperclassman!reader (amab) that may or may not be worse.

𖦹. — 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬, doc? : “I’ve wanted to stretch this on further than intended, but I got something else planned for this fucker, so never mind. I’m not all that fond of this one since it’s quite more heavy on the feelings than actions, but to each their own.”

Alright, so, let’s supposedly say that he’s already somehow impulsively roped himself in an intangible mess due to an irrefutably dumb bet he’s made on the spot with you, none the wiser—of course. Inexplicably caught himself in a sticky, spider web akin to a precarious trap most starving predators would’ve predictably laid bare for their meddling preys to eventually sink into and—would y’a look at that, like the actual dumbass he can seldomly be, he can’t possibly hope to back out now, can he?

No, no, because y’see—if Whitney were to humiliatingly do such an idiotic thing, then surely that’d just be directly admitting to that irritatingly pretty face of yours that you were apparently correct all along. Not that you are, fuck no. Like that’d ever occur in a million goddamn years, you intolerable bastard. God, that being his sole intention from the pure beginning to crudely wipe that frustrating smile plastered upon your. . . ugh, cherry perfect lips whenever the delinquent-in-the-making merely happens to be in your tedious presence.

Or is cruelly teasing him till he’s unabashedly grown hotter in the fullness of his blazing cheeks a conclusive hobby of yours? Probably, considering your blatant sadism when it comes to endlessly poking fun at someone until they’ve inevitably snapped dead in your face before you oh, so innocently claim that it was simply a meaningless joke. Mindlessly shrug the entire ordeal off as if it were meant to be truly nothing more than an obsessive overreaction on his part. Yeah, yeah—motherfucker, well he’s got a precious one-liner for y’a, also.

“Bet I could.” Confidently proclaiming with an overly arrogant tone that you notably took seriously due to the aforementioned circumstances for some unspoken reason. And that, you see—was specifically when the blonde irreversibly dug himself in the depths of a narrow pit which he can’t possibly climb out of now. So, fuck it, alright?? Fuck his sheer idiocy and muddling arrogance that’s shamelessly come forth to screw him over right in the balls for having previously accepted a seemingly doable suggestion.

Uh huh—‘doable’, he said. Cuz’ it’d be so irresistibly, fucking ‘easy’, another moron in his cocky mind chimed along in turn. Speaking of apparently ‘easy’, maybe next time, think twice before actually acting upon your stinging urges to uselessly prove someone else, like your shitty upperclassman, by the way—wrong, huh. Ever thought of that? No, ‘course he truthfully didn’t consider it thoroughly beforehand because it’s Whitney, the stubborn, hard-headed bully of a underclass man we’re namely speaking of here, after all.

Slippery, sliding slope doesn’t truly begin to particularly cut it either, honestly—yeah, he’s gone and undeniably fucked it up, this time for sure. Hasn’t he?

Hence why his clammy palm is currently placed atop your rather. . . uh, firm chest which he’ll never be outwardly uttering out such an exceptionally odd statement unless he inherently wishes to never live it down till the day he literally dies. That is, including this one ceaseless thought incessantly creeping within the remnants of his blurring mind—about how annoyingly nice the dizzying scent exuding from the warmth of your nearby proximity is. Shit, are those your natural pheromones too? Cuz’ he’s already going fuckin’ crazy from a mere unsuspecting whiff like a bitch in heat. Not to mention, the mind-boggling fact of being comfortably perched along the neat spreading of your thighs for his slimmer legs to settle upon, intimately hook themselves around your hips like a delicate lifeline solely intended to be unperturbed for the remainder of this intimate encounter. And no, this isn’t remotely on purpose, goddamn it—get your filthy head out of the gutter, you pervasive freak. It’s not like that, okay? Just. . . give him a moment, pretty please.

And perhaps at best, a generous minute you’d so graciously offer the blonde to discreetly adjust the sweltering heat that’s come forth to prettily stain his face in a similar crimson manner along with its unending path downwards and—well, y’know. . . below, there. Hardening cock certainly stirring with peeked interest at the subtle press of your laidback figure securely held against his own, shit. . . admittedly, smaller one. Sometimes, the considerable size difference shared amongst you two really does get to him in an albeit, fucking degenerative way. Enough so to inwardly curse at how utterly unhelpful that provoking detail was to the pulsing blood swiftly rushing down to his impatient length—hah.

Fuck, there’s no way this is realistically happening, right—but, it is, dammit. All due to prideful banter that may or may not have unreasonably translated to blatant flirting between you both despite his general lack of interest to other surrounding assholes slightly older than him in age.

Listen, you’re just tolerable enough where he doesn’t inevitably blow a sensitive nerve in return to some mild pestering on your end while simultaneously beating his dumb, idiotic self for regarding you in such high esteem—and yeah, that does include the sheer awed admiration visibly apparent in each of his movements. Intricately foolish in every one of his subtle gestures in hopes of successfully imitating your usual mannerisms, coincidentally catch your straying gaze to finally rest upon his uncharacteristically starving own.

Hell, the fucker even went through the irritating trouble of having the delicate muscle of his slippery, pink tongue wholly pierced for the sake of you possibly taking notice of it. Gleaming bud prettily flashing back towards your reflected, half-lidded gaze partially hidden by fluttering lashes, boringly snuffing in light interest at the sudden sight of it all. Taking notice, huh? That, you offhandly did, but merely for a few meddlesome seconds before eventually sinking back into your settled routine, as per usual. Well, said system of vaguely appreciating the sheer extended lengths he pathetically forces himself to endure in an unending pursuit of altering his appearance befitting of the ‘wilder’ types you habitually go for—due to something along the lines of, what’d you say again? Oh yeah, ‘they’re funnier to mess with when they lose their tempers, is all’—sickening asshole that you are, and still, remaining his unchanging crush nonetheless.

Although, whether or not he truthfully vocalizes that childish adoration akin to how a little brother would towards his elder one—is probably not ever fucking happening. As he still retains some semblance of pride to selfishly keep to himself, too. Don’t you forget that either.

Which is reasonably why despite the lurking remnants of embarrassment sourly creeping within the tensed coils of his tummy, a tightly-knitted cousin of shame, mind you. There’s still indisputable trepidation that traverses throughout the length of his shivering, curved spine; deepens his barely concealed smugness at having you like this. Because finally—fucking finally, has your shortly lived attention lastly settled upon the blonde’s awaiting own as purely intended.

‘Course, knowing your blunt self that either chooses not to attentively read the tense atmosphere currently residing within the spacious room or being merely oblivious to it, altogether—you eventually break that pleasurable silence with a singular insistent reminder or rather, a query to snap him out of this shit show. Ah, always the annoyingly persistent one when it comes to waiting for him to defy your set expectations, aren’t ya?

“Something the matter?” Sweetened voice of yours seamlessly passing through the foggy murk of his momentary daze by the slightest tilt of your head in a questioning motion. Still, remaining conscious that there’d be no such thing as worrisome concern on your part considering the utter bastard that you openly are and, yet—the persistent indication that this will be. . . obviously, nothing more than some meaningless wager whose sole intent is to be ultimately fulfilled in the end, leaves an exceptionally sour taste in his closed mouth.

Yeah, something’s the matter, alright—and he’s just about to recklessly give in to that sugary tone lest it weren’t for the automatic switch in your previously gentle inquiry, abruptly interrupting him from slipping out some mumbled confession in turn.

“Say, are you actually chickening out on me now? Is that it, Ney-Ney? Cat got your tongue and you actually can’t do it after all, can you?” Hah—again with that shitty nickname that bears no remote significance besides literally getting on his fucking nerves whenever, which you do impressively possess the sheer knack to repeatedly do so. Uh-huh, he’s gotta hand it to y’a.

It’s like the second you tentatively part your open lips to randomly speak—does his incessant yearning to restlessly press his starving lips against yours immediately shift instead, to this seething urge to meanly tug upon the strands of your hair like an angry kitten scratching at its owner. Oh, way to ruin the goddamn mood, dumbass.

“Will you shut up? I’m tryna concentrate here, but your fuckin’ mouth keeps on talking and talking and—ah, hey! Can you quit it and keep still for just one second or does the thought of sharing spit with your shitty underclassman actually turns you on that much?” Perverted bastard. Blearily aware of his shoddy excuse at some backhanded lie or whatever, as though you wouldn’t easily see through those tactics you’ve come to know of. Particularly becoming defensive once he’s ceremoniously brought back into a difficult corner and shit, you just can’t help but to gleefully tease him for it, can you?

Noooo, of fuckin’ course not! Must be solely imprinted in your bastardized nature to be so thoroughly insufferable at this point, huh? So much so that he’d desire nothing more than to tortuously crane your neck further to then—give forth to a salivating glimpse of your surely vulnerable neck for his glinting fangs to dreadfully sink into, greedily paint its pristine surface a melding velvet instead as pure revenge.

Because that’s entirely what it is, not some other bizarre, obscure fetish of this mean delinquent. Poorly hidden away in the withering depths of his unexplored memories or y’know. . . numerous times he’s come close to almost slobbering all over your veiny dick along with a generous amount of drooling, translucent spit to coat it with. And shit—he’s predictably derailing once more without meaning to.

Judging by the molten pupils that steadily expand in face of this less than desired situation, at most. Evasively trail towards whatever seemingly unimportant spot is etched amongst the boring surface of your bedroom’s blank walls in a futile attempt to soothe the pumping blood presently coursing throughout his thin veins. More or less, yeah. That’s all there is to it, so can you like, eventually cease with the constant staring on your end or something?

“I think you’re lying.” Unexpectedly bringing him out of his overly distracting fantasy for a stuttering second by flashing that signature grin of yours that’s only seeming to be confidently growing by the second, and—double fuck! You’re totally seeing through his barely concealed ploys, aren’t you? “I think you actually can’t do it and you’re just tryna play coy with me right now.”

“Wha—?“ Unsure wether to plainly deny your unjust statement that may or may not unfortunately ring true, regardless of if he painfully insists the opposite or to take actual offense at the likely suggestion that he doesn’t have the fucking balls to go through with it. Sure, sure! He totally can!! Albeit, a minute was all he scarcely asked for—despite it being way more than a single minute having passed, so don’t trample on the boggling nerves occupying the swelling of his drying, bobbing throat.

But before then, your indecently mocking voice somehow slips past the aforementioned comment Whitney was oh, so ready to renounce—because that’s all you ever do, managing to conveniently earn the upper hand in either situation, no matter the contextual circumstances at play. And damn you for it, too.

“See, what I think, honestly—I think you’re nothing more than a pussy who’s all talk and no bite, really. Too fucking dumb to even properly lie to me about it, too. Cuz’ the thing is, you actually haven’t kissed anyone for real yet, have you?” Inwardly flinching at the abrupt scorning on your part since sure, you’re one mean asshole sometimes, specially with others hopelessly clinging to your sides—but, not with him, no. Preferring to play the part of the considerate, older brother figure that’ll happily follow along to his unsatisfied whims.

So, strictly speaking, being unusually harsh on him without any spoken warning shouldn’t be so disgustingly hot to him nor heavily affect the thrumming blood rushing below to his leaking cock. Further dampen the already present, sticky stain against the now tarnished fabric of his trousers, but fucking shit—does it so. Like those untrained masochists, better put freaks, he regularly bullies on the daily, savagely snickers at for squirming beneath the hardened heel of his shoe. Idiots, is what they are.

Yeah. God, it’s so utterly, fucking filthy.

And funnily enough, here he is—shamefully experiencing that same warmth of degeneracy for being caught in his puzzling act, yet simultaneously thrilled at the various consequences that await for doing so.

“I don’t—“ Fuck, fuck, fuuuuckkkk!!! Mere sentences shouldn’t be humiliatingly failing on him now and neither should the withering breath pitifully falling forth from between his lips left agape—be this fucking telling of the unforeseen reality at bay. “. . . —I don’t know what you’re talking about, really—“

“Sure, you don’t. Then, you must also not have a single goddamn clue as to why you’re leaking like a fucking girl all over my lap right now too, huh?” Instinctually knowing better than to wearily spare a glance downwards since, well. . . yeah, about now—your not-so-precious jeans are notably soaked in the melding evidence of his unspoken arousal if nothing else, but did you fuckin’ have to truly word it like that either? Doesn’t necessarily lessen the sheer absurdity of the unbecoming predicament the delinquent practically pranced himself into like he hilariously owned the place or something.

Unfortunately, here’s to learning the harsh narrative that things, when seamlessly played out in the narrow space of your head—don’t invariably turn out the exact same as foreboding reality itself, do they?

Dumbass, he should’ve seen it coming the second he carelessly chose to lie to your face to begin with.

“Fuck, it’s not like tha—“ And there goes his irreparable mistake altogether, knowing fully well that it is indeed like that, if nothing else. Since it’s always been, every single time—without a literal, precious fuckin’ second to scarcely spare—you, you, and you solely. Plus sincerely speaking, he would’ve undeniably chosen for it not to be this way instead, y’know??

Not have his usually unaffected body so effortlessly react in face of your own, whether it’d be the discreet breaths of yours teasingly brushing along the rim of his blazing ears whenever you get the distracting urge to whisper some unimportant gossip during class.

Truly, do you feel the absolute need to remain so unbearably close in his personal space at times? To the point, it has him dizzyingly peering downwards to his clenched fists that greet him in turn. Too goddamn cowardly to steal a glimpse from below lest he realized the shockingly near proximity you’re both collectively sharing, without you bearing the slightest bother, too—and automatically curses as sweating palms land upon your chest and has you barely stumbling back. Cuz’ shit, the blonde’s downright terrified of the increasingly hasty beat of his annoyingly straining heart stuttering against the firmness of his ribbed cage. Fuck. . . it might as well be leaping out at a certain point, although he acknowledges he appears more like some dreadful lunatic if he were to audibly yell at some minor touches.

Reminiscing upon such pointless bullshit won’t necessarily get him anywhere and it’s not like he does it willingly either, no—not when your hand is now currently gripping at the shape of his gaping jaw. Actually, when the hell did you supposedly manage to get ahold of him like this when he wasn’t in the brightest of moments to do so? Momentarily caught off guard by the sudden press of your fingertips digging in the softened surface of his flesh, albeit with no sense of care in the fucking world as you habitually do with the majority of your things. Which, shit—doesn’t mean he’s the equivalent of your outright property since if that were the case, he’d most likely blow an imploding fuse as he knows it, and you certainly do know it, too.

As that was the initial plan presently swirling throughout the mumbling mess of the bully’s mind—only to be swiftly interrupted by a lingering kiss your. . . shit, annoyingly soft lips tenderly placed amongst the crimson hue that is his heated face—too dizzyingly close for his liking, near the mere corner of his pursed mouth. Frankly speaking, he has no clue what to make of this other than the likely scenario that you’re borderline amused by this and fuckin’ toying with him like your other various stress balls, as per usual.

“Earth to Whitney. I’m still tryna’ speak to you, but I guess you’re too far gone thinking about us sucking on each other’s tongues or something like that, am I right?” Drawling out lazily as though, you’d bear no semblance of interest for this little game of cat-and-mouse you collectively play on the daily basis and if not for that slight, adorning glint in your gaze—maybe he would’ve stupidly fallen for that easily concealed facade altogether, too. But no, he does know it’s a selfish thing of yours, or rather. . . some intricate fetish would be a better word to scarcely describe this sheer high you get from witnessing the gritting of his teeth, fluttering eyes narrowing in mere irritation. To say, it’s progressively building into something else until he’s undeniably pissed at your continuous mockery—that being, what others around you call ‘salacious flirting’ or something like that. Sheesh, he holds no importance for random spectators at your school besides you two.

Uh-huh, isn’t that what they refer to it as? ‘The boy likes to tug at the girl’s pigtails to draw her attention, after all!’—yet, he’s no squealing girl swatting at your insistent touches, is he? Fuck no. Truly, it’s nothing like that. However, sometimes with the way you constantly pinch and prod along the bruised surface of his perched figure atop your own, patiently await his expected curses like an anticipating dog wanting to be scolded. . . Well, can’t say it looks like anything else other than apparent sexual tension. Unsure whether or not he should be seldomly pleased at that somewhat late realization or temporarily concerned as to how you treat your usual girlfriends—or boyfriends, sometimes, that come and go like the blowing wind. Not to say, he treats any of his disposable sluts any better, either.

Eh, shit. No time to necessarily delve further in something he isn’t meant to supposedly poke at, is there? Yeah, cuz’ frankly speaking—he’s always been the goddamn impulsive type that’ll do as he pleases, expectant of yours truly to follow along to his baseless whims.

“Let’s quit with the bullshit already and do it, I don’t got all day to be sitting here on your lap like your prissy bitches.” Yup, yup. Carelessly ignoring the minor and important aspect that he cleared up his busying schedule regardless of his friend’s muttered pleas—going on and on about something at the shady pub that’s down the farthest street in this shit town. Oh right, he didn’t remotely listen to what those fuckers had to honestly say so, here goes that. Discreetly swishing at the messied strands of platinum blonde hair partially obscuring his vision, huffing at its burdensome concealment until he’s face to face with you. Almost clumsily bumping the curvature of your two noses together in an impatient haste to interlock each other’s lips in a. . . what others call it, huh; shitty, goddamn kiss.

However, rather uncharacteristically—he silently waits instead, hazy pupils traversing lower to where your curled up lips are solely a melding breath away from his dumbly hanging own. Maintaining eye contact like this. . . till your foreheads are nearly pressed along one another like this, inwardly shuddering at your unwavering focus upon his straying eyes. Gosh, do you seriously wanna fuckin’ do this with your eyes open or something, like a freak would??

“If you say so, Ney-Ney. I’m sure you wouldn’t wanna be kissing a boy either, huh. I’ll try to make it nice for you as best I can.” Ever the oh, so charming type that tries to accommodate to the blonde’s ill tempered tantrums, aren’t ya? Uttering so forth in an unspoken promise even if actually, he wouldn’t wanna be sharing spit with anyone else other than you. Whether he ever eventually admits it or not is an entirely different story, though.

Wordlessly so, he lets you do as you joyously please, at your own steady pace—‘course, which is to trace the softened pad of your cushiony fingertip along the sharp line of his tightening jaw. For it to ultimately land to where his chin awaits your yearning touches, brief moments of lingering contact to subconsciously gawk at in desolate secrecy. Y’know, how a drooling puppy would when awaiting its sweet treat; which he’s not, at all—no. Especially not your questionable pokes as you childishly peer to the side, rub soothing circles across the nape of his tensed neck as if to ease him into this, all the while idly playing with the shortened strands of hair settled there.

“Slacken your jaw for me, will you?” You gently order in a. . . shit, soft lull and he doesn’t like to be commanded around neither, but he calmly does so regardless. Solely to get it over with, nothing else extra that’s simmering deeply in the background. Especially not the unspoken crush he withholds for you whether you’re both mutually conscious of it or not, well—regarding how exceptionally cunning you tend to be that you can seamlessly read through him like a tattered heap of pages thrown atop your lap—yeah, maybe it’d be arrogantly dumb of him to assume otherwise, huh.

Plus it’s not like the delinquent here, is particularly used to his usually pursed lips wholly parting in an expectant nature for yours to plant featherlight kisses against. Since they’re generally brought up in a dismissive scowl for all to wearily witness—either when passing him in the hallways as his snarky laughter resounds with each echoed step, or the occasional glimpse of his shadowed figure sneaking between deserted alleyways, is seen.

Which, he would’ve indeed protested in stingy opposition at your insistent need to meticulously comb through the glistening locks of his hair. Sure, if it didn’t feel so damn good. . . to have your cupping palm carefully easing him into this, gradually melting in the imprinted shape of your entangled limbs settled together, atop this pillowed bed. One used thumb lightly nudging across the pouty flesh of his bottom lip in a silent gesture of the familiarity both shared between the two of you as your face nears closer to his. Intimately inspecting at the accumulated saliva that drips forth from the other’s open maw, nearly suckling at the intruding digit that is the continuous rub of your curled finger pressed across his drooling tongue. ‘Course, you gotta get a whole mouthfeel of its heated sensation before ultimately—diving in, don’t you?

“Yeah, there we go. . . You’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you—pretty boy?” It’s meant to have him inwardly seething towards this blatantly obvious taunt of yours, openly scorn at the unwanted nickname he’d like to jab at until that irritating grin of yours disappears altogether.

And shit, did he really want to—nothing more than that, honestly. But, he’s immediately interrupted from doing so once you’re ceremoniously covering the cushiony surface of untouched lips with yours, instead. Utterly pissed at himself with how easily it eases up from the experienced brush of your tongue inviting itself in its warmth depths. Those same arms that’d stubbornly stick to his sides like it’d never leave such a place either; now finding themselves to be clutching at the wrinkled fabric of your shirt draped along your reassuring back. Instinctually arching in your enclosed ones in return, loosely held around the width of his waist to absently pinch at in humming thought.

Fuck, fuck. . . fucking shiiittt. Was a kiss always supposed to be this mind-numbingly good that he’s out here losing all utter senses besides taste and touch? Neither struggling against the sudden weight of his eyelids shutting themselves in favour of greeting pitch darkness—goddamn it, not if it’s your mouth is perfectly made for his to mold against.

Even more so as an unwanted keen resembling that of a trembling prey, just about ready to be wholly devoured by the predator looming above its eventual demise—slips past previously sealed lips. Ugh, dammit. . . and here he is, upper lip wobbling in response to the added stimulation of your slippery tongue sliding against his own. Nearly wavering over the tempting option to hurriedly scratch along the delicate skin of your neck and—ah, speaking of, he’s gotta have a fixation with that bobbing throat of yours or something, shit. In some vain attempt to signal the sheer suffocation overtaking him from having his mouth crudely stuffed in repeated fucks of your impatient own, practically devouring his breathy moans in musing delight.

Accompanied by shuddering breaths collectively intermingling into one steady beat that’s bound to hurriedly quicken if he somehow keeps this one up, stretches it any further lest he doesn’t obviously get it over with soon. Which is the actual prime objective here! Don’t get him wrong! The sole plan, here—he’s intricately envisioned in the deep receding of his mind is to prove you wrong of his so-called loss, either way.

Quite literally, if it weren’t for the intolerable amount of pride residing within the swelling of his heaving chest—caught up against your own effortlessly casing over him; he’d have already done so, by now, without the slightest trace of hesitation.

But, y’know. . . It’s proving to be quite difficult for no reason whatsoever to necessarily pull away as he’s originally intended to do so. Partially disgusted by his own weakness when it comes to you and ‘course, it has to be solely you to wholly encase him like this. Whether or not it’s through plain obliviousness of his muddled protests swiftly concealed by your lips covering his own—or maybe, the sheer stubbornness of the mere possibility of letting him out of your sight. Either way, the numerous kitten scratches he’s subconsciously leaving along your treaded skin isn’t letting up itself.

Because even as he somehow manages to draw further backwards, your mouth instinctually follows his in return. As though the absurd thought of him teetering away from your emboldened grasp isn’t one to remotely ponder upon due to its ridiculousness, and neither is the way you both ultimately fall onto the bouncing mattress in a heaping mess with a resounding oomph! Although, he’s suspecting it was his quick-witted gesture of dragging you downwards—to where he’s predictably atop of, that landed you two in this precarious position.

“M-Motherfucker, you didn’t even give me a chance to catch my breath.” It’s rather an uncharacteristically petulant complaint than it is a fitting scolding on his part. Peering from underneath messied hangs that do oh, so well to conceal those narrowing eyes of his when he desires to. Yeah, they’re especially useful when it comes to evading your zeroing gaze hovering right above his own—like you’re actually surprised he hasn’t attempted a punch in your stirring guts for suddenly taking the lead like that.

“Hmm, was the kiss that unpleasant for you?” Pouting sorrowfully in response to the aforementioned statement like such a thing would potentially hurt your veiled sentiments, altogether. ‘Course, he knows better than to ceremoniously cave in to that pitiful nuzzle you offer along the crook of his neck since the thing is, your amusement of things comes first and foremost.

“Eh, don’t know. Why don’t y’a take another try at it and I’ll tell you how much you suck at it then.” It’s a tainted falsehood, at most—however, for the sly grin of pearly teeth flashing in your direction and the renewed sense of competition that swells within your chest at the provoking taunt. Well, he supposes that it’ll be worth the excuse so that his tongue better remembers the melding taste of your own upon one another.

And maybe, he’ll garner a measly chance to actually win this time. Rarely catch you off guard during one of those make-out sessions that are bound to grow more frequent, one way or another.

Though, it’s unlikely. Huh. You never do give him the chance to do so when it comes to your bets, do you?

Fucking prick.

[rosylix]

Hii! I've never requested but I can't get this idea out of my mind..

So basically Felix and reader have been college roommates for a year or two but Felix ends up falling for them and has to tell them cos it’s only a few months till graduation.

Totally understand if you can't do it, but thought I'd ask!

everglow

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓂𝓸𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓮𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝓮𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁

your best friend and roommate is acting especially sentimental tonight. you try to get to the bottom of it

pairing: felix × gn!reader

wc: 6.3k

content: college au, friends to lovers, feelings realization, shy felix, oblivious reader, fluff, light angst, crying?, pouty lix, kissing, mildly suggestive?, hopeful ending

a/n: my first fulfilled request?? i apologize if this was sitting in my inbox for forever.. i wasn't planning on writing a whole thing but then suddenly. i had an epiphany. ty for helping me out of writers block anon 🫶 i hope this is kinda how you were envisioning it!

[also read on ao3]

—

Your college dorm is a familiar sight, the mess of papers and coffee cups giving away the fact that the end of the year is fast approaching. You've been sharing this space with Felix for the past couple years, both of you working hard to keep your grades up and—hopefully, somehow—graduate?

…You're sure it'll be fine. As long as you do well enough on your capstone project, which is why you're sitting at Felix's desk, dutifully researching. Sometimes you take to his room when you need a change of scenery or just want company; though it's just you right now as Felix had to leave for class earlier.

You're just about to take a stretch break when you hear the front door open and soon enough, Felix trudges into the room. “Still here?” he says when he sees you.

“Unfortunately.” You set your things down and look over at him with a long sigh to convey your exhaustion.

“Dude, same,” he groans, tossing his bag on the floor before flopping down on his bed. “I don't think I've ever been so fucking tired in my life. Why did I pursue higher education again?”

That gets you to laugh a little. “Maybe for some kind of high-paying job and… a sense of accomplishment?” you suggest.

He lets out another groan, rolling over on his side. “But at what fucking cost? Sleep deprivation and a caffeine addiction?” He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Remind me why I'm doing this again.”

You get up and walk over to his bed, sitting down on the edge next to him, a playful smile on your face. “Well, I seem to recall someone who said they wanted to be some hot shot computer engineer.”

He props himself up on one elbow to face you. “Ooh, you think I'm hot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You give him a look that hopefully conveys how much of an idiot you think he is. “Hot shot, dumbass.” 

…Still, it would be dishonest to disagree: your roommate is attractive. Anyone with a working set of eyes can see that.

“Ohh, I see. You think I'm hot shit?”

You roll your eyes so far back it almost hurts. “As if you don't hear that enough.”

He grins, clearly amused and clearly not above shamelessly fishing for compliments. “Oh, but it's so much more fun to hear it from you,” he teases, leaning back against his pillow.

You give him a withering glare but he just reaches out and pats the spot next to him on the bed. “Come sit down.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I am literally sitting down.”

“Okay, well, closer, genius.”

You sigh exaggeratedly, but you humor him anyway, scooting over closer to where he's lounging on the bed. You thought that was enough, but this is Felix, and you should have known better. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, gently but firmly tugging you down next to him.

He shifts so he's on his side facing you and grins, clearly satisfied. His hair is messy and there's a hint of dark circles under his eyes, but he still manages to look unfairly attractive.

You shake your head at his antics and let out a long sigh. “Well… You've already made it this far, you know,” you tell him. “Only a few months left of dealing with school, and then you're done.”

“...Yeah.”

He's quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting across your face, a hint of something almost like melancholy in his eyes.

“Why am I kinda sad, though?” he finally asks with a chuckle.

You blink. “Sad? About being done with school?”

He nods. “I mean, I want to be done, god, believe me I do, but…” He blows out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, it just doesn't feel as good as I expected it to. And I'm…” He pauses, clearly thinking his words over.

“I'm… gonna miss this, honestly. A lot.”

“This?” You gesture around the room. "You're going to miss this? Our tiny-ass, overpriced apartment?"

He laughs at that. “Not this place, I guess.”

“Then? The constant lack of sleep? Exams? The shitty cafeteria food?”

“Please,” Felix scoffs before taking a deep breath, looking somewhere behind you. “I'm… going to miss this." He looks back at you and pokes your shoulder for emphasis. “This. Us living together. Hanging out all the time. I'm going to miss that.”

You blink, a little taken aback at his earnestness. “Oh,” you say intelligently. “Yeah. I…”

You try to ignore the way your heart is suddenly in your throat. In truth, you've been doing your best not to think about it, how things will inevitably change after graduation.

“I mean…” you start. “It's not like we're never going to see each other again or something. We'll keep in touch, right?” But even as you say it, you feel yourself deflating. It’s not the same.

His expression reflects yours, his smile soft but a little sad around the edges. “...Of course we will.” He sounds like he's saying it as much to himself as he is to you. 

He's silent for another moment, his fingers gently running over the blanket, not quite meeting your gaze.

“It won't… be the same though,” he says, mirroring your own thoughts. “Like— you know? I'm gonna miss the convenience store we always go to at 2AM, I'm gonna miss our late-night study sessions and the shitty coffee you make, I'm gonna miss how you always use up the hot water in the shower and your annoying alarm waking me up at fuck-ass in the morning—” He suddenly cuts off, a flush rising in his cheeks.

He turns on his back again, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Ugh, I don't know, just shut up and let me wallow in my feelings.”

You're honestly a little speechless. All that, things he claims are annoying — he's going to miss it all that much?

“Hey,” you say gently, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, you sap, look at me.”

“No. I'm wallowing.”

You roll your eyes. “I can see that.” You poke his arm. Then again, harder. “Come on, look at me.”

Felix huffs dramatically, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at you from the corner of his eye. “What? I’m looking.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him. He's pouting, looking a little petulant but still so endearingly cute, and you can definitely see the hint of embarrassment in his gaze as he peeks at you.

You let a smile spread across your face. “You're gonna miss me.”

Felix averts his gaze, his cheeks going a little pinker. “I mean, a little, I guess,” he mumbles, before letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Ugh, why are you looking at me like that? Don't let it go to your head or anything.”

It's so obvious that it's more than just a little — but you decide not to call him out on it. Instead, you lean forward, propping yourself up with one arm. “Too late,” you tease, grinning widely. “You're gonna miss me so much.”

He groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes again. "Whatever. Shut up.”

You look at him silently for a moment, taking in his flushed face and his messy hair. God, he's so cute. You've always been aware of how pretty he is, but there's something about seeing him like this, completely unguarded and vulnerable, that's making your lungs feel tight.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your gaze away from him. “Hey, come on, cheer up.”

“No,” he says, still hiding his face behind his arm. “I'll just lay here and wallow and die."

“So dramatic,” you chide, poking his side roughly, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You're starting to feel a little flustered too.

He whines at the contact, swatting at your hand, but you notice he hasn't moved his other arm away from his face. “Ow, hey, violence,” he complains, curling away from your fingers. “Ow, ow, dude—”

You reach out and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He lets out a half-hearted protest, but doesn’t get the chance to resist.

Oh. His eyes are shining.

You freeze. 

He's pouting again, but it's less childish now and more vulnerable, embarrassed. For a moment you just sort of stare, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the two of you are. His face is so close, so pretty, and your heart is doing something strange, beating rapidly in your chest.

“You’re—” You clear your throat, struggling with what to say. You… hadn’t realized how much this was impacting him.

He looks away and blinks hard, but his eyes are still a bit misty, unshed tears stubbornly sticking to his eyelashes. “Sorry. I'm being stupid,” he finally says, his voice a little quiet. “Ignore me, I'm just being weird, it's—” He swallows. “...I'm tired.”

Oh, god. You've been joking and teasing and making fun, but now you just feel like the biggest jerk, because he's actually really upset about this.

“Wait, no,” you murmur, suddenly serious. “No, it’s not— You're not being stupid. I—” You're having a lot more trouble than usual forming coherent sentences.

Your hand is still around his wrist, your fingers pressing against his pulse point. You squeeze it lightly. “It's okay.” You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, in contrast to the rest of him lying completely still. “It's not stupid. I’m— I'm gonna miss you too, idiot.”

He lets out a wet sounding laugh at that, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t pull his arm away from your grip. “So mean,” he says. “Do you have to insult me to say nice things?”

“Well, yeah.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you feel a bit of relief that you've managed to cheer him up a little.

“But you mean it?” He looks up at you with a shy expression. “You're gonna miss me?”

“Of course,” you say, suddenly struck by how much you mean it. “Yeah, I am. A lot.”

He lets out a low breath, eyes flicking over your face. “Yeah?” he says quietly. 

It's silent for a moment. Felix is still looking at you, a little shyly, and it's driving you a little crazy. He sighs, his brow pinched slightly, like he’s struggling with some internal conflict. You wait patiently, giving him space to express what he wants to say.

But he doesn't. Just averts his eyes and blinks harshly at the wall behind you.

“Please don't cry or I'll start crying too,” you say with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Felix lets out a shaky breath. “...I’m not going to cry.”

You give him a look. 

“I’m not,” he insists, using his free hand to rub his eyes. “I have allergies or something, I just— I—”

He hesitates, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Okay, look,” he sits up, pulling his wrist free from your grip and taking a deep breath. “It's just— I…” He stops, running a hand through his hair nervously. 

“Felix?” you ask, sitting up too. You're starting to get a little concerned. Why is the mood suddenly so weird?

He groans, burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he speaks. “This is embarrassing.”

It doesn't help your concern. “What’s embarrassing?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady.

“This,” he mutters, still hiding his face.

You hesitate a moment, not really knowing what to do, before tentatively reaching out and touching his arm. “Um… It's fine, you can talk to me.”

He lets out a frustrated breath before finally looking at you. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Oh. “Well… Did you… like, kill someone or something?”

Felix stares at you for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face but his lips twitch a little. “No, I didn’t kill anyone, you psychopath,” he says dryly.

“Okay, well, good,” you say, clearing your throat. “No illegal activities? The government isn't after you?”

“I… No,” he says slowly.

This conversation is taking a bizarre turn. “And you're not, like… secretly an alien sent to spy on humans this whole time? And… now you have to return to your home planet to plot the annihilation of Earth?”

That finally gets Felix to laugh. “You're— you're a fucking idiot,” he says through giggles. “Seriously.”

“I’m just checking,” you say, crossing your arms. “You're being all weird and shit and…” you gesture vaguely. “Maybe you're an alien. I don't know.”

That only sets him off giggling again. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “Why are you so dumb.”

You roll your eyes, just relieved to see him smile. He's much more relaxed now, the mood in the room lifted with his laughter. All part of your plan. You're more than happy to appear ridiculous if it means seeing him laugh.

He finally stops laughing, though he’s still smiling a little as he lifts his head and looks at you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you try not to be too distracted by the freckles around his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks as his gaze flicks across your face. He’s looking at you intently, and the air in the room feels charged, electric almost.

“You…” he starts, but hesitates, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Why are you so dumb,” he repeats.

Wow. “Now who's being mean?” you pout.

He laughs again, but it’s softer than before, a shaky, nervous sound. “God, I— this is so stupid, I—”

He lets out a frustrated breath, staring directly into your eyes, his expression intense and focused. “How do you not notice,” he mutters under his breath.

You’re frozen under his gaze, your heart suddenly in your throat. “Notice… what?”

Felix closes his eyes. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

What? “It seems like it matters since you’re…”

He opens his eyes again, looking a bit pained as he looks at you. “Just… just forget it.”

You don’t know what to say. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, your hands shaking slightly. “Uh… okay,” you say. “Sorry for… being dumb…?”

He grimaces. “No, I didn't mean it like—”

He lets out a long, heavy breath, shaking his head. Then he reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

His voice is quieter when he speaks, looking down, idly playing with your fingers. “Just… you’re supposed to notice,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “It’s supposed to be obvious.”

You stare at him, confused and flustered and… honestly, a little distracted by how he's touching your hand. “What's… uhh, what?” Everything feels like it's too much all of a sudden, and your chest is really starting to do something weird.

He sighs. “Nevermind. Seriously.”

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. “When we graduate,” he starts. “...Which I guess is really soon, huh.”

The way he says it makes your chest pang painfully. He’s still not looking at you. “I won’t see you anymore…” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him.

You grab his hand, stopping him from fiddling with your fingers, and squeeze gently. “Hey,” you say. “C’mon, it’s not like that.”

He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Isn't it, though?”

It kind of feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. This isn't like him, he's usually the one full of sunshine and optimism, reassuring you. But right now, the defeat in his voice is palpable.

The reality of the situation starts sinking in. Time’s almost up.

“Felix,” you say quietly, and he finally lifts his eyes up from his lap to look at you. His eyes are watery again.

He swallows, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “Sorry, I’m being… I’m being unfair, I just…” He hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to not see you.”

You frown, tears pricking your eyes now too. You don't trust your voice to speak, throat feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“And you’re just… so oblivious,” he continues, his finger tracing over your knuckles. “So stubborn, and dumb, and you’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life and I seriously cannot believe I like—”

He cuts off suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Wait.

“Felix,” you murmur, and his eyes dart up to meet yours, a little panicked. He tries to jerk his hand away from yours, but you hold on tighter, keeping him in place.

“Felix,” you repeat, your skin buzzing from the way he’s looking at you. “You can’t just… leave me hanging like that.”

He looks away, face a brilliant crimson red. “Yeah, I can.”

You almost want to laugh. You didn’t realize he could be so shy, but you can’t focus on that now, because your heart is racing and you can’t tell if you’re going to pass out, or pass away.

“No, you can’t,” you say shakily. “When are you gonna tell me? At the commencement ceremony?”

He lets out a half-choked, almost hysterical sort of laugh, keeping his head turned away so he doesn’t have to look at you. “Yeah, something like that.”

He has to be joking. “That’s months away!”

“And?”

You shake your head, feeling dizzy. “I’m not gonna wait that long, are you insane?”

He huffs and glares at you, pouting. “Oh, well I’m sorry, would you just rather I shout it from the fucking roof tops then? Hey, everyone, I’ve been in love with my best friend since freshman year!”

What.

You blink, stunned speechless, your eyes wide. 

Your mind is spinning, the air in the room suddenly too thick to breathe. The words in love keep ringing in your ears, over and over again.

“You— you what?” you manage to get out, feeling a little faint. You must not have heard him correctly. You're hallucinating, or having a stroke or… something. He can't actually mean—

Felix winces. “...Fuck.” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, brain still struggling to catch up to the situation. You’re still processing that he said the word love, when the last few words register.

“Wait— freshman year?” you say incredulously. “You’ve— since—?”

He’s clearly trying to act somewhat composed but the bright red on his ears betrays him. “Um. Yeah. Shut up. Stop talking,” he says, voice muffled from behind his hands.

You think about the past few years of your life, every interaction with him, and it’s like everything suddenly clicks into place.

The way his ears turn pink whenever you compliment him. The way you could always get under his skin so easily. You think about every time he got defensive, or huffy, or pouty at something innocuous you did or said.

…The way he's never really shown interest in anyone, despite the plenty of interest shown his way. The countless people he's turned down, for seemingly no reason. When you'd questioned him about it, he'd just laughed awkwardly and said he preferred to focus on his studies.

“Oh my god,” you say again.

Felix groans and hides his face further, his ears practically on fire. “Stop. Don't,” he mutters. “It's okay. Just… pretend you never heard that, okay, it's fine—”

“No.”

It’s silent for a moment, Felix still hiding his face, and your mind still swirling with thoughts. 

You kind of want to kiss him.

The realization is sudden, but not entirely unexpected. It’s not really a surprise, honestly, just another thing that feels natural. Maybe because deep down, of course somewhere along the line you've developed feelings for the person you can trust with anything, who gets you more than anyone else. Your favorite person in the world.

You’re only half in your right mind as you grab his wrists, pulling his hands off of his face.

“You ass,” you say, staring directly at him.

He looks at you with wide, panicked eyes. “I'm sorry—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Can I kiss you?” 

He chokes, eyes going even wider. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly caught off guard. After a moment, he manages to find his voice, though it’s very high pitched and shaky. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “Can I kiss you,” you repeat, your head feeling fuzzy, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“…What?” he asks again. His face is bright red. “Are— are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you murmur, leaning even closer, your faces almost touching.

His breath catches, and his eyes dart between your eyes and your lips. “Please say you’re not,” he manages to say, voice breaking.

“I’m not,” you say, feeling a little crazy. Insane, maybe. You can’t really bring yourself to care. “Can I?”

He doesn't give you an answer, letting out an incredulous breath before grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward as he falls back so you land on top of him.

You’re about to protest at the continued lack of a clear answer, but then he’s kissing you and you forget how to speak.

It's not the most graceful kiss, you’re both a little clumsy, but it’s sweet and it’s Felix and that’s all that really matters. You figure it out quickly, getting into a rhythm, and he lets out a shaky breath against your mouth, his hand moving to tangle in your hair. You feel like you’re dreaming, or drowning, or both.

Felix is kissing you. Felix is kissing you. Your closest friend. He’s in love with you, and he’s kissing you.

It makes your head spin. After several moments, you finally pull away, panting and dizzy. You feel a little delirious, staring down at him, both of you catching your breath.

His head falls back against the pillow, face turning impossibly red as he blinks at you like he’s in shock. You laugh a little and he huffs, but his eyes soften.

“So… you, uh— You— Are you—?”

You cut him off with another touch of your lips, effectively shutting him up. He instantly melts into it, tightens his grip in your hair, pulling you further into the kiss, and you can’t think straight, everything is just Felix. 

After a while, you’re forced to break away again for air. Felix whines at the loss of contact, eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed. You only manage to get a few breaths in before he's pulling you down into another kiss, more urgently this time.

You let out a surprised noise, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He seems to be determined to kiss you senseless, and it’s working. 

He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp into his mouth. He mumbles something in response, his thigh sliding between your legs, and your brain short-circuits.

Okay. You shiver. Okay. You should probably… You manage to pull away for a much needed breath and Felix tries to chase after your mouth, but you press a hand to his chest to hold him in place.

He groans, looking frustrated, but flops back against the pillow obediently. He blinks at you dazedly, his own chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dark, but his expression quickly morphs into a pout. “Why… Why…?” he complains, trying to tug you closer again.

You huff a weak laugh, shaking your head, and he gives you a wide-eyed look, all innocence and sweetness, and that's not fair that he can look like this after all of that.

“Just— one sec,” you somehow get out, your mind still completely overloaded. “We should… uh…”

He’s still trying to reach your mouth. “What,” he mutters, breathing heavily against your neck.

“Talk,” you manage to say, even as his lips make their way to your jaw. “We should… we need to… oh my god—”

You cut off, stifling a gasp as he sucks on your skin. “Felix,” you say, trying to be stern, but it comes out like a moan instead.

“Mm?” he hums against your ear, completely unapologetic. “You want to… talk?”

“Yeah.” It takes all your willpower to pull away, ignoring how he whines in protest. You sit up and take a moment to compose yourself, willing yourself to ignore the urge to just give in to him.

Felix flops back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes as he sighs, his voice sounding a little raspy.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his ears red. “Sorry, god, I've thought about this so much, I just—”

Oh. “You’ve… thought about…? How much…?”

He makes a strangled noise and covers his face more thoroughly, voice muffled. “Oh my god,” he groans, “I'm going to fucking die. I… a lot.”

…Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay.

“...How much is a lot?” you ask, unable to resist your curiosity. And maybe you want to tease him about it. Just a little.

He groans again. “So, so much. An embarrassing and pathetic amount.” He’s not even trying to hide his pouting. “Can you please not make me say the actual words.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but the way he sounds — breathless and embarrassed — it’s honestly kind of adorable. He’s always so confident in most aspects of his life that you kind of love seeing him so flustered.

“Please… don’t,” he mumbles, peeking at you. “I’m begging you…”

He's blinking up at you, the picture of innocence once again. He glances up at you through his eyelashes, all pretty and delicate and ugh, he's absolutely doing this on purpose.

“You’re distracting,” you say weakly, staring down at him. “Stop making cute faces at me.”

He does not stop making cute faces. He tries though, lowering his hands as his face drops into a scowl. “I’m not making a cute face,” he protests.

“Yeah, you are,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing it right now. Your pouty thing.”

He sniffs. “I'm not,” he says petulantly, though there’s a hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is just my regular face. It’s not my fault if my face is cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off with a finger, placing it over his lips. His mouth instantly snaps shut, and you can’t resist a little grin as he looks up at you with wide eyes. 

You watch as he swallows, his eyes fixed on you, and, not for the first time, you’re reminded of how pretty he is. He’s always been gorgeous, in an objective sort of way, but you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time.

You move your hand away and take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You need to talk about this while you’re both still somewhat coherent, or you’ll go absolutely insane.

“So…” You’re a little pleased with how steady your voice is, considering the circumstances. “You… love me.”

Felix coughs and covers his face again. “Do you have to say it like that,” he groans, his voice muffled by his palms.

“You never… you never said anything.” 

He just shrugs, still hiding his face. “I was scared to lose you,” he says with a shaky breath. “I didn’t expect you to want me back…” There's no bitterness in his tone, just disbelief.

You frown. “But you’re—” You bite your tongue. Felix was worried about you not wanting him?

You shake your head, a somewhat acrid feeling welling up inside of you. You've seen firsthand the sheer amount of attention he gets from people, from the random gifts and outright confessions and people slipping him numbers and notes everywhere he goes. There's never been a shortage of interest in him, from all sorts of people. Compared to him, you're… nothing.

“So… this whole time, you just… thought I was clueless?” You're still trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighs. “I mean, kind of,” he says, his eyes peeking through his fingers. “You’ve been completely oblivious to anyone who’s ever flirted with you.” 

Including me, he doesn't say, but you're starting to put the pieces together.

You wince, your face flushing. “I’m not that oblivious,” you protest weakly. “I just… I’ve never been particularly interested in… anyone.” 

Felix stares at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Like…” It's true that you've never really liked anyone very strongly in all your time at college. Some fleeting crushes here and there, but even the few people you had tried to go on dates with always felt lacking in some inexplicable way. You always felt much better as soon as you'd come home to your shared space with Felix, always feeling the most comfortable in his presence. Was that it? All this time, no one could ever compare to your best friend? 

And the constant attention Felix would get… It annoyed the hell out of you. At first, you would tease him, even encourage him to give them a chance, delight in the way his face would turn bright red. But it quickly became so annoying watching him have to navigate awkward conversations, politely turn people down. Sure, a part of you was probably a bit insecure always watching him receive so much attention. At least, that's what you told yourself. But beyond that, you think you're finally starting to understand the feeling for what it is.

Jealousy.

“Oh my god.” You’re starting to realize what a mess this entire situation is. “We're both idiots.”

Felix finally drops his hands from his face, giving you a dry look. “Speak for yourself.”

"Shut up," you say absently, not even annoyed. Your head is reeling.

This is… a mess. Felix is in love with you, you’re pretty sure the feeling has been mutual for a while, and you’re both leaving this place in just a few months. 

“So… you’ve never liked anyone before?” Felix asks. His tone is a bit teasing, though there's curiosity beneath.

You make a face. “Um.” Yeah, that's what you thought for the past couple years until now. How much do you reveal?

All of the puzzle pieces are clicking into place in your mind, making your head hurt even more. So much time wasted, you want to cry.

“I guess no one ever compared to you,” you say without thinking, and immediately slap your hand over your face.

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence as you both process the words.

Then, Felix starts laughing.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, struggling to contain himself, barely managing to keep his laughter under control. Your face is growing redder by the second, embarrassed and annoyed.

“Will you stop?” you whine.

“I’m sorry, I just—” he tries to get himself together, taking a deep breath before looking at you fondly. “This is the corniest fucking shit I've ever— holy shit. We're actually both stupid.”

“I told you,” you say, smacking him on the arm. 

He just snickers, grabbing your wrist before you can hit him again. He pulls you so you’re half-lying on top of him again, and you can feel his shoulders shaking as if he’s trying to keep from bursting out into another fit of laughter.

You let your head fall against his chest with a huff, still annoyed even as he wraps an arm around you, his hand rubbing against your back.

“You jerk,” you mutter.

He hums, sounding amused. “You love me.”

You go rigid, and he starts to laugh again, obviously enjoying the fact that he found an easy way to fluster you. 

“Shut up,” you grumble weakly, burying your face against him.

It isn't fair. He’s had time to fully realize it, years apparently. He’s had time to process everything. Meanwhile, you feel like you’ve been completely blindsided. 

He finally stops laughing and you’re both quiet for a few moments. You can hear his heart drumming loud in his chest.

“Wow,” he says suddenly. “We could have avoided a lot of stress if we realized earlier.”

You let out a snort of semi-hysterical laughter. “I know,” you agree, before pausing and wincing. “Oh god, I can't believe we've been… that we've been living together…”

“Yeeeahh… That's been torture by the way,” he says conversationally, as if he's discussing the weather, and your cheeks flare up. 

“...Torture?”

He squeezes your side. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself every day? Every time you wear my jacket, or… anything? Wearing those hoodies on movie nights—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, your face absolutely burning. “I get it, I’m—”

“Stupid?” he offers helpfully. “Oblivious? Cute?”

“...You never said anything,” you say weakly in an attempt to defend yourself.

“I wasn't going to make things awkward,” he protests. “Can you imagine if I’d actually said anything and you just… what? Said no? And then we have to keep living together like normal?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the guilt stirring in your stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine what it's been like from his perspective.

“...Sorry.” You shift so you can actually look at him, but he won’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he pouts.

“You really didn't notice?” he asks, finally looking at you. “Even a little?”

“No.” You feel a frustrated sort of laugh bubbling up. “We’ve been so stupid. We could’ve… we’ve wasted so much time, years—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, seeing your expression, sitting up and gently placing his hand on your cheek, and you stop abruptly. “It doesn’t matter,” he says reassuringly. “We have time, okay? Plenty of time.”

You’re still struggling with the whole situation, trying to process everything as you stare at him. “But… we’re graduating.”

He gives you a small, unsure smile. “Yeah. We are.”

"And… I don't even know where I'm going. We could be—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, placing a finger gently on your lips, and you bite your tongue, looking down at him. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You try to take a deep breath and he leans forward until his forehead is touching yours. 

Your mind is still racing, your entire universe is completely tilted, and you’re not entirely sure how to deal with any of it. But Felix is close and his hand is still on your cheek and…

And you want to focus on that instead, ignore everything else for now.

“Yeah?” you say weakly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little more firm, and he brings his other hand up to cup your face.

“For now,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s just…” He lets out an unsteady laugh, his hands still gently framing your face. “Can we just…”

Your entire body feels a little shaky. You lean forward a bit, closing the distance, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he breathes before slanting his mouth against yours.

It’s not very decorous. You’re both a little desperate, a little uncoordinated, trying to make up for years of lost time.

It’s messy and you can feel that he’s still a little nervous — as are you — but he's also determined. He pulls you closer, one of his hands sliding into your hair, tugging gently in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth.

Then he suddenly pulls back after a few moments, laughing when you whine pathetically in protest.

“Shh, hang on,” he says, slightly out of breath, and you open your eyes dizzily.

“...What?” you complain.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I… I just remembered that I…”

You watch, utterly befuddled, as he pushes against your shoulders so he can sit up. He gently lifts you off of him, answering your whine of protest with a quick kiss before his hand drifts away from your face, reaching for his phone.

You try to grab at him. “What are you doing—”

He laughs and dodges out of your reach. “Just gimme a second,” he says, turning his phone on as he settles back on the bed.

You sit there, feeling dazed and frustrated as he taps at his phone, his attention focused on the screen. After a few moments, he finally seems to finish what he’s doing, putting his phone down with a satisfied hum.

When he meets your eyes, he just looks amused at your expression. “Sorry, sorry,” he says with a grin, moving closer to you again.

“What was so important,” you pout.

“I was meant to meet with my group mates for our project tonight,” he says. “So, I told them I'm feeling sick.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Felix.”

He has the audacity to just smile innocently, already shifting so he can push you down against the sheets.

“What?” he says casually, hovering over you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “I wasn't gonna be able to focus anyways.”

“Oh.” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. “Is… that really okay…?”

“Don't worry,” he says, leaning down and pressing a light kiss into your neck. “I practically carry them anyway, they can live without me for one night.”

You swallow, feeling his hands slide up your arms, his touch leaving a trail of sparks along your skin. “Okay,” you agree, completely distracted now, your thoughts hazy.

“Mhm.” He sucks on a sensitive spot on your collarbone and you let out a shaky exhale. “Can we focus on something else right now?”

You nod. He moves up to kiss you and you know, with him, you'll figure out whatever comes next.

For now, that's enough.

—

a/n: me, a mech eng major.. ofc i had to make felix a fellow engineer. nerds 4 life (do not study engineering i crave death every moment)

also yes title is the coldplay song bc im actually uncreative as hell and name everything after songs. how do ppl come up with titles (T＿T) but anyway since it's one of felix's fav songs i thought it was especially fitting 🤍

tysm for reading 🫶

[opal-owl-flight]

John. John Splatoon. The man, the goofball the sweetest man youll see. Chatty, bubbly, and gives really good team morale.

But things arent all sweet.

I wonder if he shuts himself up when he feels hes being *too* jolly.

His family is kind. Its not their fault. Yknow how people are fucking mean to those who are very excited abt things.

I think he had an experience like that. Tanara was thankfully there when things started getting really bad.

John was made fun of when he first started turfing. He was just sooo excited abt it all. So enthusiastic!! He studied abt the greats, the top players, all that. And the bitchass mean kids thought itd be funny to crush his dreams.

They made fun of him when he rambles abt strategy. They mocked him whenever he tries to be a hero and gets fucking splatted for it (OH GEE, IF HIS TEAMMATES WERE ACTUALLY *HELPING* HIM HE WOULDNT HAVE GOTTEN GOT).

One time I think some bastard jammed his weapon so it was unusuable for a while, and he was unable to turf.

"Good riddance," the team had said. "That beak is finally quiet for once."

Tanara saw this happening and decided to stand up for him.

They saw this boy getting picked on, and didnt hesitate in open firing at the bastards. Didnt care if theyll get banned for a week for firing a weapon off the field.

"|Hey, are you the guy who cornered me in the last match? Color me impressed.|"

Tanara doesnt stand for bullies. Ever. They hate seeing these kinds of people in the leagues. They hate the fact that these nutjobs are so good at the game!!! they want to make the leagues a fun place for everyone. None of this fuckinh bullshit. From a young age theyve already defended others. Wanted to make a better world where everyone can just be who they wanted to be, grow into their best selves.

The orange squid was a big help. With them actually recognizing his talent and running by his side,,,

They made him believe in himself. Fuck what everyone else says.

"|We won because of your strategy,|" they sign. "|If it werent for you, we'd have lost the tournament.|"

And hes given a smile of encouragement. Oh, sweet understanding, sweet recognition.

For a tender year they and John built a strong team and friendship. John became this cheery man bc of them.

They helped him stand up for himself. Helped him in the art of not giving a fuck. Or raining retribution where it is applicable (the duo have sent bullies crying after giving fjem say -- a 20 second rainmaker match)

Whenever someone tries to make fun of him in the later years, or now -- even if Tanara is out of the picture bc theyre getting blended -- he will literally ignore the naysayers. Bc he knows. He knows Tanara believes in him. He knows his team believes in him. He knows many others do, as well.

He knows his own capabilities. He knows what his limits. And hes. God, theres a reason hes second in command. Hes smart about the sport. Hes scary on the field. Dont let the goofy attitude fool you. Hes having fun but you on enemy team wont!

Some people are recently saying that Tanara left their old team bc John was lagging too far behind them, that Ink Typh∞n is the natural next step for them.

Dead wrong dipshits. If anything, those two are eye to eye.

If Tanara wasnt forced to retire, theyf still be fighting by his side.

-----------

Ofc its not all perfect. He still shuts down sometimes. Shuts himself up if he gets scared of offending someone/in general.

If he doesnt get reassurance or proves to himself/his naysayers of his own capabilities, he starts going quiet, smiling less.

Those wounds still hurt, Im afraid....

-----------

And what about after Octo Expansion.

What was going through his mind?

Like....this is your best friend. The one who helped you become the man you are. They were your role model. Theyre so strong, so assured. Confident. Ruthless on the turf. So skilled that nothing can faze them. Believed in you like no one else did.

And youre watching them seem to get worse day by day.

Theyre closing up. Theyre not telling you anything. You reach out but they dismiss you. And their colors only get more desaturated with time. They still believe in you, but its clear that theres something bothering them.

You try to share your joy with them, talking about the things you liked. Like old times. It turns out however, that the character you idolized in the media you consume, is them.

And it explains everything.

An entire secret double life and they didnt tell you.

You were their best friend. They were by your side when you struggled to make it in this city. They gave you assurance when your confidence started to fail.

They were your hero.

Where were you then, when they needed one themself?

They slump into John's arms,,

Theyre only older than him by a year. but they feel so,,

They feel so frail. A shadow of how they used to be. A body broken by war, a mind and heart ravaged by worry and vigilance and the weight of the world on their shoulders.

They tell him that they dont want him to take this load. They tell him he doesnt deserve it.

He says he has no plans of getting into this, not directly. He just wants them to come back to him after duty, or allow him to help in any way he can.

He'll just wait by the door, like he always has.

And hes holding them. He wants to keep them there til everything becomes okay again.

[icallhimjoey]

I miss poppy and mark still and I miss that version of joe (and always bookstore joe) but that joe please he was such an idiot😭 I miss him and this is all your fault (said with so much love bye going to reread everything (again))

ok so it took me a good second, but, here you go bby <3 to the girls unfamiliar with poppy and mark: maybe have a look here Wordcount: 2.3K

---

Won’t Say It Until You Will

Sometimes you still don’t quite understand how you’ve gone literal years thinking Joe couldn’t fucking stand you.

You’d gotten so used to his stand-offish demeanor. To the arrogant smirks you’d catch just before he’d bite them back, just in time for Poppy or Mark to notice. To his overall unapproachability, and the heavy judgment that would drip off of him.

For years you thought you didn’t like Joe, simply because you were convinced Joe didn’t like you.

Didn’t like you as a person.

As Mark’s friend.

As someone that, through Mark falling for Poppy, was going to be in his life now.

You think you’re still adjusting to the sudden change. And the change was definitely sudden. Learning that, actually, Joe was trying to keep as much distance as he possibly could for the exact opposite of what you thought had been quite the shock. You might be adjusting for a while longer, still.

Which makes sense.

It is all quite the adjustment.

Joe used to be so weird around you, and you were always left to figure out why all by yourself.

The big difference now, though, is that every time Joe sees that you doubt yourself in whatever interaction you have with him, he’s quick to set the record straight.

He’s not allowed to say I love you yet.

You have to say it first for it to feel normal. Granted, barely anything about how this started feels normal to begin with. But this is something you hold onto. You tell him to shut up all the time, because you have come to know this look Joe will throw you.

This soft, adoring sort of dreamy stare Joe has a hard time containing. It’s truly quite something to be looked at like you’re the single best thing in current existence to someone. Like you’ve got shimmery diamonds and liquid gold where your heart should be.

It’s a shame it makes you frown the way it does.

“Shut up.” You’ll warn before he’s even gotten the chance to say anything.

And Joe used to reply with, “I didn’t say anything.”

That has since changed to a very dopey, a very smiley, “Okay.” that makes your nose scrunch.

Joe knows the rule.

Won’t say it until you will, no matter how many times the words will pop into his head and will beg to be released into your ears via his mouth. It’s nothing short of agony, because there’s moments where you’ll look at him like you used to. Before. When he kept his distance and would say the wrong thing, crack an unfunny joke that accidentally hurt your feelings, and – God, if he could just say those words and put your mind at ease the way the so desperately wants to...

He’s found different ways.

Has had to find different ways.

If you can’t hear the words, that’s fine. He’ll make you feel them just the same.

When you get into bed, one night, over at Joe’s place, you suddenly pause, halfway in.

“What?” Joe asks, already sort of smiling at your expression as he slides his legs under the covers on his side of the bed.

“Remember when...” you start, and immediately Joe’s aware that this can go one of two ways. You could either end up a giggling heap underneath the covers, or he’s going to end up kissing you silly to reassure every doubt from your mind.

You glance at one of his wardrobe doors and squint your eyes a little.

Joe’s scared it’s going to be the latter of the two options.

“I’ve actually never seen you wear that shirt again– have you...” you don’t finish whatever you were about to ask, and instead walk around the bed to check something. To see for yourself.

“What shirt?” Joe asks, sat up in bed, both hands in his lap over the covers, tongue pushing into his cheek as he watches you open the wardrobe.

You’re met with a meticulously well-organised row of shirts, jackets– Joe’s even got all of his trousers and jeans folded over hangers. All pressed and ironed, ready to make Joe look far smarter than he’ll feel.

You used to fall for it all the time, but you’ve since learned to see through most of it.

“How often do you get rid of clothes?” you ask, hands filtering through.

“All the time,” Joe says a little sheepishly, and jokingly adds, “You know I really only like... three things.”

Joe watches you filter through hangers at lightning speed, metal wire gliding over the rod and clanging together in your search.

You’re looking for something specific. Unsure of what made the thought pop into your head, you’d just remembered a specific shirt Joe wore once and wanted to see if he still had it. If there was maybe a reason why you hadn’t seen him wear it ever since that one night.

And, morning.

“Hmm... it’s not here.”

“What shirt are you even talking about?”

 You throw Joe a look over your shoulder, eyes squinted, and for a moment you look like you’re contemplating something. Like you’re milling something over.

Then, suddenly, Joe gets it. He knows exactly what you’re looking for, and is immediately embarrassed.

“Oh. Yea, no. Do you mean the white– my white button down? I, um… that shirt, it’s… you’re right, it’s not– it’s not there.”

Joe stutters through a bad excuse, and for an actor, he’s a fucking terrible liar. You shove aside some of his jackets, and then…

“Come back to bed, please.”

There it is.

The white button down shirt you were looking for.

You grab the hanger and pull it out, ready to happily show Joe you found it, but as you move the fabric into the light, you notice it.

See it.

“Found i– oh, my God…”

This is the shirt Joe wore to Mark and Poppy’s wedding shower. The one he said he’d get dry cleaned after he wiped your face with the sleeve, after he dabbed both your make-up covered cheeks. The one of which he’d pulled the cuff into his palm to get the fabric real close under your eyes to get rid of the wet mascara that had traveled there through tears.

You’d shown him the brown and black marks right after he’d done it, and he’d said he was going to get it dry-cleaned.

“Joe, what the…”

You’re holding a dirty shirt.

Had this stains not come out?

Clearly not.

You’re both looking at a dirty shirt. At old make-up stains that… well, this shirt is ruined. Your eyes quickly glance at the tag in the collar, and you wince.

That is too expensive of a brand for a shirt to be ruined like this.

This is the reason why you hadn’t seen Joe wear it again.

You’d ruined his shirt.

God, and you had even told him that next day, that next morning, that a regular cycle in a machine wash was going to get the stains out fine.

Obviously, it hadn’t.

Because you’re staring at caked blotches of bronzer and dark streaks of mascara and– ... you can feel how you shrink in on yourself, stood there, in his bedroom, with a stupidly expensive badly stained shirt he’d been hiding from you because he hadn’t been able to get it clean and–

Upon the sight of your face dropping, Joe gets out of bed, careful not to make any sudden movements.

“Um.. I’ll have that.”

Two slow hands come into vision and carefully take the hanger from your grip.

“Thanks.”

The shirt, in all its dirty glory, gets gently put back in its place, hidden behind Joe’s jackets, before Joe closes the wardrobe doors entirely.

“Sorry,” is all you can think to say, voice small, a little wobbly. “I’m sorry, I thought… I ruined your shirt. That should’ve come out in the wash. Sorry. I will– I’ll replace it. I’ll–”

“No you won’t.”

You drop both your shoulders just as Joe grabs hold of both of them. His grip is strong enough to bring you into the room a bit more.

“And don’t look at me like that. I didn’t… that’s… I’ve never washed it.”

What?

“You didn’t ruin the shirt. It’s just unwashed.”

Joe softly chuckles at your face and you get lead back to bed as you try to puzzle together what you’ve just been told. What that even means.

There had been plenty of whispered conversations, late at night chats in the dark, where Joe would reassure you that he had never hated you. The outward dislike had always been an awful way to hide how he really felt, and Joe was going to be kicking himself until the end of time for how that had always make you feel.

Joe is never going to be able to make it right, he thinks.

But he can fucking try.

“That’s…”

“Disgusting? Yes. Absolutely.”

He’ll die trying.

“Why haven’t you…”

You’re scared to finish the question because you fear you already know the answer.

“Didn’t want to. So don’t worry about it.”

You get tucked in as your worries easily get dismissed, but it’s difficult to make your confused frown disappear.

Joe sighs when you keep looking at him like that, sits down on the edge of the bed next to you and goes, “You’ll make fun of me. But... that’s the… that’s what I wore when you slept in my bed for the first time. It’s not ruined. Washing it would ruin it, actually.”

Everything about that is confusing and will take a minute or two for you to process. Now, here, in the moment, it just makes you grimace with horror, and that in and of itself makes Joe laugh. Makes his eyes twinkle as he bites into his lip, head titled back and to the side a little.

He can’t really help it.

“To be fair... you were never meant to find that. Can you not tell Poppy?”

“Okay. I won’t tell Poppy.” You easily agree.

“But you’ll tell Mark?”

“But I’ll tell Mark.”

Joe drops his head forward in a silent laugh. Of course you will tell Mark.

And, that’s fine. Because it’s a memory he’ll cherish forever, even if you were violently drunk that night, and your hair still smelt of vomit even though Mark’s mum had really done her best to rinse most of it out. You had found Joe’s bed on your own, and had pulled him in to nap with you and– ...he doesn’t think that it was the exact moment where things changed a little, but it was a moment momentous enough to want to keep a souvenir.

It’s why he never washed the dirty button down shirt that proved to him he hadn’t dreamt it up.

He’ll never tell you how he also still has the empty yoghurt carton he had found in his kitchen after you’d left the next morning.

And he’ll also ignore the weird fall out you had after when he lied to Poppy about it. That’s not part of the memory.

Only the good stuff.

Like how he’d barely slept at all.

How he’d gotten to stare at you all night long.

How he’d finally, after hours of collecting courage, had softly let one of his fingertips stroke along the skin of your arm.

How that made you hum contently in your sleep.

If he thinks about it for too long, he could easily make himself cry. Looking at you now, all relaxed into the pillows of his bed, he could make himself cry.

When Joe looks at you a little too long without saying anything, dopey grin and all, your frown only deepens.

“Shut up.”

Joe knows it was bound to be said, but it still tickles him and he lets a throaty laugh escape him before he turns faux-serious.

“Ah. It’s made a return.” Joe scans your features and talks like he’s in a film, speaking to a villain. “That face. Are you even aware of how powerful it is? Makes me feel how much my soul wants to escape my body.”

That gets a little grin out of you, and it’s cute enough for Joe to want to tell the whole entire world how much he loves you. He wonders if you know how much it pains him. How often he can feel the scratch of the words in his throat, the violent urge to just let them free ever present.

But he won’t.

You’d just told him to shut up, so he will shut up, and instead will let those three words seep out in other ways. Through his hands that wander up to your neck. Through his fingers that swipe under your jaw, tipping your head back a little so he can easily kiss you.

You happily accept his kisses, because even though you’re still adjusting to all these little changes in your truth, it all ultimately means that Joe really, really likes you.

Really, really, really likes you.

And of course you know it’s more than that to Joe.

And that he really wants to tell you already.

But he’s not allowed.

Not yet.

Which is fine. He can just kiss you. And he will. Like he’s doing right now.

Joe still can’t quite believe he’s kissing you in his bed, and he can’t believe there was ever a time where he wasn’t.

When he pulls back, still sat on the side instead of under the covers with you, he hovers over you a little. Gives you a quiet moment, just in case you want to tell him.

And you will.

With time.

But not now.

“Shut up.” you repeat, giggling now at how lovesick he looks, and Joe can’t help grin in the way that he does.

He used to reply with, “I didn’t say anything.”

Instead he says, “Okay.” and goes for another kiss when he sees your nose scrunch.

Joe knows the rule.

Won’t say it until you will.

---

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Add yourself

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Oh my God I'm such a twilight girlie you write him so good!!! Like I'm a blushing mess here giggling kicking feet the whole nine yards. Also making him thic is such a accurate power move 🤭🤤 one of these days I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the different 🍆 sizes for the links I just know it'd be glorious until then I shall devour all your writing repeatedly while imagining hot blondes (your four rut one is my absolute favorite I must confess)

Anon you flatter me!!

Hyrule: 4.9 inches. Now, before you come at me in the comments for making our fairy prince smaller than Four, hear me out: like I've said before, and continue to say, penis size is heavily affected by both genes and external factors, and even a slight discrepancy in either one can had mixed outcomes. 'But Fyre, we came here for sin, not a biology lesson!!', some of you may gripe, but I promise there's method to this madness. Ever since starting his first adventure at the ripe age of 9 or 10, Hyrule has been on constant alert because of 1) the literal cult trying to steal his blood to reincarnate a giant pig man and 2) the fact that his world is quite literally a wasteland with minimal food/tainted water/and all sorts of other nasty things. I can't even imagine the stress he was under during those frankly crucial developmental years, so it's highly likely that his body just... didn't fully develop due to a combination of him not getting enough to eat/drink and being on the run for most of his life (i.e lots of stress + probably a horrific sleep schedule). Moreover, both of these factors are what's known as endocrine disruptors, which can heavily affect mental and physical growth.

But now onto the dick-cannons: while he may not be the largest or thickest, I like to think Hyrule has a pretty good handle on what he's doing regardless*. Definitely not circumcised, considering his background (someone please tell him how to wash).

*(I once saw a headcannon that Hyrule probably used sex as a form of payment when things got tough, which I think is very underrated and absolutely true.)

Four: 5.5 inches. So I DEFINITELY did too much research on Four's, but I think y'all need to hear this. While I love the headcannon about Four's dick being 4 inches because his name is quite literally 'Four', I'm not sure anyone has tried to tackle this conundrum with his heritage in mind. Typically, penis size is influenced by parental genes, the person's own unique genes, and a combination of other external factors. For Four, we know for certain that he has Hylian parents, BUT he's also part Minish because of the events of Minish Cap. The Minish are typically described as anthropomorphic mouse people, so we can comfortably use mice as the basis for this genetic addition. Now, mice typically have a penis size of 10% of their body length (tip of nose to base of tail), which would concurrently put Four at 0.458333333 in feet, or 5.5 inches.

Dick-canons: probably circumcised. He's got the vibe of being pretty unassuming, but then he whips it out and everything suddenly makes sense. Balls* are on the bigger side (BREED), but no one's complaining.

*(Have you seen mice balls?? They're fucking [tee hee] massive. View at your own risk, but I couldn't have stopped the idea of Four like this if I tried. Yes yes I know this is a rat, but close enough!)

Wild: 5.6 inches. This one was probably the most difficult, because Wild's just... an average guy*. He doesn't have any non-Hylian transformations or crazy evolution history under his belt (tee tee), so all that really leaves is his height–which isn't a truly reliable measure of penile length, BUT we take what we can get in this blog–and background. It's somewhat implied that his father was a knight/someone who worked for the kingdom, which means he and Warriors were likely raised in very similar situations, though Wild's likely was a bit more stressful. For one, he pulled the Master Sword from its pedestal at the ripe old age of 12, and was immediately shipped off to guard Princess Zelda while she attempted to awaken her powers. While not as extreme as Hyrule's backstory, this is still a great deal of pressure for a child who arguably had a very peaceful life before finding the Master Sword, but I don't think he suffered any developmental conditions; even with the stress of finding out you're the Hero of Hyrule before you even finish puberty, it's reasonable to assume that Wild was physically cared for by the royal family, if only for the fact that his destiny was to defeat Ganon. Not just that, but there's the whole other issue of being stuck in a shrine for 100 years after dying; I'm no doctor, but that doesn't sound like favorable conditions for anyone. Obviously, the shrine heals him, but is that all it does? It's a well-known fact that water isn't good for skin**, especially considering he laid in it without moving for a century, so it's hard to imagine how his dick looked after the bath to end all baths.

Dick-canons: it glows– assuming he actually does have a penis, it's fairly average looking. Probably circumcised for military/cleanliness reasons, but he does have a very lovely vein running up the side of the shaft that always looks like it's about to pulse out of his dick. He should probably get that check out. Average sized balls, maybe a bit on the small side due to 100 years of cold water exposure.

*(I'm just going to come out and say this: all the Links are, at their core, average guys. Twilight was a goat herder. Time may or may not have been birthed by a tree and raised by tree people. Hyrule is just a simple traveler. Wind wasn't even chosen, he just wanted to save his sister. That's why they're so likable... they're not born special, or heroic, or anything. They're just dudes. Regular, selfless, boring, amazing dudes. Anyways enjoy the rest of my insanity.)

**(Is it wrinkly? Dried up? Completely and totally detached?? Laying in water for even a few days can cause severe medical complications, such as open sores, loss of skin elasticity, bacterial and fungal infections, and tissue decomposition. Cold water can temporarily slow the effects of decomposition because of adipocere formation, which is a phenomenon in which a waxy substance forms over the skin as a byproduct of fat decomposition, but not for 100 years. By this logic, Wild shouldn't be on this list because he shouldn't have a dick.)

Legend: 6 inches. Y'all already know where this is going. Unlike his successor, Legend didn't begin his first adventure until the age of 12, and lived a fairly stable life before hand thanks to his Uncle. This means that there likely wouldn't be too many developmental factors to worry about in determining the dick-cannons, so now we must turn to his rabbit-ifying encounter from his first adventure. I'm going to use the eastern cottontail rabbit (Sylvilagus floridanus) for this example because they're one of the most widely studied/available rabbit species. Now, cottontails typically reach 14-19 inches in length, but I'm going to go with 20 inches for Legend because he is CHONK, and also 20 is a lot easier to do math with. Keeping this in mind, WikiVet has informed me that rabbit penises can range from 20 to 45 mm in length. I'm going with 45 mm (4.5 inches) because he's a big boy and I also want him to have a big dick, so, when paired with the 20 inch body length, you'll find that approximately 8.86% of a rabbit's length is dick. Now that we know dick-to-body ratio, all that needs to be done is put that against Legend's height of 5'6", which leaves us with 5.8476 inches, but I added an extra 2 in to account for the fact that he is also hylian. It just feels right.

Dick-canons: Definitely a good choice if you're not sure what you want; bunny boy has many talents. Definitely has some breeder balls*, and I firmly believe he's curved just right for maximum pleasure. Probably circumcised because of his uncle, but he's secretly glad because it means he doesn't have to clean it like he would if he wasn't.

*(Yup, we're doing this again. Scientifically, rabbits have some of the highest sex drives of any animal, and are capable of breeding six hours after giving birth [WTF], which means this absolutely applies to Legend. He is never not down for a fuck.)

Sky: 6.3 inches. Prepare yourself because this one is very speculative. So, Sky was born on Skyloft, a set of islands in the sky. He was trained as a knight for most of his life and had a generally very peaceful life, so no endocrine disruptors or developmental discrepancies to worry about. Moreover, we know he started his journey at seventeen, which means he's at the tail-end of development. Now, instead of turning to some type of animal encounter, I'll turn to his Hylian heritage to answer this conundrum. I doubt there's anything out there with Skyloft's exact elevation, but it does appear to be a decent few thousand feet above the cloud barrier, which I've discovered are most likely altocumulus clouds, which typically form at an elevation between 6,000 to 20,000 feet. To calculate this, I watched a Skyward Sword gameplay video and determined that, in-game, it takes approximately 1:02.87 to reach the surface, and, assuming Sky/Link, is going at terminal velocity (the fastest an object can go while in motion, which happens to be 120 mph for belly-to-earth skydiving), this would put Skyloft at a roughly 7,544.4 foot elevation, which aligns with the altocumulus cloud prediction. There are only so many places on Earth that match such a high elevation, but I'm going to choose the Himalayas (which are inhabited by the Tibetan people, which are already known to have more capillaries and a more specialized hemoglobin function due to living in higher altitudes) as our comparer-region. Using this information, we can safely assume that Skyloftians, though fictional, who evolved in a very similar environment, may exhibit some similar traits to the modern-day Tibetan people.

While researching, I also discovered an incredibly interesting phenomenon called "airplane boners", which is a scientific occurrence where changes in pressure can cause erections (i.e. flying on a place), and decided that this would be perfect fuel for my scholarly degeneracy, which leads me to my next point: Sky has a big dick as an evolutionary response to what is colloquially known as the 'airplane boner'. Not convinced? Let me explain. When a penis is erect, arteries in the pelvic/penile region dilate to allow for greater blood flow, which thus increases the size of the penis itself. Now, imagine being at a high elevation for your whole life, surrounded by people whose ancestors have never lived anywhere else. I firmly believe that Skyloftians are well-endowed as an evolutionary response that allows the sustainment of larger blood vessels as a sort-of defense against high air pressure. Natural selection favors these traits because they ultimately lead to reproduction, which is the single-most important characteristic of evolution. 6.3 inches was a bit of an educated guess, but I believe that because the people of Skyloft evolved in a closed high-altitude ecosystem, it's entirely reasonable for Sky to be THICC because his body has a adapted to handle a greater hemoglobin factor and increased vascular capacity, likely in the penile region.

Dick-canons: due to the blood-vessel evolution, Sky's dick is likely thicker than average, with some very visible veins running up the sides; so many that it likely makes his dick appear incredibly flushed when erect. Contrary to what some of you may think, I don't think he has large balls, because it is likely more advantageous to have a smaller scrotum to combat the elements/conserve heat. So no breeder balls for him, but that doesn't mean he can't breed you just as good ;)

Twilight: 6.8 inches. I feel like this goes without saying, but he's a country boy. He's hung. Twilight grew up in Ordon, a close-knit community where everyone takes care of everyone, which means he most definitely had a very good childhood. Like some of the others, I see no reason to bring up developmental challenges due to being chased by a cult or some similar bullshit, so we're going to skip right to his transformation of a wolf at the beginning of his journey. Contrary to Legend and Four, I do not believe that this transformation affected him significantly in terms of penis appearance/size. Twilight was 17 when his adventure began, which means he already is at the end of physical development from a biological standpoint, and, in Linked Universe, his tattoos appear to be the only true physical mark on his hylian body, so it's safe to assume that we don't need to take this into consideration. Now, some of you may say: "Fyre, but your theories were so crazy for the other ones and now you're saying Twilight's hung because he's country??" Yes. Yes, I am saying that.

BUT.

There's a pretty solid theory running around that Twilight is a very small part Gerudo, due to Talon (Malon's father) having married/banged a Gerudo woman in secret. In LOZ, it's fairly obvious that the Gerudo are supposed to emulate modern-day Middle Eastern culture, which a study by the National Institute of Health states have an average penis length of 14.34, or 5.6 inches. Obviously, this is nowhere near 6.8, but this is also a race of mythical female warriors, so everything's a little skewed. However, in every iteration we see of the Gerudo, they're always tall, somewhat aggressive, and visibly muscled, which are all indicators of above-average levels of testosterone. This is highly important because, in addition to being required to build muscle mass, testosterone is heavily responsible for penis growth during puberty, meaning that Twilight could very well be the way he is because of this naturally-increased testosterone production (i.e why he's so visibly muscled compared to the other Links), plus an assumed more efficient vascular system due to his heritage. Adding on to this, Twilight likely already has booming levels of testosterone due to his very physical, very labor-intensive occupation as a rancher, plus the fact that he's in the prime of his life. In short, he's doing everything right: he eats well, works out, and has fairly decent emotional and mental health, all of which can be correlated with optimal penile development.

Dick-canons: Breeder balls to the MAX. All that extra testosterone has got to go somewhere, and it ain't his head. Fairly girthy, so prep is a necessity. Has one big vein right under the head that honest-to-god throbs when he's turned-on. Probably not circumcised because Ordon is fairly closed-off and I can't see them as being sticklers for that.

Warriors: 7 inches. While height isn't directly correlated with dick size, it is reasonable to assume that Warriors would be a bit higher on the list because of this, as well as his overall health in comparison to Hyrule and/or Legend. It's hinted that Warriors was raised in a very military-esque lifestyle, so it's not a surprise that he wouldn't have any true developmental setbacks in terns of penile length. Now, that doesn't mean we can't analyze the reasons why he's like this. Being raised in a militant environment means he was fed appropriately, participated in training regularly, and was likely taught stress-regulation habits (does he use them? no, but at least he knew them during his developmental years). Like Twilight, increased muscle mass is typically linked to elevated testosterone levels, and since Warriors has been training his whole life, it's reasonable to assume that these factors had a positive impact on his penile development. He and Twilight are very similar in this regard, except Twilight's size comes a bit more from favorable, wack genetics, though they both make sure to take care of themselves. However, Warriors is shown to be somewhat vain in Linked Universe canon (to the point that the other heroes have a running joke on it), which means it shouldn't be put past him to try more... under-the-table methods to ensue his 'perfection' reaches all aspects of his body, dick absolutely included. I'll leave it up to y'all on whether it's actual herbal/medical enhancements or sheer force of arrogance, but it's still a fun thought!

Dick-canons: Definitely circumcised (if not, definitely obsessed over keeping that shit squeaky clean). He's not as girthy as Twilight or Sky, but it'll definitely feel like he is from the way he wields it* during the deed. Doesn't have the biggest balls, but they'll definitely smack against any ass he can get his hands on.

*(There's a lot of speculation on whether Warriors is a manwhore or not, but I believe he's got experience. Definitely not in relationships, but one-night stands? Tavern hook-ups? He's done more of those than he's [un]willing to admit, but when it's someone he honestly, truly cares about? Slap a blush on him and call him a virgin, because he sure acts like it!)

Time: 7.3 inches. I saved the best for last. I want to preface this by saying that Time is HUGE, so obvious he's got to have a bitchbreaker in those britches, right? Right? Not exactly, because the version of Time we see in Linked Universe is the 'second' version; the one who got sent back in time by Zelda for Majora's Mask. This is HUGELY relevant because, honestly? Time likely took terrible care of himself over the course of Ocarina of Time, or at least somewhat neglected his needs in favor of completing his quest. Then, when he was sent back to being 12 years old in a new timeline by Zelda (Majora's Mask), you cannot convince me that he didn't have a major epiphany on how to actually take care of himself now that he was literally given another chance to get it right. He still trains, hard, but also knows his limits and, for the first time in his new life, he actually makes a point to start eating vegetables and drinking milk*, which give him all the essential nutrients to bridge the gap between surviving and living, especially during these crucial developmental years. Time genuinely makes an attempt to try. For himself, this time. And it pays off in the form of that fat-ass cock ;)

Dick-canons: a true bitchbreaker that will rail you six ways to Sunday. Not circumcised (bro was basically birthed by a tree), and definitely has breeder balls; he basically acts like he's in rut, and Twilight's got to get that trait from somewhere. Probably pretty veiny, like his hands (HNNNN), with just the slightest curve that'll have him hitting all the right spots.

*(Lon Lon milk all the way, my good readers.)

And, of course, I had to consult google:

[sunwonkism]

A love that waited

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Synopsis: After confessing at literally the worst time to Jungwon, you both made a promise to each other that in 3 years, if you still want one another, you will meet up in the same place you first met him.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Pairings: fem!reader x Jungwon

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Genre: right person, wrong time

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ wc: 2.4k

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Warnings: implied bsfs, angst, fluff, cursing, not proofread much

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ a/n: I rlly wanted to finish this for Jungwon's birthday, but it feels shitty🧍‍♀️this is inspired by this yt short from mr.spicygremlin! https://youtube.com/shorts/FXGZp_CDqj8?si=sWdKLUQUCs1K6Gsu I love her POVs and enjoy watching them!

January 29th, 2023

You were running in the airport, checking your watch every 5 minutes, trying to get to Jungwon’s gate before he got on his plane.

god, why did you only realize your feelings for him just 2 hours before he leaves for Singapore?

You stopped running to take a short break, panting to catch your breath. You checked your watch to see how much time you have left.

10:40am

His boarding closes in 10 minutes.

“Fuck” you muttered.

Where the hell is gate 12?

You saw a security guard patrolling the area and decided to ask him. “Excuse me” you tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look at you before you spoke again. “Could you tell me where gate 12 is? The person at the front desk said it’s around this area, and I’ve been looking for it for the past 30 minutes.”

He simply gestured to the hallway behind you. “Just a 10 minute walk, you’ll be able to see a big sign that says the gate number.”

You thanked the guard before sprinting in the direction he pointed at.

You didn’t even need to look for the gate number, you spotted him almost instantly. He was on his phone, wearing the bright orange hoodie he loved so much.

“Jungwon!” You shouted, running over to him.

He was getting his ticket verified when he realized he recognized the voice calling out to him. He looked up to check, only to see that it was none other than you.

“Y/n?” He asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

You stopped to stand in front of him, panting. “Sorry…could…could you give us just 5 minutes please?” You breathed out to the staff member attending to him.

“Only till the line ends.” She briefly responded, attending to the rest of the passengers while lightly pushing Jungwon so he wouldn't hold the line up. And to give you more time for whatever you needed to say to him.

You pulled Jungwon away from the line, to give you both a tiny bit of privacy.

Jungwon was the first to speak up. “So…why are you here? Don’t you have a date with Niki in like, an hou-“

“I’m in love with you.” You said as soon as you caught your breath.

He looked taken aback, you could tell he wasn’t expecting that. “What?” He asked, with confusion and shock written on his face

“I’m in love with you” you repeated. “I had to tell you before you leave. I felt bad when I just left you there after you confessed to me during our last hangout. A-and when you kissed me…I-“. You took a deep breath before continuing.

“The truth is, I was stunned when you told me that you loved me, and ran away when we kissed because I was afraid. I wanted Niki but I also wanted you. I didn’t mean to avoid you when you came to my house…I was just terrified because I wasn’t even sure what to do. I did some self reflection about it and I only realized this morning that…my love for Niki will never compare to the love I have for you. I had to tell you that while I still had the chance.” You confessed.

It was silent for a few minutes before he spoke. “Promise me something” he softly said.

“Anything” you replied, with hope in your eyes.

He held your hands in his before speaking again. “3 years from now, if you still want me. Meet me at the park where we first met at 12pm. You know, where I chased Maeumi down because he kept following you?”

You softly chuckled at the memory. “Okay, I will.”

You heard someone cough from beside you. You turned to look to see it was the staff member calling both of your attention. “Times up, you need to enter the plane now sir,” she said.

Before you can even say a word, you feel Jungwon pulling you into a tight hug.

“I will never forget you, okay? You will always hold a special place in my heart. So don’t forget about me, please.” he pleaded.

You hugged him back, equally as tight. “I could never forget about you, you’re my best friend”. You pulled away from the hug, opting to hold his hands before continuing. “And the first man I fell in love with” you finished, with a small sad smile on your face.

He was about to say something when the staff member called for his attention once again, signaling that he had to board the plane now.

He squeezed your hands before letting them go, silently hoping it won’t be the last time he’ll do it, before following the worker.

He turned around to make eye contact with you one last time, waving his hand at you. You waved back, watching him disappear into the bridge that leads to the entrance of the plane.

That was the last time you saw him.

3 years later…

You woke up to the sound of your alarm clock blaring loudly. You groaned before turning it off, laying back on your bed, already dreading the day ahead.

You were thinking how you really didn't want to go to work today when you heard your roommate, aka your best friend, scream from the other side of your door.

“Y/n wake up right now!!! Do you know what day it is??” yunjin shouted while continuously knocking on your door.

You sat up on your bed with your brows furrowed, utterly confused about what she's saying.

“Yunjin, what on earth are you talking about? It's a Saturday, and I have work?” you replied back to her while going to open the door so that she'll stop the annoying knocking on your door.

You opened your bedroom door to face yunjin before she spoke again.

“Y/n, you have absolutely no idea what today is? None at all?” She asked again with her hands on her hips.

You shook your head.

Yunjin sighed before pointing to the calendar hanging in your room. “Check the date, now.”

“Okay, geez” you mumbled. You walked over to your calendar to see a big red circle drawn around the number 29th of January, with bold letters reading “meet jungwon at the park at 2pm”.

Oh. My. God.

Today is that day?!?!?

You whipped your head around to look for a clock to see it's currently…10am?!?!?

“Shit, I knew I shouldn't have stayed up watching that tv show” you thought.

“I'm gonna be late” you muttered, before dashing to your wardrobe, picking something good to wear.

But then you remembered, you have work today.

“Noo” you whined.

“What is it?” Yunjin asked. You forgot she was still standing there.

You turned to her with a pout on your face. “I've used up all my leaves this month, if I ask for one more I might get fired.”

“Ahh” yunjin mouthed, before speaking. “Well, I know it's supposed to be MY day off today, but then I remembered your meetup with him today. So being the nice friend I am, l covered for you today. Thank me later”.

You squealed before hugging her tightly. “Oh yun thank you thank you thank you! I definitely owe you on this one.”

“Yeah yeah, don't waste anymore time or else you're going to be late.” She replied before pulling away from your hug.

“I'll be outside if you need anything” she said while walking away, leaving the room to give you privacy to change.

You looked back at your wardrobe and just decided to wear an outfit that never lets you down.

You quickly changed into the clothes and went to your vanity to fix up your appearance. Making sure you look the absolute best.

You took one last look at the mirror, making sure you look amazing before heading out of your room to put your shoes on.

“You're not gonna eat anymore?” Yunjin asked, chewing on a piece of bread as you walked past her.

“No time yun it's…” you trailed off, checking your watch.

“11am?!?, I'm so gonna be late” you said while rushing to put on your shoes.

After making sure you have everything you need, you grabbed your keys before going to the front door.

“Bye yun! I'll be going now!” You said, saying goodbye to yunjin.

“Good luck y/nie! Go get him!” You heard her reply, before closing and locking the front door.

“Thanks so much!” You said to the cab driver, giving him your payment before climbing out of the car.

You checked your watch to see it's 11:50, happy that you arrived at the park just in time. “Not bad” you thought.

As you were walking further into the park, you decided to spend the extra 10 minutes thinking about the current situation you're in.

You haven't really spoken to Jungwon in a long time. You lost contact with him when he started becoming busy because of school. When you tried texting him again, you realized he changed his number.

You're not even sure if he still remembers the promise you two made 3 years ago.

You've been having a lot of doubts about this meetup for a long time now. The only reason why you came is because you knew Jungwon is a person who hates breaking his promises.

But it doesn't mean he'll be like that forever.

What if he forgot? What if he doesn't want you anymore? What if he found someone better in Singapore? All kinds of bad thoughts raced through you as you arrived at the exact spot you first met him.

You checked your watch again. 12pm it reads.

“Right on time” you murmured.

Right now all you could do was wait.

This could go two ways. 1, he shows up and you two get your happy ending. Or 2, he doesn't show up, and you just wasted your time waiting for him.

Or 3, he shows up, solely just to let you know he doesn't want you anymore because he can't text it to you.

But from what's happening right now, you think number 2 is currently happening.

It's been 10 minutes since you started waiting for him. You were currently sitting on a nearby bench because your legs started hurting from standing too long.

You wondered if Jungwon got the place wrong, but you knew he couldn't. Or were you just in denial?

20 minutes passed by and he still hasn't showed up. You felt tears well up in your eyes. He forgot, or found someone long ago and couldn't care to tell you.

Just when you're about to get up and leave, thinking you wasted a whole 2 hours rushing over here and yunjin’s day off. Someone stepped in front of you and spoke.

“Am I late?” The person panted, sounding really out of breath.

You looked up to see who the person was, only to see the same man you've been waiting for 20 minutes (and 3 years) for.

He no longer had the dark brown hair you loved to run your fingers through. Now he had platinum blonde hair, which suited him really well.

You always told him how you thought he'd look good in blonde hair before he left.

“Jungwon” you whispered. “You showed up”. You were in utter disbelief that the man you loved and waited for so long is currently standing right in front of you. You felt like crying.

You hadn't realized a tear fell from your eye until Jungwon wiped it for you.

“Shh” he whispered. “It's okay, I'm here now” he said, before pulling you into a tight hug.

As you hugged him back, you let the dam break. Tears were flowing freely from your eyes. You were full on sobbing against his chest, soaking his shirt.

You two were like that for a few minutes before speaking.

“I..I th-thought you for…forgot” you said in between sniffles.

Jungwon pulled away to wipe your years. “I thought you knew I don't break my promises. Did you already forget?” He asked with a sad, but warm smile.

“I just thought…maybe you found someone else…I haven't spoken to you in months…it's hard not to doubt you know?” You mumbled, but clear enough for Jungwon to understand you.

Jungwon held your hands in his, something he deeply missed doing before speaking again.

“Don't you remember what I promised you pretty? ‘If you still want me. Meet me at the park where we first met’, that's what I said, didn't I?”

“I already decided it's you who I wanted 3 years ago. But I didn't want to start our relationship with long distance. And I wasn't sure if you really loved me or if you just said it out of the blue you know..” he trailed off.

He went back to caressing your cheeks with both of his hands.

“Thank you for choosing me. You have absolutely no idea how much I was stressing over today.” He said with a happy grin on his face.

You laughed before responding. “You have no idea how much I worried over this meet up too.” You said with a soft smile. “I have so many things I want to tell you. You missed out on so much stuff while you were away.”

He took one of your hands in his, swinging it around. He was slightly dragging you, signaling you to come along. “Oh yeah? How about you tell me over lunch? Where do you want to eat?” He asked.

You smiled, walking after him. “Sure, I heard there's a popular restaurant just 2 blocks away from here…”.

Divider: @toastray

[sleepdeprivedandoverthinking]

Remember, these two photos are of the same person

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Well, at least Fukuzawa got his wish granted, I guess.... he's finally inside Fukuchi <3

[memento-morri-writes]

This is far from my best work, but it's 1:30am, and I needed to get this down before I slept or lost my mind. So here, take a snippet of Rook seeing Zara again for the first time in 3 years.

Trying, and failing, to keep his voice from shaking, [Rook] said “Hello, Captain.” Mouth still open in surprise, [Zara] replied “Well, hello yourself.” The reality of what she was seeing seemed to hit her as she rounded the desk. “Rook, is that really you?” He nodded. “It’s me.” Zara ran towards him, stopping just short of touching him, and said “What did she do to you?” Rook’s heart stuttered and he had to brush his fingers together to confirm Sigmar’s ring was still in place. Could she possibly see through its illusion? But then he remembered what Lanny had said. She knew where you were. His throat clenched and he choked out “Two years.” A wave of grief swept across Zara’s face as she said “I’m so, so sorry.” Rook shook his head vigorously. “It’s not your fault.” Zara ignored him. “It is my fault. I failed you. As your captain, it’s my responsibility to keep you safe, and I failed you.” Rook wanted to say something, to reassure her, but she pushed on. “She sent me letters, told me all the terrible things she was doing to you. I… I let you down.” Those words hit Rook with the force of a dozen cannonballs. Lanny had said that Zara knew Wolf had him, but knowing that Zara had been aware of what Wolf was doing to him… somehow that was more painful than any wound Wolf had ever inflicted. He barely managed to force his next words out around the lump in his throat. “Where were you?” And why didn’t you come? “She said she’d kill you if I came to get you. Or if I hired anyone to get you. You’re standing here because I stopped sailing.” 

(honorary one-time tag for @space-writes bc I remember you enjoyed my other bits about Rook and Zara.)

[fleshdyk3]

god i fucking hate my dad

[orcelito]

Ykno the suckiest thing about being broken up with for someone else is that like. Well I'm doing generally fine, all things considered, but I Am kinda sad thinking about the things I've lost and all the casual affection that I can't have now.

But she's out there having all the affection she wants from her coworker, and it's just like. Damn this feels so skewed and SO unfair.

[poisonouspastels]

@beegswaz genuinely i think my favorite tags on any of my work ever. i fucking love when people talk abt my characters like this

[zemnarihah]

my best friend has been very distant w me lately and i asked today if she wanted to hang out and she said she probably couldn't bc it's her brothers birthday but she would let me know if she could and i have her location and i just looked and she's at her boyfriends house rn....