#just use them fun little words we all love so much and ASK THEM

[totalswag]

Hey girl so I was wanting more dad drew and I was wondering if you could do something like where Tatum is like a teenager and her personality is a lot like her moms which causes them to buttheads sometimes, and in one argument Tatum says some hurtful thing to her mom making her mom cry so drew had to have a talk with her. You can add Leo to idk I was just kinda thinking but besides the point I love your work and I think your amazing keep up the great work girl love ya

teen tension ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note stop i miss writing dad!drew, one of my favorites. tatum as a teenager is a mixture of both parents. thank you so much for the kind words it really means a lot. happy new year everyone, i hope you all had a fun and safe night <3

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summary tatum, your oldest, says a few hurtful words to you that make you cry. drew has a conversation with tatum about what she did to you.

warning(s) arguments, crying, child + parent arguing.

Tatum is very much like you when you were a teenager. Moments during the week where you two buttheads about certain things that are typical for a mom and daughters to "argue" about.

However, tonight took a turn for the worse. Everyone was sitting at the dinner table finishing up dinner. It had been a long day at work for Drew and you been home cleaning the house.

Leo was talking about how his day went—recently, Leo, has gotten into basketball and wanted to try out for the school. Drew and you were excited to hear the news and encouraged Leo to try out.

"Tatum, could you kindly get off your phone? "Your brother is talking," you say aloud, attracting her attention as you point to Leo, who has stopped talking.

Tatum rolls her eyes and sets her phone on the table beside her dish. "You can put it on the counter please."

"Why can't I leave it next to me?" She gives you an attitude, "We are sitting at the dinner table eating, and none of us have our phones next to us," your tone remains casual but firm.

"Leo can still talk and I won't be on my phone" crossing her arms over her chest, not bothering to move her phone from the table.

Before Tatum can finish speaking, Drew cuts her off with a clear and serious voice and says, "Tatum, watch your tone and listen to your mom." 

Tatum groans loudly, pushes her chair out, picks up her phone, walks to the kitchen, and puts it down after rolling her eyes in frustration.

"There look you happy mom?" Tatum mumbles "so dumb" under her breath as she emphasizes with her palms raised.

You hear her say, "It's not stupid, Tatum." We've had this regulation in place for a very long time, so I don't see why everyone is acting this way—" Tatum slams her hand on the table and interrupts you in the middle of your statement. 

"Please, Mom, just shut up already. I'm tired of you being irritating these past few days—" "Tatum Ann Starkey you will not speak to your mom like that, ever!" Drew abruptly interrupts her, throwing his fist on the table, causing everyone to jump. He gestures for her to "go up to your room now," and Tatum gives him a terrified face.

The corners of your eyes well up with tears. Leo comes running to you and gives you utter comfort. You are wondering why Tatum has suddenly started acting this way.

Leo hugs you close to him and says in your ear, "You are the best mom ever, mom. You did nothing wrong."

"Thank you baby."

"Leo, while I comfort your mother, could you please return the little condiments to their proper places? "Thank you, buddy," Drew says to Leo, who nods and follows instructions.

"Are you okay baby?" Drew asks, crouching down and placing both hands on your knees, looking at you with concern. 

"I'm fine, just confused as to why she's acting this way towards me," you say gently, sniffling.

Drew and you begin discussing what has just occurred. Drew was not pleased with Tatum's actions toward you, her mother. You do so lot for this family, and Tatum does not need to vent her frustration on you.

Drew soothed you in every manner conceivable, making you feel more at peace about yourself—he's the best thing that has ever happened to you. The sound of his words made you relax, and tears streamed down your cheeks.

"I'm gonna have a talk with her upstairs," he pauses, "I love you."

You give him a soft smile, pulling the front strained away from your face—leaning forward in your chair, thinking what just happened. So many thoughts running through your head.

Drew knocked on Tatum's bedroom door, and you knew he was going to give her a big lecture on how to communicate with your parents. You've discussed this with both of your children numerous times.

Leo walks into the living room with a bowl of ice cream for himself and you—he's always been a momma's boy. Leo brings you the bowl and takes a seat next to you on the couch. "Thank you, Leo," you say, throwing your free arm around him and drawing him into a side embrace. 

"Of course mom, I love you."

After five minutes, Tatum and Drew come downstairs. Drew muttered something to Tatum before elbowing her toward you. Leo moves from the couch to wherever Drew is in the home.

As she settles on the couch beside you, Tatum sighs—crisscross apple sauce. "Mom I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you at the dinner table," she says after a little pause. "I shouldn't spoken to you like that."

You take in Tatum's words, "I forgive you, Tatum. What you said to me really hurt," Tatum lets a tear fall from her cheek, "be cautious with your words, darling, I love you," taking her in for a loving, lengthy hug.

You and Tatum unwind in each other's arms while letting the tears flow. Tatum reiterated the same words to you: "I love you, mom, and I apologize." Regardless of how you argue, you will always adore your children.

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[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hiii :D would u be willing to make a 2012 leo x fem reader where reader is very dense to leo's obvious crush on her? And everyone else knows it and tries to be his wingman but reader just doesn't get it until he spells it out for her? Ofc if u don't want to you can ignore! I love your work xoxo 💕

We Just Have To Set The Mood (Fluff)

2012!Leonardo x reader

A/N: Finally got around to do this one! I decided to have a little fun and write it from the other’s perspective, just to try something a little different. I had a hard time doing it so Leo actually spelled it out to the reader, so I decided to focus on the wingman aspect of your request. I started to get a little bit of a writer's block towards the end, but I really wanted to get this finished for you💙 Hope you’ll enjoy anyway💙

Warnings: None💙

“Is she blind or something?”, Raph whispered in utter disbelief, watching you and Leo on the couch from his and Donnie’s hiding spot behind a pillar, their eyes following the movements of the two of you as you casually talked. Well, you at least seemed casual. Leo on the other hand looked like a love lost puppy, with practically bright pink hearts for eyes and a dreamy smile smeared over his face, as he listened to you talk. “I mean, look at him. He follows her around like a lost puppy! How has she not noticed?!”

“It’s (Y/N) we’re talking about, Raph”, Donnie reminded his brother. “This is the same girl that literally has been oblivious to Leo’s crush for years now. Have you forgotten the time Leo thought he had asked her out on a date, but then she brought April along, thinking it was a casual get together?”

“Don’t remind me”, Raph mumbled. “He was a sighing mess for two weeks, and he really wanted me to ask about it”.

“Did you ask him about it?”, Donnie questioned, raising a brow muscle.

“Of course not”, Raph said, neither he nor Donnie noticing the orange clad bundle of joy, silently making his way to his brothers from behind. “If I ask about it once, he will expect me to ask about it again another day”.

“What are we talking about?”, Mikey’s voice suddenly sounded behind the two brothers, causing them to do a little jump in surprise. So much for being a ninja, and you can’t even hear your little brother casually walking up behind you.

“Leo and (Y/N)”, Donnie said, sparing Raph from the madness. “They are talking, but (Y/N) is still as oblivious as always”.

“You’re joking”, Mikey said in disbelief, peeking out from his brothers’ hiding spot, to see the scene unfolding on the couch. He could practically hear Leo’s heart beat in his chest as you spoke, his hands fiddling with themselves in an effort to keep himself calm. Damn, he was struck hard.

“How long have they been sitting there?”, Mikey asked.

“An hour or two”, Raph answered. “And nothing has happened, other than Leo looking like an absolute fool”.

“We have to do something”, Mikey said, suddenly sounding like a man on a mission, making Raph’s eyes widen in fear for what his little brother may have had in mind. Donnie on the other hand just seemed sceptical.

“There’s not much we can do”, Donnie said, placing his hands on his hips. “Leo has specifically asked us not to let (Y/N) know, and so far he doesn’t seem like he’s ready to tell her”.

“Nobody has to tell anybody anything”, Mikey smiled, already having an idea in mind. “We just have to set the mood”.

“And how are we supposed to do that?”, Raph asked, crossing his arms, seeming not the least bit convinced by Mikey’s words. “We live in a sewer, for crying out loud”.

With a smile Mikey turned to his brother in red, before wiggling his brow muscles. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way”, was all he said, before slipping out of his brothers’ hiding spot, making his way across the room, heading straight for the kitchen.

Watching in confusion and curiosity, Donnie and Raph’s eyes followed Mikey as he made his way through the living area, past you and Leo. You, only seeming lightly aware of Mikey’s presence in the room, and Leo focused on nothing else but you.

It didn’t take long before Mikey came back from the kitchen, with a pack of chocolate in his hand. With a small skip in his step, Mikey made his way towards the couch, before taking a seat next to Leo on the opposite side of you, causing the older turtle to shoot him an annoyed look. The last thing Leo wanted right now, was for his brothers to ruin what small moments he got to spend alone with you.

“So”, Mikey said, opening the pack of chocolate in his hands. “How are you two doing today?” Out of the corner of his eye, Mikey could see both Raph and Donnie facepalm. But they did not know what Mikey had planned, and therefore Mikey was comfortable in his actions.

“We’re good, Mikey”, you smiled, not noticing the daggers Leo was staring at his youngest brother. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m good”, Mikey smiled, holding up the chocolate. “Just about to enjoy myself a treat”.

“Mikey”, Leo suddenly said, almost in a warning tone, trying to find a reason to get Mikey away from the main living area, so he could be alone with you again. “Didn’t you have that thing to do in your room?”

“What thing?”, Mikey asked, acting like he had no clue what Leo was talking about. But he knew exactly what Leo was trying to do.

“That thing you talked about earlier today”, Leo said, giving his brother a warning look.

“Oh!”, Mikey suddenly exclaimed, acting like Leo had reminded him of something. “You’re right! That thing!”

Mikey quickly got up from the couch, before springing towards his room, and the pillar Raph and Donnie still stood hiding behind. You and Leo giggled at each other, when you saw that Mikey had left his chocolate behind, however neither of you seemed to notice how the orange clad turtle still had the TV remote in his hand as he left.

“How is that going to set the mood?”, Raph whispered in a harsh voice, wondering if Mikey had lost his mind.

“Have faith in me brotha”, Mikey said, dingling the TV remote in front of his face. “I know what I’m doing”.

Frowning with confusion, Donnie and Raph watched as Mikey made his way over to the light switch, before turning it off. That caused a small startled sound from you, followed by small laughs from both you and Leo, saying something along the lines of it probably just behind his brothers pulling a prank of sorts. Much to both Raph and Donnie’s surprise, Leo suddenly seemed much less nervous, his laugh actually sounding somewhat confident.

With a big smile plastered over his face, Mikey made his way back to the pillar, giving his brothers a wink. “Now watch this”. With the TV remote in hand, Mikey pressed the on button, then sudden light from the TV filled you and Leo’s field of view, causing the two of you to jump in surprise, followed by the two of you laughing once more from your sudden shock.

“Now”, Mikey said, crossing his arms. “We just let the magic play out”.

“What magic?”, Raph asked, still not convinced.

“I think he’s talking about that magic”, Donnie said, pointing to you and Leo who had scooted closer to each other, so you had an easier time sharing the chocolate.

“I don’t believe it”, Raph mumbled, mouth open in disbelief, as you suddenly, for once looked at Leo with a hint of what he had been looking at you with.

“What is playing anyway?”, Donnie asked, honestly impressed with what he saw.

“Just that romantic series everyone is talking about”, Mikey said. “There’s a marathon tonight, so those two will have plenty of time to figure things out”.

“B- but”, Raph stammered, still not truly able to believe what was going on. “How did you know it would work? How did you know that was playing tonight?”

Mikey shrugged his shoulders with a small smile. “I got my secrets”.

“Secrets my shell”, Raph snarred. “How did you know?”

“Guys…”, Donnie said, trying to get his brothers’ attention so they could see how the scene on the couch was evolving.

“I can’t tell you all of my secrets”, Mikey said with a shrug, enjoying how it seemed to annoy Raph.

“You little-”.

“Guys!”, Donnie whispered more harshly, finally gaining the arguing turtles attention. “Look!”, he said, pointing towards you and Leo, who now sat on the couch with your arms loosely draped around each other, and your lips connected in a soft and sweet kiss.

Raph blinked at the sight, before turning to look at Mikey, who stood with a big smile. “I told you we just had to set the mood”. 

[iamgonnagetyouback]

kisses on cheeks and protective remus

dad!remus lupin x mom!reader where your daughter kisses a boy (on the cheek) and remus is not a fan of it to say the least

↬ word count : 738 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : excessive panicked dad energy, reader laughing way too much at her husband’s expense ♡

↬ au part? : coming soon·········

↬ author's note : this is your official reminder to laugh at funny boys, not kiss them. unless it’s remus.

ps. the pictures above in no way depict the characters mentioned in this fic—they’re just here for ✨vibes✨. please use your imagination to bring them to life! love you all <3

pps. i originally scheduled this post for 5 jan, but somehow ended up setting it for 5 feb instead. hehe oops. 🙈

navigation┆remus lupin masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

The sound of the front door creaking open was followed by the unmistakable pitter-patter of little feet. You smiled to yourself, folding the last of the laundry on the couch. Moments later, your five-year-old daughter, Ella, burst into the living room, her curls bouncing as she carried her backpack like it weighed a hundred pounds.

“Mommy! Daddy!” she chirped, her face lighting up with excitement. She flung her backpack near the door (though not quite in its proper spot, as usual).

Remus stepped into the room, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “There’s my little dove,” he said warmly, crouching down to scoop her up. “How was school today, sweetheart?”

Ella giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It was soooo fun! We did painting, and I made a butterfly! Oh, and guess what?”

Remus kissed her cheek, smiling. “What, little dove?”

“I kissed a boy today! On the cheek!” Ella declared proudly, her eyes sparkling.

You had to bite back your laughter as you watched Remus freeze mid-crouch. His face twisted into pure disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“You—you what?” he sputtered, standing up straight so fast he nearly lost his balance. Ella clung to him, giggling, while he turned to you, wide-eyed. “Dove, did you hear that?! She kissed a boy!”

“I heard,” you said, laughing softly. “She’s starting young.”

Remus didn’t seem to share your amusement. He looked back at Ella, his voice full of panic. “Why? Why did you kiss a boy?”

Ella tilted her head, her expression puzzled. “Because I like him, Daddy. He’s funny.”

“Funny?” Remus repeated, his tone incredulous. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, “Funny. Funny.” Then, looking back at her with mock seriousness, he said, “Ella, honey, if he’s funny, you laugh! You don’t kiss him!”

Ella blinked at him, clearly not understanding why this was such a big deal. “But you kiss Mommy, and she’s funny.”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh as Remus whipped around to look at you, his face betraying a mix of indignation and panic. “Dove! Don’t laugh; this is serious!”

“Is it?” you teased, walking over to him. “She’s got a point, you know.”

“She does not have a point,” he countered, before turning back to Ella. “Sweetheart, who’s this boy?”

“Tommy,” Ella said with a dreamy little sigh. “He’s my bestest friend. He made me laugh so hard today that juice came out of my nose!”

Remus groaned, pressing a hand to his face. “Tommy,” he muttered, as if the name itself was offensive. “What kind of name is Tommy anyway? Sounds like the name of someone who runs into walls.”

Ella gasped, her tiny hands on her hips. “Daddy! He’s nice!”

“I’m sure he’s nice,” Remus replied, crouching again to look her in the eye. “But darling, you’re too young to be kissing boys. No more kissing boys, okay?”

“But why?” Ella whined, pouting. “You kiss Mommy, and I don’t see what’s wrong.”

“Because I married Mommy!” he said, exasperated. “And because Mommy is—well, she’s—” He paused, looking at you helplessly. “Dove, help me out here.”

“Because I’m Mommy,” you supplied, grinning. “That’s the best reason there is.”

Ella tilted her head thoughtfully, then asked, “So if I marry Tommy, can I kiss him?”

“Absolutely not!” Remus said, his voice cracking. “You’re not marrying anyone for the next fifty years.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh, pulling both your husband and daughter into a hug. “Remus, she’s five. It was just a kiss on the cheek.”

“That’s how it starts!” he argued, his arms instinctively wrapping around you and Ella protectively. “First it’s a kiss on the cheek, and then suddenly they’re eloping to Paris. Not on my watch.”

Ella giggled and kissed his cheek. “You’re silly, Daddy.”

Remus sighed dramatically but kissed her back. “Only for you, little dove. But promise me—no more kissing boys without asking me first, alright?”

“Okay,” Ella said sweetly, though the mischievous glint in her eye made you suspect this wouldn’t be the last you’d hear of Tommy.

“Come on,” you said, ruffling her curls. “Let’s get you a snack.”

As you led Ella toward the kitchen, you glanced back at Remus, who was still crouched on the floor, muttering to himself, “Tommy. Tommy. Sounds like the name of a kid who eats dirt. He should eat dirt. Defiling my little dove.”

[elixirfromthestars]

A Snow Day With You

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (college au)

Summary: The end of the semester has you stressing beyond belief, so Bucky decides to cheer you up by spending a snowy afternoon sledding.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> sledding isn't as fun as when we were kids

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Ray @whatever-lmaoo ♡♡ Your comments on my first fic of these two have forever carved a home in my heart, so this one is for you ♡ I hope this fluffy piece can bring you a bit of happiness whenever college gets stressful ♡ This is a standalone fic, but everyone is welcome to read more of their story!₊˚⊹☆ Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

where their love story began ♡ || fluffy winter fics masterlist ❆

“Babe, we're going to get hypothermia,” you grumble out, hugging your coat closer to your body. The frosty wind shoving past your face, chilling you to the bone. Bucky plops the wooden toboggan onto the snow, laughing in disbelief at your assertion, “Sweetheart, we’re not getting hypothermia.” He’s not wrong as he says this, since apart from the wind, the weather was tolerable. Last night’s snowstorm ended this morning, leaving behind ten inches of snow. Enough for a multitude of winter activities—like sledding—to be possible. 

“Maybe not, but one of us will break a bone,” you retort, watching in growing concern as other people slide down the snowy hill and end up tumbling out of their sleds when they reach the bottom. Bucky follows your line of sight and playfully rolls his eyes, “No one is going to break a bone, Y/n.” He goes to adjust your scarf, the indigo fabric a little too loose for his liking. Up close he can see the look in your eye, the one that tells him you’re not done trying to back out of this just yet. 

“Maybe you won’t, but I might. I’m not athletic enough to go sledding.”

“Baby, you don’t have to be athletic to go sledding.”

The more you speak the more Bucky’s amusement grows, but he tries not to show it too much as he sees the underlying nervousness dancing in your eyes. He finishes fixing your scarf and you plant a soft kiss on his cheek as a thank you. He smiles at you fondly, noticing your grumpy mood subside slightly. He doesn’t take your mood to heart, knowing the real reason you haven’t been feeling the best lately is because of one thing and one thing only. 

Finals.

More specifically, final grades—or the lack thereof. Most of your professors haven’t submitted them yet, leaving you in a state of limbo unsure of whether you managed to save the semester or not. 

Bucky has been your rock throughout finals season. Supporting you with extra study sessions, holding you close to soothe your frustration when it got the better of you, kissing all your tears away, and on those days you needed a break, he would put on your favorite comfort show and order takeout from your favorite restaurant. He did anything and everything he could to make you feel better. 

These last few days, however, all of that wasn’t enough to shake away the dread that insisted on making a home in your heart. Bucky knew he needed to do something different to cheer you up and get your mind off of things. After seeing how the snow had piled up overnight, he was either going to ask you to build a snowman or go sledding.

Your boyfriend—captain of your university’s baseball team—naturally chose sledding. 

“Just trust me, okay? I’ll hold you tight and make sure nothing happens to you,” Bucky promises as he makes his way over to the sled. He sits down on the end of it, his left hand gently outstretching to grab onto yours. Your gaze locks with his, your trepidation melting away the more you look into his eyes. There’s something about the snow all around him that makes his eyes a little more blue and it pulls you in with the assurance of safety. You nod, taking hold of his hand and letting him guide you to the front of the sled—slowly pulling you down to sit in front of him. 

He instructs you on everything you need to know to keep yourself stable and inside at all times. You’re not entirely paying attention as you focus more on the way he scoots forward and presses your back against his chest. His arms are on either side of you, encasing you in a protective embrace. You lean into it, letting the steadiness of his presence soothe the remaining unease in your body. 

“I’ll countdown from five and then I’ll push off, okay?” he mentions kindly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he awaits your response. You watch as others go down the snowy hill without a care in the world. Children and adults alike coasting down on sleds and pool floats, merriment written on their faces and echoing in their laughs. It helps subdue the butterflies in your stomach somewhat. 

At your silence, Bucky presses a comforting kiss to your cheek, the coldness of his lips bringing you back to him. You look over your shoulder to give him a reassuring smile, “Okay, but don’t you dare let me go, Bucky Barnes.” You warn playfully, feeling the way his chest rumbles with a laugh before he replies, “I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” 

He pulls you tighter against his chest as your hands grasp onto the steering rope. He starts the countdown from five gradually inching the sled to the edge of the peak. When the countdown ends, you feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter intensely as the descent begins. Your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes close tightly the entire way down. While a shriek of adrenaline escapes you, Bucky chortles the entire time as he’s having the time of his life. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Bucky poses the question when you reach the bottom, a boyish grin on his face. Your eyes open when you look behind you, noticing the way the apples of his cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold, his hair blown across his forehead, and yet the sparkle in his pretty blues unaffected by the chill. You’re reminded then and there that you’d do anything for him. Even sliding down the hill a million times if it meant keeping that joy on his face. 

“I think I left my stomach at the top of the hill, but apart from that—it wasn’t so bad,” you concede, your smile matching his. He hums in amusement, “We should probably go get it then. Shouldn’t we?” You know he’s really asking you if you two could go down the hill again, and there’s no way you would ever be able to say no, so you nod—knowing you would follow him anywhere. 

The second time you go down the hill you keep your eyes open. Marveling at the sight of the snowy trees blurring into one. By the third time, you're laughing along with Bucky and by the fourth you have the same sparkle in your eyes—enjoying the rush of the fall. And by the fifth, the stress of finals is long forgotten and Bucky feels an overwhelming sense of pride knowing he was able to lift that weight off your shoulders. 

On your last descent, things don’t go as smoothly as the other times. Halfway down the hill, the sled bumps into a large rock hidden beneath the layers of snow. You barely have time to register when Bucky yells your name, as the sled derails from its path—your stomach flipping along with the sled. 

You end up tumbling a few feet down the hill. Bucky holds you like a lifeline to his body as you land in the blanket of snow. You’re disoriented for a moment, but Bucky lifts himself to his knees in an instant, hovering above you to scan you from head to toe for any injuries. The worry etched into his features tugging at your heartstrings. 

“Y/n, are you okay? Sweetheart, please tell me you’re not hurt. Do I need to—” The fit of giggles that erupt from you cuts off his distressed rambling, a bewildered expression replacing his concern. Instead of telling him you’re alright, you decide to show him. Your hands reach out to grasp the edges of his coat and pull him down for a kiss. He melts into it faster than ice does, a cheesy smile replacing his frown. 

“I think that’s enough sledding for today,” you mumble into the kiss. He nods, agreeing wholeheartedly as he deepens it, “Mm, I second that. I can think of other ways we can spend the rest of the day,” his tone drips with suggestion, his eyes glimmering with playful mischief. You slap at his chest lightheartedly, which only elicits a deep chuckle from him before he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

No matter what comes next, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be on a snowy day than with him.

[katzkinder]

@ky-kyu you asked about gluttony pair and it got kinda long so I decided to make it a separate post for the sake of people's dashboards. Also, I have another post here!

But I have more thoughts on them thanks to this page Yarra shared earlier, and many more besides, but I'll stick to this scene because otherwise this will really turn into a monster.

the wording nicco uses in the right panel is pretty moving, especially in relation to gluttony, at least in my opinion, and these scene between them is what really made me fall in love with these two as characters who were, quite literally, made for one another.

Basically, it's about how the opposite of Gluttony is a banquet.

Having so much excess and sharing it with others, allowing someone to fill their plate without worry because you know you have more, and how that relates to Nicco being the Eve who has an entire group of people surrounding him at all times, something which makes him unique as far as the main cast go because he's always being supported. The other Eves don't really have like... An entire group of human characters they're close with the way Nicco does.

A banquet without guests will simply rot and go to waste. Nicco, being a mafia boss, brings all those guests with him and allows them to partake of what he has to offer.

Food tastes the best when you share it with someone you love, and your joy is multiplied through their own. The joy of a shared meal cannot be understated. Even terrible food becomes fun when you have someone to laugh about it with. Even failure becomes tolerable when you share it.

And it's just. One of the first moments of big characterization we get from Ildio when we see his past is that he is a man who shares what little he has, even though he acknowledges that he has earned it, and the little slave girl has not. Even that far back, when his only desires went as far as an animal understanding of life, he was someone who could have, and probably did, draw in others around him for that unthinking kindness, so I really love how Nicco handles his problems. Because they actually share a similar fault

Both of them will attempt to take on too much for themselves to bear, and yet they can't help it. To defend the weak is what they feel they must do.

Gluttons for punishment, as it goes

And yet...

To be able to share the pain and the joys, to have a feast with one another with life as the centerpiece…

I think it's just… Extremely beautiful, the way their love for their fellow man is able to express itself

And I think it's even more beautiful, the way that even when being beat to a pulp, Nicco takes the time to look and see and experience the pain Ildio doesn't even realize he's holding onto

He doesn't let Inner Gluttony distract him. He doesn't entertain the demon attempting, however poorly, to shelter Ildio's heart by putting the blinders on. He speaks to him as an equal. As a friend. As someone who is worth listening to, and cherishing. He helps Ildio to face his grief.

He gives Ildio the same love he would give to any friend. Bite by bite, tear by tear, Nicco shares the burden Ildio tried to be Atlas about.

The song Nicco sings while they dance with the people they've loved and lost is Ciuri Ciuri. It's a Sicilian folksong, whose title means "Flowers, Flowers"

The verse Strike has carefully written out on the page translates to "Flowers flowers, flowers all the year. The love you gave me, I give you back"

And the love Nicco gives to Ildio...

Ildio will give back to him.

[blitz0hno]

Let's be real. Realistically, every time we see Mikoto it might as well be a different alter.

Does that make for an easy-to-follow narrative? No. Is it what the authors intended? Not likely, but also this is a game all based around perception and life experiences.

"Mikoto" and "John" as we know them are functionally made up by the audience (and thus Es) for narrative flow. Just like how ppl w DID irl are generally assumed to be "themselves," as in their body's name/main identity. Whether you're singlet or plural, the "you" in someone else's mind is a tiny piece even to your closest people. They see you through a special lens all their own, and these interpretations reveal more about the viewer than anything (not that that is a "bad" thing; it just is). Every individual consciousness is a different lens. You really can't know shit about any system unless you ask within the system, even w alters in your own brain. Mikoto hasn't had enough time to process his different parts yet, so it's wholly ambiguous.

Oblivious as we are, we've noticed a bit of friction surrounding how people view Kayanosys and tbh it makes us kinda sad; but the subject matter is touchy, so it's understandable. In my humble opinion, while they give us many clues as to "who's who," it's all still purely hypothetical. And it's fun to guess and theorize and even make shit up! You wouldn't do it to a real system but Milgram is not real; all respectful interpretations of 09 are valid in my book.

Personally I like the idea that he has more alters than just who we see, and I like interpretations of Mikoto/John/Kataboku as their own people. I also like completely ambiguous interpretations, and everything in-between bc if we wanna be Really Realistic, there's no end to the possibilities whatsoever, especially with as little info as we have so far.

This makes writing him So Difficult for me, but it only adds all the more layers to why I love these characters so much. I am so so sick of being a system sometimes, but it's a complex worldview that few experience and even fewer fully grasp. Plurality deserves to be talked about openly and with patience, and I couldn't be happier that Milgram even dares talk about them to such a large audience.

The reasons to talk about these things, after all, won't go away even if we do stop talking about them. I'm not gonna say "it all happens for a reason," but we certainly have words to describe such experiences for many reasons. I feel like we all need to stop being afraid of not fully understanding things. I certainly don't understand a lot, but I understand a small handful of things that many do not. Sharing helps us understand more, even if we miss the mark sometimes.

Idk. I love Mikoto and I love our little mikotoverse on tumblr dot com, that is all.

[blossoms-phan]

✨philm club✨ rewatch - october 19th, 2015

liveshow - notes/thought yaps under the cut!

i love how they’re explaining how they do their individual liveshows to each other like im not saying they were just sat in the other room twice a week watching the other persons liveshow but like surely you have some idea of how it usually goes lmao

“im quite mellow today we’ve been in a car for a while” phil does seem like he has more mellow/chill energy in this one i imagine they were tired but also so go go go at this point resting for a second would only slow them down more

6 year friendiversary and dinof anniversary! It's so insane to me that it was only 6 years atp like this dnp was not too long after i became obsessed with them and i blinked and now its 15 years

dan “reassess your lives” and phil “i think you should be thanking them”- i think this is fascinating and ties into how today dan still automatically goes “im so sorry” when people say i've been watching you for x years and it makes us all want to shake him by the shoulders and say don't apologize silly man!!!!!!!!! take the compliment we mean it with love!!!!!!

dan exposing his ass to audience in leeds and years later during wad great stuff 

phil smacking his head on stage wow some things really don't change 

“calm down” in a silly voice from dan always reminds me of the cLaM dOWN airplane northern voice live clip 

i haven’t rewatched a liveshow in so long so much hair adjusting 

they sound so british sometimes 

“dan do you know what yaoi is” this is so funny to me you are asking the poster boy for yaoi day in 2024

looking at pics of p!atd on tumblr COME BACK TO ME TUMBLRINAA they r right btw i love pretty odd 

“dan choke me with your legs” why r u reading that. whore. see in 2015 knowing that a literal child probably said this its kinda cringe but also me with sister daniel and like all the Thigh in general these days so who am i to speak

“i like being remembered because that doesnt happen often with the celebrity folks”  :( this is sweet i know this time was A Lot and in general the radio stuff wasn't for them in the end and they appreciate that it was cool and fun but dan also mentioned how it was annoying to just be brushed off or being in a position where you're just forced to chase after all these big named people that dgaf about you but its just nice to see they noticed when they were remembered and the 1975 mention i could write an essay about 2018 dan and the album abiior

phil stopped the bus for fish and chips hehe i literally had fish and chips today this is cray. i hope they actually had them for dinner this day i would love to have a parasocial fish and chip night with them

you are pal creators :’) 

editing tips mention they are so unserious 

i am so emotionally attached to the london apartment but referring to it as “the house” when they have an actual House now is really getting to me 

aww talking about tabinof :’( i cant remember if i've talked about this before but there was hugee “drama” back in the day when it was first announced of people accusing them of selling out or some dumb shit when this wasn't another copycat youtuber ghostwritten book they poured their hearts into it as silly and fun as it was and the way dan talks about it really shows that i hope they were proud of it and still are

dan you don't really have the same hair but ok 

talking about the australian today show and they were just on it last month!! why does that make me so emo 

bitten right on the florida

bakeee offfff mention this is why i loved liveshows like just yapping about the shows they watch and cry over together

dan self aware get over it crashing out “so what he enjoys a themed drink” he is so silly dfjfkdfksfkj i love this part

can i live in that autumn moment?

rare what phil has been listening to! movie soundtracks ok king

dan being a little pretentious talking about their differing tv show opinions and phil just mocking his hand movements and giving a 2 word review their dynamic is so dear to me

Is this an unpopular opinion idk i can’t stand 3d movies  

black and blue as always

phil’s laugh and look and dan going “you cheeky little bugger” at him putting “phil and dan” on the chair page<3

hearing them talk about tour in the tatinof days when it was their first go and things like how its amazing hearing people sing to the preshow playlist in the context of like right now is soooooo as a longtime fan who yearned to attend tatinof while it was happening but couldn’t and finally actually experienced them and the magic of a dan and phil show and things like singing hot to go with phannies just a few months ago god im going to miss this era sm

the apocalypse/ai/technology tangent is scarily relevant right now and from nearly 10 years ago wow hashtag we’re all doomed

susan boyle after the amazingdan reaction video lmaoo

they were really doing the most during this era like omg so many promises of things coming soon among the tour and spooky week and book and they were literally just home for one day after being in a car for hours earlier that day like they seem in good spirits in this one and i know its just chill chatting for an hour but boys! take a breather! 

overall i enjoyed this one! i don't rewatch old liveshows a lot but this is a fun way for us all to commit to rewatching and discussing one a week bc there's always so many fun little forgotten details and i think it would be fun to continue even post break! i was very tired while watching this and somehow still wrote out this very long yappy list of notes which are really just a stream of consciousness which no one will read probably but i humbly present them anyways <3

[nyoomfruits]

🎵 ship of your choice

i got old lovers in dressing rooms by keaton henson and i was like oh this is PERFECT for older lestappen so!!! here you go :)

Max hasn't changed much, all things considered. His hair is a little longer, maybe. The lines by his eyes deeper. His smile softer. He leans against the doorway of Charles's little dressing room trailer like he does this all the time, like they're just old friend catching up, like there isn't 10 years and countless missed chances between them.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Charles says, earnestly. Which probably means Max isn’t here for interviews or media appearances. He knows F1TV wouldn’t be able to pass up on that, getting two old rivals back together, one interviewing the other. He’s seen them cry tears of joy every time Nico and Lewis are so much as in the same room together.

Max shrugs. “The kids really wanted to go. T is thinking about studying engineering so she’s been begging me for months to go. Really hard to say no to that face, let me tell you.”

Charles wouldn’t know. He’s never seen Tina Verstappen before. Nobody has. Max has been rather strict about keeping his kids out of the public eye. “Good choice,” he says instead. “The engineering, I mean.”

“You’d think that. Until you have someone following you around asking you about break balance for 5 hours a day,” Max says, so utterly fondly that the supposed annoyance hardly lands. It must be nice, Charles thinks. A family. Children who follow you around. A partner who loves you.

“I’m glad,” he says, though the words stick in your throat. “That you’re happy. You deserve it.”

Max’s smile twitches, a tiny thing that barely reaches his eyes. There’s a sadness in them instead. A yearning. A longing. A memory of a time long before. “How’s Catherine?”

“We broke up,” Charles says. He doesn’t tell Max there’s been another girl after Catherine. There’s no use. They broke up too. It’s been a long line of girls, one after the other, all the same, all attempts to fill the empty hole in his heart.

The empty hole the man standing right in front of him right now created.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Max says. He looks genuinely sorry, too.

It’s moments like these where Charles wishes he could turn back the clock, go back to that fateful moment back in Austria 2019, tell himself that one stupid incident on the track wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth the stupid fight that followed, the stupid break up.

By the time they found forgiveness, it was too late. And now here they are. 17 years and many broken hearts later, Max a happily retired dad of three beautiful children, supported by his beautiful wife, and Charles with his pundit job and his empty home.

“It was good to see you,” Max says, when a PA sticks his head around the door to inform Charles they need for the pre-race interviews in five. “Good luck to you.”

“Yeah, same,” Charles says, smiling a little sadly. “Have fun.”

And with that, Max turns around, walks away. Charles wonders if it might be the last time.

[whowritessometimes]

Coasting - Art Donaldson x Reader

BMX, a small beach town, a crappy waitressing job, & your last summer at home.

aka a cute little slowburn bmx art donaldson & reader fic. coming of age movie vibes. enjoy!!

word count: 5.2k

---

The clinking of glasses and plates and knives, the sound of the ocean, the drone of idle conversation, some obscure reggae playlist. Those were the sounds that you heard, day in and day out, soft in the background while you bussed tables and chatted with your best friend, Tashi Duncan. The sun was just about to set as you glided around High Tide, the hole-in-the-wall beach café you had waitressed at every summer since you could work. Right now, it was that weird lull in the late afternoon just before dinner.

Walking back behind the counter, you caught a glimpse of the camcorder in your bag you kept tucked away for when you got a spare moment. Tashi had been asking you all week to film another one of her BMX sessions. She was planning on posting it—she always had something she wanted to showcase, whether it was a new trick, a new outfit, or just a good shot of her flying through the air. And you loved it. Capturing the way the light hit the steel of her bike as she soared, or the thrill on her face when she pulled off a trick, was second nature to you. Photography and videography were more than a hobby; they were a way for you to capture what felt like fleeting moments. Every shot you took seemed to tell a story, one you could hold onto for just a little longer.

Tashi nudged you from behind, her eyes glinting with excitement as she stepped up to the counter. "So, I was thinking," she began, not even giving you a chance to greet her before she jumped into her idea. "Maybe we could shoot something tomorrow?"

You smiled, folding some cutlery into a napkin. “You're telling me I should use my precious weekend to watch you flip around on a bike for hours?”

“I'll buy you that weird coconut ice cream you like!”

You didn't really need the incentive, this had been your routine pretty much every summer: work, gossip, shoot Tashi and whoever else of your friends happened to be at the park. You tried not to dwell on the fact that it was your last summer at home, that this wouldn't ever be routine again.

"It's not that weird. And yeah, sounds fun."

"I'll pick you up at 1!"

Just as you were about to respond, the café door swung open, the bell above it jingling. The dinner crowd was starting to filter in—locals, some tourists—and the BMX guys you hung around during the summer. Despite you only really knowing how to ride a bike for transportation reasons, this was the group you inadvertently fell into. And they seemed to like you, or at least your camera. Or Tashi. Or High Tide. They all waltzed in, laughing about something, clapping each other on their shoulders, a cloud of sand and summer air (and probably weed) following them inside.

Art Donaldson, the lanky BMX prodigy of the town, and your crush since he sat next to you in your math class sophomore year, was always one of the last ones to join the group. His presence was unmistakable, but it was his quiet nature that made him stick out even more. He didn't rush into the room with the same energy as his best friend Patrick Zweig or the others; he just slipped in like a shadow, calm and observant.

Patrick, being Patrick, immediately spotted you. He raised a hand and waved, his grin wide and mischievous. “Hey, look who’s still working,” he said, his voice cutting through the hum of the café.

You laughed, moving towards the front of the counter to take their order. Patrick continued to talk, rambling about something inconsequential, but you caught a brief flicker of a glance from Art when your eyes met his.

You quickly turned your attention back to Patrick. “What can I get for you guys?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

Tashi, who had quietly watched the interaction from behind the counter, leaned in slightly as she adjusted the straps of her helmet. “You’ve been staring at him all summer,” she whispered, her voice a mix of teasing and curiosity.

“Stop,” you said quickly, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “I’m not—he’s just… you know. Art.”

Tashi raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Art, who you're in love with.” She said the word love in a sing-song voice, and you had to fight to suppress your smile and roll your eyes.

“Okay. I have to go put this order in. And I'm not in love with him.”

Tashi grinned knowingly. “Mhm. You’re just avoiding it.”

Before you could argue further, you moved toward the kitchen to get their drinks ready, and you couldn’t help but notice Art again. He stood with his back to the counter, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, looking out at the fading light through the large windows that lined the café, absently listening to the mindless conversation of his friends. As if he could sense you staring, he turned around, grinning sheepishly and running a hand through his hair when you made eye contact. You sent back a flushed smile and a small wave before pivoting on your heel and promptly hiding in the kitchen.

“Chill, you’re fine,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing a tray of drinks to deliver to the table.

When you returned to the counter, Art and the guys were settling into their usual booth by the window, the sun casting a golden glow on everything outside. Art had his back to you, but you could feel his presence, even from across the room.

Tashi, ever the observant one, nudged you with her elbow, making you jump. “So, how was that look I just saw? You freaking out now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said quickly, focusing on the drinks you were preparing, trying to ignore her smirk.

“You looked like you were about to burst into flames.” Tashi’s voice was soft, but you could hear the humor behind it.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. Tashi had been in your corner about Art from the start. She was the one who encouraged you to ask him for photos back when you first picked up a camera and realized how much you enjoyed capturing moments. Ever since then, Art had been the subject of most of your best shots. And the subject of some of your best memories, too. You rarely hung out with him one-on-one, but whenever you were in a group setting, he had this way of making you feel included. And a way of making you feel like you and him were the only two people there.

“Okay,” Tashi pressed, leaning a little closer. “So, are we pretending that Art’s not going to ask you out or are we just gonna let you guys keep doing the whole will-they-won't-they thing?”

You shot her a look. “I’m not doing this right now.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender, but you could see the teasing glint still in her eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll let you have your mystery.”

You glanced back toward the booth where Art and the crew were talking, trying to focus on anything else. Art had settled into his usual relaxed posture—arms stretched out along the back of the booth, a faint smile on his lips as Patrick animatedly told another story. He was always so laid-back, but there was a certain warmth about him that you couldn’t ignore. And it wasn’t just his presence—it was the way he was with his friends, how he listened when they talked, how he had a way of making even the smallest moment feel special.

Your phone buzzed, breaking your trance. You glanced at the screen—Tashi texting you details for tomorrow's shoot followed by about a million incoherent and entirely unrelated emojis.

You chuckled to yourself, making a mental note to set the alarm early and get the camera ready. As you were typing out a response, you heard a soft voice from behind you.

“Hey, you busy?” Art’s voice was low, and even though you hadn’t expected him to approach, it didn’t startle you.

You turned to find him standing just behind the counter, the light from the window casting a warm glow around his silhouette. His presence was effortlessly calm, like he was just... there. Not demanding anything from you, but still managing to make your heart beat a little faster.

“Not too busy,” you replied, looking up at him. “Just the usual.”

He nodded, his lips quirking into a small, easy smile. “I meant to ask earlier,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he leaned a little closer to the counter, “You free tomorrow afternoon?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly recovered by glancing at Tashi, who was pretending to be busy but clearly trying not to watch the conversation unfold.

“I’m filming for Tashi tomorrow, actually,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but there was that flutter in your chest again. "Why?"

Art raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to go get something to eat. But, uh, I'm going to that place on the pier with the onion rings later if you want to come."

There it was. The simplest, calmest invitation that could have easily been overlooked by anyone else. But for you, it felt like the universe had just delivered exactly what you wanted without any fanfare. He wasn’t overthinking it, wasn’t being mysterious. He was just... asking.

“Yeah, I could do that,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You remember the onion rings?”

Art’s smile widened ever so slightly, and you could swear there was a spark of something—maybe relief, maybe happiness—flickering in his eyes. He didn't answer your question. Instead, he said, “I’ll meet you around six?”

“Six sounds good,” you said, nodding back. He gave you one last smile before turning back to the table.

You had always had some constants in your life. You had photography, you had High Tide, you had Tashi, and you had onion rings. Your favorite place on the pier, one of those old Airstream trailers that had been converted into a restaurant. You were caught off-guard when Art mentioned it. You'd gone with him a few times, and he had listened to your rants about the onion rings. But it wasn't usually just the two of you. But he remembered. Your head was kind of spinning.

Tashi nudged out of your trance, this time with a full-on grin. “See? I told you it was only a matter of time.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile that spread across your face betrayed you. “Yeah, yeah," you said, trying (and failing) to sound unaffected.

---

The pier was quiet when you and Art finally made your way there, the ocean stretching endlessly in front of you, the sound of the waves crashing softly against the shore. The sky had faded into a deep indigo, stars just beginning to twinkle above. The scent of salt and fried food mixed in the air as you approached the little Airstream that had been serving the best comfort food on the coast for as long as you could remember.

It felt different tonight, though. More peaceful. More... effortless. Just the two of you, walking side by side with no real rush.

You stood in line while Art ordered, the woman behind the window grinning knowingly as she handed him the takeout bag. “Got a feeling you’d be back for more,” she joked, but Art just shrugged in his usual, easy way.

“Couldn’t help it,” he said with a quiet smile, turning to you. “You were right about these. It’s hard to stay away.”

You gave him a small grin, feeling the pull of his attention in a way you hadn’t before. He wasn’t rushing to fill the silence, just existing in it. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t forced. It was... easy.

You walked over to a bench by the edge of the pier and sat down, both of you leaning back as you opened the bag and pulled out your share of the food. The breeze from the ocean was cool against your skin, the faint hum of the waves blending with the distant chatter of people further down the pier.

“So,” you said after a few moments of comfortable silence, breaking into the food, “how’ve you been?”

Art glanced sideways at you, his gaze thoughtful. “Busy. Same old. You?”

“Same here. Just, you know, work. With Tashi and all.” You paused, then added, “Trying not to get too much sand in the camera.”

He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and for a moment, you both just shared a quiet laugh. It wasn’t an elaborate joke, but it was real. Like this moment, with him, was real.

You took another bite and leaned back into the bench, stretching your legs out in front of you, your feet tucked into your sneakers. The sun had set a while ago, but the horizon was still glowing faintly, like the world had been painted in colors you could never quite capture. The stars were scattered above like a thousand tiny little secrets.

Art was quiet for a while, his gaze out on the ocean as he ate, but you weren’t uncomfortable. It felt like the kind of silence you could just sink into, where you didn’t need to fill every moment with words, because you both understood that sometimes, not speaking was the most honest thing you could do.

“I didn’t think you’d ask me out here,” you said suddenly, the words just slipping out. It was a little vulnerable, a little self-conscious, but you couldn’t take it back now.

Art glanced over at you, his lips curving into that smile of his. “Why not?”

You shrugged, feeling the heat rise to your face. “I don’t know. You’re always... with your friends. I just thought you’d be busy.”

He paused, chewing for a second before he answered, his tone more serious than you expected. “I don’t like being busy just to be busy.”

There was something in the way he said it, a depth behind his words that made you look at him a little differently. You couldn’t quite place it, but something about the way he approached life—so calm, so deliberate, but still present—was unlike anyone else you’d ever known.

“I get that,” you said, nodding, your voice quieter now. “It’s good to slow down sometimes.”

Art met your eyes, and for a second, you both just held the moment, neither of you needing to say anything more. It was a connection. And it was simple, but it was there. And for once, neither of you was trying to rush through it.

“Did you always know you’d be here this summer?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence again.

You tilted your head, considering it. “I don’t think I ever really thought about it, to be honest. It’s just... always been this way, you know?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting out to the water. “Yeah, I get it."

For a moment, you both looked out at the ocean, the rhythm of the waves syncing with the calm in the air around you. It felt easy, almost like this was what you were supposed to be doing all along. Not rushing anywhere, just sharing space, sharing time.

“Maybe we should do this more often,” you said lightly, breaking the quiet.

Art gave you a half-smile, his eyes soft but content. “I think I’d like that.”

You were about to say something else when he spoke again, his tone almost shy. “You know, I’m glad you said yes. I wasn’t sure if...”

You raised an eyebrow. “If I’d show up?”

He nodded, his expression a mix of self-deprecating humor and honesty. “Yeah. Figured you had better things to do than hang out with me.”

You could feel the weight of his words, the quiet vulnerability behind them. You didn’t know exactly what was going on in his head, but you could tell he didn’t often put himself out there like this.

You smiled softly, nudging him with your elbow. “You don’t have to worry about that. I like spending time with you.”

The words hung in the air between you two for a long beat. Then Art’s gaze softened, and he gave you a small but genuine smile, the kind that made you feel like everything had just fallen into place in a way it hadn’t before.

The conversation drifted back into the easy flow of a summer night, small talk about random things, your voices low and comfortable, as the sounds of the ocean and the soft rustling of the wind filled the space around you. The food was forgotten for a moment, but neither of you minded.

And just like that, the evening felt like its own quiet, perfect thing. Unspoken, but understood.

---

The park was quieter than usual for a Saturday, the afternoon crowd still drifting in, some starting their warm-up routines, others talking or laughing with friends.

You watched Tashi land a clean trick and, almost instinctively, your fingers adjusted the camera settings. It was easy to focus on her—her energy contagious, her confidence enough to keep you grounded as you clicked away. BMX was her thing, and capturing her in motion was like catching fire in a bottle. But today, there was something different in the air, something just outside of your control.

You could feel it in the way the park seemed to have shifted, in the way Art stood off to the side, half-listening to his friends, half-distracted. His presence was subtle, but it always demanded attention, like the way the ocean would silently pull you in, its waves irresistible.

The moment you caught his eye across the park, you knew it wasn’t just the camera’s lens that had you transfixed. You could feel the weight of his gaze from where you stood, like a soft pressure against your chest. The smile he gave you was small, but it lingered longer than it should have, a quiet acknowledgment of something unspoken.

But you didn’t acknowledge it—not right away. Instead, you turned back to Tashi, adjusting the angle of the camera, trying to stay in the moment.

“Everything okay?” Tashi called out, leaning against the metal frame of her bike, pulling her helmet off. Her voice was playful, but there was a note of curiosity beneath it, like she could feel the shift in the air too.

“Yeah,” you muttered, forcing your focus back on her. “Just... taking a shot.”

She raised an eyebrow, but before she could tease you, she was back in motion. You clicked the shutter again, the camera capturing her effortless flow, but your mind was elsewhere. Or more precisely, on him.

You knew Tashi could sense it, too. She knew you better than anyone, after all. There was a tension in the air now, thick and palpable, something that neither of you could ignore. Everyone could see it—the way you and Art kept glancing at each other when you thought no one was watching, the way conversations seemed to stretch between you two, lingering with things unsaid. But neither of you was willing to break that unspoken boundary. Not yet.

It wasn’t like there was a clear moment that everything shifted. It was more like the tide slowly pulling at the shore, little by little, until you were both standing in a place where you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You were snapping a few more shots of Tashi when you felt that familiar presence. The subtle shift in the atmosphere. It was Art, crossing the park toward you with that lazy, effortless stride, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Except you both knew better. There was a quiet intensity that always followed him, an unspoken thing between you that neither of you seemed eager to disrupt.

But you both knew what was there. You knew the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching, the way your pulse quickened when your eyes met his across the crowd. Neither of you was saying it out loud, but it was there—slowly building, like the tide rolling in, too soft to resist.

Tashi glided back over, cutting through the silence with her usual exuberance. “Okay, okay, now I want you to take a picture of me and Art together!” she said, flashing a grin at you.

The moment shattered, and you tried to hide your smile behind the camera. But you felt it—Art’s glance, lingering just a fraction of a second longer than normal, like he was holding onto something he didn’t quite know how to say.

Tashi noticed, of course. She was always the first one to notice when something shifted. “You know,” she murmured, nudging you, “I’m starting to think you two are the only ones who don’t see what’s going on.”

You rolled your eyes, though the warm flush on your cheeks gave you away. “Please,” you muttered. “We’re just friends.”

Tashi didn’t even try to hide the grin as she took her place in front of you. “Mmhmm. Just friends.”

Art, standing just off to the side, offered a quiet chuckle. But there was a softness in his gaze when it found yours. No teasing. Just that same quiet, undeniable connection.

The shoot went on, the shots flowing one after the other. But all you could focus on was the way Art’s presence never quite left your periphery, the way every glance, every quiet word, seemed to say so much more than you both wanted to admit.

---

The night ended like most of your Saturdays: a kickback on the beach, surrounded by the familiar buzz of friends, tourists, and transplants. Red solo cups were scattered around like confetti—some with liquor, others with cheap beer, a few spiked lemonades. Somewhere in the mix, a joint was being passed around, its faint smoke drifting lazily into the night air.

You were curled up against Tashi, your head resting on her shoulder, the two of you passing a bottle of hard seltzer back and forth. The conversations around you faded into a pleasant hum, the guys off in the distance trying to start a bonfire that seemed doomed from the start, their loud banter drifting over the sand. The air was warm, the waves crashed softly in the distance and everything felt easy.

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, and now the only light came from the flickering remnants of the sunset and the scattered bonfire embers. You and Tashi drifted into one of those easy, low-stakes conversations, the kind where you talked about nothing and everything at once.

But then, as always, you found your eyes wandering. You scanned the beach for Art. It wasn’t conscious, it just happened—your gaze always seemed to gravitate toward him.

Tashi’s lips twitched into a knowing smile, and without missing a beat, she gently nudged her shoulder against your head, nudging you out of your quiet reverie.

"You should go sit with him," she said, her voice soft but insistent. It wasn’t teasing like it normally would’ve been—it was more like an invitation. A little nudge toward something she could see that you hadn’t quite admitted to yourself yet.

"I can't," you muttered, pulling the bottle of seltzer up to your lips, avoiding her eyes for just a second too long.

"Yes, you can," she replied, her voice so confident that you couldn’t help but meet her gaze.

You hesitated, caught between the pull of her words and the uncertainty creeping up from your chest. "What if—"

Tashi cut you off, lifting her chin and pointing toward Art, who was leaning against a nearby palm tree, looking out at the ocean, seemingly lost in thought but still aware of the group around him.

“Go,” she said simply, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

And in that moment, with the warmth of her encouragement surrounding you, you knew she was right. You could go. You should go.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from her shoulder, the sand shifting beneath you. The bottle of seltzer was still in your hand, but now it felt like an anchor you didn’t need anymore. The noise of the group around you faded as you started to move, your heart beating a little faster, a little louder, as you took that first step toward Art.

As you reached him, you stopped a little closer than you usually would, just within his reach, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you, a flicker of surprise flashing through his gaze before he quickly masked it with that usual, easy smile of his.

"Hey," you said, the word feeling like it was the first one you’d said all night.

"Hey," Art answered back, his voice a little lower than usual, almost like he was aware of the space between you two in a way you hadn’t noticed before. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," you said with a small shrug. "Just wanted to say hi."

"Hi." His gaze was soft, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You smiled back, the air between you two thick with all the things neither of you had said yet. The tension was palpable, and for a moment, neither of you knew how to cut through it.

Before you could say anything else, Patrick’s voice rang out across the beach.

"Night swim!!"

He was grinning wide, his energy infectious, as he waved his arms dramatically. This was a common occurrence, and you and Art rolled your eyes simultaneously. Like clockwork, Patrick demanded everyone jump into any nearby body of water at almost every party or kickback.

And the group erupted into motion—laughter, whoops, and the sound of sandals slapping against the sand as everyone ran toward the water, shouting and teasing each other about who would jump in first.

You and Art found each other's gaze again, and he reached for your hand, fingers brushing against yours in that familiar, electric way that sent a jolt through your body. Without waiting for you to process, he gently tugged you toward the water, the sound of the waves now loud and inviting in the distance.

You grinned in agreement, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren't a stranger to the Patrick Zweig Night Swim, but you usually made your way into the water with Tashi. This was all new to you (but very welcome).

The two of you kicked up sand in your wake, laughing and picking up your pace, hands grasping each other tightly except to remove various articles of clothing. You tried not to stare at his toned chest and arms, the tan on his skin, the faint freckles across his shoulders.

You tugged your hoodie over your head, leaving you in your bikini just as you felt your toes hit the water.

The ocean stretched out in front of you, dark and welcoming. You hesitated for just a second, the water a cool, inviting unknown.

Art grinned, glancing at you quickly. "You good?"

"I guess so." You laughed.

With that, you both stepped into the surf, the water crashing around your feet as you waded deeper, the chill of the ocean wrapping around your ankles and calves. The night was filled with the sounds of your friends behind you, all of them laughing and splashing, but it was you and Art that seemed to drift away from the chaos, wading out further into the deeper water together.

As the water rose higher, up to your thighs, you turned to face him, feeling the cool waves tug at you both.

“You sure this is a good idea?” you teased, eyes meeting his, your voice light but the tension still there, coiled between you two. The quiet hum of the waves seemed to settle around you.

Art’s smile faltered just slightly, like he didn’t know how to answer, or maybe he didn’t need to. His eyes flickered down to where the water had soaked your top, redness creeping up his neck.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice suddenly quieter, more serious. “'S a good idea.”

There was something in the way he said it, a soft edge to his words that made your heart beat a little faster and your head buzz, like you were drunk (but not from the seltzer).

You stepped a little closer, the saltwater lapping at your knees, the light from the beach just far enough to make everything feel like a dream—beautiful and fleeting.

For a second, everything between you two hung in the air. Then, as if on instinct, Art took a half step closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he brushed a damp strand of hair from your face.

"Can I kiss you?"

And despite the cold water, your face grew impossibly warmer as you nodded.

And then, almost without warning, Art leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as slow as the waves but as powerful as the pull of the ocean itself.

For that instant, everything faded—the noise from the beach, the cold of the water, the summer air, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips, the gentle pressure of his hands on your body, the way he seemed to breathe life into you with each movement. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic. His hands couldn't seem to decide where they wanted to rest, slowly moving from your waist to the nape of your neck. You could feel his smile in the kiss, and he could feel yours. It was all teeth and noses and salt and sand and the occasional laugh and it was perfect.

The coolness of the water lapping at your skin was nothing compared to the heat running through you. Your heart raced, your breath short as you kissed him back, your hands finding their place on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

When you pulled back just enough to breathe, you both stayed close, foreheads touching, your hands still tangled together in the water. Art’s face was flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you with that same soft, almost shy expression.

"I really like you," he muttered, the words just slipping out, and his flustered grin made you laugh, a little breathless.

"Yeah?" you teased, your fingers still tangled with his. "I really like you too."

Art glanced away briefly, the blush deepening, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

For a moment, neither of you said anything more. Just standing there in the quiet of the night, with the water around you and the stars above. Yeah, it was your last summer here, but everything with Art made you realize how things weren't really ending at all.

[dedeinthewild]

Heyy would you do prompts 20, 44 and 2 for Marcus Armstrong? Please and thank you💜

it took a while, and I'm really sorry for that! x

marcus armstrong x reader, bestfriends to lovers

 “I might have gone a bit overboard,”

"Remind me why we didn’t book that place you love?" the girl asked as she sliced salmon, a black elastic band wrapping her arm in the crook of her elbow.

"’Cause you cook way better than them," the driver replied.

"Have you ever wondered why they own a restaurant and a massive villa in some tax haven?" she teased, glancing up from the fish to the New Zealander, who was peeling avocados and washing the bowls she handed him.

It was early August, and after spending two weeks at home with his family, the IndyCar driver had decided to celebrate with friends, enjoying a night of fun like he used to as a kid. And what better way than with a load of seafood, a few of his favorite dishes, and good company?

She had filled the house with the kind of aroma only her chaotic cooking could produce—messy enough to make him smile but still his favorite. If anyone had caught Callum Ilott drunk after a bad day, he probably would’ve told them the story of Macau: how, during the famed race, the New Zealander had spent an entire night in a feverish haze, hallucinating about her focaccia.

"Could you just shut up and have a little confidence?" the IndyCar driver grinned at her.

"You’re so complicated, guys," James interjected as he entered through the door, holding two boxes that looked packed with liquor and wine.

"Get that out of this house," the girl gestured dismissively.

"Party," the Brit dragged out the word, savoring every syllable just to annoy her, as he greeted Clem and Marcus.

The house was one of those typical villas with massive glass windows you only ever saw on Mexico’s touristy coast—large dark stone pools, rounded conversation pits, and bedrooms the size of apartments, all in raw concrete or wood. The idea of spending the next two weeks there was, to say the least, enticing.

It had all been a happy coincidence since the New Zealander’s original plan was to celebrate just with his two Screaming Meals co-hosts and the girl. But some old friends from his junior formula days happened to be in Mexico, and he couldn’t not invite them.

"How many are we going to be?" she asked to make sure she’d prepare enough food.

"Me, you—" Marcus began.

"Yeah, that’s it," Clement joked, grabbing a chip from the open bag in front of him with a smirk on his face.

"Oh, screw you," Marcus shot back. "Me, you, them, JM, Mick, and his girl."

The girl nodded, watching as James, with a single-handed motion, pulled off his shirt and made his way toward the pool just outside the living room.

"Want me to help?"

She looked up at Marcus, locking her eyes on his pale ones as a soft smile spread across her lips.

"Alright, I’ll go," he chuckled, knowing how much she hated being helped in the kitchen, even if he felt guilty about leaving her to do all the work.

Once outside one of the sliding doors, sunglasses perched on his nose, he leaned around a column, his enormous white smile on full display.

"Are you a hundred percent sure?"

"Go, Marcus, for god’s sake," she said, the same playful expression on her face as a strand of hair fell across her forehead and she chopped tomatoes with a rhythm that mesmerized him.

"You could’ve just said you wanted to listen to that questionable playlist of yours," he teased.

She watched him walk toward the pool, his t-shirt in one hand, the other scratching the back of his neck, his confident stride practically designed to make him look taller next to shorter people. They were so chaotic.

She was sure the guys would drink themselves into oblivion that night, leaving her to deal with them the next day—herbal teas, paracetamol, and pounding headaches included. But deep down, they were good guys, and since they’d started spending so much time together, she’d had more fun than ever before.

"You and Mick are down to settle?" James asked, sitting in the hot tub corner of the pool with his arms crossed.

"What kind of question is that?"

"There are only two girls tonight," he shrugged.

"I’m really, really sorry that my birthday party won’t be real-life Tinder for you," the New Zealander quipped, bowing mockingly to him with an amused snort.

"Have you ever thought of taking her out?" Clem asked, floating gracefully on the water’s surface, his gaze shifting to the trees that shaded part of the house.

"He did," James answered for him, watching as Marcus leaned against the edge of the pool, his arms spread out and his lips pressed together as he stared into the house.

The glass wall acted like a filter, reflecting their images and the backyard—complete with trees and a vast lawn leading to the beach. But in the transparent sections, he could see her moving occasionally, tasting something with her fingertip or swaying her shoulders to the rhythm of a song she was quietly singing.

"He undoubtedly does," Clement laughed, thinking how clichéd the moment was. If it had been someone else in their place, they’d probably poke fun at it in one of the Screaming Meals episodes.

"You see, I could never, like, think of her romantically," the IndyCar driver said, splashing some water onto his chest and shoulders before wetting his hair. "You know what I mean?"

But she was just a few meters away, wearing her light fabric shorts, her favorite t-shirt, and a sunburnt nose, preparing dinner for the evening and tidying up a bit.

"I don’t know what you mean this time," the Frenchman muttered, maybe a bit more grounded than the Brit.

And perhaps Marcus didn’t know either, something she confirmed about half an hour later when she emerged through the same glass door he’d been watching her through. Now in her swimsuit, she seemed ready to cool off after finishing her preparations.

"All set, birthday boy," she said, easing into the water bit by bit, lowering herself with her arms as her legs slipped into the pool.

"I would marry you," James declared, making her laugh as she soaked her hair, her lips curling into a smile as she closed her eyes and sighed.

"What did you say Mick’s girl was called?" she asked, curious.

"Laila, a Nordic blonde. She’s really nice," the Frenchman answered, having met her by chance at an ELMS race they’d both attended as spectators.

She nodded, instinctively leaning against the pool’s edge, unaware that Marcus’s strong arm was just behind her, ready to drape itself over her shoulders. He kept his hand at a respectful distance, so she’d only feel his presence, a few centimeters from her skin. He mentally traced every freckle, every mole, every imperfection the droplets highlighted. How many times had he thought about how similar they were and how much they had in common, all while he tried to hold together a relationship born under the wrong star and pushed to break into IndyCar?

She let him be the twenty-four-year-old he actually was outside the track, with her bright smile and witty comebacks, while she was simply awkward and adorable.

"What were you saying, Marcus?" the Brit teased before diving underwater.

This place was incredible, and the company even more so.

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this, but Marcus was at a point in his life where he’d let anything happen—friends that made him feel alive, a job that fulfilled him, and a whole lot of passion. So, with a bit of warm air, eyes as blue as water, and forgotten shoes, he was on cloud nine.

"That’s a lot of stuff," he said, looking at the table she’d prepared as the others showered and she dried off with a towel.

"We should celebrate your womb escape for what it is," she smiled, joining him and looking at the table from his angle.

"Did you just call my birthday my 'womb escape'?" he asked, staring at her as she wrapped herself in the towel like it was her cocoon.

"Did I?" she shot back, keeping up the game, a playful smirk on her face.

He leaned in slightly, her familiar scent brushing over him like a caress, as Clement yelled from the bathroom that the body wash had run out.

"I wish they were like you," the New Zealander murmured, smiling against her cheek.

"You don’t, believe me," she replied.

He pressed a gentle, friendly kiss—at least to the untrained eye—just below her ear before disappearing into the bathroom, where he stayed until everyone else arrived.

"That’s what I was thinking about," she joked, seeing him emerge like Bradley Cooper in The Hangover. He wore a white shirt paired with lightweight trousers made of the same material, perfectly complementing his tanned, athletic figure.

"I never disappoint," he shrugged, flashing her a wink.

"After an hour, it’s understandable that you don’t disappoint," she teased, adjusting the final touches on the table, dressed in a black t-shirt and similar lightweight trousers.

"You’re so feisty today," he pretended to pout, stealing a pretzel and turning on the living room lights.

She laughed, leaning against the wall as Clem and James came out, already slightly tipsy before the evening had even begun. Each held four shot glasses, which they placed on the kitchen island.

"You know I don’t drink," she reminded them.

"This is some bullshit without alcohol, smartass," the Brit ruffled her hair, holding up the bottle.

"Almost forgot you’re some liquor connoisseur," she quipped, sniffing the shot glasses’ contents before everyone grabbed one, clinked them against the concrete, and downed them in one go.

"This sucks," Marcus grimaced, his face twisting in disgust as he tried to wash away the taste of the liquor by swallowing repeatedly.

The others laughed, patting him on the back just as the rest of the guys arrived, flashing bright smiles and wearing the carefree expressions of people on vacation who had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

“God, she's gorgeous,” said the girl as she caught sight of Laila approaching.

“Sometimes I think you're way fruitier than you let on,” Clem teased.

“You’re so childish,” she said, giving him a playful punch on the arm before following him to introduce herself to the girl and her boyfriend, whom she hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet.

And maybe she had imagined that, within a couple of hours, they’d all end up sitting together under the villa's patio, alcohol flowing through their veins like transparent blood and laughter echoing in a way that was anything but sober, as the evening began to devour the Mexican coastline. Even in the neighboring houses, parties were in full swing, with loud music, beautiful girls twirling in wide, flowy skirts, and someone serving appetizers that they seemed to enjoy almost as much as their cocktails.

Mick and Marcus were dancing like those girls, trying to mimic their graceful movements but ending up with clumsy moves that made the others laugh, while Clem and the other two guys stayed seated on a sofa, chatting about this and that.

“They’re little kids stuck in grown men’s bodies,” Laila said, handing her a small gift bag. “I thought you’d like a little something.”

She smiled, taking the bag as she leaned against one of the house’s walls, her expression lighthearted and carefree, as if she had no intention of thinking about anything other than enjoying herself and celebrating with the lively group that had suddenly burst into her life.

“That’s so nice of you,” she said gratefully, opening the bag. But before she could reveal its contents, Marcus’s voice cut through the others’.

The speakers set up in the garden were playing a catchy playlist, and there he was, standing in those linen trousers that fit him perfectly, with one of his signature smirks on his face and his piercing eyes looking straight at her with an intensity that could break through any barrier.

His gaze wouldn’t slip past any filter, and above all, it wasn’t just the result of a few too many drinks downed in good company on a day dedicated to celebration.

“Look at her, guys,” he said, an arm slung around Mick’s shoulders, while Mick looked at Laila with concern.

“Who are you talking about?”

Then the blonde girl shifted slightly, revealing the shy yet amused face of Marcus’s friend. She had let her soft, fragrant hair down, letting it fall over her shoulders and partially obscure her face—only to end up accentuating it.

“It’s not like I’m that special,” she laughed toward the German girl, trying to divert attention away from herself.

But Marcus was focused on how she played with the little piece of paper she had pulled from the bag, twirling it between her fingers, and on how she leaned against the wall, feet crossed in front of her, her face slightly lowered, drawing attention to the pendant necklace that stood out against her black shirt.

“I told James not to bring alcohol,” she said, shrugging as she glanced at the other girl, her nose slightly crinkled.

“He means it. I don’t think he’s looking at you like that just because he’s drunk,” said the German girl with an accent that made her smile, noting how perfectly her white dress fit her.

“We always joke around like that. We can’t take anything seriously.” She could have talked for hours about Marcus, about how he was often irreverent and silly, and how he always made her laugh without stopping, finding it hilarious when she cried tears of laughter.

Marcus had always said he’d never see her that way, that he’d never have romantic feelings for her. Yet, that night, she was the main topic of his conversations, and the only gift he seemed to want for his birthday was her voice—bright and cheerful—scolding him when he didn’t tidy up or spent the afternoon asking him how he wanted his tacos.

“I just hope he doesn’t jump into the pool fully clothed or pull one of his dumb tricks,” she laughed, watching the New Zealander approach with open arms.

“You’re not loosening up,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m celebrating in my own way.”

“I want you to tell me if you’re having fun. If not, I’ll kick everyone out.”

She shook her head, once again captivated by his green eyes.

“Don’t worry about me,” she told him, smiling.

A few minutes later, the two women were sitting in the living room, chatting as the girl taught her how to make flower garlands—a skill she had learned from an elderly local woman on their first day there. Between words and smiles, they hadn’t noticed what was happening outside.

“They’re probably at the karaoke phase,” she said with a grin, recalling all the karaoke sessions she’d ended up in with the New Zealander, having the time of her life.

“Mick isn’t exactly the best singer,” the German girl replied, mimicking her hand movements and feeling as if she had found someone quite similar to herself. “How did you and Marcus meet?”

“He gave me a lift to the track, and I didn’t even recognize him at first.”

The blonde raised her eyebrows, holding her garland up before turning around to look at the guys beyond the glass door. But the reflections from inside masked what was happening outside.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it must be Clem’s beach stuff. He always leaves it there,” she replied.

But Laila wasn’t referring to the sandals and straw hat resting near the fireplace, which, of course, they had never lit.

“No, what’s that?” she emphasized the last word, standing up and moving closer to the glass door with a puzzled smile, catching sight of some messy letters.

“I love” was what someone had started writing on the glass.

“Mick’s so cute,” said the other girl, moving closer to her, the garlands they had made draped over her arms.

But the person writing wasn’t Mick. He wasn’t even remotely blonde, nor was he wearing a black polo with blue eyes and silver rings. Outside, there were thick arms, a delicate touch despite the alcohol, and the concentration it had taken to write the letters backward so she could read them from inside.

“You, yes, you” completed the phrase.

Clement and James were standing next to the New Zealander, arms crossed and enormous grins on their faces, while he worked on finishing his masterpiece, likely borrowing something from the nearby partygoers. After adding a heart, they all pressed their faces and hands against the glass, trying to gauge her reaction as her hands trembled slightly under the garlands.

“At least he’s still smart; the letters are in the right order,” the German girl said with a smile.

Their faces squished against the glass made her laugh so hard she had to cover her mouth with her hand, trying to contain herself. The scene was simultaneously ridiculous and adorable. Laila, beside her, watched with an amused smile. “Well, I guess that’s their way of being romantic,” the German girl commented, trying to figure out which one of them was responsible for the message.

But she knew exactly who it was. Those green eyes, so intense, had been fixed on her all evening, leaving no room for doubt. Marcus had always been like that: unpredictable, playful, but with a sweetness that surfaced in the most unexpected moments.

She turned to Laila with a smile that hid a mix of embarrassment and joy. “I think he’s drunk,” she said jokingly, though part of her knew it wasn’t just the alcohol driving him to do such things.

“Oh, honey, drunk or not, that’s a bold move,” Laila replied, giving her a gentle nudge toward the glass door. “Go see what he wants to say.”

She hesitated for a moment, then approached the sliding door, slowly opening it to step outside. The cool evening air brushed against her face, mingling with the sound of the distant sea and the laughter of the others.

Marcus, his hands still dirty from whatever he had used to write, turned toward her with a guilty but hopeful smile. “I might have gone a bit overboard,” he admitted, raising his hands in mock surrender.

She crossed her arms, trying to keep a stern expression, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Only a bit?” she asked, gesturing toward the glass behind him. “Do you plan on cleaning that up later, Mr. Birthday Boy?”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Depends. Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“Making you smile.” His voice softened, becoming more serious, and for a moment, his expression changed, revealing something deeper beneath his usual playful facade. “I just… wanted to make sure you know how special you are to me.”

His words hit her like an arrow to the heart. She didn’t know what to say, at least not immediately. She felt her cheeks warm, and for a moment, she lowered her gaze, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“You’re impossible,” she finally said, but her tone was affectionate.

“Why couldn’t you tell me the old-fashioned way?” she asked as Clem and the others left them to their moment, shifting their focus to the cake she had baked for him.

“I thought this was the old-fashioned way,” the New Zealander replied with a smile, towering over her, sunglasses hanging from the open buttons of his shirt and his bare feet on the villa’s tiled floor.

As if realizing that everything was becoming real, she blushed, feeling her heart skip a beat.

“You were right about drinking. I do dumb stuff when I drink.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said with a smile as the driver’s hand reached her cheek, caressing it gently.

Clem peeked out from the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame, a bit of whipped cream in his hair.

“Does that mean I can keep this? It was supposed to be your womb escape gift,” he said, holding up a gray, short-sleeved vintage-style T-shirt with the girl’s name written in large blue letters and her face printed in various sizes and angles.

“Why is everyone calling it ‘womb escape’?” the New Zealander laughed, turning toward the Frenchman.

“So you’re not going to ask anything about the questionable gift?” Juan Manuel said, raising a glass of water to his lips.

Marcus sighed and turned back to her.

“Maybe I should have done this when we were alone.”

“Blame the vodka,” she said with the sweetest, most beautiful smile as he gazed at her with those green eyes she had always loved, even if she had tried to ignore the way they lingered on her.

“You love me too. Admit it,” he teased, running his hands through her hair, brushing it back.

“Unfortunately for my own good, I do.”

I really hope you all have enjoyed it, Marcus has been my first feeder series favourite, and I still have the softest spot for him... if you're watching Indy or are a fan, could you give me some advice to start and facts overall/things to know before starting?🍀

[really-fanny-longbottom]

@shadowsingercassia, thank you so much for the tag. i loved doing this! 🫶🏻

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

none, actually! i don't have an account on ao3 and i think the website it's complicated for me.

2. How many fics have you completed this year?

15! which is literally all my fics since i only started posting since may.

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start did year?

honestly, i don't even know. ongoing, i think it's about two or maybe three. on progress? that's the million dollar question, i have this problem where i start writing new things before even finishing the others that i already started. i have too many (5x) fics on my drafts.

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

without a doubt, never yours and only in my dreams. these fics are sooo different from each other, but i absolutely loved the process of writing them, i think it was when i felt the most motived.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

i will have to say, tears in pages. it was the most challenging fic i ever wrote and it's different from the others. it was also the one where i had to force myself to stop, otherwise it would be a book and not a fic.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

only in my dreams!!! in both ways, actually. when i started writing it that was not the original plot, the ideas just came to me while i was writing and the development that came after too. also, when i posted, i was shocked to see how many people liked it and requested for a part two. it was one of the best moments i had here.

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

yessss! tears in pages and echoes of the past, i loved writing them because of how different they are from all of my other works and it made me a little upset when i saw they didn't get the same attention as the others, especially tears in pages, i really loved that one.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

most of my time here is spend on fics, so, i don't really know many artists but i love @cafekitsune dividers. they're so good that i use them all for my fics and page. they're really amazing.

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@daycourtofficial was the first page i found here. i literally read all her fics in one night. they're so good, the plot, the writing, truly amazing. before i start writing, i asked for some advices (anonymously at the time because i was too shy) and they helped me so much and gave the courage to post and it's one of the best decisions i ever made. so, thank you 🫶🏻.

@azsazz was the second page i found and i also read all of the fics in a space of hours. the amount of spam i must have given, my god. i loved the creativity and how she managed to explore so different ideas and worlds. i was so captivated by the majority of them, so good.

i'm always looking out for your new fics, and both of your pages are some of the ones i always come back to read and reread. 🥰

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

@itsswritten, absolutely amazing, i love all the fics, especially the wings universe. it's so magical.

@writingcroissant, i could read those fics over and over and over again, completely amazing.

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did i start?

i have not.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

that i found my courage to post and share my ideas and writing. i was so nervous at the begin and now it's one of my favorites things to do. i just wish i had started sooner.

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

that it can be a safe space, we can do it just for fun and enjoy it. we can share our own art and support the art of others as well.

14. What is your advice?

believe in yourself - it's the best advice i've been given.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

try to finish those fics i've already started without starting new ones (oops) and try to get them out of my drafts. also, improving my writing, i feel like it already had some improving but it's not quite where i want it yet.

no pressure tags: @daycourtofficial @azsazz @itsswritten and anyone else who wants to do this!

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

Thank you so much @velarisdusk for the tag! 🫶🏻

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

I don't have anything published on AO3 simply because I still don't know how to use it even though I do have an account. But here on tumblr, it's 92.878

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

49! I've never counted them before and never realized just how many they were omg

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Ongoing only Bound By Secrets. In progress apparently 10? I thought I had 3 WIPs. I completely forgot about the other 7 lol

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

UGH how do I choose one? A Helping Hand has a special place in my heart because it's the first fic I wrote and posted. Night and Days is one of my favorites because I love the banter between Azriel and reader, and I also have to mention Say My Name because omg I loved writing that one and I know I might be biased but I was giggling and kicking my feet while writing.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I'd say the first few things I wrote rather than one in particular for the simple reason that in Italian I tend to write very long sentences because it's normal, but in English sentences are usually shorter so it took a bit to get into that mindset. As for experimental, I'm trying to write a fic from two povs at the same time, sort of like an omniscient narrator. We'll see how it turns out.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

Many fics surprise me while writing because I don't plan them out that much other than a few things I want to happen and then I see where the story leads me. As for reception, Bound by Secrets. I didn't expect so many people asking for a part 2! (I'll write it, I promise)

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

The Path To Healing and on a happier (and smutty) note Alcohol and Giggles. I cried writing the first one and laughed writing the second one.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

I love every single fanart by madschofield and elizianna.the.one!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@writingcroissant was the first author I found on here, the literal reason I created an account was to read her fics, and @illyrianbitch was the second. I love everything they write and it made me want to write again.

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

@shedoessoshedoes and @duskandcobalt! I'm going to read all of your fics so don't be surprised if you see me in your notifications for the next few weeks 🥰

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start

Nope, no collaborations.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Kinktober! I decided to do it two weeks before it started and didn't think I'd be able to write all 31 one fics but I did it!

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

When I started posting, I kept opening tumblr every five minutes to see if there were any new notes/comments/etc. Now I don't do that anymore. I still care about people enjoying my content of course and any kind of feedback is always super appreciated, but I don't need to continuously check to know that my writing is valid and good even if I get only a few likes.

14. What is your advice?

I'm the wrong person to ask this to, but I guess write what you like and what you want to read. I know it's basic, but never before I realized just how true it is. Feedback and appreciation for your work is awesome, but you have to be the first one to like it or it's probably going to turn out bland if you push yourself to write something you don't like or are not interested in.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Finish working on all those WIPs apparently lol. And I have an idea for a series that I want to work on as well.

No pressure of course, but if you'd like to @azrielslittleslut @anarchiii @shedoessoshedoes or anyone else who wants to do it!

[curiosity-killed]

i love my sister and for the most part, we are very close and genuinely like each other a lot but the one place where i'd just really, really, really like to see inside her brain is the part where she is still incredibly comfortable and cheerful—and even thinks it's really funny—talking about how much she didn't like me as a child while I'm like. yes. I am and was aware. and it sucked so so so much

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[sleepyhoon]

✰ pairing. — emo!hs x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 7k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayal (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!hs, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and hs are both 18+, minors dni. very cliche shit. reader doesn’t know much abt sex tbh.

✰ synopsis. — Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of, "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."

You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.

✰ a/n. revamping this from my bts acc with heeseung this time bc im absolutely obsessed with this couple and need them to exist in every possible universe :P revamping part 2 as we speak and ill post in a few days hehe

✰ perm taglist. @intromortal @aanniikkaa @meetletsinmontauk @lovelyyf @right-person-wrong-time

———

Two monumental events had been etched into your brain for eternity, the first being sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up with your friends at the community pool. The second is fifteen minutes upon arriving at the pool, seeing your best friend's older brother emerge from the chlorine-scented water as if he were Poseidon and realizing you were utterly infatuated by him.

Lee Chaeryeong isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Heeseung is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Heeseung very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Chaeryeong for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Chaeryeong, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Chaeryeong delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Chaeryeong knows Heeseung won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Chaeryeong if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Heeseung's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just know you're leaving in the morning, and I wanted to say bye. And wish you good luck, of course." You're not sure why you're so heartbroken. It's not like the two of you were ever a thing. It's not like this would be your last time seeing him. Why were you so upset?

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

It'd be silly to tell him you genuinely don't need this because there was no way in hell you could ever forget about him. Instead, you clutch the bandana tightly in your fist and make a silent vow to keep it with you at all times; have a piece of him with you at all times.

You thank him and tell him it's nice, but all you can wonder is why he even wants you to remember him in the first place. Maybe you're overthinking. He probably just didn't care for the useless accessory anymore.

When you turn to leave, Heeseung stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Chaeryeong is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Heeseung to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Heeseung interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's embarrassing how quickly your vision becomes glossy, salty tears threatening to release with each passing second. Of course, he's fucking someone. Of course, that person isn't you. Of fucking course.

You shouldn't be surprised; he's probably more into girls with a similar aesthetic. She's probably covered in tattoos and piercings, just like him. She's probably older than you and may even have her own car, unlike you, who still had to catch rides with your parents or older sister.

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Heeseung definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Heeseung hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.

So you leave.

You tell Chaeryeong you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Chaeryeong posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Heeseung posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Heeseung farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Heeseung responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Heeseung's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Chaeryeong brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Heeseung on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Heeseung's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Chaeryeong (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.

Heeseung was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Heeseung finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Chaeryeong moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Chaeryeong for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

He's not due to arrive until tomorrow morning, and you've convinced yourself there's no reason for you to see him right away. You'd be fine if the next time you saw him was in a few months as you're moving into your dorm. After years of longing, you've finally moved on from him.

Some of you have debated telling Chaeryeong about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Chaeryeong has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

She's referencing the house party you're going to, which she practically had to drag you out of your room to attend. Parties are different from your scene, especially on a day like today when you were hoping to have a girls' night with Chaeryeong. She had other plans, however.

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Chaeryeong looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Chaeryeong has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Chaeryeong even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Chaeryeong would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Chaeryeong questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Chaeryeong pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Chaeryeong suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Heeseung. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

You almost don't realize it's him until you spot the mole under his lip. He's grown his hair out and stopped dyeing it, the slew of tattoos that decorated his arm (God, did he start working out, too?) nicely connected, now creating a sleeve, and he's given himself an eyebrow piercing. Your feelings for him come rushing back in full force.

Panicked, you reach for Chaeryeong's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Chaeryeong towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."

Frustrated, you quickly search the crowd until your eyes land on him again. You ignore the fact that he's now speaking to some girl with red hair and tattoos scattered across her arm and point in their direction, "Well, then that guy looks just like him."

Chaeryeong squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Chaeryeong throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Heeseung steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Chaeryeong's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Heeseung looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Chaeryeong, you wait with her in the hallway until Heeseung arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Chaeryeong protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Chaeryeong is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Heeseung says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Chaeryeong glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Heeseung, takes a deep breath, then agrees.

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Chaeryeong to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Heeseung scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Chaeryeong nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Heeseung is your brother, anyway.

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Chaeryeong mumbles, barely able to look Heeseung in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Chaeryeong glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Heeseung flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Chaeryeong shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Heeseung's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Chaeryeong asks the exact question you had.

Heeseung shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Chaeryeong exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Chaeryeong questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Heeseung says he's taking the two of you home. Chaeryeong, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Chaeryeong is really good at getting what she wants, or if Heeseung was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Heeseung scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Heeseung! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Heeseung just referred to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Heeseung had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

—

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Chaeryeong has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Chaeryeong," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Chaeryeong is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Heeseung's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Chaeryeong gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.

"I guess I prefer guys with an edgier look to them, you know? Tattoos, piercings..." Despite your attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, your heart is beating out of your chest from the mild confession.

Chaeryeong snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Heeseung? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Chaeryeong gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Heeseung's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Chaeryeong shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

This is the last thing you would've expected your impulsive, hotheaded (yet oh-so-loveable) best friend to be reasonable about. Mainly because she lectured you for nearly twenty minutes when she first suspected you had a crush on Heeseung.

You go to respond, but Heeseung, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Chaeryeong opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Heeseung calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Chaeryeong more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Chaeryeong and Heeseung bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Heeseung even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.

Heeseung parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Chaeryeong questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Heeseung turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Chaeryeong points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Heeseung had in her.

You turn to go, but Heeseung's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Heeseung shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Heeseung because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Chaeryeong, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Chaeryeong shushes you, gesturing that Heeseung is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Heeseung genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Heeseung resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Heeseung humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

"That's 'cause house parties weren't my thing," he explains, "I went to raves or parties that would happen at the skate park. I don't really like being at someone else's house for too long; it feels too intimate."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Chaeryeong was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Sunghoon, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Heeseung does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Heeseung. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Heeseung, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Chaeryeong get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

He's right; you'd be back in his house, and he'll be there this time. It's no big deal. You'd only be there for an hour (at most) to help her prepare, and then you could go the whole summer without seeing him again.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Chaeryeong is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

You'd already spent over an hour helping her prepare, and now she expects you to do nothing but await her return. You know her heart's in the right place; she just wants to be the first to hear all the exhilarating details about her date. Still, a phone call would suffice.

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

"Just hang out here! Watch a movie or something!" She suggests, trying her absolutely hardest to sound enthusiastic. Her phone buzzes in her hand before she has the chance to continue, eyes lighting up as they flicker across the bright screen.

Chaeryeong clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Heeseung strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.

Chaeryeong wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Chaeryeong makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Chaeryeong bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Heeseung's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.

"Who?"

"From Twilight. You know, that new movie that came out?" He seems genuinely surprised that you don't seem to know anything about this movie, not even the name of (who you suspect to be) the main character.

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Chaeryeong wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Chaeryeong if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Heeseung directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Heeseung's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

He sits up now, closing the magazine and tossing it on his nightstand. There's something on his mind that he isn't saying; you can tell from the way his brows knit together and how he's anxiously tugging on his lip piercing. "It was weird to be gone," he mumbles and leaves it at that.

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do that on purpose, by the way. That guy was just...so weird, I kinda blurted out the first thing that would've made him feel weird for even thinking that."

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Heeseung raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Heeseung looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Heeseung asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Heeseung on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

You don't remember who leans in first; it doesn't matter; all that matters is after years of longing, your lips are finally intertwined with his. He must've smoked today; you can taste the nicotine on his breath. But it doesn't matter; you don't make the slightest move to pull away. Neither does he, placing his hands on the small of your back to guide you onto his lap.

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Heeseung can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

He kisses you again before adjusting your current position, slowly twisting yourselves until you're lying flat on your back. He moves his lips down towards your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his path as he settles between your legs.

You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, nearly jumping out of your skin as his delicate fingertips creep up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer until his ghosting over your clothed pussy. "This okay?" He mumbles.

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Cute," he replies, "you're already so wet." His fingertips stroke your clit through your damp underwear; you don't think to wonder how he managed to get to it so quickly, all thoughts leaving your brain as he makes small circles using his middle and index finger.

"Heeseung…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Heeseung doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

His lips are back on your neck instantly, trailing down to your collarbone until he reaches the curve on your breast. He halts his actions momentarily before your pitched nipple is caught between his teeth and your back arching off the bed from how overstimulating everything feels.

You curse under your breath, and Heeseung makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

You can feel his bulge against your thigh, though he doesn't even care about getting himself off. He moves over to your nipple, licking and sucking until it's completely hardened, leaving himself breathless. The two fingers that had been working your cunt had picked up the pace now, and there was an unfamiliar feeling in your gut that you couldn't identify.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Heeseung is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out of you, and now you feel like crying for a different reason. You go to protest but stop to watch as he takes his shirt off. If you weren't sure then, it's obvious now he'd started attending the gym.

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Heeseung.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Heeseung catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Heeseung was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, retrieving the rubber inside before tossing the remains to his floor. Despite being fully erect, he fists his cock a few times before sliding the condom on.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

"I already told you—fuck!" He cuts you off, the tip of his cock slowly making its way inside you. You feel so stretched out from this alone you don't know how you'd manage to fit all of him into you.

Heeseung must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Heeseung nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

He pulls his hips back and rocks himself back in, being sure to ask if you're okay with his pace. Once you confirm you feel fine and want him to keep going, he continues his movements; his eager hips snapping against yours and his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep stroke. You feel like you're on cloud nine, hands tangled in his hair as he swallows your moans.

That unfamiliar feeling from earlier returns; you feel it through your entire body this time. A moan of his name escaping your lips lets him know you're close. How he can always sense these things is beyond you; it's not worth overthinking.

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Heeseung picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Heeseung finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Heeseung in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Chaeryeong will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Heeseung awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Heeseung reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

You retrieve it and scan the area again, ensuring you haven't left anything else behind. When everything seems clear, you stand upright, but your eyes fall toward the trash bin near his window with the discarded condom. You're embarrassed to even look at it until you realize something seems off. It looks…empty.

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Heeseung had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Chaeryeong you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Lee sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Chaeryeong finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.

[the-corset-witch]

But for those of us who are actually interested in understanding one another, sometimes you just have to ask what people mean instead of, say, willfully misinterpreting them ;)

Ok but, I don't understand how this is because "people change the definitions they're using and refuse to admit it", when the entire post was about colloquial language. Why does someone have to admit that they know multiple definitions to a word when you can just ask which definition they meant or how they meant it- why is the urge to attack rather than communicate. I'm seriously not understanding.

I just don't get it, why do people need to admit to anything... tf are you the police?

"That's not really what that word means in its original sense."

I'm sorry, I'm used to using colloquial language because I find it is helpful it being understood by the majority of people. Thank you for letting me know who I am speaking to, I will now set my conversational skills to pedantry mode for the remainder of this encounter.

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !