#she says she wants to get in shape but she's not that out of shape and also if she wants to do that she should probably eat more so she has

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part III

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.

genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

part i part ii

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

Halloween, 2026

1st week of November, 2026

[Transcript of Y/N on the Graham Norton Show]

“Wow, Y/N L/N everybody, with “Jaded” from her new album “the Prophecy” that’s out next week - thank you, that was amazing.”

“Thanks so much, I was so nervous!”

“Nervous?” A giggle ripples through the audience at Graham’s incredulous expression. “Do you really still get nervous?”

“I do, yeah for special performances like this one, or Saturday Night Live in the States – it’s scary to sing on live TV!”

“Now, would you say that’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?”  Y/N doesn’t answer, just looks on warily. “Because it’s just been Halloween, and I heard that last year’s was particularly scary for you.”

“Yes, but only because I just wasn’t made for Halloween – I hate scary stuff, but have a very insistent slasher loving friend,��� Y/N confesses, then moans in embarrassment, hiding behind her hands. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up Graham, I’m gonna be so uncool after this.”

“It’s okay,” Paul Mescal chimes in from further up the red sofa, “I can’t watch horror or anything like that either.”

With a small, grateful smile, Y/N starts recounting a story. “Right?! But I have this friend who is obsessed, and she’s wanted me to go to a haunted house with her for ages. I fumbled my excuse last year, then got dragged into it. It was awful. I went in holding Sabrina’s hand, but then that traitor let go of me at the very first jumpscare, which was some type of room with this chainsaw guy and then a bunch of creepy people making creepy noises. I tried to grab her hand again and just made a run for it in a blind panic, only to realise halfway down the hall that the creepy noises aren’t stopping and I’m screaming and running even harder. Until there’s a tug on my hand and I turn around, only to realise that I’ve been running through this maze with a death grip on this poor actor’s hand. And he just goes “if I show you the exit, will you take a selfie with me?”, and that’s the one and only time I’ve ever made use of the celebrity card.”

Everyone laughs, which Graham seamlessly uses to pivot to the Red Chair stories. “Let’s see what other entertaining stories we have here today. Tell us, what’s your name and where are you from?”

“Hi, my name’s Vivian and I’m from Glastonbury.”

“Oh, that’s nice! The hallowed festival grounds – is your story related to that at all?”

“It does, actually!”

Graham looks delighted by that, and claps his hands, “oh yes – I can’t wait to hear this. Off you go Vivian”

“So I work as a police officer in Somerset, but I usually take time off for Glastonbury each year, whereas some of my colleagues work security for everyone attending. Y/N was actually performing that year, so I made sure to take time off to watch her set.” It makes Y/N smile, but when she leans in to get a closer look her eyes go wide all of a sudden.

Graham looks over at Y/N questioningly, but motions for Vivian to continue – his hand resting on the lever. 

“I remember showing up to work afterwards, only to find out that my colleagues had been the ones to escort Y/N to and from the festival grounds. I was really bummed about it, jealous they got to meet her. But then earlier this year, around September or so I was on patrol in the area – it was a fairly quiet day on country roads. Until we get closer to this small borough, and there’s someone quite clearly about to drive through a roundabout counterclockwise.”

Y/N sinks into the sofa, trying to disappear. “We signal for the driver to pull over, and when I go up to their vehicle to write them a ticket, I got my moment after all - it turned out to be Y/N.”

“In my defense – I hadn’t driven in the UK for three years, I’m sorry! I paid the ticket!” Y/N says weakly.

The audience laughs, and Y/N cheeks go red from humiliation, but Vivian is quick to corroborate. “She did, and even signed my phone for me.”  

“Alright Vivian, that’s a good story, you can walk, go on then. Reminder everyone tonight in London – be safe on the roads, Y/N is out there!”

2d week of November, 2026

2 week of November - release weekend, 2026

[Daily Mail excerpt] Lando No-Comment-rris refuses to answer questions about ex-girlfriend Y/N L/N as he parties it up in London

As the Formula One driver for McLaren turns yet another year older, the question if he's also gotten any wiser. Norris was photographed entering exclusive club Annabel's, before later making his way to a private afterparty with close friend Martin Garrix.

The driver has been having an eventful F1 season, with a very tight race for the championship that's seemingly going to get decided in the final race, as Norris battles it out to defend his current #1 ranking. The athlete has clearly reaped the benefits of his new and improved lifestyle, which seems to include a strict exercise and mealplanning regimen and very little distractions. However, Norris clearly made an exception for his birthday, as onlookers said he was "taking shots" and "enjoying himself" in the VIP section. Pictured below is Norris, together with friends Martin Garrix and fellow driver Max Verstappen.

Perhaps the night was much needed, as Norris has had to endure a very private break-up becoming very public after the release of Y/N L/N's latest album on his actual birthday. In fact, in a rare twist of fate, both the F1 driver and his ex were spotted in the UK capital over the weekend to mark the occasion. While Norris enjoyed Mayfair, L/N was spotted elsewhere in the city as she performed an acoustic set of "The Prophecy".

The two previously resided in Monaco, but since their break-up have not been seen much in public. Norris is believed to have moved his main residence back to the UK, while L/N is rumoured to have returned to her original residence as well.

Up until now, Norris and L/N have remained tightlipped about their relationship and ensuing breakup. When asked about his feelings on the album's release date, Norris refused to comment. Similarly, he did not want to answer questions as to whether the two had been in touch. In a recent interview on the popular podcast Call Her Daddy, L/N did seem to imply there were no hard feelings between the two. The two do still share mutual friends, as is evident by Martin Garrix congratulating Y/N L/N on her new album in his IG stories earlier this weekend.

We have reached out to their reps for comment.

3d week of November, 2026

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

You can read Part I & II by going here, part IV will be out soon!

♥ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

taglist (open) : @charlesgirl16

[scoobywrites690]

love love love your writing!! especially your poly141 works 💗

Thank you so much for the compliment on my writing, I really appreciate it.💕 I hope this fills that poly 141 shaped whole in your heart (I love poly 141 too, they're my babies😚)

-Poly 141 on readers birthday! (anyone got a birthday soon this ones for you💖)

-Cw multiple men, double penetration, oral (f receiving) cum in v

P.s this ones quite a long one🤭

You wake up to the sweet subtle smell of breakfast being cooked, the sweet sickly scent of waffles fills the air of the quaint apartment you share with the 141 team. You know for a fact that Kyle's out there with a bowl of batter pouring it into the waffle maker whilst Johnny takes pride in decorating the cooked ones with a mounting of whipped cream and a variety of different berries.

There's a groan and then the sound of shuffling sheets next to you, then you hear a mutter of curse words as you hear joints click and crack as John stretches out his poor tired body. Rolling over to face him he greets you with a warm smile as he rubs at his tired eyes.

"Happy Birthday, baby doll" He says into the top of your head as he wraps you up in his big bear-like hug. Almost squeezing the life out of you. Taking in a deep inhale he savours the faint scent of your shampoo, letting it wash over him, calm him. before he places a kiss to your temple and letting go to give you your space again.

"Smells like Kyle's making breakfast, wonder what state the kitchens gonna be left in"" He mutters, you humming in agreement.

"Never mind that, I know something I want more than some waffles" He says with a smirk plastered across his face. Connecting his lips with yours he pulls you into a deep embrace. tongues dancing together as he engulfs the small moans that slip out of your mouth.

Laying you down on the bed, he places a quick kiss to your forehead before he starts his decline down your body. leaving a trail of kisses on his journey, a giggle leaves your mouth at the feel of Johns moustache tickling you.

"Stop squirming, you" John says, landing a light slap to the side of your thigh as a warning. Shimmying your pyjama shorts down past your hips and over your thighs, John can't help but let a gasp slip past his lips, when he finally gets a look at the sweet pussy he loves so much (you'd think he was seeing it for the first time)

"There she is, such a pretty thing" He says to himself. The morning sun shining in through the window gives John the perfect view of the slick that's already formed, as it glistens in the light. Placing a light kiss to your clit already has you angling your hips up to meet his mouth, causing John to let out a low chuckle at how eager you are.

"Eager little thing, aren't you" He mumbles before he's sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking and teasing it with his tongue. then he's flattening his tongue against your folds before dipping down into your pussy to lap at your juices. an almost animistic groan leaves him as he laps at your sweet, sweet juices. his moustache being coated in a shiny sheen of your slick.

wrapping his arms around your things to stop you from wiggling away from him before he continues his attack on your clit, bringing it into his mouth before sucking on it. the sensitive little bundle of nerves spasming in his mouth at the intensity of it. The brutal assault causes your orgasm to come crashing down on you, John having to tighten his grip as you start to lift your hips off the bed trying to get away as the pleasure starts to turn into over sensitivity. But John needs to make sure he's got every last drop of your sweet sweet nectar. he can't let any go to waste, because to John it's like liquid gold.

After John cleans you up and helps you fix your hair, you join the others in the dinning room where you're presented with a plate of waffles with (like you predicted) a mountain of whipped cream and berries on top. Johnny not being able to help but smile at the creation he made just for you on your special day.

Hoping in the shower after eating as the boys want to take you round the shops, spoil you a bit they said (because it's not like they do that everyday of the year) Turning the shower on and letting it warm up before getting in. You let the hot water run over your skin, loosening your muscles as you let the water wet your hair.

Hands come down on your waist causing you to let out a squeal.

"I'm sorry, lass, didn't mean to scare ya" Johnny says "Thought you heard me come in" He mutters pressing a kiss to your temple, as his hands start to glide over your wet body. reaching down to the cup of your ass, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Heard you in the bedroom this morning" Johnny mutters into your ear as he nips at your earlobe.

"Captin made you feel real good" He says as he works his way down your jawline littering it in kisses. cupping your wet tits as he rolls your nipples between his fingers. Your thighs squeezing together in reaction.

"You want more?" He questions.

"I'd say she wants more" Says a voice behind Johnny. Being completely wrapped up in what Johnny was doing you didn't notice Kyle entering the shower.

"Hi, baby" Kyle greets with a smile, before placing a kiss to your lips. with you now sandwiched between them, you can feel Johnny's rock hard cock pressed up against your ass, and Kyle's cock growing harder just at the sight of your wet naked body.

Hiking your leg up and keeping it in there with his hand, Kyle drags the head of his cock up and down your folds coating it in your slick before he's pushing his tip past the entrance of you tight little pussy. Slowly bottoming out inside you waiting for you to adjust to the fullness. The sudden feeling of Johnny's dick poking at the entrance of the same hole Kyle is currently using has your heart racing.

"Shh shh, it's okay we've done this before remember, lass" Johnny mutters in your ear pressing a kiss to the top of your shoulder before he starts to slowly push into you too.

"Just relax, love" Kyle tells you "He'll be in in no time" He reassures you, giving you a comforting smile as Johnny pushes in deeper, the stretch quickly turning into a burning causes tears to prick at your eyes.

Once he's in everyone stills, letting you adjust to the stretch of having both of them in one hole. Once you give them the go ahead they both start to slowly move inside of you. the feel of both their heads bumping against your g spot has you melting in their arms. the discomfort that once was there soon vanished with the now overwhelming pleasure that they are both giving you.

The feel of their cocks rubbing up against each other in such a tight area has Johnny and Kyle groaning, and moaning out in pleasure. Their orgasms approaching much quicker than they'd expected. With you not far behind they thrust up into you at a much quicker pace, their tips no doubt hitting up against your cervix(leaving it bruised most likely)

Your orgasm washing over you causing you to squeeze down on them both has them soon spilling inside of you. pumping you full of their hot sticky cum.

It's a good job you were already in the shower. But it's okay because Johnny and Kyle help you clean up. sitting you down on the shower floor to wash your hair for you, before wrapping you up in a nice big fluffy towel.

later in the evening you find yourself in bed before anyone else(not surprising with the activities you've done today) curled up in clean pj's and fluffy blankets you let yourself drift off. It's not long until you're rudely awakened by Simon crawling into bed with you.

Pulling you towards him and wrapping you in his arms, he places a soft kiss to your lips before letting you drift back off. You awaken again, Simon still has you wrapped in his arms as he sleeps peacefully beneath you. Glancing at the clock tells you it's only 10:40, you can hear the chatter and laughter of the others in another room of the apartment. Probably all a few beers deep into whatever they're doing out there

The huff of Simon beneath you has your attention pulling back towards him. His deep hazel eyes looking into yours before pulling you in for a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. A groan slipping past your lips. Straddling your hips on either side of his wide form you can't help but grind your hips down on top of him.

"You want me, luv?" He asks pressing kisses to your neck, sucking so very gently at the skin.

"I'll be gentle, okay" He mutters "I know those two idiots out there stretched you out real good, didn't they?" He asks, and as on queue you can hear the loud laughs of Johnny and Kyle, probably laughing at something that is in no way funny at all.

Helping you take off your pyjama bottoms and to do the same to him, he's positioning you back on top of him guiding his cock into your tight little hole.

“There we go, atta girl” he groans, holding you up by your waist as he sinks deep into you. Guiding your hips backwards and forwards on top of him. Your clit drags across the top of his pelvis causing sparks of pleasure to rush through you. Your head coming down to rest on Simon's shoulder you let him take full control.

His grip on your hips tighten as he bounces you up and down on top of him. His dick bottoming out inside you every time. The sound of both your grunts and moans combined with the sound of his balls slapping against the bottom of your ass with every thrust fills the room.

Simon plants his feet on the bed to allow him to thrust up into you himself. His tip nudging at your entrance every time. With your legs shaking on top of him and his chest heaving as you both approach your release, you squeeze down on his cock as he fills you with ropes of his hot seed.

Letting you stay there whilst you both come down from your highs, you end up falling asleep like that. His arms wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, with his dick buried deep inside you keeping his cum from spilling out.

A very good birthday if i do say so myself.🎉🎉

[dazevi]

hey girl 🤓 any thoughts on jealous vi? idk why but I feel like she gets upset-jealous rather than angry-jealous. definitely starts spiralling into a “everyone leaves me” moment. poor baby i just want to hold her and kiss her forehead 😣

btw i love your works!!! ❤️

vi is definitely not your typical jealous type of girlfriend. and when she does get jealous, however, it’s pretty rare. she’s confident in herself and knows that you love her but she also has that tiny little voice in her head sometimes saying “what if they realize I’m not as good for them as someone else would be?” poor baby, indeed :( i don’t think she’ll get angry or lash out. she’ll probably retreat into herself. she’ll get quiet, spiral, and overthink. she’d be extra protective, always finding a way to keep you close to her—pulling you into her side, keeping a hand on your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder. it’s not really a dominance thing, more like her way of reminding herself that she’s the one you’re with and that she’s the one you chose. she’ll be clingy, but at the same time, she’d also would want to distance herself maybe for just a little bit out of fear that you’ll push her away.

but she’s so desperate for reassurance and literally craves any little sign that you still want her. she’s so vulnerable when she’s jealous. and it’s pretty clear that her jealousy isn’t about anger or distrust—it’s about fear. she’s afraid of you changing your mind about her and losing you like everyone else in her life. and one of her biggest worries is that she’ll love you so, so much and you’ll wake up one day and decide that she’s not enough. but, god, she melts into you so fucking fast every time you take her face into your hands to kiss her gently on those soft, heart-shaped lips of hers, reminding her that she’s everything you could ever want. she’ll look up at you with those shiny, big, blue, puppy eyes, and cling to you like her life depends on it, strong arms wrapping around your waist before burying her face into the crook of your neck, peppering the softest kisses ever on your skin there while mumbling quietly, “sorry for being dumb.” and she practically swoons when you run your hands through her pink hair—it’s growing longer by the week—and tell her that she never has to apologize for feeling things and loving you as hard as she does… oh, to be loved by vi…

★ | navigation

[fanaroff]

As someone on the chubbier side, I get it about the fat-mouth laziness here, but I have to defend Willow. The entire show gives each character specific-to-them mouth shapes. I remember the issues people had with Luz’s for the longest time. I never took the way they drew Willow’s mouth as a “lazy fat” mouth. I took it as her having prominent cheek bones, dimples, a lop-sided smile, a pout, or that she’s just a bright smiler.

Here’s one of her dads at her age:

He had the mouth and wasn’t chubby. Even as an adult he still has the mouth.

Out of all the examples shown, I’d consider Willow’s design to be the least offensive representation towards fat characters. She has THE most consistent character design out of all the examples shown. That is something to be proud of and happy for.

But here’s the kicker: she’s not fat.

She’s stocky muscle representation.

Willow is deliberately a stocky character and, as a child, is a bit chubby because there’s kids that still have their baby fat well until their hormones start kicking in. She’s not plus sized and isn’t even stated as such in her character Wikis and Disney descriptions. Just “chubby and stocky.”

Most children that grow up to be wide and muscular later in life, even if just by hormones, usually display certain levels of chubbiness in their childhood. They aren’t going to be thin skinny-minnies. Some kids are thin-boned and lean, some are wide-boned and stocky. It doesn’t make them fat.

I want to point out something specific that always stuck with me as she grew up too. She’s feminine and sporty, but deliberately lacks the sort of chest size that chubbier girls tend to have based on how body fat and lack of movement in certain areas work . She’s smaller up top and stays pretty small in comparison to how body fat works as an adult, if she were fat. The reason I point this out is because it falls in line with the growth children display from childhood into adulthood if they keep up with workouts.

Not all people “thin” when they work out. Bone width and how muscle is built up has a lot to do with it. Willow’s bones are wide and stocky so of course her muscles are going to be wide and stocky. Her shoulders just by themselves are wider than most of the kids in the show. And STAY wider.

These are her character models and outfit designs for the sports she plays. She’s not chubby. She’s built up. The dresses and leggings she wears during school days just created a facsimile of chubbier width due to lack of definition in the designs.

Willow is portrayed as muscular. She’s sporty and has been showed MULTIPLE TIMES that she enjoys working out and doing things that involve athleticism.

As an adult, she’s still wider than the others. Why? Because she’s got MUSCLE.

They didn’t do the trope of having her “thin down” as an adult like most shows do. She very well could have had this done to her.

It isn’t fair to say a wider character in animation is just fat based on the way she’s drawn when there’s so much giving representation to a body-type shown way less in children’s media than being just chubby or fat. (And even if she were only a chubby representation, she’d still be an AMAZING one.) In children’s media, the stockier characters are more often than not just put under the label of “bully”because they’re bigger than others but not necessarily fat, especially when it comes to boys. They play into the intimidation factor.

In TOH, we get a stockier muscular kid who’s sweet and feminine.

You know who’s also stockier, muscular, sweet and feminine? Luisa Madrigal.

You wouldn’t call Luisa Madrigal fat for her width. She’s just animated differently. As a child, Luisa would have pretty much the same shape. She’s not going to have those V-cut shoulders of hers at age 10. Those took time to form.

Willow isn’t fat for her width. She just has a mouth shape some people associate with it in animation. I don’t see her having this as an intention to say she’s fat, but to change the status quo for her like they do for so many others in the show.

These other characters shown in the examples? The cheek thing is a deliberate detriment to their design to make them look less like something someone would want to be. (I would also like to point out that Willow is the only example shown by OP that is not from anime and is the only one whose show paints it in a positive light.)

To Willow? It just adds to her charm. Just look at her! She’s adorable!

One of my pet peeves with how people draw fat characters is when they use this type of mouth to denote who's fat:

The curved cheek I'm assuming (extremely optimistically) is supposed to show fatter facial features, like bigger cheeks. But instead of that type of mouth having that effect, all it does is make the fat character look like they always have food in their mouth and are perpetually eating because that round edge to a mouth is most often drawn when a cartoon depicts characters eating food.

Compare how Naruto is drawn here while eating:

To how Naruto is drawn while not eating:

That mouth type is also usually a lazy attempt at drawing fat people, which you can even see with the two examples above of The Owl House and Pokemon. (Willow especially is a lazy attempt at drawing fatness. Some people still don't even know to this day that she was a half-assed attempt at having a single main fat character in The Owl House because that is how thin she looks. She's so barely fat that I'm close to calling her "fat-coded" instead, which I didn't even know was something possible to draw. Great job. /s You can only tell she's "fat" when she's put next to the stick thin characters, and that was intentional. After all, what better way to only just barely have fat representation in your show than to do the drawing equivalent of a magician saying "Now you see me...now you don't!" And the added insult to injury with how the show's creators made her thin at the end of the series is just cruel.)

Don't half-ass fat representation, don't draw fat people as walking fat stereotypes, and please don't use that mouth type for portraying fatness. Allow us some actual humanity during the few times you'll ever care enough to draw fat people.

-Mod Worthy

[togrowoldinv]

Snowy Day

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You help Natasha see how fun a snow day can be

Note: Very soft Nat here. We got a lot of snow where I live and have been enjoying playing in it. Y’all enjoy!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

“Natasha,” you whisper as you run your hand over her arm.

Her response is just a soft mumble. She pulls the blankets further up her body and snuggles deeper into the bed.

“Natasha, wake up,” you try again.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, her voice riddled with sleepiness.

“It’s snowing.”

No response comes from the redhead. She simply rotates to look at you.

“It’s snowing,” you repeat. “And it’s the perfect day for a snow day.”

“A snow day? Just a day with snow?” Nat asks. She’s starting to wake up more now.

“No, a snow day. A day we can get outside and do all of the fun things to do in this weather,” you explain.

Her brow raises in question. You know for a fact she’s seen snow many of times, but it dawns on you that she’s maybe never had a fun day playing in it.

“Have you not ever-“

“No,” she interrupts. And then adds, “What about my life indicates I’d have a fun day in the snow?”

There’s an edge to her voice. She didn’t mean it to come out so harsh. You frown and lay back on your pillow. Nat leans up on her elbow and leans down closer to you.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she says. “You woke me up excited and I’ve brought you down.”

“No, it’s okay. I just- I didn’t think about you not having the same kind of life as me. I’m sorry.”

“We’re good, y/n.”

Natasha leans down and kisses your lips softly. You feel her love for you spread through your body. Her soft touches linger on your skin even moments after she’s stopped kissing you.

“What does this snow day entail?” She asks.

You smile so bright that she can’t help but match it.

“Really? You want to do it?”

“I do,” she agrees.

And so, you tell her about everything you want to do today. There’s probably too many on the list, but you can’t help from excitedly saying everything that comes to mind.

The two of you ease into the morning before the big day. You find the biggest, warmest outerwear you have and help Natasha bundle up too.

“First, before our hands get cold and faces freeze let’s take some photos,” you say, getting your phone out.

Natasha appeases and smiles wide for every single photo. She takes your phone and takes some solo photos of you posing in the snow.

“Now, what would you like to do next? Build a snowman?”

“Sure,” Natasha says.

You show her how to start rolling up the snow and she gets the hang of it quickly. Not to your surprise, she’s good at everything. The two of you stack the giant snowballs together and make the perfect shape of a snowman.

“What should we decorate it with?” You ask her. She shrugs. “Do you happen to keep a magical hat around?”

“Oh, I think Wanda could conjure something up,” Natasha says, being fully serious.

“Natasha, do you know about Frosty the Snowman?”

“Oh.”

Then she bursts out laughing. You join in.

“I know about Frosty!” She says. “I just forgot.”

“You’re so very cute, baby,” you tell her.

“Shucks,” she says.

You kiss her cheek and then actually get to work on decorating the snowman. No magic is involved except for the love in the air as you two work.

After that, you know it’s getting time to go inside and warm up for a bit. But first, you practically throw yourself onto the ground.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asks. She stands over you and smiles in your direction.

“Come here!” You reach up for her and pull her down to the ground.

You fall into a fit of laughter as you tangle with her and pin her to the ground. Her red hair cascades over the white snow.

“You are so beautiful,” you tell her.

“Yeah?”

“One hundred percent. I love you, Natasha.”

Natasha’s face contorts into some mixture of a smile and a frown at how sweet you’re being. You brush your fingertips over her cheeks that are dusted in pink from the cold.

“I love you too, y/n.”

“Snow angel time?” You ask.

“Show me how,” Natasha says happily.

It’s simple, but Natasha pays apt attention to you as you show her how to move her arms and legs to make it look just right.

“The trick is getting up without messing it up,” you explain.

“I can handle it,” Natasha says confidently.

You chuckle, but unsurprisingly Natasha does get up stealthily and the snow around her angel still looks untouched.

It doesn’t take much convincing to get Natasha back inside and making hot chocolate so you can warm up. You settle together on a couch next to the fireplace.

“Are you enjoying your snow day?” You ask Nat. She holds you close.

“Mhm,” Nat hums. “Thank you for today.”

“Of course. I’m really happy,” you say, meaning more than just about today.

“I’m happy too,” Nat says. She kisses the top of your head. “We should get married.”

“What?” You lift your head off her shoulder and look at her.

“Yeah. Let’s get married,” Natasha says again.

“Right now?”

“I mean, why not? It’s snowing and it’s beautiful outside. We love today. Why not?”

Natasha stands up from the couch and starts walking down the hallway to her room.

“Natasha Romanoff, I never thought you’d be so spontaneous!” You call after her.

It takes her a minute to come back into view.

“Well, I love you and I want to marry you,” Natasha shrugs. “I should probably propose formally though, huh?”

She drops to her knee in front of you and takes a ring box out of her pocket. She opens it.

“Oh, Natasha..”

“So maybe it’s not that spontaneous, but I have been waiting for the right time,” Natasha starts. “I promise to love you forever. Will you marry me? Please?”

“Yes, yes. Without a doubt, yes!” You can’t help but shout.

Natasha slips the ring on your finger and you kiss her until you can’t breathe. You’re both so happy.

“Wait, what about a ring for you? If we’re getting married, I need a ring for you,” you say.

“Maybe Tony could make one up? Just a simple band,” Natasha suggests.

“Definitely,” you agree. “Let’s go get the team, get the party planned, and get married.”

“Best snow day ever?” Natasha asks.

“Best snow day ever.”

You and Natasha will never forget the first day she played in the snow, and the day your lives were changed forever for the better.

[genderqueerdykes]

hii this might not be the usual asks you get, and if you're uncomfortable w it then feel free to ignore but !! I was wondering if you had tips for gaining weight ?? there isn't many resources out there and, you seem like a really cool person and an okay place to safely ask. I'm really bodily skinny, like really, and I never seem to gain much weight. I might not eat the most frequently, but they're always large and filling meals but the most I ever get is a slightly fuller stomach that goes away after a bit. but I eat till I'm no longer hungry yk, I don't want to force myself to eat more. and although I have " tummy fat " like around uterus area I've come to realize that's like, just the way my body is shaped and it's not anything I can lose through workouts and shit. whereas the rest of me is thin and lanky. And I'm not necessarily wanting to change my weight exclusively for looks, though I do think it'd bring me more confidence, it's also for my health.

I know gaining weight isn't inherently unhealthy, and in my case it's going to help in more ways than one, but I also don't want to go about this wrong I suppose ?? I also have possible PoTs, and I don't know if weight gain would have any negative side effects ?? I'd like to also mention ( mentioning a lot lmao ) that both my mother and father are fat, and though my dad doesn't really care he's never lost weight, and my mum who does care ( she does all sorts. fasting, workouts, diets, etc .. ) also has a very hard time losing weight. whereas I have a hard time gaining it, so that's. yeah. :']

weight related numbers, saying js for anyone uncomfortable ↓↓ ( these are all guesstimates, my memory doesn't do well on number related things qwq )

I'm around 5'9 / 5'10 and I've been about 45kg to maybe 50 at most for years now, my mother is around 90 - 100kg+ and my dad is around the same if not a little less. I'm taller than both of them yet half their weight or less, ( my brother who is around 6'0 is also really skinny like me, but he's made up for that in muscle and eats fine he js naturally looks skinnier and isn't unhealthy for his whatever ratio, in the sense it doesn't bother him or his health !! yeah !! I don't have any better words lol. ) js mentioning this because I know family and genetics can like, change weights and how they work person to person and all .. !?

Anyways this has turned out way long but !! yeah, any advice at all would be great .. thanks in advance :D /nf

this is not something i have a lot of personal advice on BUT i would be happy to open this up to other people to try to get you more information!

i am always fully in support of people having autonomy over their weight and if someone wants to gain weight, then that's their right. doesn't matter what reason they're doing it for, not my business. if someone wants to be bigger, good, they're allowed to be. part of fat liberation is accepting and encouraging people who want to gain weight regardless of reason. i've always been fat so i have zero tips on gaining as i'm just always around 320 lbs, but folks who have experience with this please feel free to lend a hand!

[mellowtrashtrash]

FNaF World: Welcome to the Freakshow!

Today I challenged myself to see how many characters I could complete in one day. We've got a lot to cover, so let's get started with...

Scrap Baby!

Pizzeria Simulator's iconic wretched dumpster clown!

Some of my finest modeling and animation! Scrap baby was a doozy of a design to try to simplify. She practically has the detail of every Sister Location character combined! Naturally, this proved to be quite the challenge, but in the end it turned out great. The shapes are very smooth and the rigging is exquisite. You can hardly even tell with how swift the animations are, but I was very deliberate with how those little wire-orb things were rigged. They move with the limbs and body to skillfully avoid obvious instances of clipping!

There were lots of hooks and curves involved in the blender process, and it was a meticulous and precarious process, but I managed to pull Scrap Baby together in about three days. After finishing her today, I figured "Hey, why not do a couple more! I have it in me!" And with that, my quest began. The next character(s?) I tackled was...

The Minireena duo!

Everyone's favorite claustrophobic nightmare children!

I decided to go with two of them, in reference to Sister Location Custom Night's two different sets of Minireenas, and also because just one would be far too small!

Now these little punks were a delightfully obnoxious design process! I'd never had the (dis)pleasure of working with two separate armatures in one character before this, and it was quite the challenge. But you all know I like a good modeling/animation challenge. It gives the sometimes boring process some novelty!

Sidenote: Minireenas' eyes are kind of weird. They show up only in specific instances, but are absent the rest of the time. Obviously so, as you can see their little endoskeleton in their custom night icon. No eyes! I think Scott just needed a way to make their jumpscares a little more intense, and didn't want to worry about giving them eyes anywhere else. But hey, those beady yellow peepers definitely worked! They're quite the uncanny sight!

Next, we've got the one, the only...

Bonnet!

Sister Location Custom Night's very own adorable nuisance!

Remember earlier, when I mentioned how just one Minireena would be too small by itself? There wasn't any getting around it this time. Bonnet is, by all accounts, a palette swap of Bon Bon, but does that hold her back from having her very own identity independent of his? Absolutely not! Bonnet has set herself apart with her signature mosey, her insecurity about her (literal) button nose, and her unnerving ability to maneuver around without the aid of an uncanny, leg-bearing, scary bear companion! (Try saying that five times fast!)

It's a little tough to make a character like this work on their own, but I managed to pull it off, and have somehow produced some of my favorite animations so far. Her big leap is very rabbit-like, and it's pretty natural-looking. Her hurt animation has a little shiver to it, like she's shuddering from discomfort. Her animations managed to be very lifelike, despite the limitations of the character's design.

Next up, in a sort of redundant fashion, we've got...

Lolbit!

The oddball salesman adapted for the screen!

Kind of an odd choice of character, considering Lolbit's already been in FNaF World, but with their breakout roles in Sister Location Custom Night and Ultimate Custom Night since their initial debut, I figured it was prudent to include them. My working theory is that once the story of FNaF World had concluded, Lolbit got bored of hanging around in Animatronica, and decided to find some business elsewhere, winding up with their unforgettable inclusion as a face on a series of screens that forces you to type buttons on your keyboard. Not the most stunning appearance, but hey, it's unique! And it's funding the development of new and better Bytes! Then once their contract expired, Lolbit returned to Animatronica to continue developing Bytes, only to find that new shopkeepers had arrived to take their place. Naturally, this meant Lolbit had only one thing left to do: tag along with the adventurers to find someplace to sell without competition!

In contrast to Funtime Foxy's monstrousness, I gave Lolbit the cheeky, cheerful charisma they've been rocking in every one of their appearances across the franchise. As a result, Lolbit's animations are teeming with callous impudence!

Finally, the character you've all been waiting for, the main attraction, the star of the show... It's:

Gumball Swivelhands!

Pizzeria Simulator's shockingly stupendous sweet-supplier!

Bet you weren't expecting this one, were you? Move over Candy Cadet, Gumball Swivelhands is the new star of the candy-dispensing show!

This character was unexpectedly fun to animate, and I adored the opportunity to model its face, but I must say, that expression seems awfully familiar. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it makes me feel a profoundly frustrated sense of déjà vu...

Pizzeria Simulator is chock-full of memorable character designs, and despite its apparent genericity, there's always been something striking to me about Gumball Swivelhands. A concentrated sense of whimsy permeates this character like the suffocating aroma of six different flavors of bubble gum surrounds a gumball machine.

To me, this is what FNaF World is all about! Identifying and celebrating even the strangest corners of Five Nights at Freddy's history! There's a place for iconic, fan-favorite characters, right alongside obscure, sometimes even downright forgettable weirdos like this one! Five Nights at Freddy's is a freakshow, but not one that ridicules its freaks, one that holds them up high with a combination of joy and pride, like a father whose son has won the big sports game. "That's my son!" FNaF says, gesturing to the Eggbaby. "Hooray!" I scream from the bleachers. "Three cheers for these wonderful weirdos! Hip hip, hooray!"

I look forward to whatever I have to share next time. As always, thanks so much for tuning in! I'll catch you on the flipside!

[killiaia]

CELEBRATE BIRTHDAYS WITH ITZY.

Yeji

The day was perfect. Yeji loved the restaurant at lunchtime, the cinema in the afternoon and another restaurant in the evening. 

At dinner, you gave her, her present. A beautiful necklace that cost you a little, but nothing's too expensive for Yeji. She loved it and thanked you dozens of times, and you told her that the real present was at home. Yeji, of course, in her kindness incarnate, told you it was enough, but you insisted it was an important gift.

And Yeji was not disappointed. Strapped to the bed, blindfolded and legs spread, you feast on her pussy. Yeji can't hold back the moans, you apply yourself to licking everything possible. 

"Best birthday present ever. "Yeji moans.

You insert your tongue into her hole as a reply.

----

Lia

Lia wanted this gift and as so often happens, Lia gets what she wants. Her present? You.

Oh, but not just any present. You once promised her you'd be her sex toy all day on her birthday. And right now Lia is riding your cock.

"Be ready because we're gonna fuck all day.

"I'm your toy. "

Lia gets off your cock and you don't understand, but when you see her pussy above your face, a smile comes over your face.

"Eat my little pussy"

You love this woman.

---

Ryujin.

Ryujin is a sex addict. She's addicted to your cock and for her birthday you thought why not give her a dildo in the shape of your cock.

At the slightest opportunity, Ryujin takes the opportunity to suck you off or for you to fuck her.

So the dildo was the perfect gift for when you're away.

You expected her to laugh when she opened the gift, but on the contrary. At the sight of the dildo, Ryujin's eyes blackened with desire.

She grabbed your hand and said, no, she made you go and try it on right away.

On all fours on the bed, you gently push the dildo into her tight pussy and Ryujin lets out a moan. For several minutes you push the dildo into her pussy until she comes.

The young woman collapses on the bed and is surprised when she feels your cock enter her.

She wants to say something but you put the dildo in her mouth.

"Suck the dildo and your juice while I take care of your pussy."

Ryujin is ecstatic.

----

Chaeryeong.

Chaeryeong is sexy on stage, she's confident and self-assured but in everyday life it's completely the opposite.

Chaeryeong needs to be pampered and reassured. Chaeryeong needs to be complimented, and that's what you're doing right now.

Lying on her back in full missionary, Chaeryeong takes your cock so well, which you point out to her.

"You're so tight Chaeryeong. Your pussy is made for my cock. " "

“ More, tell me more. "

" You're a good girl and you know what good girls do? They cum and get creampied."

"I'm a good girl? " Chaeryeong asks as she kisses you.

"You're my good girl. So I'm going to fuck you like you deserve and I'm going to release my cum in your pretty little pussy."

To accentuate your words you kiss Chaeryeong and swallow her moans.

It's only a few minutes later that you feel your cock being squeezed out of her pussy so much.

"Happy birthday baby. Now let me breed you. "

Chaeryeong lets out a cry of pleasure.

---

Yuna.

"You really want this for your birthday? " "

" Please." Yuna replies.

"Okay, I'll buy it for you. " "

" Thanks Daddy. "

Yuna cuts the call and you go off to buy her what she wants. If your princess wants this, she'll have it.

"Happy birthday Yuna. "

Yougently push the plug into Yuna's asshole. There it is, the present Yuna wanted so badly. A pretty anal plug with a beautiful pink diamond at the end.

"Thanks Daddy. I love the feeling so much. "

"It goes in all by itself. I can't wait to put my dick in it."

"I can't wait either. How do I look? "

Yuna buries her head in the mattress and spreads her buttocks. You take a picture of the view.

"Makes me want to fuck you. " "

" Go ahead and fuck me. Fuck my pussy while I've got a plug in my ass."

You quickly take off your belt and don't waste any seconds. You shove your cock into her pussy and you don't have time for manners. You fuck Yuna like it's the last time.

"You're so going to fill my pussy and then you're going to fill my ass with your cum."

Your cock strokes only increase.

[doiliedaze]

Thin Ice: part two

Hockey! Vi x Ice skater! reader

Warnings: dumb lesbians being dumb and avoiding their feelings!! Reader is a bit mean and vi is easily annoyed, I write a corny fight scene, goofy intoxicated sex, drunk driving but they are fine, eating out (reader receiving), choking (vi receiving), tribbing

Genre: smut, fluff and angst the whole nine yards lol

A/N: this is the final part guys!! This series was fun!! It gives me confidence in my other series as this is my first one!! I hope you enjoy my writing as I still experiencing with my writing style and how I want to portray these characters and represent reader so thank all 100+ of you guys which is crazy that’s there over 100 of you reading my stuff I appreciate all you horny freaks ʕ>⌓<｡ʔ

1

───────┈ · ·

Vi and I have gotten closer since the day in the library. Honestly if she wasn’t so seductive we could’ve been best friends in the first place.

We live off campus because it works with our schedules better, and we’re both private people. So private I realize I’ve never seen her room so now that I’m sitting on her bed I’m taking it in. We started living together late sophomore year. It was complicated but it worked for the moment! If we were fucking it was on the couch or counter, and if we wanted to avoid each other we went to our rooms.

I sink further into her mattress as she goes on about the drama on her team. So glad I don’t have to deal with that bullshit!

“Are you listening at all?” She pouts as she lays on me. I run my hand through her pink hair, “of course vi” I exhale.

“Am I annoying you?” Shr whispers as she tucks her head into my neck. “No I exhaled because you’re heavy…you don’t annoy me.” I lift her face up and kiss her forehead.

She puckered her lips and I gave her a quick kiss. I know fucking is what made us awkward in the first place but we aren’t fucking just kissing as friends.

“Okay enough of that let’s get ready for this party!” She exclaims as she gets off me. We are party girls through and through however I’ve been enjoying them less recently.

“You don’t wanna stay in maybe?” I whisper playing with my hair. Vi sits back down on the bed, “do you not want to go anymore? You okay?”

“Just feel like being alone with you…”

“I don’t think we should be alone together.” She laughs and something about that pisses me off so I push myself off the bed and say I’m going to get ready.

Before I could enter my room door Vi grabs my wrist. “Don’t pull that distant bullshit with me, if I hurt your feelings say that!”

“Why can’t we be alone together?” I huff

“C’mon cupcake you know why.” She states softly as she lets me go and leans on the wall. She’s right, even though we kiss we have been very platonic with each other and it’s the healthiest we’ve ever been. It’s nice having a friend in her but I want more I just don’t know how to truly express that!

“Your right…”

That’s what I play in my head as I mock myself as I get ready.

When I left my room vi was in a wife pleaser, baggy pants and docs. She likes to get creative in her style so we made our own patches and attached them to her jeans. “Aww your wearing them!” I say as I bend down to look at her pants. I hear her flustered giggle, “of course can’t let my cupcakes skills go to waste.”

I fluff her hair, “you look good” and that breaks a soft blush on her face. “You look beautiful” she takes my hand and spins me. “Wait before I forget, here.” She attaches a heart shaped carabiner onto my shorts that had her name on it. “And I got a matching one!” She shows me her heart shaped carabiner that had my name on it.

“Let’s leave before I make love to you.” I declare as I quickly walk out with a laughing but flustered Vi tailing me.

The party was loud and crowded. I probably had four shots at this point and was dancing with one of my senior friends Mel. We were shouting lyrics and giggling until I had to jump off to grab us sims more drinks.

Vi and I don’t always stick close during parties but I feel like everywhere I turn I see her in the crowd. It could be the alcohol or she could be watching.

I should’ve token that as a sign because some bitch bumped into me when I had our drinks in my hands. Now it’s crowded so I understand but I would’ve appreciated an apology but her ass laughed so I grab the closest drink and throw it at her! Leading her to punch me and now we’re tussling on the floor. It was all happening so fast and I knew my nose was bleeding but I was on top of her and was wailing on her until Vi picked me up by my waist.

“Get off me!” I yell and thrash in her arms until she yells at me to chill out. I calm down once I’m in the car and Vi drives me back in silence.

“Is ny hair fucked up?”

She gives me a once over, “do you want me to tell you the truth?”

I gasp at my ponytail, “that bitch made me fuck up my slick back!” I cry the alcohol definitely kicking in.

Vi laughs, “I’ll fix it when we get back.” That alone made me cry harder.

Once we’re home I get all the supplies I need and we fix my hair in the living room. I allow Vi to help me if she listens to every single detail I give her! One time I let her just do it and she cut my wig into a fuck ass bob…she’s lucky I’m pretty enough to pull that shit off.

“See good as new baby!” Vi exclaims as she’s very proud of herself. “All you did was gel it back…”

“Can I have a win please?” She pouts and I just kiss her

“There a win” I giggle as I move onto the couch next to her.

Vi pulls me onto her lap and we cut on any random movie, it’s background noise as we talk.

“You think I’m a pushover?” She whispers, “honestly you can be, but it comes out of love!”

“Yay I’m an loving pushover.” She snorts but I know she was kinda hurt. “I’m saying you do all you do for people because you love them, but you gotta do more for yourself Vi.” Her fingers interlock into mine and squeeze.

I turn to face her, “like if you want something you should just go for it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” I whisper as I lean in and meet her lips.

Quickly she shoved her tongue into my mouth. She’s always been a desperate kisser. Her hands leave mine so she can cup my face. I slow down the kiss by sucking her tongue then biting it, causing a whimper to come from her mouth.

We move to her bedroom in the process knocking down furniture. We laugh against each other as she pushes me onto the bed. We’re quick to take each others clothes off.

Sloppily she trails kisses down my body causing a mixture of giggles and moans. She doesn’t even take my panties off just kissing through it till it’s wet enough. “Vi you have to move them.” I laugh as she mumbles that she doesn’t.

I try to pull them down so she bites my finger and I laugh. She sucks my clit through the cloth but pulls it aside a little to get three fingers in there. My back arches and I reach for her hair, “still sensitive?”

“Fuck you” I whine

“You will, be patient” she laughs into my cunt.

My whines turns to moans as she moves my panties further so she can flatten her tongue against my pussy.

“You taste so good, just for me” she says as she looks up at me. “Just for you.” I moan as I grip her hair and push her in further causing her nose to nuzzle into my clit.

“Fuck!” I repeat as I feel myself orgasm as she continues to thrust her fingers into me. I pull her head away and stare into her fuzzy eyes. “C’mere” I say shakily and she crawls over to me to kiss me.

I wrap my legs around her so I can flip us over. I don’t break the kiss as I place my cunt on top of hers. She moans in my mouth as I slowly grind.

Wanting to get a better rhythm I pull away so I can press my weight down on her.

She reaches for my tits to squeeze them and I moan feeling her coarse fingers pinch my nipples.

Her moans intensify as I move one of my hands from her shoulders to her neck. VI’s eyes are half lidded and have nothing behind them. I squeeze till her moans are breathy and broken.

“You sound so beautiful baby.” I whisper and I feel a sense a satisfaction knowing she can’t respond.

I know she’s close as her moans get high pitched. My hips stutter as I reach my peak too and I fall into her as we cum in unison.

Vi holds me as I release my grip on her neck and move it to rub her face. “Is this a good time to ask you out?” I laugh after catching my breath.

“It’s the perfect time” She laughs shakily, “just promise me you’ll talk to me please.”

“I promise, I want to be better for us.” I say rolling over so I can look at her. “You have to promise to stop trying save everyone including me.”

“I promise” she whisper as she gives me her pinky.

As our fingers interlocked and our foreheads touched I knew I’ve found the love of my life.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: omggg this took me forever!! I hope this doesn’t feel rushed but I knew I wouldn’t write a third part of this cause I’m not gonna do miscommunication and I feel like the problem wasn’t them as a couple but them as people (more so reader lol); I love how this isn’t really about their sports at all lol. I hope you like it @lemon-criminal !!

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven

(Dividers- @dollywons)

[erinyesofvengeance]

HIGH ON ANESTHESIA

pairing: dick grayson x reader

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, drabble, hospitalized reader, one-sided pining (not for long), not proofread!!

summary: after getting your wisdom teeth removed, your best friend and unrequited love (love which you've kept a secret for 7 years) dick grayson comes to visit you in your hospital bed. unfortunately, you seem to still be under the effects of anesthesia, which causes you to be painfully truthful.

A/N: inspired by that one brownie scene in the perks of being a wallflower (bawled my eyes out in the end)

"The surgery went well. There were some unexpected complications, such as the wisdom teeth being in a rather unusual location, but your daughter will be alright. She'll be able to go home by the end of the day."

Your mother breaths a sigh of relief, seemingly relieved by this good news. Honestly, you couldn't blame her for being nervous and worried sick about you, given the events of the last surgery you had. Gosh, you really have had a lot of surgeries. Your mother turns to you, gently caressing your face.

"You okay, (name)? Do you want anything to drink?" she asks.

You sigh. Your head is pounding and your neck is craned at an uncomfortable position. No matter how much you move it, or adjust it, it stays the same. Sore, bothersome, and annoying. You nod in response to her question.

"I want water," you whine. "But not the lukewarm kind. Cause you always get the lukewarm kind."

Your mother sighs.

"Lukewarm is better for you. Cold water cools down your body temperature too fast. It's unnatural."

"Mama, that's bullshit. It's damn water," you groan. Your mother raises an eyebrow at your comment.

"Whoops." You smile cheekily.

"Fine. I'll get you some cold water," she declares. You clap your hands in excitement.

When she leaves, you can hear her footsteps becoming softer the farther away she moves. Another pair of footsteps makes it's way to your hospital bed. The footsteps stop, and your curtain opens.

You're met with a pair of striking blue eyes, and a head of perfectly styled yet still natural-looking blue hair. Dick Grayson, with his perfectly shaped face and irritatingly good looks had a worried look on his face. For you. That look of worry quickly faded once he saw you.

"I take it the surgery went well?" he asks.

You nod.

"That's good." He exhales a long held breath. "Considering the last time you had surgery, I had though..." he trails off when he feels your gaze burning holes into his face.

You look up at him dreamily. You could've sworn that there were sparkles in the air and hearts in the sky.

"Dick... you have such pretty blue eyes," you sigh.

He raises an eyebrow. "Say what now?"

"The kind of pretty that deserves to make a big deal about itself though, you know what I mean?"

He laughs softly, and the sound goes right up to your head.

"What else about me do you think is pretty?" he teases.

"Hmm... your hair, and your smile. Your voice. Your biceps are kind of nice too. I want you to put me in a headlock and choke me with them." you slur. "And obviously those glutes."

"Wow. Didn't know you acknowledged my smoking hotness." Dick, obviously, is quite amused right now. You've always been the one seemingly immune to his charms, despite his numerous attempts to hit on you and get your number. He knew by now for the past 7 years that he liked you; hell, maybe even loved you. Scratch that; definitely loved you. But you either ignored or was painfully oblivious to his infatuation with you.

"I've been acknowledging it for 7 years," you grumble.

"So what, you sayin' you like me or something?"

You nod. "Totally want you to choke me."

Dick grins.

"Got anymore secrets to tell me?"

Your eyes light up and you nod, beckoning him to come closer so you can whisper in his ear. You cover the side of your mouth with your hand when you get closer to him.

"I know about your secret. That you're Nightwing."

"Wait, what the fu-"

[caladriusposts]

people in my dr ! Pt.1

⋆｡°Ochako Uraraka (from someone who’s both her best friend and affiliated with her romantically)

⭑.ᐟ her cheeks and knuckles are naturally blushed giving her such a soft look especially with her brown eyes (they’re hazelnut brown with hazel highlights btw). you can she's blushing when her nose,ears and neck flush too and something I noticed that under her eyes also gets red and it makes it look like she's crying got so worried the first time that happened especially when she started floating away THE WINDOW WAS OPEN AND SHE ALMOST FLOATED OUT OF IT.

⭑.ᐟher hair floats and it looks like she has horns when she’s bashful it’s SO SO ADORABLE she always tries to tame it but ends up ruffling it and its even a bigger mess.when her hair got longer her ends started to curl up and some even started making heart shapes i was WEAK seeing that (and figured i had to stop her from floating out another window)

It mostly happens when she’s confessing something or says something without thinking and she realizes what she said it’s fun to wait until she covers her mouth and hides her face in her hands its soo ♡ she looks like a chipmunk

⭑.ᐟ Has a closed eyed smile and jumps a little when she gets what she wants/wins the argument AND DONT GET ME STARTED AT HOW SWEET SHE IS WHEN SHE GETS HER FAVORITE FOOD literally perks up and her eyes visibly shine .

Sometimes when she gets too happy she grips my shoulders and shakes me and starts jumping. learned the only was to stop is by jumping with her in circles but she has a tendency to step on people's feet HELP

⭑.ᐟ when she drops stuff when her quirk she puffs her cheeks or purses her lips making a fish like sound, or more like a bubble?? i cant explain it well but its so cute and sometimes she goes "bonk" but it sounds more of a "bawn" cause its in one go / a mutter her breath

She also separates her hands slowly when saying it i really hope you guys are getting the vision cause it's such a quirk of hers,she says "boom" if she's teamed up with Kats cause they have this move where she floats stuff,drops them and before they hit the ground he uses his quirk

⭑.ᐟ Her favorite hobby is jumping on me whenever i am doing something and calling me a wuss if i drop us,so far i slammed into a table,my desk,the fridge and broke houndog's mug.all this trouble cause she likes how my wings wrap themselves around her in panic (besides her loving to keep me on my toes) SHE COULD JUST ASK BUT NOOO

She gotta accept that I am old and can't keep up with that my shoulder is screaming from how heavy her boots are (whatever my girl wants she gets)

⭑.ᐟ one time she was staring and playing around with my fangs and poked herself when she pressed her thumb against them then blamed me for it,i tried to bite her finger forreal after that but i got launched off the couch.SHE'S SO MEAN.

she also pushes my cheeks together when i say something dumb or lightly taps my face twice then squeezes while looking so disappointed,I tried to flip her when she did that once but l ended up pinned down again WHEN WILL I GET MY JUSTICE MY FACE ALWAYS HURTS AFTER HER PINCHES

⭑.ᐟ she has naturally dark eyelashes looks like she has mascara on besides her lower lashes have a brownish tint ITS SO CUTE AND HER BEOWN EYELINER FOR WORK MAKES HER LOOK SO AUGHHH IT FITS HER SM

⭑.ᐟ Her chubby cheeks give her such a baby face. her and izuku have such squeezable faces i genuinely get cuteness aggression if i stared at them too long i bit their cheeks far too many times.

As doe faced as both of them are it goes out of the window when they're on the field i swear they age she has such a different vibe when we're on missions and she's so smart and such a quirk thinker we worked together on rescue missions for years i am sad I wont have any with her anymore since I stopped on field work but at least we have shared classes together that's smth fixed.

⭑.ᐟ one time she ran up to me after a mission for a hug and we fell off the stairs from the impact of her jump but she used her quirk last minute and it made me feel funny it felt like i was on a trampoline I was giggling that's one of my favorite stunts of hers

She's not always a hugger but when she is good luck getting out of her grip i feel like my ribs get squeezed .

⏦ﾟ♡︎

- Post graduation crumbs

can pick both me and izuku which kinda freaks me out cause IZUKU IS SO FUCKING HEAVY AND SHE CAN PICK HIM UP ON HER SHOULDER?? WHILE HAVING ME IN HER ARMS SO CASUALLY.its so attractive but oh myy.

⭑.ᐟ

one time I saw her dragging katsuki by the collar with his gear and grenades on (while holding her bag in the other arm btw) when i was walking out of my office, weirdly enough that became normal occurrence really quickly and he gave up resisting LMAO

⭑.ᐟ

Randomly seen carrying around stuff esp if one of her/our shared classes have rescue training,one time she had a brick??i didnt even wanna ask.

another it was the comically large fish net momo made to catch me back in first year training with shoto AND SHE ACTUALLY RAN AFTER ME WITH IT CAUSE APPARENTLY THE STUDENTS SHOULD EXPECT ANYTHING AND THAT COUNTS THEIR TEACHER GETTING CHASED WITH A FISH NET.the whole thing was me and the poor poor kids trying not to get caught in the net and FLOATED AWAY INTO A BOX with another class trying to save us (she caught all 40 students and me (T ^ T).

⭑.ᐟ

talking about how she just walks around with stuff and people one time we saw her carrying a student WITH THEIR DESK to nezu’s office since they didn’t wanna get up thinking she’ll let whatever they did slide😭they looked so dumbfounded and mouthed a help me but not my student not my business,I am sorry I wouldn’t even try to reason with her in this situation.

⭑.ᐟ

Used to make flower crows as a kid and she taught me how cause i forgot and grew up with a certain someone eating flowers (katsuki),whenever i fell asleep in the park i woke up to flowers in my hair and a shit ton of pictures our friends took but one time i woke up to denki helping her and putting one in my mouth I WAS SO MAD CAUSE WHAT IF I SWALLOWED THAT.

fast forward a few years and whenever i fell asleep on my desk at work i wake up with a flower in my hair,a daisy most of times :) and a semi scolding note saying imma look like a shrimp at the end of the year if I don't stop sitting like one shrimp at the end of the year if I don't stop sitting like one.(・・?)

────୨ৎ──── ⊹₊⟡⋆

Style and preferences !

_This is so random but she's really into freckles and beauty marks,she pokes and counts mine regularly (my three beauty marks that look like a triangle and the one on my knuckle specifically) and found it amusing how izuku's ears were also freckled it's one of her favorite features on us,heh

────୨ৎ──── ⊹₊⟡⋆

⭑.ᐟ fruit scents over floral although she has more floral perfumes and body splashes saying it’s more mature/formal for work and events,her favorite scents are mango,strawberry and peach though.

then it turned to her separating the stuff she likes from work and getting fruity perfumes as a way to unwind and use at home (i suggested that after finding 20 plus bottles of stuff she doesn't even like )

⭑.ᐟ takes picking the ones she gets for work so seriously and love narrowing down options but one time she sprayed the tested in my eye.after the third "MY EYE" she told me to hurry up and asked if it smells good or not before it goes out of stock,isn't she just dreamy <3

⭑.ᐟ A turtle neck HATES to see her and the todoroki's coming,ocha and todo have accidentally matched a few times and she looks so good every time.i was happy seeing her wear that in the epilogue.

she also likes wearing boots i thought it was her being used to her hero costume but its more of a fashion statement,she said that her kicks hurt harder with them and that was..! yeah i didn't walk infront of her for a while.she likes gloves and arm/leg warmers too she has a pair of leg warmers that have her agency logo dangling from them (≧∀≦)

⭑.ᐟ loves sweetheart dresses and wearing bows and hair bands to match,especially flower based ones i was reeling when i found out she likes flowers cause i am a floral nerd and kept matching the flower based stuff i got her based on the occasion.we matched in graduation with rea, maru lilly and akemi <3 (two cr scripted friends if you guys are reading this hello i love you and one is an oc but its weird calling her that now)

⭑.ᐟ has a phone bracelet (i forgot its name) that me and katsuki made her cause when she smiles while texting ans taps the phone with her fingers unconsciously with her pinky.it has strawberry and a vanilla ice cream with sprinkles charm

────୨ৎ──── ⊹₊⟡⋆

Bonus ᝰ.ᐟ

I LOVE how her mind works she's my inspo for the world building in my fantasy dr when it comes to some stuff, and scenarios l want to happen.

I remember how she had a whole plot of how everyone would end up getting to know to eachother and we had a path together its super duper cute and i cant wait to go on the silly adventures with her in my fantasy dr that she told me about that one time i couldn't sleep cause my wound hurt, think about that memory a lot it was nice and got my mind off what happened (T ^ T)

────୨ৎ──── ⊹₊⟡⋆

In the vigilante are her speech was a little different from canon cause of conductive events and she was looking straight at me at some part i felt like my heart was gonna burst,she was always nervous about public speaking i was (still am) so proud of her back then i sent seelie to nuzzle her cheek slightly when-she was still holding the microphone and she just smiled at me and I smiled back slightly. It was one on those moments where I got the saving people with a smile thing that I never took the class seriously when it came to, watching her grow and have her own identity of heroism was such a surreal experience and i am so grateful to be close to someone as genuine as ochako be being there when she recognized that she genuinely wants to save people would forever be on my mind cause i didn't really have a deep rooted reason for my heroism and i thought it would stay that way but she made me realize that i just needed time to figure it out,she just cares so much and that day made another part of her journey click to me l don't know she has a way of saying and doing things it's so her and she's so incredible

────୨ৎ──── ⊹₊⟡⋆ thank you so much for reading if you read all of this <3

[inquisimer]

For arlow and viago 😭 ❛ i don’t want to understand, i want you to stay. ❜

THANK YOUUUUUUU I am ALL up in my feels about them ;-; this is set well pre-canon, right after Arlow is released from (my version of) "how not to get possessed" Crow Edition

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 972 words | cw: implied/referenced torture, child abuse | @dadrunkwriting - veilguard

-

She is ragged, rubbed raw when they dump her on the stoop of Viago's estate. They rap on the door, once, twice, three times, because she could not lift an arm to do it herself. And then they leave her there, shivering and utterly drained, still bleeding where the manacles had held her. Still aching where the Fade had dug its claws into her.

But she is alive. That is more than most of the others can say.

Viago opens the door himself--of course he does, because he does not employ a staff, would not give anyone such access, no matter how thoroughly vetted. She wonders, as a soft string of curses fall from his lips, how they even knew to leave her here. Its location is a closely guarded secret.

(She will never know about the gold and threats exchanged, when first she was taken. As soon as she has passed, he insisted. Not a moment longer.)

His arms are gentle, slotting carefully under her legs and at her shoulders; he is trying to avoid the bruises, the welts, the weeping wounds. If she could find her voice, she would tell him not to bother--there is nowhere that does not ache, in some shape or form. But he is trying, and she focuses on that, rather than how the world spins as he lifts her, carries her down the hallway to a familiar room. It is not hers, but she spends a great deal of time here, being poked and prodded--poisoned--pressed for answers and learning how to describe what he needs to know.

The cot she usually sits on is made up with softer blankets and pillows than is typical. As if it were waiting for her, and knew that she would not be in a state for the harsh, cold crinkle of paper. But that is foolish--there is no one in the estate except Viago, and Viago is not the type to prepare such creature comforts. If her mind were not so muddled--

She blinks, and Viago presses a vial to her lips. He does not need to tell her to drink; she lets him tip it down her throat without hesitation. Bitter elfroot, and acidity. At her side, over her knuckles, and where it is seeping down her temple, blood clots as her skin knits itself back together. Though the gash over her shoulder blade only gets about two-thirds of the way there, and she knows that it will be a scar.

Experimentally, she reaches for it with her magic. It is new, this power within her, and awkward like a third arm, or second tongue. It is also weak, drained by the price the Crows have exacted. But she has paid it--she is alive. She has been judged, and not found wanting.

For once. Perhaps for the last time.

"Stop that," Viago snaps, as if he can sense that she is pushing past limits that have long since been flattened. "You will make it worse."

The tendril of mana blinks out into nothing. He cuts her ruined tunic away, pursing his lips together as each snip reveals bruises, burns, and more ribs than he'd been able to see three weeks ago. But he is not surprised. Necessary, as so many painful things are. When the pain fades, confidence will take root--in confidence, safety.

With short, clinical strokes, he cleans her skin and a tiny sigh parts Arlow's lips. She has nearly forgotten what it is like to be touched with an intention that is kind.

He takes his time. Tends each of the wounds with the appropriate salve, or balm, or serum. His gloved hands are more gentle than they have ever been when he urges her to lean forward, but he offers no apology when he draws the needle through her flesh, sealing another mark into her skin.

When he is finished, he wraps her in fresh clothes and brings her to rest before the fire. Hands her another potion, diluted this time, and gives strict instructions to sip, slowly.

Despite the fire, despite the ghost of his care lingering over her skin, Arlow feels a chill. This is the part where he leaves. She knows--understands, even. So much more than a child should have to. Of all the ways Viago covers his skin, he has never treated her with kid gloves.

She does not want him to leave. But it is not her place to ask him to stay.

Her eyes drift closed; for a moment, her heart stutters, afraid of the darkness that waits behind her lids. But the fire makes it warm and orange; the cold and dank to which she has been relegated remains firmly--if a bit too near--in her memory.

In that halfway place between waking and sleep, she imagines tender hands tucking a blanket around her. Shifting her on the pillow so that her neck will not be so terribly cricked in the morning. It is nice of her mind, to cushion her recovery with such niceties.

Gloved knuckles brush a stray hair back behind her ear. A softness that she will not remember in the morning, nearly gone to the Fade already as she is. Which is why he offers it, of course.

"Well done, parajito," Viago murmurs. She will not remember that, either, or the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. When he is stern and exacting in the morning, she will not remember that he was proud of her, or relieved to have her back under his purview.

But that does not change the fact--he is.

He tucks the blanket more snugly under her chin, smooths the wrinkles over her legs. For the first time in three weeks, she is resting easy--and he leaves, for the first time in three weeks, to do the same.

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

Consequence Last night I was met with major consequences of my actions. 

A buddy of mine asked me to come over and help him set up his house, as he just moved. I said yes (as any friend should) and we worked for a few hours straight. 

His wife is quite the cook. She’s made us countless lovely meals that are by all accounts quite lavish: plenty of fresh vegetables and herbs, finely cut and marinated meats, perfectly prepared noodles or rice or soup, and even at times delectably indulgent desserts. They are a modest family but often there is enough to eat seconds or thirds if one desired, and she has often welcomed or encouraged it, as that is how she was raised. 

Last night she made a huge pot of noodles and sausage and cut vegetables, even with fresh spices and homemade sausage. Truly some of her best yet. I helped myself to 4 portions or so…there was tons and only 3 of us, and no one was in the kitchen when I got mine. 

I sat down at the table and got to work. It took deliberate effort by the end of my absolutely piled plate to finish it all. My poor gut was so filled up I had gotten to a point where I was having to hide my heavy breathing. Luckily both my friend and his wife were preoccupied with a phone call and the tv, so I could gorge with little fear of being noticed. I finally finished it all. I took a deep breathe and just kinda zoned out in a blissful, food induced daze. I was quickly snapped back to reality by her. She sort of just appeared out of nowhere to get my plate. 

She asked if I liked it. I said it was great. She asked if I wanted more. I was looking down to grab my plate and hand it to her. I struggled to find a nice way to say I was so full I couldn’t have anymore, and then I looked up. She was almost…frowning? Maybe pouting? I couldn’t bear the thought of turning her down then, she looked so distraught…so I said sure. 

She practically jumped forward to take my plate, and she was beaming. A big smile flashed on her face and she expressed how thrilled she was to get me some more and that I liked it so much. 

I could hardly imagine eating any more. My stomach was already packed full. I absolutely dreaded her return. In just a minute or two she came back with my plate, and dear goodness it was stacked. She had chosen the choicest slices of meat and more than I got the first time as I was being modest with something such high quality. She had given me the nicest looking vegetables, and plenty of the fresh herbs. She even made sure my noodles had plenty of sauce. I was shocked. It was easily rivaling the portion I got earlier, but she chose so many delightful pieces of everything. With an excited, grateful word she set my plate in front of me. She was smiling ear to ear.  I had no choice now.

I said thank you and accepted my fate. Every forkful was laborious. Every mouthful tougher to swallow than the last. My mouth was overwhelmed with wonderful textures, flavors, and shapes. Truly this was the best plate you could’ve gotten. Yet I could barely stomach it. I ate so much of my own accord earlier that I ruined this finely prepared second portion. What should have been a happily welcomed indulgence was now practically a punishment. Slowly but determinedly I stuffed it all down. The chewing was just getting to hard. Not because it was tough or poorly done, but because I had eaten so much that my jaw became fatigued. 

Finally it was all inside me. I finally ate it all. Nothing remained on my plate, and I could barely imagine getting up. I sat there at the table, focusing on my positively swollen gut. I felt it strain my shirt differently, and my body was starting to focus all its reserve energy on processing all this food. 

I grew more tired then I had been. Food was supposed to be rejuvenating after a break from work, but I had now eaten so much I was starting to fight off sleep. 

Eventually I got up, and lugged my heavy belly back to work. I was so full I had to focus on breathing normally and annunciating  my words. My belly was this hefty, sagging sack of lard on the bottom(like usual) but the top was jammed full of simply too much food, and it had stretched and distended so far that my 5XLT shirt was starting to look a little tight in the middle. 

My choices finally caught up to me. My unchecked gluttony was finally taking its toll. I was being inadvertently punished for pigging out so intensely. 

honestly, I was hoping she would ask me if I wanted 3rds.

[leesolbeesol]

LIGHTWEIGHT

univeristy!au taesan x fem!reader (ft. the rest of bonedo!)

SUMMARY: Meeting Taesan at a basement party doesn't go as planned, what happens when you can't get rid of him? Do you even want to?

GENRE: fluff, slightly suggestive in one chapter, university!au (mentions of fraternities, classes, lectures, dorms, etc.) WARNINGS: Taesan gets punched, he doesn't deserve it but everything is okay | swearing | mentions of moaning but it doesn't get too crazy, reader makes fun of Taesan for it | fem!reader | heavy mentions of alcohol in the first chapter | EXCESSIVE flirting | ends with a confession!! NOTES: I have never been to a frat party. I have never participated in Greek life. I do not drink for personal reasons. I have never dated Han Dongmin (unfortunately). In other words, this is likely very unrealistic because my information comes from speculation, reddit threads, and other fanfics on tumblr dot com. This was so fun to write WC: 16.2k, divided into 6 "chapters" of varying length

RIDE OR DIE

You shift on your twin bed and feel the crinkly sheets shifting under your weight. You glance at the egg-shaped off-white clock on your wobbly, school-provided desk. The clock hits noon, your roommate will be home any minute and you’re hoping to power through the end of this report before then. Since you chose her as your roommate freshman year (because of maybe five instagram messages), Jen’s been your best friend, your literal ride or die, but she’s not the best body-doubling partner for cranking out assignments. When she’s with someone, she needs to provide commentary on whatever's going on, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a curse when it comes to being someone’s study partner.

The wooden door opens in an instant, and Jen’s frame appears in the doorway, flanked by about three bags. “Oh, dear roommate!” She greets you in song. She lets the bags fall from her arms with a thunk on the floor, and a couple papers scatter on the floor out of one of many of her partially-zipped backpacks. She marches towards you, waving her phone in your face.  “Look at this! One of our sisters invited us to a party Sigma Chi’s is throwing this evening!” She says excitedly before steadying her gaze on you. You back up as a carefully manicured finger stretches out towards your face. “We need to go.” She always refers to her sorority sisters as your (plural) sisters, which you think is sweet. It’s her way of including you. You figure that, at some point, she decided ‘my sisters this, my sisters that’ got a little bit exclusionary.

“No.” You answer her and turn back to your computer, entering the link for a hopefully-penultimate citation. This is the one thing you’re maybe not so “ride-or-die” about with Jen. You like parties, sure, but you aren't going to give up a good night’s sleep (without midterms, and all) so easily.

“What do you mean? It’s going to be so much fun!” She whines. “We just finished our midterms, we need to celebrate! What could you be even working on anyway?”

“There’s a presentation after midterms for some fucking reason, I don’t know. Plus, it's a totally bad idea to bring me. Nothing good happens at frat parties.” You tell her, pointedly. You do this dance with her semi-frequently: she invites you, you say no, she asks why, you say why, she asks again, you (sometimes) give in. You’ve got this waltz down to a science.

“Can you finish it later? Come on, please? You skipped out on the last three.” She looks at you with pleading eyes, ignoring your advice. You wonder if this was how she got everyone to do her bidding; pouting at them with her big brown eyes. You eye her suspiciously. It was true: you had denied her invitation to the last three events and probably the last three hosted by Sigma… what was it? Sigma Key? Whatever. You don’t particularly like most frat boys. In your experience, they tend to be on the annoying side… the very annoying side. The avoid-at-all-costs side.

You look at her as a smile grows on your face, “Will you do my laundry for a week when we get back from break?” At this point, you were considering going anyway, but you were going to try and milk it.

“And I’ll take out the trash.” She smiles back. Now… maybe hanging out in a dingy basement flanked by drunk college kids doesn’t sound that bad, right?

“Promise?”

She raises her hand as if to be sworn in to lawyerhood—or whatever they call it. “I, your loving, adoring roommate, solemnly swear to do your laundry and take out the trash for two weeks when we get back from break.” You suppress a laugh.

“What time is the party?” Satisfied, you surrender, albeit happily. She does manual labor for a couple weeks and you only have to go with her for a couple hours? Sounds like a dream.

“11pm.”

BUDDING ALCOHOLIC

The faint taste of tequila on your lips is your only reminder of your promise not to get the fuck out of dodge. If you hadn’t pregamed this party, you would have been regretting coming right about now, even if it means two weeks worth of chores being eliminated from your future. The music is noise-complaint worthy and not that good, even as far as frat music tends to go. Your best guess for timing is that it’s about midnight, and a couple of your peers are already drunk by the looks of it, making out by the window and stumbling on the grass out front. It already smells like vomit as you walk through the front door. To be fair, you’ve never been to a frat house in the daytime, so maybe the smell of vomit is just a permanent feature.

“You’re the best! Thanks for coming!” She swings an arm around you, at least a little tipsy. You shift in your Jen-approved outfit: a (very) tight black tank top, light-wash jeans, and a pair of Jen-borrowed, frat-designated, almost-destroyed sneakers. You’ve gathered from your brief excursions into the world of Greek life that this is the frat uniform.

“Hey, Jen-fer!” A guy, clearly a brother, comes up to the two of you with a cheeky smile on his face. It seems like every time someone greets Jen, she has a new nickname. Or maybe he’s just drunk and slurring his words. The guy looks like “people call me Chad but you can call me tonight” personified in his khaki shorts and impressively only slightly wrinkled t-shirt, sporting your school’s mascot with ‘VARSITY BASEBALL’ across it in loud, chunky lettering. “Who’s this?” He inquires as a girl swings her arm around his neck. The smile never leaves his face as he leans down to peck her. You watch as the girl and Jen have some sort of telepathic conversation by exchanging big smiles and little waves — she’s a sister, maybe? You really only know the girls that Jen’s closest to: Madelin (spelled like mandolin), Avery (who you thought was a boy for a couple months because you only know one other Avery, a boy), Elliann (whose name you remember how to spell only because you wrote Ellyanne once and you got a talking-to), and Gene (whose contact you have saved as the jeans emoji).

“Ugh, Jay! She’s my roommate, I told you about her.” You smile weakly as she points her attention towards you, “this is Jay. You remember Jay, right? From Econ?”

“Yeah… from Econ.” You mumble something unconvincing because you very much do not remember Jay from Econ. There are about a million Jay’s at this school. There’s Jason’s and James’s and Jongseong’s and Joshua’s and Julian’s who all go by Jay. Hell, there’s even a Jachariah (pronounced exactly like Zachariah but substitute the Z) who goes by Jay in your English Comp class. You think it would make sense to go by Jack (Like Zack) because there are less Jack’s, somehow, but whatever. When you return from zoning out, Jen starts talking at you. Some people are touchy drunks, some people are sad drunks, but Jen is a very, very talkative drunk. To be honest, she’s a talkative sober too.

She asks you to choose between the two drinks in her outstretched hands, naming both, though you can’t identify the taste or ingredients either, even with the name provided. Both looked like water.

Fuck it, what’s the difference? “Um, that one.” You say, pointing to the red cup in her right hand.

“Great! Are you okay on your own? I’m going to talk to Ellen!” She smiles big. Who’s Ellen? You have no idea. “Oh, hey! Meet my friend —hic! This is Tay!” She waves to someone behind you, and beckons them over with a finger. Great, now you have a Tae to keep track of.  Her goodbye is sonorous, “Bye bye!” 

“Bye, Jen-fer.” You tease her with the drawling nickname, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she waltzes off. You break into a slow smile as you see her leave. If you could remember what feeling sober is like, you would know by the drowsiness alone you’re a little more than tipsy. If Jen is a talkative drunk, you’re a sleepy drunk. You take a big swig of the red cup and it burns as it goes down, making you cough instinctively to get rid of the sensation. After taking a moment to compose, you shotgun the whole cup. Aside from the burning, you’re left with the distinctive aftertaste of artificial sweeteners sticking to your throat. 

You back up a little, and bump right into a wall. You curse, thinking you probably looked stupid doing that… that is, before you nearly jump out of your skin when the wall puts a hand on your shoulder. Sufficiently scared, you jump right back to where you started like a tennis ball. 

In your inebriation, you're pretty sure it might be the worst mistake of your life to look at the wall when you land eyes on the definitely-not-plaster you bumped into. 

You realize that she was saying Tae, not Tay. Tae, though you know him as Taesan, is the name of a—kinda emo—guy in your World Literature class who you decided was cute one time when zoning out in a lecture and have been a little shy around ever since. Why is he here? A frat does not seem like his scene. Your drunk self agrees with your sober self on the former issue, however. He is cute—really cute. His hair is straight and black and his bangs fall just above his eyebrows. You were definitely catastrophizing, because bumping into Taesan is maybe the best thing you could have hoped for at this Greek-whatever party.

��Oh… it’s Taesan!” It doesn’t even cross your mind to suppress the giant grin that spreads across your face as you say his name as you sway. “Can I call you that instead of Tae? Too many ay’s around, I think.” You mumble, feeling as cloudy as ever.

He shrugs, “Sure, I mean, I call you by your full name, usually.” 

Mostly ignoring him, you continue, focusing on the way the edges of his lips curl like he’s suppressing a smile. Squinting at him, you monologue. “You’re cute. But you’re bad at…” You squint harder, circling your finger in front of his face as if to cast a spell. He looks a little confused with his straight eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t look scared—yet. If you were in your right mind, you would have been amazed and totally terrified that you hadn’t scared him off with the wiggly finger. Maybe the slipped compliment at the beginning helped build some rapport? “You’re bad at… analysis.” You decide on pinpointing a weakness of his. Now, his analysis is actually pretty good. Sure, he's not going to win any awards with it, but who is in an undergraduate World Literature class taught by a less-than-enthusiastic professor nearing retirement? The alcoholic fog is just a little much, anyway. Maybe you’re more of a lightweight than you care to admit. 

“I think my analysis is pretty good, actually.” He frowns, but doesn’t seem offended in the slightest. He’s always quiet in lecture, you’re surprised he hasn’t made a quick excuse to get away yet.

You part your lips as you squint harder and point up at his face again, grasping for words that don’t come all that easy to you. “You… should kiss me.” As the words fall out of your mouth, he seems to look around a little bit in surprise. To your luck, he still doesn’t run screaming.

It’s his turn to point a finger at himself and his cool, bad-boy act slips, “kiss—kiss me?” He stutters, going wide-eyed and glancing around like this is a big reality TV-style prank and there are cameramen waiting in the shadows of this sticky, stinky basement, itching to catch him off guard. Perhaps you’re subconsciously practicing rejection therapy. 

“Yeah… you should analyze kissing me.” You attempt a smile as you try to keep your eyes open. The music is pounding in your ears as you stare into the gap between him and the wall to his left.

Still dumbfounded, he tries to find words, now staring at you staring off into space, “well, uh… you… that would be cool, but… I don’t… I don’t think you actually want to kiss me. You smell like tequila.” The alcohol is definitely taking its toll on you, evidenced by the way you lean forward and slump onto the boy in front of you, closing your eyes. His words don’t even go in one ear and out the other, they go over your head entirely. You could feel his body heat even through his thick navy tee. You hear his heartbeat and—you’re no medical student—it’s loud. With your eyes closed, you hear the DJ switch the song to something with less bass and you feel a warm hand come to your shoulder blade, patting it awkwardly. You hear an attempt at words coming from his vocal chords, but you hear nothing identifiable as human language. Just a few um’s and maybe an uh.

“Hey, Tae!” You hear Jen approach behind you, calling out to the boy who you’ve designated as your new mattress. You open your eyes for a second, and you’re kindly greeted with a view of his chest. Slowly analyzing your field of vision (which includes a fuzzy wall and his shirt), you blink once, twice, and then, the third time you close them, they stay closed. As fast as that, you’re gone: disappeared, asleep.

Before you can open your eyes again, you’re assaulted by a pounding headache. You haven’t felt a headache like this since the first time you got drunk with Jen. You’d assumed you’d learned your lesson. This time, it’s not a good thing that you exceeded your own expectations.

You open your eyes and see a rather unwelcome sight of Jen who has her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. It’s certainly not helping your headache. As you come to consciousness, you become aware of the damp, suffocating sweat that clings to your body and the aching that you feel in each and every of your muscles and joints. You can’t even lift a finger.

“Hey. Wake up! Don’t worry, you’re not dying. It’s just a hangover.” She consoles you, but she doesn’t stop pushing you, however. “You drank way too much.” She laughs, drawing out her words and turning her head to the side as her hair falls in front of her face.

You muster your words, “what?” Your voice is grainy and low. You feel like pure, unadulterated hell. The pounding in your head doesn’t stop, it just migrates from one side to the other. Back to left to front to right and back again like a cue ball bouncing around the table.

“You… are… hung… over.” She says like she's trying to teach a baby to say mama. You groan and roll over, freeing yourself from her manicured hands and burying your head in your sheets. As you roll over, you feel the familiar and deeply uncomfortable scratch of the seam of your jeans. You were still wearing the clothes you wore to the party, hooray! “And,” she continues, “you’re going to tell me why Han Taesan is at our door.” Her voice sounds half like she’s scolding you and half like she’s waiting for you to spill. Processing this information, you scrunch your eyes and groan again.

“He’s not.” You deny with a murmur despite the knocking that you hear on the door. The person at the door, reportedly Taesan, knocks one, two, three times.

“He is. He wants to know how you are… tell me what happened between you two!” She urges.

“You’re lying. He is not at the door.” Maybe if you say it enough he’ll go away. Manifesting, you know? You want to know nothing about why he’s here. The party last night was a blur. You remember drinking, seeing a couple familiar faces, bumping into Taesan and then it’s dark and you wake up in your bed with Jen shaking you.

“He is.” She says solemnly. She cocks her head and continues in a more sympathetic tone, “do you want me to tell him to go away?” She asks.

“Yes.” Regardless of whether you want to see him, specifically, you don’t want to see anyone at all. You’re still in your clothes from last night, your whole body hurts, you feel like total crap, and you doubt you showered last night. You do not want to see Han Taesan, and that’s final.

“Yes, ma’am.” She says and jumps off the tall bed. Through half-lidded eyes, you see her crack the door and exchange words with the visitor. You confirm it’s Taesan when his stupid face appears in the crack. Almost involuntarily you close your eyes. As the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind. Even with a foggy mind and a throbbing headache, you know nothing good can come out of talking to him, or even seeing him, when you’re so wildly hungover. You feel like a ghost haunting your body. You hear the door shut, and you open your eyes to see Jen shimmying over to you with her eyebrows raised and a disbelieving smile across her face. You close your eyes again, you do not want to see or hear what she has to offer unless it’s an ibuprofen.

“I can’t believe he came to check up on you! Isn’t that sweet? I have no idea what was happening with you two before I got there, but he was so cute about you. He looked so nervous! It’s not like him at all.” You can practically hear her dancing around in excitement. “Your love life never goes anywhere, this is so exciting!” You grumble in protest at her jab at you. She’s been begging to let her set you up with someone, but the only people she knows are frat bros and sorority girls, neither of which are your type, usually. Is Taesan part of a frat? Doesn’t seem like him.

“Jen… advil… please.” You reach out for her with a weak hand.

“You’re not dying.” She assures you, but dutifully returns to your bedside with two little red pills, a bottle of water, and a bag of goldfish. This is how Jen is, you’ve learned; poking fun at you while still looking out for you. “Come on, take them.” She says, holding out the pills. “You’re lucky it’s a Saturday. For a hangover, you need water, food, and sleep.” She recites. Maybe hangover care is a required class for members of the sorority known for the most functions.

“Thanks…” You mutter, bringing a weak hand to your still pounding forehead. “What happened?” You ask. It might help to know what you’re up against in terms of embarrassment.

“Before I got there? No idea. After I got there? Well, you were passed out,” she laughs, “I had no idea you could fall asleep that fast. He looked crazy confused, having you slung over him and all, you know? Anyway, he was dry sober, he just got there. I had the car, obviously, and so he offered to give you a ride back to the dorm in my car. Now, I went with you, of course. For one, I’m always going to come with you when you’re asleep and being taken care of by some man. Two, there’s no way I’m letting any man drive my car without serious supervision.” Now, this elicits a stifled laugh from you, after which you immediately wince in pain. Laughing isn’t good medicine for hangovers, apparently. “Anyway, he picked you up bridal-style, it was really cute, and brought you to our car, and then drove both of us home. I put you to bed, and he left after.” She states, "I wiped your drool, don’t worry.” She nudges you with an elbow.

“Ugh, Jen. Don’t joke with me right now.”

“No, seriously, you did drool. It’s one of, like, five reasons I’m never going to put you in a room with alcohol ever again.”

“I told you it was a bad idea to bring me.” You lament. You don’t like the idea of drooling in the vicinity of Taesan. And he carried you to the car? Seriously, not a high point for your ego. It’s not even about your germinal maybe-crush on him. “Give me some goldfish.”

“You always say that it’s a bad idea, but okay.” She hands you a handful and you shove it into your mouth. It doesn’t mix well with the morning-breath taste and somehow lingering tinge of alcohol. Your head is pounding and if the headache doesn’t kill you, the embarrassment might.

THE ILLUSION

Dr. Woo claps his hands together as the final undergrad enters the lecture hall. The long tables that act as desks proceed away from the central board in stairs. 

“Yeah. Big project coming up, right?” He says with a hint of fake enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a group project, if two people count as a group. Hooray.” A resounding groan emanates from the student body. Dr. Woo is visually unphased by this. “Despite the fact that choice is an illusion, you can pick your own partners. This is college. I don’t care.” He waves a hand dismissing any rebuttal, not that any was coming. Regardless of any other feelings about Dr. Woo, everyone knows he’s a great (read: easy) grader. “Anyway, go crazy. You all know the topic.”

Your heart drops as the room immediately erupts in chattering. Your circle was small at best, and you knew no one in World Lit except for… oh no. You feel a tap on your shoulder. Almost in slow motion, you turn around and see Taesan’s damned handsome face.

“Hey,” he says, very, very casually, “do you want to be my partner?” Oh, what the fuck.

“Um…” You furrow your eyebrows. It’s not that you don’t want to be partners with him, really. It’s just that you don’t want to recoil in embarrassment every time you work on a project worth 20% of your grade. 

He cocks his head to the side, “so?” You’re pretty sure his face could bring world peace. Have him try to convince a warlord to stop fighting by flashing a smile and they’d be a pacifist in under ten minutes.

You sigh, “yeah. Sure.” You try to smile, it doesn’t work that well. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? Do it for the plot, right? Choosing to partner with him is definitely for the plot. You’re not entirely convinced that he’s pure in his intentions to partner with you; maybe this is part of a bigger frat boy scheme.

“My analysis is actually good, I swear.” He says as he pulls back the chair next to you to sit down. Is that a reference? To what? You are thoroughly confused, clearly remembering very little of that fateful night. He tucks his hands behind his head and leans back.

“What?” You laugh a little, if only out of awkwardness. 

He presses his lips together and they contort as if a laugh is threatening him. “Nevermind. It’s nothing, really.” He is utterly unconvincing when he lies. Maybe he couldn’t convince the warlord.

“Taesan, what?” Your arms cross as you lean back in your chair. Around you, there’s a buzz of new partnerships and dates being set to meet. You two, however, are alone in your own world. In your periphery, Dr. Woo is staring you down. You’re pretty sure he can sense when work isn’t getting done. You can’t tell if he’s just a salty old man or a teenager with a gossip itch trapped in an old professor’s body.

Taesan notices, “Dr. Woo is creeping me out. I’ll tell you in the hall.” He picks up one of your pens and hands it to you in a non subtle suggestion for you to pack up. 

You sling your backpack over one shoulder (despite how you’re told it’s bad for your back) and lead Taesan out of the lecture hall.

“So, are you partners with me just to make fun of me?” You probe him as he catches up to you. “I’m taking you to my dorm, by the way. We can get started on the project.” There’s a silent addition of ‘even if you’re being an asshole, I chose to be stuck with you for some reason’ when you give him a purposeful glance. Maybe Dr. Woo is right. Maybe choice is an illusion. He looks completely lost.

“No, no. It’s not like that, really. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I just thought it was funny.” He turns around and shakes his head to punctuate his point. 

“Is it better if I don’t know what happened at the party?” One eyebrow raises and you stare him down with some weird level of confidence. Maybe knowing that he’s seen you drooling, drunk, and looking crazy makes you feel like you don’t have much else to lose.

“No, nothing bad happened. You were just drunk. It happens to the best of us.” He shrugs as you enter onto the green.

“Don’t drag this out, let me bite the bullet if I want to.”

He laughs a little, “alright. In summary, you backed into me, told me I was cute, told me my analysis sucks,” so that’s what that was about, “and told me I should kiss you and I told you that you were too drunk,” oh, what the fuck, “and then you fell asleep on me and Jennifer came over. I carried you to the car and drove both you and her home because she had a couple drinks and I had none. I checked up on you because I knew you were going to have one hell of a hangover.” Great, you’re stuck with this fucker you borderline harassed while blackout drunk.

“You were right. It was one hell of a hangover.” You grumble, looking at the floor to avoid any eye contact with him.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re not the first person to tell me I’m cute when they’re drunk.” He teases and you roll your eyes. In your heart, though, this is deeply, deeply embarrassing. The thought of what happened stings like a blade in your heart and in your mind. It’s not as bad as the hangover, but it’s pretty damn bad.

“Yeah, right. I was drunk, okay?” Your words are biting. “Why are you partners with me, then? I wasn’t that great the one time you met me.” Maybe you don’t want to know the answer, but the words are already out of your mouth. You scuff your heels as you walk, still avoiding contact with the one and only Han Taesan.

“You’re cute and you’re smart.” He shrugs and you break your rule of avoiding his eyes because now you’re staring at him in disbelief. “Plus, you’re great at keeping me humble.” He meets your eyes now and you’re immediately regretting thinking anything about the previous compliment meant anything at all.

“If you keep being a jerk, I’m going to keep you humble as hell.” You grumble.

“Sorry,” he frowns mildly, “the first part holds more weight.” And now, you’ve flipped. It does mean something… maybe. You face forward again to hide a smile that he totally catches anyways. You’ve made great time alongside Taesan, you’re almost to your dorm.

“Thanks?”

“My pleasure.” He postures. “Why were you there in the first place? No offense, but you don’t strike me as an alcoholic. An alcoholic can handle being drunk better than that.” It’s sort of a compliment, you guess.

“None taken, I don’t believe that being an alcoholic is in the cards for me.” You snort. “Jen dragged me there. I told her it was a bad idea, but she convinced me to go anyway by bribing me with doing my least favorite chores for a week or two.” You explain, crossing your arms and he laughs. “No offense, you don’t seem like you’re part of the frat nor do you seem like an alcoholic. So, what were you doing there?” You redirect. It’s true: he doesn’t seem like a brother nor a drinker.

“I lost a bet. Riwoo bet me that I couldn’t fit fifteen grapes in my mouth and I wanted to prove him wrong because, well, he’s Riwoo, but I lost the bet.” A laugh bubbles up from your chest imagining the situation. Not only did he try, but he tried and failed. “My punishment was either to go to a frat or to do mine and six of my roommates’ laundry for a semester. I picked the frat, obviously. I’ve lived with those guys for long enough to know that all of them stink like hell.” He adds, grimacing. “Plus, ‘doing laundry’ meant changing the sheets and picking up laundry, too.” He looks at you, pointedly.

“You’re lying, no way.” You laugh, partly with him and partly at him.

“You clearly haven’t met my roommates, this way?” His finger points to the building that you’re rooming in with Jen. You pray she’s not there or you’re going to be met with a litany of highly invasive questions.

You nod at his direction, “yeah, there are like seven thousand people here and I can recognize about thirty faces max. That’s like nothing-percent.”

“Good for me, then. I don’t think I’d be the first person you’d be calling cute if they were there with me.” The tone of his voice is light, but in his eyes you see that he fears it’s the truth. Huh, Taesan is just like the rest of us, who’da thunk?

“Where did your cool guy act go?” You tease, leading him up the stairs to your dorm, distinguished by the handmade felt pennants, spelling your’s and Jen’s names. “Drunk me wasn’t lying when she said you were cute, seriously.” You assure him. “Now, I just have to learn if your analysis is as bad as she said it was.” You push open the door with your back, mostly so you don’t have to face him after calling him cute to his face. Last week, you would have run away on the spot; Taesan has you acting like a bad ATM—all out of order.

ENTOURAGE

You hated to admit it, his analysis was great. By spending hours writing and rewriting scripts to memorize for your oral presentation, you watched Taesan connect dots you didn't even know were there and recall obscure details from lectures that happened to be integral to the coherence of your project. You can practically see the cogs turn in his head, the way he bites the inside of his lip when he’s really focused, the way his face lights up when he gets an idea, the way he slides his thin wire glasses up his straight nose with a knuckle when they slip down because he furrowed his eyebrows too much.

This is how you find yourself at four on a Wednesday afternoon, weeks after your first incidental meeting with him: admiring his work on your dorm floor.

“Damn, Taesan.” You still kept to calling him his full name instead of Tae, you felt like it meant something. “This is amazing, I would have never thought to connect those passages, we read that first book ages ago!” You shook your head, his analysis was that good. Maybe not award-winning, but definitely worth an A, even in your harshest grader’s class. He smirks as he laughs a little, taking off his glasses and stretching his hands up, grasping at nothing while trying to stretch his back. You two had been sitting for hours on the hard floor of your dorm room; you told him to sit on your chair, but he refused, demanding he sit next to you so that he can ‘see what you’re writing’ better.

“You brought up At the Bottom of the River in the first place.” He deflects your praise. You’ll gladly take the compliment even if you had no part in his discovery. As you shrug his deflection off, you feel his arm come down around your shoulder and you jump a little, not expecting the touch. Of course, his hand feels nice where it rests, but you’re still not quite used to the way Taesan evidently shows affection. The first time he pulled the classic ‘I’m-just-stretching-actually-I’m-putting-my-arm-around-you’ move, you didn’t expect it in the slightest. You had finished a part you were putting off and he moved to stretch, suddenly putting his arm around you and shaking you while cheering you on about your victory. The laugh you let out when that happened was something entirely unprecedented for you, you laughed until your stomach hurt and your eyes watered, and you couldn’t even pinpoint why.

“Yeah, sure.” You look at him, exaggerating your skepticism with your one raised eyebrow, his arm still around you.

“When’s Jen getting back? Do we have time to mess around or should I go before she starts pestering you?” He asks, half-joking as he tilts his head towards yours. Jen had taken a liking to him, if not too much of a liking to him… for you. Whenever you and Taesan were together and Jen spotted you, she made the least subtle comments possible telling you to get together, wiggling her eyebrows and full of exaggerated winks. It wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Hey, look at the position you two are in right now: foreheads so close they’re almost touching, alone in your dorm, with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Still, you’ve gathered that’s just kind of how Taesan is with his friends. From what you’ve heard, he’s like that with everyone. It’s not unique to you.

“She said she’d be back at five, so…” you check the egg clock, “like, thirty minutes?” 

“Nice.” He purses his lips. “Are you nervous for the presentation? It’s tomorrow, you know?” Taesan has his sensitive moments, for sure. He sounds—he is—genuinely concerned about how you’re feeling about it, you can hear it in his voice. He’s not great at hiding things like that. Even when he’s making fun of you, it’s never malicious.

“I’m fine. I’m nervous, but it is a big presentation, after all. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You tell him, flexing an arm to prove your point, though the action is inhibited by his arm still around you.

“Never doubted you for a second, Miss Independent. You can still be nervous though, it’s okay to be nervous.” 

“Are you nervous? You sound like you’re projecting.”

He exhales, “yeah, I’m nervous as hell.” He laughs a little after the admission, but it’s not a humorous one.

“Hey, text me if you get nervous before, right? Doesn’t help to keep it to yourself. And, no offense, but I think I’ll be better at commiserating with you than your roommates, however lovely they are.” 

He exhales. “Yeah, thanks.” He’s being surprisingly soft, and you can’t help but seize the opportunity to connect a little with the sensitive side of Taesan instead of the cool, nonchalant Taesan. From what you’ve gathered, his Nirvana-decorated headphones, monochrome black clothes, and his sullen resting face makes him less approachable to your peers.

“You’ll be fine. As you said to me when we were partnered, you’re cute and you’re smart. You’ve got it.” You tell him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Can you feel someone’s heartbeat through their shoulder? Probably not, but the human body is full of surprises. One surprise is how hard you can see his pulse through his carotid artery, pulsing in his neck. Good God, this boy is going to get high blood pressure if his heart is always going a million miles an hour. “Tell me about writing music. I’m tired.” You tell him, closing your eyes. 

You’re brought back to what you were told about the first time you met him. This time, however, you falling asleep on him isn’t so much of a surprise. Your knowledge of composition contrasts Taesan’s, you know little more than the basics. Asking him to talk about it is an easy route to a one-sided conversation where you get to listen to him talk, which is always a good time. He gets so animated, it’s hilarious and adorable.

“Your wish is my command.” He laughs, and you feel the vibration against your head and he starts on a critically tangential spiel. 

Before you can get too comfortable leaning on Taesan listening to him talk about rhyme schemes, the door swings open. Jen walks in after opening the door with her signature slam. Why you haven’t gotten any complaints yet, you have no idea.

“Oh… my God.” You can practically hear her freeze in the doorway. Out of sight, out of mind, so you keep your eyes closed.

“Jen, no one’s dying.” You assure her, suddenly deeply uncomfortable, shifting on the floor.

“You’re right, no one’s dying. My heart is so happy, look at you!” She almost giggles.

“Is this a good time for me to go?” Taesan starts to ask the pivotal question that’s going to determine exactly how embarrassed you are going to be this afternoon.

“Yes—” “No—” You and Jen say in unison. You open your eyes just to glare at her, seeing her standing over you.

“No… I’m going to get to know my best friend’s… group project partner.” She winks very not-subtly at you. Taesan looks at you just as you look at him, and he shrugs. 

“The more the merrier, right?” He asks. The rhetorical question becomes immediately very literal as Jen continues.

“Oooh… I like the way he thinks, girl.” She says, pointing to you. “Taesan, invite your roommates over, too. We can have a party!” She’s almost clapping with how excited she is, rolling back on her heels.

Taesan lights up, “oh hell yeah! I’ll see who’s available.” Oh, Taesan. Always the extrovert.

You groan, but it’s futile to try and stop the scheming. How did this get so bad so fast? “No drinking.” You instruct them.

“Half of them can’t even drink legally yet, plus, do you seriously think I’m going to drink the night before our presentation? No way.” He assures you, and you groan again in hesitant acceptance.

“I’m never letting you drink again. Don’t worry about that.” She promises you quietly before switching back to hyped-up Jen mode. “Oh, this is so exciting! When can they get here?” She’s sitting cross-legged in front of you two now, rifling through contacts on her phone in its sparkly case.

“Well,” Taesan pauses, “If they’d answer my texts—” ding! Almost like he scripted it, he gets a notification. “And there we go. Turns out they’re just hanging out at our place, all of them are free. Do you want them here now?”

“Hell yeah, I do! We should watch a movie… what movie should we watch? Don’t tell me they like horror…” She pushes her eyebrows together in what sounds half like a threat and half like a plea.

“Yeah, not that I know of.”

“We should watch 10 Things I Hate About You.” You suggest.

And that’s how you got to be sitting in a circle on your room’s floor with Taesan, Jen, and every single one of Taesan’s five roommates. You’d only briefly met a couple of them in passing before. Right now, you’re even managing to not cut each others’ throats out while playing UNO! What an achievement!

“And the color is… wait for it!” Taesan’s roommate with the light brown, almost orange hair and rounder, blueish-green black glasses says, leaning around to intimidate the others with a giant smile on his face. Everyone erupts in laughter at him. You remember that this is Riwoo, the one who dared Taesan to stuff 15 grapes in his mouth in the first place. “Blue!” He announces.

Your last card was red. Damn it.

Jaehyun immediately slumps over, Sungho frowns, Leehan stares at the card deck and Woonhak stares, terrified, at Jen when she jumps up, screaming “Uno!” as she slams her blue five on the pile. Shouts resound from the boys around you. Taesan is laughing. 

As the room erupts around you, Taesan nudges you with his shoulder, showing you his card. His last color was red, too. “We’re both winners in my heart.” He tells you with a wink. What a sap. You push his face away with a hand, stifling a laugh as you feel a heat come to your cheeks. Your light push makes him dip away from you like the inflatable tube men outside gas stations.

“You’re so corny.” You tell him as you take in the scene unfolding around you. Inviting Taesan’s friends over was a great idea. Jen is yelling at Jaehyun, Jaehyun looks terrified. Woonhak and Sungho are yelling at Riwoo, Riwoo is laughing at them. Leehan is laughing at Riwoo laughing at Woonhak and Sungho.

Taesan catches you smiling at the camaraderie, “if people yelling at each other was all it took to make you smile, I’d have invited them over way earlier.”

“Taesan,” you laugh, “I don’t like schadenfreude. It’s nice to see Jen let loose sometimes. I don’t think she gets to argue with anyone very often.”

“If she wants anyone to argue with, I’m available.” He spreads his arms to punctuate his point. At this, you laugh even harder. As you look around again, you see everyone laughing and collapsing on the floor, except for Jen, who’s pretending to fume and sulk on her bed. You know her well enough to catch the smile that pulls at her lips.

“It’s like watching kids at the park.” You motion towards Taesan’s friends, who’ve clearly become very comfortable around you and Jen.

“This weird authenticity is kind of their whole M.O.” He smiles, very clearly adoring their antics. “Imagine having to do their laundry though. I’m glad I chose to go to the party instead.” He pretends to shiver which draws out a laugh from you.

“Yeah, if you had chosen to do their laundry you also wouldn’t have been able to see me drool on you when you carried me to the car.” You snort. You’ve made peace with your drunken night. After all, you’ve already lost your dignity and he’s still hanging around.

“It was so cute though!” He contests and you roll your eyes at him. You have sworn up and down that he doesn’t like you like… that. Even if he did like you, you’re pretty sure no one likes anyone else enough that their drool is cute. Therefore, Jen’s points are null. Simple as that.

“I’m just soooo adorable,” you roll your eyes, “you don’t have to rub it in, dude.” you smile incredulously at him, throwing one of your legs over the other, just short of taking out Riwoo’s leg.

“I’m not joking!” His tone is defensive in ultimate Taesan fashion.

“Yeah, sure.” You tell him as Jen reaches out to you and pulls you to your feet, leaving Taesan alone on the floor.

Jen whispers to you, “so, when’s the wedding?” You roll your eyes.

“Shut up, you always do this.” You groan. “Do you get some sadistic joy from seeing me uncomfortable?” You cross your arms, almost elbowing Woonhak. This room is not big enough for eight people to fit in comfortably.

“Can I be the maid of honor?” She ignores your complaints and you let out an exaggerated groan in response.

“Don’t make me regret not making him go home.”

“Fine, fine.” She looks to be backing down. That is until she smirks, meeting your eyes again. “I’m not the only one who sees something!” She says cheerily before bouncing off as far as one can, which is about a foot. She looks back at you and winks before (lightly) punching Woonhak in the back to get his attention. She’s immediately drawn into some debate of some sort or another. Earlier, Leehan had assigned you both fish and Jen had been assigned a ‘Cherry Barb’ and she immediately took issue with the name for some reason or other. It was very cathartic for Taesan to watch someone contest Leehan’s fish opinions. He was totally dumbstruck; it was hilarious. Then, of course, you got an informational speech from Leehan which quelled Jens’ argument. Now, she’s a Cherry Barb.

Maybe this is how it should be, friends arguing with friends and laughing about it after, cramped in a too small room. When you meet Taesan’s eyes, you see the sparkle in them tell you he thinks so too. Maybe your friends will become the opposite of children of divorce, gaining family instead of it being separated. Is that just children of marriage? Ugh, Jen’s infected you.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Taesan wiggles his eyebrows, clearly having heard the conversation. You roll your eyes.

BREAKING CODE

Jen is passed out on her bed on the opposite side of the room. The egg clock greets you with the time in blaring white: 11:32 pm. Head in your hands, you groan. No amount of free-on-youtube reality TV was going to calm your nerves. None of your favorite episodes are helping, even the one you have open on your computer. 

After the boys had left, you guaranteed yourself that everything would be fine. Your presentation would go great, no questions asked. Now, sitting in your room practically alone, you feel way less optimistic. 

Thoughts of Taesan cross your mind and you furrow your eyebrows, trying to shoo them. You wonder if he’s awake right now, if he’s anxious like you. You try to calm yourself by thinking that it could be worse, the presentation could be 30% of your grade. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t help. Your phone, thrown aside earlier and laying on the bed, is practically inviting you to make a bad decision with its open, empty screen.

You stare out the window, contemplating whether or not to take the risk and text him. Your window opens up to a view of the door to enter your dorm building, and you can see the freshly fallen snow settling around it. The snow covers the creaky benches and even the overhang above the door. It’s while you're doing this contemplating that, to your fortune or maybe misfortune, the risk decides to take you with a ding from your phone.

On your home screen, you see a contact pop up and you freeze. You read the name again, it still says MOUNTAIN. Taesan put that as his contact name.

You look again, you weren’t hallucinating. It’s Taesan texting you. Is he nervous? Did he seriously take you up on your offer? You were simultaneously hoping that he would text you while hoping that he would never, ever even think to.

You steel yourself and open your phone, that’s when you get your answer.

[MOUNTAIN]: are you up [MOUNTAIN]: i’m nervous are you

You did tell him to text you if he was nervous. That offer, however, happened when you were feeling a little bolder. You are not feeling especially bold right now.

[you]: i might be [MOUNTAIN]: meet me lets go to the convenience store [MOUNTAIN]: chills me out before midterms usually and this is like the same thing

You didn’t need to even try to make a bad decision, the bad decision came to you, enticing you with the lure of a convenience store and a chance to escape your stuffy dorm.

Resting your phone on your chest, staring at the ceiling like a corpse with the way your hands are positioned, you weigh your options. Mentally, you make a list.

PROs:

You see Taesan

You get a snack probably

CONs:

You see Taesan

It’s been established that crazy shit goes down when you see Taesan past like nine pm—it’s like your friendship is a vampire but night-intolerant instead of day-intolerant

The last time you made a for the plot decision it didn’t turn out that bad. Yeah, partnering with Taesan could have sucked, but it didn’t. Going to the party was a kind of yolo-esque decision, too, and that was kind of a blessing in disguise. You rationalize your preference for meeting him with the fact that you know him better now. He’s not a rando and, as far as you know, he’s not evil.

You only live once, right?

You pick your phone back up and text him before you can rethink it.

[you]: meet where? [MOUNTAIN]: outside your dorm building in 10

You squint at the screen. His place is like a twenty minute walk away and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a car, that would be weird for him. You can’t pinpoint why, but you don’t like the idea of him owning a car, despite the fact that he’s driven Jen’s with you in it. Ugh.

[you]: okay

You are totally chill about this.

Looking over at Jen in her bed, you decide you don’t want to be interrogated about this decision yet. She will not let you hear the end of it, and that’s not going to calm your nerves. It’s kind of against customary law safety recommendations to not tell your roommate where you’re going at night, but you decide that’s not applicable here.

Taking your computer off your lap and swinging your feet over the side of your bed as quietly as possible, you assess the situation. The nice thing about totally embarrassing yourself the first time you met him is that you now don’t particularly care about how you look. You’re wearing Jen’s mother’s giant Hartford Whalers hockey team brand shirt and some irritatingly red plaid pajama pants that totally crash with the cool blues and greens of your shirt.

Tiptoeing to the square, wooden-framed mirror hung in the entrance you check how your hair looks. You pull on your oversized puffer jacket as quietly as possible from the command hook-provided coat hanger adorning off the back of the exit door. The zipper is cold in your hands as you check to make sure Jen is oblivious to your impending excursion. She is still fast asleep, evident from the way her chest slowly rises and falls and the faint snores that you hear from her. 

The door handle is freezing to the touch. You expected as much from a dorm building with as little central heating as it tends to cater, but it’s still unpleasant. The door opens with a loud creak. You stand assured that no one has successfully snuck out of any single one of these dorms because the floorboards creak and the doors practically announce over the loudspeaker when anyone opens them.

Thankfully, Jen is none the wiser as you glance back at her, she’s in the same sleeping position you last saw her in: lying on her stomach with one leg thrown up closer to her chest and an arm flung over her head. It’s completely bizarre and totally adorable of her.

You make your way through the straightforward yet somehow labyrinthine halls of your dorm building. As you approach the glass entryway, you see Taesan illuminated by the orange streetlight, leaning against the red brick of the adjacent building standing on a recently-hardened layer of snowfall. He’s layered an unzipped black puffer jacket, similar to yours, over a gray hoodie and accessorised with a hat that makes his head look round like an egg. He’s rubbing his gloved hands together to keep them warm. He sees you before you even open the door, and his face lights up when he does.

After suppressing a smile, you scold him, “I can’t believe you called me to meet you at this hour!” 

“You told me I could!” He defends. You notice how you can see his breath against the cold air. It’s colder than you thought, you push your bare hands further into your pockets.

“How did you even get here so fast? Do you secretly live in the next building, or something? Are you my tropey boy next door?” You nudge him, wiggling your eyebrows as if this was some plot straight out of a fanfiction.

“Yeah, right.”

“Come on, you’re not secretly pining for me?” You tease him, sinking deeper into the collar of your coat on account of the biting wind that hits you once you leave the sanctuary of the protected building and, though you’re not willing to admit it to yourself, because the boy next to you makes your cheeks hot.

“Yeah, I’m secretly hanging off of your every word, just waiting for the moment I can confess my undying love for you.” He rolls his eyes. Noticing your hands shoved in your pockets, he changes the subject, “are you cold? I brought some extra gloves, do you want them?” His words are surprisingly considerate considering the incessant teasing you subject him to daily.

“Yeah.” You laugh, freezing as he takes the knit black gloves out of his pocket. Taking them from him and putting them on, you adjust them carefully. They’re far too big for you, but it’s the thought that counts, right? The “thought that counts” is definitely keeping your hands warmer. As you examine your new apparel with a smile, you feel a pressure over your head. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed him taking his hat off and now he is pushing it onto your head. You jump back, “hey! You could have lice!” Your smile disappears in favor of a pout. The hat does feel nice on your ears though.

Taesan bursts out laughing, “I do not have lice, I promise.” Still laughing, he elaborates, “plus, you’re cold. Your ears were so cold they were getting red.” You glare at him as he only laughs harder. Instinctively, you throw up your hands to cover your ears

“Point me to the convenience store or I’m going back inside whether you’re nervous or not.” You grumble.

“Okay, Miss Grump. Just follow me.” He says with a stupidly charming smile and grabs your wrist before picking up the pace. To him, picking up the pace means speed-walking, but for you, it means jogging.

“Ack!” You jump at the sudden movement, “Taesan! You can’t do that!” You try to free your wrist and, when you succeed, you cross your arms, standing solid in place as he turns around.

“If you don’t come with me, I’ll yell that you think Heath Ledger is super sexy during the presentation!” He yells, running backwards. Your jaw drops open. You want to trust Taesan enough to think he wouldn’t do that, but you also know Taesan well enough that he totally would do that. It was a bad idea to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with him, Jen, and his roommates after the Uno game. You do not need your personal preferences aired out to an auditorium of your peers and Dr. Woo. Plus, the only thing you like about Heath Ledger is that he essentially serenaded Kat Stratford!

Damn it. Stuck between would and would not, you narrow your eyes and start sprinting after him before he can turn a corner.

“You’re so on, Mr. Mountain!” He turns to look behind him, seeing you gaining fast on him as you run as fast as your legs will take you towards him. It’s his turn to be surprised, and he speeds up. After all, he wasn’t going that fast in the first place. As you close the gap between the two of you, you can hear his infectious laughter that makes you press down a swelling in your chest. You do not like Taesan, you assure yourself. It’s all in good fun. It’s only good fun. Focusing on the challenge ahead, you see Taesan just ahead of you, about to turn down a sidewalk.

He’s right behind a snowbank. If you’re the sun and the snowbank is the earth, he’s the moon in a solar eclipse.

It’s impulsive, your next action, truly. Presented with the right circumstances, however, you like to take your chances. With a shout that’s more primeval than you intended it to be, you grab onto his puffer jacket and tackle him onto the earth that is the snowbank.

It’s almost like slow-motion when you, with an evil smile, keep your eyes focused on Taesan as you see the world around you slowly become more horizontal as you fall, yourself falling on his back as he falls flat on his chest.

When his front compresses the snow enough to stop his descent towards the obscured grass, you hear him let out a moan. A moment of silence passes as both of you process what just happened. You’re propped up on your hands (gloved, thanks to Taesan) and he’s lying on his back, hands thrown above him because of his attempt at stabilization during the fall. His lips are slightly parted in shock, and his eyes are wide open, staring at you. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. He totally moaned when he fell. At least you can play teasing offense on him instead of having to defend why you tackled this man that is in no way, shape, or form your boyfriend. To be fair, men whimpering is hot. It’s just that you didn’t expect the man whimpering to be Taesan. It doesn’t really fit with his image.

You hold yourself up with one hand, clutching your stomach as you double over in laughter. “Oh my gosh, this is hilarious! I’m going to tell Riwoo that you moan when you get pushed around by women. He’ll never let you hear the end of it!” Taesan looks completely scandalized. His mouth is open and he looks totally terrified, you almost feel bad for him. 

Almost.

He covers his eyes with his gloves, “don’t you dare say anything.” Tears form in your eyes as you attempt to suppress a laugh to try and spare any more of his dignity. That doesn’t extend to teasing, though. It’s simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“What if, during the presentation, I yell out that you moan when someone pins you down?” You theorize him, sitting down on the dry ground next to him, throwing your legs over his stomach.

Still holding his hands over his eyes, he mutters a defensive response, “it’s not like that!” Flat on his back, he looks, somehow, handsome with snow visible in and contrasting against his darker hair, and his gloves covering his reddening face in embarrassment. If you’re lucky, maybe this is how he felt watching you fall onto him when you were drunk the first time you met. It’s more adoration than disgust.

“Aw, there’s no shame in it.” You coax. He is completely and totally embarrassed, you can tell by the way his ears are bright, cherry red.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? What do you want?” He whines, refusing to look at you even when you try to pry his hands away from his face.

“Whatever we do and wherever we go together, it’s on you. Monetarily, I mean.” You push a finger into his chest as he finally frees his eyes from his own grip, daring to look at you face on.

“You serious?” He groans, he’s still red but looks to be over the initial shock. Either from the biting wind swirling around you or because of your teasing, his cheeks are coated in a dusting of red.

“Yeah, unless you want everyone to know about your sexual preferences.” Releasing him from your pushed finger, you cross your arms and shrug innocently.

“This is blackmail. This is extortion!” He complains, covering his eyes again.

“So… yes or no?” You grab his wrists and rip them from his face, revealing his angsty stare.

“...Yes, I’ll pay. Will you let it go now?” His words are harsher and he’s sulking, glaring at you. Maybe you pushed it too far.

“Hey, I meant it when I said it’s nothing to be ashamed about.” You let go of his wrists, opting to rub his shoulder instead, in an attempt to reassure him. “Listen, I lost my dignity by falling on you and drooling when we met, and you lost your dignity just now. Let’s just say we’re even.” You smile optimistically, hoping it will psych him into believing you because what you say is the truth, even if it’s a touchy subject, apparently.

Once he’s reminded of your not-so-cute meet-cute, he seems to relax a little. “You did drool like crazy. Do I really have to pay?” He’s smiling now, thank God. He rests his hands on his chest, looking way more comfortable.

“Yup. You do.” You laugh, it’s a softer laugh than your earlier fit, though. “Convenience store?” You prompt him, offering a hand to have him get up. As your hand interlocks with his, a smile tugs at the sides of your lips and you still can’t tell if the heat in your face is from the wind chill or Taesan. “And, take your hat back, idiot. Your ears are red.” The hat traps all the heat radiating from your flushed face and it makes you almost feel sweaty.

He laughs a little before speaking, “thanks for the hat. My ears are just so cold.” He jokes. “The store is just this way.” He points to the right he was going to take when you knocked him down. He was leading you the right way, at least. “Never try to blackmail me again, I swear.” He threatens, pouting, and then shoves you, however lightly. He doesn't look very scary.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.” You retort. He glares at you, keeping eye contact as you walk closer to the glowing, welcoming arms of the convenience store in the form of its bright lights, illuminating the street from the inside, casting an eerie glow onto the otherwise dark and snow-ridden street. In response to his look, you childishly blow a strawberry at him. This hasn’t been either of your finest hours. Your antics draw out a smile from him, at least. Practically skipping along, you try to change the subject to something less personal, maybe. “What did you expect when you called me out here? You said you were nervous, after all.”

“Yeah, I did say that. I got the pre-presentation nerves, you know? ‘Thought we could talk about it.” He rubs his neck. This is definitely a less personal topic, but that’s not to say it’s impersonal.

“So, talk.” You command, avoiding eye contact mostly so you don’t laugh, replaying him falling over.

“What is there to say? I had some nerves.” He laughs, opening the silvery door to the convenience store, stepping aside to let you through.

“What a gentleman,” you muse, “how’d you learn that? Rom-coms?”

“I’m allowed to be nice, too, you know. You watch more romantic comedies than me.” He rolls his eyes.

“I do it ironically.” You drawl. “I was nervous too, to be honest,” you were not going to tell him that you were watching rom-coms trying to relax, that would be a little too much ammo for him, “Jen was fast asleep and I was just kind of… lying there.” You pick up a miscellaneous chip bag, lazily inspecting it.

“Oh, I totally get it. The only other person awake was Leehan, and he was going to trap me in fish conversation if I even so much as approached him.” You snort at this. Even from your brief interactions with Leehan this afternoon, his passion is palpable. You can just see it in his face that he’s a little bit of an uber-nerd about those particular animals. Nerd is being used affectionately, of course. His interest is admirable. “Do you want those chips?” He asks, pointing to the bag in your hand.

“Not really, I like those other ones better.” You shrug, pointing to the alternative, an equally fluorescent bag of slightly better-tasting chips. “We can tame the worries together,” you smile at him, reaching behind you to grab your preferred flavor, “the question is how.”

“Going to the convenience store is a pretty good start.” He pushes his bottom lip into the top one. As you watch this action, he suppresses a smile, suddenly. “I have an idea.” Of course he does. He says this with a growing smile on his face as he locks eyes with you. “We should have a snowball fight.” Your own smile grows as he waits for your response.

“We should.” You nod. This time, you have an idea, a bad one. “Only if you moan again.” You charge him with the scandalous comment, and he looks affronted again, and immediately reaches out a free hand to shove you.

“Don’t say that so loud!” He hissed, looking around the almost empty store to see if anyone heard him. “That stays between you and me.” You roll your eyes but you can’t hide your amusement.

“Yeah, okay.” You walk off towards the cashier across the store to buy your snacks, sticking out your tongue at him. On the way, you inspect and in turn pick up a chocolate bar and a mediocre-looking apple to buy with your chips; it’s all about balance.

Taesan comes up behind you as you place your haul on the mini conveyor belt and gives a small bow to the cashier. He sets down two bags of chips and an enoki mushroom snack that has Japanese writing on it, for which you give him a disgusted look. Perusing his other selections, you smile when you see the second chip bag, for which you change your disgusted look for one of gratitude.

“Aw, did you get those for me?” You ask, pointing to the less perfect, but still pretty good flavor.

“No, I got them for… um…” He pauses, seemingly unable to think of someone else he would get them for. It’s kind of cute, if not a little embarrassing. “I got them for you. I can be kind, remember?” Sassy man apocalypse.

“Duly noted.” You purse your lips. You look at him expectantly, going from him to his card on the back of his phone, again.

“What?” He asks, innocently. Sungho wasn’t joking when he said that he looks like a cat. As he realizes you’re deadass, he narrows his eyes and turns to you, “are you serious about the whole paying thing?” He cocks his head.

“I was pretty clear. That is, unless you—” You’re cut off by Taesan clamping a hand over your mouth, for which he gets a repulsed and highly suspicious glare from the middle-aged cashier, he meets this with another bow, unclasping your face from his grip. When you’re let go, you raise your eyebrows at him as if to say ‘really?’ His hand smells like lavender soap, it’s kind of pleasant, actually. From the state of his and his roommates’ everything-but-sleeping room, you wouldn’t have guessed they were in possession of floral hand soap. When you’re done thinking about how he smells, you’re feeling a little embarrassed and also physically being led out of the store, hopefully after Taesan paid.

“Was that really necessary?” You ask, hands free because Taesan’s holding the store-provided bag that houses all of your treats.

“I don’t need anyone hearing about… that. Especially a middle-aged anyone.” He clarifies and fair enough. You take the opportunity, however, to scoop up a clump of snow (distinctly not yellow, you checked) and pitch it at him. Still carefully holding your bag, he looks at you with a sense of betrayal. “Oh, I’m going to get you.” He threatens before hurling a snowball that splashes against your only water-resistant coat.

Snowball after snowball is thrown, before your brief yet intense brawl is cut short by ice cold rain slicing through the air around you. Without Taesan’s hat, the sleet pummels your head and it hurts. Your puffer has no hood. Before you can let out an ‘ow,’ even, you find your oasis above you, a puffer. Taesan’s puffer. He managed to, in the short time it started sleeting and you noticed it, drop all of his stockpiled snowballs, pick up the convenience store’s bag, take off his puffer jacket, and cover your head with it, protecting you from the harsh, half-frozen rain. When you look at his face to your right, he looks totally angelic. The streetlight behind him makes him look like he has a halo from the light filtering through the edges of his hair. He’s smiling, despite all the teasing and irritation you put him through in the short time you’ve been out of your dorm.

“Yikes, that came fast.” He comments, looking around and noticing how the sleet pelts down around the two of you. “I’ll take you home, I think it’s our cue to wrap this up.” He suggests. His sweetness contrasts against the wistful feeling that unexpectedly forms when he mentions parting. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or maybe it’s the chill getting to you, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine, it’s the most you’ve laughed since Jen told you the crazy goings-on between her highschool ex-girlfriend and one of her friends. Apparently, her ex-girlfriend is absolutely smitten for her friend and said friend completely ignores her at every turn. You laughed until your cheeks hurt that day. Your cheeks don’t hurt from laughing, necessarily, but it’s the same sort of freeing feeling. You don’t know what to make of that, but you’re damn sure you like the way he’s smiling at you.

“Whatever you say. Thanks for the roof.” You beamed, pointing up at the make-shift shelter he’s made for you.

“My pleasure, Miss Grump.” He says this with a posh accent that makes you laugh. You have no idea since when he’s started calling you Miss Grump, but there are worse names, probably.

“Don’t make me kick you.” You threaten, trying (and failing) to suppress the grin that tugs at your lips.

“Sorry, Madame Grump.” He corrects, still holding the cover over your head.

 “I’m not even being grumpy.” You warn him, not even trying to hide the smile that spreads across your face. “Come on, get moving.” You cue him to start the walk back to your dorm.

“Your wish is my command, Miss—” 

“Don’t you dare.” You threaten and bump your shoulder into his. The walk back to your dorm is short, it took you far longer to get to the convenience store because of… well… tangential events. Checking your phone, you finally learn the time. It’s fucking two in the morning. Great! You’ll get essentially no sleep, but that’s nothing a little caffeine can’t fix.

“I dare more than you think I do.” He purses his lips.

“Okay, I dare you to admit you moaned when you fell.” You challenge him with a smirk.

He groans, “I pick truth.”

“This isn’t truth or dare, you don’t get to pick. Plus, truth would be ‘did you moan when you fell.’” You can see your dorm from where you stand in front of the red brick building, it’s still brightly lit. Hopefully that means that Jen is still asleep and hasn’t woken up to turn the overhead off.

“You can’t subpoena me so I’m not playing this game.” He shrugs, stopping underneath the overhang above the glass door that marks the entrance to your building and the separation from Taesan. As he steps aside, taking his puffer with him and putting it back on, you’re suddenly and unfortunately aware of his body heat now that it’s gone.

“I’m less nervous.” He says with a smile that seems almost confidential, like a secret only you know. He’s undeniably easy on the eyes with his stupid hat and soaked gloves and hoodie. 

“Me too.” The words come out of your mouth softly. Somehow, they’re vulnerable words to say. “Goodnight, Taesan.” After your parting words, neither of you make a move to leave. His full name feels more meaningful than his nickname, somehow. You stand there, lit up by the LEDs of the hallways, staring at each other, and you’re not entirely sure why. The tension might be thick, it might not be, you can’t tell by the way you’re focused on his face. Well, it’s not exactly his face. It’s the way his hair frames his face, yes, and the way that his eyes scrunch when he smiles, even slightly, it’s also the way his egg hat looks and the way his hoodie is so damp because he was trying to keep you warm and dry. 

Then it’s all over. When the tension breaks, it’s not like it’s cut through. It’s more like it dissipates. It dissipates thanks to the man who barrels down the street adjacent to your bubble, blasting a Spanish ballad and singing his heart out. Soy capitán, soy capitán, soy capitán! blasts through the complex. You break eye contact with Taesan just to laugh at the oddity passing you. You watch him coast down the street on his green bike, singing, without a helmet, hands-free. Your mother would not approve. Taesan’s not laughing, but he’s beaming and staring at you as you crouch down because of your laughter. You try and convince yourself it’s not even that funny, but something about the era of the night just makes you heave with how hard you’re laughing.

“I mean,” recovering, you let out a sigh, finally releasing a breath that you don’t remember holding, “it is a college campus.”

“You can say that again.” His hands are on his hips, and he’s managed to pry his eyes away from you. The sleet’s stopped somewhat, but the ground is still icy from the snow and sleet and rain that have frozen and refrozen over the past few days. The same wistful silence settles between you two after the interruption.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” You laugh in disbelief. Now you’re sure you’ve laughed more than when Jen told you about her friend’s drama. Way more.

“A sign for what?” He questions, jocose and almost suspicious of your deduction.

“A sign you’ve violated like a million rules of common decency!” Another voice, one other than the singing man’s melody and Taesan’s and your chatter, is heard echoing throughout. “Han Taesan, I’m going to beat your ass!” The voice threatens angrily. At first, you don’t know where it’s coming from. At second, you don’t want to believe where it’s coming from. You slowly look up to your open dorm window and see Jen’s disheveled figure poking out with the single most serious scowl you’ve ever seen her wear. The only time that gets close to this nouveau expression is the time she decked a guy for… being a total freak for one of her friends, let’s say. Your body is confused on whether to panic, run, or just freeze. Waiting to act is still an action, and it’s the prognosis your body suggests. You freeze, looking from Taesan to the window, where Jen is notably absent.

You look at Taesan. 

You look at the window. 

You look at Taesan. 

You look at the hallway.

Taesan looks terrified, you look utterly and visibly confused, and for Jen… well, it looks like there's smoke coming out of her ears as she storms down the hallway towards the doors that open to reveal your two-person symposium. Jen slams open the door and, if it wasn’t specifically made not to slam, the impact of the slam would have reverberated until even Dr. Woo heard it across the campus in his (probably sound-proofed) office where he probably still is because, you know, he’s Dr. Woo.

“You motherfucker, what did you do to get her to go out without telling me! What are you hiding? Are you a criminal? Are you a smoker? Oh no, you’re just a piece of shit trying to get in her pants!” Jen steps in front of you, blocking everything but Taesan’s head from your view. From what you can see, Taesan hasn’t been sucker punched yet. His eyes are wide and he’s holding his hands up like he’s waiting for her to swing, and maybe he is. You know he doesn’t know her well enough to know that she wants to beat the shit out of him, but she did say explicitly that she was going to beat the shit out of him so he had some reason to suspect that that’s what was incoming.

“W-what? I don’t— I didn’t do any of that stuff!” He’s shaking his hands wildly and Jen still looks like she’s about to swing by the way she’s pushing a finger into his chest. Still too shocked to do, well, anything except watch.

You see her rear up in a way that’s all too familiar to you, and when you remember you can move, “Jen, wait! It’s–” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you see her closed fist collide with his cheekbone and the impact make him reel back, clutching the affected area with a mittened hand. He almost knocks his head into the pole supporting the overhang, and you can see he’s visibly out of it. Is this a good time to mention that Jen is freakishly good at karate? What Jen is, however, not amazing at is analyzing the situation. As she battles with the follow-through of the swing, she loses her footing on the icy ground, falling flat on her ass. Now, both parties accompanying you are on the icy ground and you’re the only one still standing.

You act in a delay. “Jen! He didn’t do anything, I swear!” You reach for her shoulders that are no longer there, trying to stop an action that’s already happened. You watch as Taesan crumples further into a fetal position and you stand there in shock.

“See!” She spits, snapping her head back to look up at you. “He’s not even trying to help me up!” Her eyebrows are furrowed and angry.

“Jen,” you almost can’t help but laugh, “you decked him, he doesn’t even know what planet he’s on.” You look from your best friend to your… Taesan, and wonder how you attend to both of their bullshit situations at once. “Okay, first of all, Jen, please don’t punch his ass again—”

“Yeah, I’ll punch him in the gut.” She snarls, cutting you off.

“No! There will be no punching.” You declare, trying to sound confident but you’re so bewildered it comes out more as a question. You turn your attention to Taesan, whose nose is bleeding ever so slightly. He’s holding his hat-clad head in his hands and is grimacing in pain. You mirror him, a grimace appearing on your own face as you look upon his pitiful condition. This is going to be so fun to explain. “I came out here because I told him he could call me if he was nervous for the presentation tomorrow and I’d talk to him about it and so we went to the convenience store and… I’m fine! He’s not just trying to get in my pants, he would’ve done that already if he wanted to.” You ramble, using logic that probably wouldn’t withstand in court but works well enough when you talk a million miles an hour to a less than law-savvy subject, that subject being Jen. The subject, Jen, looks scandalized by this information.

“Where did my innocent baby go?” She pouts, getting up to put her arms around you. “Where did my sweet, lightweight, baby with no love life go? She’s sneaking out to see boys?” 

“Jen, I’m a grown woman.” You tell her, incredibly blasé and stiff as she embraces you in a hug. From over her shoulder, you catch Taesan’s eye. When your eyes meet, he laughs and then winces. It probably wasn’t a good idea to welcome an uncontrollable movement when you have some sort of abrasion on your cheek and blood coming out of your nose. Jen pulls back to look at you and shakes her head, you can almost hear her saying they grow up so fast. Maybe this is the same kind of telepathy that goes down between her and her sisters. Maybe you get it. Jen, coming back to earth from her sappy, self-appointed caretaker meltdown, narrows her eyes and looks from you to Taesan, and then from you to Taesan, again.

She opens her mouth and lets out a puff of air as if to start speaking, but she only does so a few seconds later. “So… there was no reason for me to deck him?” She asks, raising an eyebrow in genuine confusion. You nod, solemnly. Her jaw drops and her eyebrows push together. She puts her tongue in her cheek, mind reeling. This is when she realizes she gave this poor man a bloody nose and probably a black eye for no damn reason. Suddenly, she fixes her gaze on you, “you’re the one I should be chewing out! Do you know how many staples of girl code you’ve violated?! You could have died!” She exclaims, clearly ready to give you a talking-to, way worse than when you spelled ‘Elliann’ as ‘Ellyanne.’ She’s like OSHA but for general female wellbeing.

You reach out to grab her hands that are moving dramatically to illustrate her point, “okay, you can chew me out after Taesan isn’t bleeding out.” She seems to relax like a combative patient injected with midazolam.

“I’m not bleeding out.” He huffs, but is still holding his nose bridge, so he’s still bleeding, at least, and that’s not exactly ideal. 

“You look like shit, though.” You tell him

“Thanks,” he groans, “can I get some tylenol, or something?” Yeah, he totally looks like a hurt puppy. It’s kind of cute, you guess.

“Yeah, we’ll get you patched up.” You assure him, breaking away from Jen to attend to Taesan.

“No ‘we.’ Only you. Don’t let her punch me again.” 

“We’re over the combat phase, it’s fine. Get up, do your legs still work?” You try to say your biting words as comfortingly as possible. It’s past two in the morning, you’re too over-tired to try to pick your words so they’ll feel better for the receiver. What’ll make Taesan feel better, physically, at least, is tylenol and making sure his nose isn’t broken.

“My legs don’t, my ass hurts like hell.” Jen complains, but helps in picking Taesan up anyway.

“It’s very hard to break a tailbone, a nose, on the other hand…” You raise your eyebrows but say no more. Taesan gets up just fine, but still clutches his nose. “Campus clinic’s probably closed, we have a first-aid kit, though.”

Jen issues a half-hearted-sounding yet fully meant apology in the form of a mutter of “sorry for punching you, man.” 

“You’re cool, man. Cool that you were looking out for her.” He gives her a small thumbs up. It’s a weird moment of friendship between these two. For having met barely a week ago and having spent five hours together tops, these two have a more tumultuous relationship than most twin siblings at the age of nine, which is saying something considering most have chased each other with a knife by the age of five and a half. Jen has gone from asking to be the maid of honor to decking the presumed groom and now having a hopefully more stable relationship with said groom. So much plot it’s not even ‘for the plot’ anymore, you’re just riding the wave of unexpected inciting events.

“The more the merrier.” You mutter as you sling Taesan’s arm over your shoulder. Why he abets this when the damage is to his face, who knows. The more the merrier indeed in your cramped dorm, trying to ignore how the cold compress on his bruise keeps melting even though it’s so cold and the fact that you have an injured and sleep-deprived boy on your hands.

GOT GOOD

You bite the inside of your cheek, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to express your dismay. You kind of bombed your presentation. 

Scrap that, you really bombed your presentation. 

As you step out of the lecture hall following the sea of your peers, you step aside to press your back into a free wall. It’s one of the moments where you need to just detach. Crossing your arms for stability, you melt into the wall. The overhead light that you can see even through your closed eyelids is obscured every so often by a moving body. This drowsiness is familiar.

Amid the frequent passings of students, the light is masked for longer than would be caused by someone in passing. You know who it is.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad.” You open your eyes to a squint and see Taesan leaning against the wall next to you. Despite how you try to ignore it, you’re immediately drawn to the squashed berry purple color that blossoms on the inflamed skin under his left eye, giving way to a lighter almost green tint near his nose. Jen got him good. Your blinks are slow, the scant hours of sleep are getting to you. You slept through your alarm, foreboding you from even getting coffee before the presentation. Despite his injury, he’s smiling.

“I lost where I was like every other sentence.” You attempt to mirror his smile, but it doesn’t really work, leaving you with a smile that reaches your eyes but not your lips, somehow.

“It’s Dr. Woo, you’ll be fine. He doesn’t care nearly as much as you do. We got all of our information out. It doesn’t matter how graceful it was.” He lays out his reasons and you cock your head, weighing the possibility that he’s right.

“Are you like a vampire, or something? You don’t need sleep?”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs. Maybe living with five as many people as you do makes you sleep way less; especially since it seems like Taesan is their chaperone despite the fact that Sungho and Riwoo are older than him, you’ve learned.

“You shouldn’t be. Sleep is good.” You close your eyes again, and a silence settles over you. You’ve created your own little bubble in the hallway, and it might not even include Taesan. Right now, it’s just you and your desperate need for rest. You are not the kind of person to pull an all-nighter.

“I told you you were going to crash.” He reminds you and you hum in response. “Look,” he gets your attention by putting a hand on your shoulder, “the boys are out, come back to my place and you can take a nap. I know that your room still smells like disinfectant.” A smile creeps across your face at this. It’s true: your room smells like the pungent iodine that you used to clean the minor abrasions on his cheekbone. You still have no idea why Jen has that much power in her.

“Lead the way.” 

“It’s way closer to this building than it is to your building, it’s barely any walk at all.” He assures you. Regardless, you have to speed walk to keep up with the pace.

“Do you have hot chocolate, or anything?” At your drawled request, he tsks. Pressing his lips together, you take that as a no.

“I’ll see what I can do. Woonhak owes me like nine favors.” He laughs a little at this, and you smile too. Unremarkably, it hasn’t become spring overnight, and so the wind is still nipping at your face. You were wise enough to wear your Taesan-provided gloves, though. Looking at Taesan’s face and the way the wind makes his face a little pink, you’re pretty sure you could find the whole color palette on his face. Except blue, maybe. You’ve got the other colors covered. Red for his cheeks, orange, yellow, green, and purple for his bruise. Huh, that bruise contributes a lot. “It’s just this way.” He says, guiding you with a pointed hand towards a complex highly similar to your own. Same red brick buildings and same overhang. The difference is that, you know from picking your roommate, this building is the apartment sector. Frankly, it’s incredible that Taesan and his roommates are all friends. You know other people who got apartments, or even quads, who aren’t so happy.

As you step into the entrance way, you feel the warm air hit your face. This building is much warmer than yours, maybe that’s a good thing. Walking up the stairs, Taesan is steady behind you. You wonder if he’s thinking about catching you like he had to the time you were drunk off your ass.

As soon as you enter the apartment dorm, your focus tunnel visions on the soft couch in the middle of the room. It looks like heaven as you step towards it. You were unfairly ripped from the comfort of your bed for that fuckass presentation and now you can return to your natural state, sleeping. You thank whatever power is out there because this is so incredibly opportune.

As soon as you shed your backpack and winter coat and collapse on the couch, you’re out like a light. No words from Taesan can wake you now, even if it is him professing his undying love for you. No, it’s up to your internal clock to make you up, lest you sleep forever.

Your internal clock does wake you up. You’re groggy, but it’s still light out, so you couldn’t have slept for so long. As you assess your situation, you notice two differences.

First, you’re warm.

A navy blue throw blanket has been carefully draped over you, and you’re pretty sure you didn’t do that yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek—happily, this time. It’s proof he does care, and maybe you’re letting the gesture get to your head. You do… not like Han Taesan, right?

Second, you’re alone in Taesan’s living room.

There are no signs of life, not from his roommates nor from the mountain himself. That’s more puzzling. You would have assumed he would have stayed for one reason or another, maybe he went out to get hot chocolate? He told you that he would have Woonhak do it.

Looking around the room, you take in the sights. There’s a modest TV with various video game consoles, there is a section of the room clearly designated for guitars, and it’s remarkably clean. Not too bad for five early 20-somethings and one 18 year old. It’s kind of impressive, actually. There isn’t any leftover food out and even the dishes in the sink have been rinsed, if not thoroughly washed. You pat down the area around you in search of your phone, mainly to check the time, but also to figure out where the hell Taesan went. Something about his absence hurts your heart in an uncomfortable way. You would have liked to see him when you woke up. Still… you do not like Han Taesan… do you? No, no. You don’t like him, that’s silly. He’s just your partner for a group project.

As you locate your phone, you hear the door open behind you and you swing your head around to see Taesan standing in the doorway with a hand behind his back and a bag in the hand that’s visible to you. Another bag, nice.

“Good morning.” He smiles at your state. The way he looks at you suggests your hair is out of order. You fail obviously as you try to subtly sort it out.

“I had a great nap. You have a good napping couch.” You bring a hand up to rub your right eye even though your mom says it causes astigmatism. It would suck to have contacts in right about now.

“Well,” he says, setting down the bag on the counter, “I have your hot chocolate.” You’re pretty sure your face lights up at this, it’s the perfect thing for this kind of dingy day. “And,” he continues, “I got it from a café near here; store-bought isn’t as good.” He takes a cardboard carrier out of the bag and presents his finds to you, two lidded cups.

“You sure know the way to my heart.” You mean that on a deeper level that you hope he doesn’t catch. “What’s behind your back?” You ask, pointing to the obvious hand still tucked behind him. 

He looks sheepish and brings the hand to his front, “I got these for you.” His cool act is far gone, he seems almost timid. In his left hand he grasps a bouquet of an assortment of colorful flowers. There are assorted yellows, blues, pinks, purples, and reds. It’s like a sunset wrapped in brown paper and tied in a pretty twine bow.

“Taesan!” You exclaim excitedly, jumping up from the couch to go collect your gift. “Why?” You poke. He’s quiet for a second, the question seems to echo throughout the room. A chorus of ‘why.’ You meet his eyes for just a second, but the shared glance makes your heart beat faster. He seems to bite his tongue, there’s a shining reflection of the kitchen light in his dark brown eyes. You don’t see them crinkle up, indicative of a straight face.

He swallows like his throat is thick, “I got them for you because I like you… I like you romantically.”

You’re not sure if your heart swells or drops.

From this one statement, you learn two things. You learn that Han Taesan likes you, and you learn that you like Han Taesan. You really like Han Taesan. You like the way he’s cold but kind and the way his bangs fall and his endless care for his roommates and his hardworking nature. 

You like Han Taesan.

You take the bouquet in your hands, analyzing the flowers. You notice they’re mostly tulips, but flanked by carnations, baby’s breath, and bluebells. A smile grows on your face as you look back up at him. He looks absolutely terrified. It’s not worth it to tease him here. He’s vulnerable, you should be too.

You begin to open your mouth, but before you can, he continues in an attempt at defense, “listen to me, please. I thought you were cute and smart even before the party and all of those incidents, but now that I know you I can’t not tell you. You’re witty and stubborn and playful and it’s so easy to talk to you. You were cute when you were drooling, I didn’t know that was possible. You make fun of me but I like it because you’re so kind. I… I like you.” He confesses, he’s talking fast and you think your heart might burst with excitement. Excitement isn’t the right word—euphoria? Joy? Happiness? Exhilaration? No word is quite right for how you feel about Taesan. “The tulips symbolize love.” He says under his breath and the flowers take on a whole new meaning. You feel like a tulip. Tulips symbolize love.

The smile that bursts across your face makes his eyebrows release all their tension immediately, “Taesan, I like you too. I really like you,” you tell him, “tulips symbolize love.” You look down at the bouquet and see the array of tulips that smile back at you.

“Can I kiss you? I’m not drunk, I swear.” He promises. The allusion to your first meeting makes you laugh. You met with an ask for a kiss, and now he confesses with an ask for a kiss.

“Yes.” You whisper, and he throws his arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours. You sway like that for a moment, you feel the cold of his jacket against your arms and the pressure of his hand on the small of your back. You look at him and in his eyes you see him. No walls, just you two. Just you and Taesan.

You wrap your arms around his neck, one hand still holding the bouquet and pull his lips to yours. Warmth blossoms in your chest—his kiss is soft and tender and he tastes like mint. Mint might be your new favorite flavor. His lips fit perfectly with yours. You feel the soft press of his fingers into your back, pulling you closer to him. Your lips part slightly and you’re out of breath before he even starts to pull away. His kiss is just like him, just when you think you know him all, he shows you a new surprise, something new. After stalling for just a second, he pulls you back to him and deepens the kiss. You could kiss this minty boy forever.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours again, fluttering his eyes open and shut.

“I wrote a song about this. A serenade.” He says breathlessly.

Even in the dead of winter, you think your heart melts all over again.

NOTES: Shoutout Hartford Whalers even tho they sports disbanded! SINGING MAN CAMEO! The singing man is a genuine character in my life. Living in the city center of a major city means I get LOTS of people doing weird shit like the emoji guy (who wears outfits only with bright fucking emojis, my friends have seen him too, he’s wacky), the tree guy (a man who always walks around with a fallen branch on his head, no idea why), and the supercar medical worker (woman in scrubs who drives down the streets with a loud ass car that looks like one of those fuckass shoes with big holes in them you know what im talking about the kidney shoes). I take a pic and keep them in a folder on my phone called “recurring characters.” I have never seen the singing man. He walks past my house every weekday at 11pm and I like to have my windows open and he sings loud Spanish ballads. I love him. Singing man my beloved. Sorry this is a slowburn, it was forced out of me i fear. is this a slowburn? methinks so.

[dsireland86]

Okay can you please make a Emotional Dad Folio x fem reader fic who after a tough and risky labor gets to see his wife and baby safe and sound finally. But even better him finally getting to hold his baby for the first time and just having a full tears and snot breakdown cause he was scared and is just happy they're okay

This is just the sweetest. I had this whole scenario played out in my head before I even wrote it down 😁🥰

Emotional Dad

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @supersquirrel1996 @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h

I wasn't even sure I wanted kids until the moment my girl came to me with something in her hand. Y/N was glowing and never looked as pretty as she did in that moment when she told me to close my eyes. Her excitement made me excited. After pecking her lips, I closed my eyes. The item she put in my hands weighed about as much as a feather, so when Y/N told me to open my eyes, what I saw wasn't at all what I expected; a pregnancy test with two blue lines. She was pregnant. It was then I realized that the idea of having a baby was really something I wanted, but only because it was with the woman standing in front of me. Picking her up, I hugged and kissed Y/N, assuring her I was thrilled about us having a baby, and as the months went by and her belly grew bigger and bigger, the anticipation of meeting our child grew. Thankfully, our love making didn't stop. Y/N was even more beautiful with our baby growing inside her, making her so irresistible that I found it difficult to keep my hands off of her. The first few months were nothing, but as the baby got bigger so did her belly making it kind of hard. I grew nervous, even after reading everything I did about it, but Y/N reassured me that it was okay and that it wouldn't hurt the baby. After that, it was game on, buddy, and we made some of the best love the two of us had ever had. We were happy, and so ready to meet our little one, but not just yet. There was still a little while to go before that could happen. Or so we thought.

"Nick! Nick! Wake up, please!" Y/N shrieked in pain as she sat up in bed clutching her belly. "Oh god, it freaking hurts." 

Folio sat up, completely startled.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know! Something hurts, really bad, ohhh! Ouch!"

Y/N started crying, gripping the bed sheets tightly. Folio jumped out of bed, slipping on a pair of jeans, socks and his shoes, before grabbing his keys and wallet. Sending a quick text to the guys in a group chat, he leapt over to Y/N's side of the bed.

"Is it contractions? The, er, the ones you say aren't real?" "Braxton Hicks, and no, this is not them. Oh god! Baby, something is wrong!"

Folio placed his hand on his wife's belly, feeling just how active their little one was. But he noticed that something didn't feel right. Lifting Y/N's shirt, the round shape of her belly made him grin. He was definitely going to miss it and the feeling of their baby moving around inside. He leaned down and kissed it while gently running his hands all over, pushing on certain spots and noting things that once felt familiar didn't anymore. In Y/N's lower abdomen where the baby's head should be, there were movements that shouldn't, and feeling up the middle of her belly, he no longer felt the tightness of where the little knees and feet should be. Folio frowned, fearing that what he was thinking might be true. Y/N shrieked in pain, screaming through a loud cry.

"Nick! Make it stop! Please!" she begged, grabbing his arm. "Okay, baby. Alright," he said as calmly as he could. Throwing a shirt on, he helped Y/N up and to the car, running back in to grab the overnight bags.

All the way to the hospital, Y/N held on to her husband's arm, gripping his hand tighter each time the pain came. Her cries and pleas for the pain to stop wrecked his heart and it killed him knowing he couldn't stop it or take any of it away.

"Nick, I love you," Y/N said breathlessly through her pain. "Thank you for being here. Thank you for being so nice."

Folio chuckled.

"I love you, too, Sweetheart. We're going to get through this, okay? It might not seem okay right now, but in the end everything's going to be alright. And hopefully, soon, we'll be holding our baby."

Y/N looked over at him and smiled the best she could despite the pain, nodding quickly right before another wave of pain hit. Finally getting to the hospital, Folio walked Y/N into the labor and delivery ward, calling for help the moment they stepped in. A nurse brought over a wheelchair and helped Y/N sit then wheeled her through a set of double doors as Folio filled out paperwork and informed them on what was happening.

"Wait! Where are you taking her?" Folio asked in a panic, abandoning the paperwork. "Mr. Folio, it's fine. Your wife is being taken to a room. I'll take you there once you're finished."

Nick sighed, running his hand through his hair. He'd been trying his hardest to keep it together for Y/N, but now that he wasn't with her, he felt like he might fall apart. The doors behind him opened and in walked his four brothers, instantly making him feel better.

"What's the word, Folio," Noah asked, his tone thick with concern.

Nick shook his head.

"I'm about to head back. She's in a room, I think." "Do you know what happened? Why is she in so much pain?" asked Jolly.

Folio sighed. "I think, and I could be wrong; God I hope I'm wrong, but I think the baby is breached."

The guys looked at one another, some of them shrugging.

"It means the baby is trying to come out feet and bottom first instead of head first," Folio explained with a sigh. "Oh, fuck no!" Matt cried, biting his knuckle. “Couldn’t that seriously hurt her and the baby?” Nicholas asked.

Before anyone could answer, the double doors opened and a different nurse than before came out.

"Mr. Folio, can you please come with me?" "What's wrong? Is my wife okay?" "Can you please just come with me, sir,” the nurse beckoned Nick towards the double doors.

"Can they come, too?" he asked, nodding at the other four.

The nurse creased her forehead and pursed her lips.

"Are they yours or your wife's family?" "One hundred percent we are," Jolly spoke up.

The nurse cracked a smile, nodding sharply.

"Fine. Follow me."

She led them down the hall, to the right, down another short hall, and to the right again, stopping at a door to a waiting room. Folio looked at her confused.

"Wait. What about the room she was supposed to be in? I thought she was going into a delivery room."

Folio's heart started pounding.

"She was, but then something happened and they had to take her to surgery," the nurse said softly. She opened the door and ushered the boys in. "Hold up! Surgery! What do you mean surgery," Noah snapped.

Nick thought he was going to be sick. He was bent over, breathing hard and trying not to panic, but the thought of something terrible happening to his wife and child felt like his world was crashing down on him.

"Mrs. Folio is in surgery because the baby is breached. If you don't know what that means," "We know what it means," Matt interrupted, scowling at the nurse. She scowled right back. "Will they be alright?"

Folio was motionless, standing next to Nicholas. He felt sick, unable to move. He looked at the nurse as two small tears slid down his cheeks.

"I can't say. I don't have enough information. You all can wait here until a surgical nurse comes out and gives you better information. Should be within the hour."

With that, she turned and walked out another door, opposite the one they came in.

Folio paced. He sat, he paced, he ran his hands consistently through his hair, bit his nails, and then sat some more. He fought the tears, but lost the battle, allowing them to fall as he thought about the idea of losing Y/N. A world without her was one he didn't want to think about. Then he thought about his child, the little life he had yet to meet. He didn't even know the sex yet because he and Y/N chose to find out at birth. The tears fell harder as Nick sat back down, covering his face in his hands. After what felt like hours, a nurse came into the waiting room. She wasn't smiling, but not a lot of the nurses in the hospital did, as Nick picked up on.

"Mr. Folio, I need you to come with me, please," she ordered. All of them started to follow her, but she stopped them. "Only you."

Folio looked from her to the guys, then back to the nurse.

"Okay," he agreed, weakly.

He knew what was coming. He could feel it as he walked the hall, following the nurse closely. His wife was dead, and possibly their child, too. It was obvious from the way the nurse looked at him and spoke. The thought made Folio cry harder, no longer caring who saw.

Weeping silently, they rounded a corner, stopping at a room with a closed door. Gently knocking, the nurse opened the door and they entered into a dimly lit room. It took a moment for Nick's eyes to adjust, but when they did the first thing he saw was Y/N. She was alive and well, resting comfortably in a bed with their baby in her arms. Folio gasped, the very intake of breath hitching in the back of his throat.

"Did you think something bad had happened?" the nurse whispered. Nick huffed a light laugh, pushing his hair back. "Yeah, kind of."

The nurse placed her hand on Folio's back and patted it gently.

"They're both perfectly fine. Your wife went through it, but she's a fighter. You better worship the ground she walks on from now on."

Folio grinned.

"I already do, ma'am." "Good. Then go be with your girls. They need you."

Folio froze, eyes widening.

"Girls?"

The nurse smiled big.

"You didn't know you were having a daughter?" "No. We decided to wait." "Well, now the wait is over."

Folio smiled, focusing his attention back to his girls as the nurse left the room. The sound of the door closing caught Y/N's attention. She looked up and smiled the moment her eyes landed on her husband.

"Nick! Come here! Come meet our daughter!" she said quietly as to not wake the sleeping child.

Nick's chest no longer ached. He was able to take a deep breath as he urgently made his way over to the bed, never taking his eyes off his wife. Even though she looked exhausted, Y/N was still the most beautiful thing ever to him. She was alive. She was healthy. She was his.

"Are you okay? You look worried."

Y/N took his hand and brought it to her face, kissing his palm sweetly.

"Yeah," Folio smiled even though his eyes welled up with tears. "I'm fine. Just really happy you're okay. Both of you."

He wasn't about to indulge his wife with his fears and worries of the past hour. He'd save that for another day. He shifted his gaze from Y/N to the sleeping bundle in her arms; his daughter.

"Do you want to hold her?"

Nick's eyes swiftly looked at Y/N's.

"But she's asleep." "That's okay. She won't mind. I'm sure she wants to finally meet her daddy," Y/N said sweetly to him.

At first, he was terrified, but after leaning over and taking the tiny baby into his arms, Folio had never felt more happy and complete as he did right then. She fit perfectly in the cook of his arm, all bundled up in her tiny pink blanket. Her little button nose and small thin lips were like those of a baby doll, and for a brief moment, Folio thought he might accidently break her. And that's when he broke. Tears ran down his face as he cried, gazing upon the face of his little girl, and he sniffed and sniffed as the tears fell onto her blanket.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Y/N asked gently.

At first, Folio just shook his head, unable to speak.

"Hey, come here, come sit with me," she patted the spot on the bed in front of her.

"Talk to me, Nick. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I thought I lost you," he said, his voice breaking. "I didn't know what happened to you when they took you back through those double doors."

Y/N's shoulders fell.

"Babe, oh no, I'm so sorry," she apologized, laying her forehead on her husband's shoulder and placing her hand on his thigh.

"I waited for over an hour and no one could or wouldn't tell me anything. I didn't know what to think. When they told me that the baby was breached, it almost killed me. I knew back at the house that something didn't feel right when I laid my hands on your belly, but I wasn't prepared for everything that happened. I just..."

Folio hung his head, weeping quietly. His shoulders shook as he hugged his daughter to his chest, silently thanking God that she was okay.

"Nick, baby, I'm so sorry you went through all of that," Y/N apologized, choking up on her words. "Everything on our end went okay; just really fast. They told me she was breached and that made everything make sense. I wasn't really scared about the surgery, but just freaked out because you weren't with me. They told me you couldn't be because it was an emergency procedure. But I didn't feel anything and it was all over quicker than I realized."

Folio nodded, wiping his nose on the should of his shirt before placing a kiss on his daughter's head.

"Where do I lay her?" "Right here," Y/N told him, pointing to the rolling bassinet next to her.

Nick laid the baby down, caressing her little cheek before leaving her to find his wife. He stood over her, admiring the face he loved so much, thankful that they were finally together again. Y/N carefully scooted over some and Nick climbed in, throwing his arm around her shoulder where she settled in comfortably. Having him close to her again made Y/N feel complete.

"I love you, Nick. "I love you, too Sweetheart, and our little angel." "I realize she needs a name, right?"

Nick could hear the smile in her voice.

"Any ideas?" "No. You?" "Not yet. Let's get to know her a little first." "She needs one before we leave the hospital."

Folio smiled, kissing his wife's forehead.

"She'll have one."

Y/N grinned, burying herself deeper into Folio's side where she fell asleep almost instantly.

[biff-adventurer]

I strongly feel the need to share a story about this, because I feel it demonstrates the problems inherent in these expectations, too. Just preaching to the choir, I s'pose.

So, for the longest time, I didn't mod any of my characters. I still don't, but that's not really important. What is, however, is that I did not have the Moon Goggles until six months ago. I'm from Aether, and many of my RP friends are from Crystal. The group I'd found did heavily use mods, but also accepted that people didn't use mods.

HOWEVER. Not purposely, of course, but there was a strong bias toward people who could see the mods, versus those who couldn't. Because I couldn't see, a lot of my experience was compromised until I could. And when I could, everyone was excited to share things with me. Prior to that, they were kind enough to show me screenshots of their modded characters so I would know.

Anyway, one of my friends started playing another character who was heavily modded, mostly because they were a cross-over character from another piece of media. So they come to our venue on Aether, where we don't use a lot of mods in RP spaces (because the RP spaces are still pretty insular, outside of open venues including cafes and nightclubs, which not every kind of character will be attracted to).

That night, my friend was MORTIFIED that almost nobody was in our synchshell. Hell, we didn't even bother mentioning we had one. My friend just sort of expected that we did. But no one at the bar was bothered with mods, because the few who did had corresponding vanilla mods, and the ones who didn't, were reliant on text-based RP.

My friend freaked out that no one could see her "correctly". She's a descriptive writer, would not have needed mods. Her character was "close enough". But she was overwhelmed with the thought of not being perceived the way she specifically wanted to be perceived upon immediate sight. I struggled to explain that it's not a huge deal to us, but it didn't go very well. We are still friends and worked through the talk, but it didn't address the issue of modding versus not modding.

The reason why we're still friends is that her feelings were rooted in an insecurity like performance anxiety. Needing to be perfectly executed, lest people not understand what's happening. I found this so sad. This idea that people won't care unless they see what your aesthetic is, instantly. Obviously, that's a ridiculous standard.

Especially when the focus should be on us all making fun stories together. That's how we all grow closes to each other, that's how characters bond over years and years.

The other thing is that it takes time to get to know people. It takes conflict to understand yourself and others. There's not a real way to avoid conflict between people, so mods shouldn't be relied upon as a short-cut to understanding the others around you.

Too often, roleplayers will read replies only enough to respond to the other character. In practice, this is like that old joke from 90's sitcoms: "Haha, I only listen to my wife long enough to know what to say next." If you want to connect with someone, you've gotta listen to them actively. That means engaging with their text in a way that reflects you have received the information, even just with a tiny prosaic mention.

It actually really hurt my feelings when I tried to explain this and I was told, "but you're the Warrior of Light." I wasn't always this character. I have other characters who aren't fully captured in the game, too. Hell, the scars available to use in customization are not in the right places for this character. They never were. The right voice is not there, the way the hair color works, for my headcanon, is not completely right, the shape of my character's body is drastically different. I had to wait to get the stubble face for a long time. I had to wait to get the right hair. Just like everyone else. It hurts to be told 'but you don't share in this struggle' when, in fact, you have for quite a while.

I feel like part of this is "instant gratification" and another part is "social anxiety" feeding into the problem of prioritizing aesthetic over story. One satisfies the need for roleplay quicker than playing out a roleplay and the other prevents people from approaching one another without the confidence of mods behind them. It's not wrong to enjoy aesthetic, not one bit! But when you want a roleplay connection, you have to exercise some level of patience and put in some level of effort to connect with other people regardless of what could happen. And, without your writing to provide context to it, your aesthetic can be misinterpreted just as easily as anything else about you.

Social anxiety and other neurodivergent conditions are serious, yes. But if you're suffering from loneliness because you're too afraid to reach out to others, then you might be letting your condition control you to an unhealthy extent. Lots of people are unmedicated, and I get that. I was unmedicated for a long fucking time, too. But if you don't try to reach for happiness, you won't ever have to chance to reach it.

I wish that emphasis could be placed back on story, but there are so many problems outside of the fandom affecting our culture and social behaviours. Critical thinking is not well taught. Social etiquette has not been well taught. The great majority of corporation funded media is driven by the need to grab money while people are excited--so, as long as they create things attractive and indulgent enough, fuck what it means about the world. Fear is gripping the hearts of many, such that they are afraid to say what they really think. And fear is feeding into the fury of mobs online, who then punish people for asking genuine questions about topics they don't know. As a result, good faith interpretations are no longer the norm. People often assume the worst when they are uncomfortable. It's really sad. I'm a woman of color, so I'm really used to not being heard. I know what I say won't make much of an impact. I haven't said things in the kindest, gentlest way that it could possibly be said. But I don't want to be someone who couches the truth in sweet words. I don't want to feed into the idea that the truth must be comfortable, or that people's feelings must be comfortable to be heard. It's not a fair standard for anyone trying to express their honest feelings.

I'm just so tired. I want the practice of kindness and patience to spread wide, so we can discuss issues with nuance, without starting a fandom wide storm about things. I hope we can show more empathy toward one another in the future.

Playerscope, modding and the hunt for aesthetic: why you should be more upset about mods and community expectations than you already are.

I love that this sounds like an academic paper but HONESTLYYYY. I need to put my thoughts to paper in regards to my burnout with xiv, otherwise I think I'll go insane. This is a controversial yet brave post. I am well aware that I partake in some of the things I'm going to be critiquing; aka, "thank you, dinklebottom, we live in a society." I'm also not critiquing mods from a space of offering more accessibility to people and/or facilitating representation not currently offered within the context of the game. There is nuance to every discussion and I'm coming at this from an overarching view around mods and community expectations/standards rather than player joy. I hope this makes sense. I'm also predominately writing from a roleplay perspective, though I'm sure a lot of what I end up saying can reflect in the art party/social space. Just know if I haven't mentioned the latter it's because that's not my scene and I don't pretend to know otherwise.

Anyway. For those who don't know, there's a new mod that's causing some strife in the xiv community called Playerscope. Here is the reddit thread about it. I'm not going to be talking too much about the mod in general because that's not the point of this post, but seeing discussion around it today just made me feel more exhausted than I already am when it comes to modding and the xiv community around it. It made me realise... I'm actually really sick to death of mods. I'm sick to death of what they're doing to the community when it comes to gatekeeping, policing and in general the interactions we have with each other in the community.

Let me explain: I wrote a post about the roleplay mod on bsky that kind of articulates at a surface level what I mean.

I think what makes me sad, which I'm sure is echoed by a lot of people, is that mods feel like the standard now rather than an option and that there's a certain expectation for people to have them if they want to engage with facets of the community—whether intentional or not.

Unlike XIV, WoW has a supported mod scene (within reason) and TRP 2 and the like have been accepted for years now. In a space where people can't slap on an RP tag, having that tool readily identifies you as a writer/roleplayer and you can include as much or as little of your character as you like. The general idea is if you have one of these tools enabled, you're a roleplayer to some capacity. You can dress up the profile to a certain degree, you can add links and supported pictures, but you're mostly reliant on what you put to paper in regards to your character. Even then, I find filling out what my character is doing currently and marking the rest as a WIP doesn't necessarily exclude me from roleplay if I want to find it. A lot of people will do that and a super simple description to incite interest around their oc.

These days in XIV... I don't know. I do think communities have gotten more insular—it's why I'm so pedantic about trying to find them for the Compendium—but I also think mods and, to a certain extent, the 'nightclub' scene have gotten in the way of it as well. My argument is such.

I want to go to an event (for example sake, I'll call it Seascape). In order to fully participate, I may need:

Their discord.

A roleplay addon.

A carrd/google site/etc.

Their synchshell (including mods, mare and everything else)

Potentially a mod of some description so people know I can see theirs (and vice versa).

Also that your mod isn't made by a shitty person.

Appropriate understanding of the scene/social space.

Some luck and a prayer that it's an inclusive space and not a closed rp group advertising as being open and/or a mod showcase advertising itself as something different.

Like??? Holy shit you guys. If you are someone who doesn't want to mod because you're worried about repercussions it really just feels like a big 'fuck you, good luck'.

And let me be clear, not every community is like this. I'm incredibly lucky to have found fantastic roleplay within my own rp event/community, I have great friends who run awesome, inclusive events for people of any skill (writing or otherwise) and I do fully believe you can just enable the rp tag and find fun, fulfilling roleplay. But I've also found the above a lot of times, too. I've had people point-blank get mad at my partner because he won't install mods and try to exclude and/or circumvent him in spaces. It's weird. I've been to events where the only time I felt like I got proper interaction(s) was when I joined the aforementioned, even if I have my character's profile linked in my about. It's weird.

Honestly, no wonder new roleplayers feel overwhelmed. Not only do they have to learn roleplay etiquette, they have to be a mod expert overnight? It feels less about what someone can bring to the table as far as a story but what mods they can install to either look cool or pass an unspoken social barrier. As much as I'm down bad for aesthetic and looking the part, I hate it being at the cost of accessibility and fun for someone else.

Arguably it's the same for gposing and the like as well, which contributes to my exhaustion alongside all the graphical changes and I just. I'm gnawing at the bars of my cage.

I don't think it's going to change and arguably it's more of a Twitter/X issue than a Tumblr, one but Tumblr lets me write mini essays and Twitter will tell me to kms.

Ergo, I'll go with the essay-writing platform.

Anyway, I guess this is just a reminder that you don't need 4596419651 mods to be in the community and that people should be more vigilant on including people who don't have them for whatever reason, provided they operate in good-faith and want to contribute. I think we're careening to a slippery slope of expectation for something unsupported and I don't like it.