#thanks for reading !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[w0rmb]

Heyyy guys! Been a minute! Here’s some Eddie & Volt!

This drawing took meee 6 hours! Still hasn’t beat my Jayvik drawing that was 13 hours (jesus christ 😭) But I sketched this in my sketchbook first sooo maybe an hour more! So the longest i’ve spent on a drawing in a while.

Anyways date everything took over my brain for a week, these two are my faves! (Preference for Eddie) Love their storyline the most definitely. Dorian and (specifically) Timmy are my other two faves.

DORIANS SO FIIIIIOOOONEEE

TIMMY HATE IS ALLOWED BUT I’M JUST NOT LISTENING !!! Listen he’s just funny alright let him be silly goofy, his story cracked me up it was so cringe 😭

[tenderheartedbrat]

men breathing heavy!! men moaning!!! men whimpering!!!!

[mintfullyyours]

Thinking about patching up ex-husband Simon Riley. He comes in with the cloak of darkness not close to sunrise, a witching hour of sorts. Three slow deliberate knocks on the other side of your door. No more and no less. Staring at the mahogany frame, you could ignore him. It would be for the best.

But ghosts tend to haunt all night.

So you'll let him in.

You always do.

Bloodied knuckles with a nasty gash on his upper eyebrow. He'll hoist you onto the bathroom countertop with your legs spread as he steps between them. Firm hands grip your waist, grounding you in your stupid decision to let your ex back into your life. Again. He doesn't flinch as you swipe the alcohol soaked towel over his eyebrow wound. Determined eyes search your face in hopes you'll crack under his gaze.

"Ask me what happened." He whispers.

"No." you dab the towel more firmly on his eyebrow as it soaks the raging red liquid.

Simon grabs your wrist and leans down, his lips pressing into the shell of your ear. "Really?" Your heart pounds in your chest, as your body betrays you for your ex -- feeling a heat set every fiber of you ablaze. His teeth grazing your skin as he noses his way down the column of your neck and breathes in your unyielding scent. He knew the effect he still had on you and you hated yourself for it.

"Birdie really doesn't wanna know what I did to that bloke you went out with last week?"

part 2 here!!!

[ilovolderman]

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: It’s game night, and Sam is being extra suspicious about your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, uno

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It was a Monday, and Sam Wilson was once again spiraling.

Not because he had a particularly bad day or because a rogue pigeon had decided his sandwich was a target. No, Sam’s mental breakdown was much more subtle, much more insidious.

It was because of the vibe.

The vibe was off.

At first, it was innocent. Steve had invited everyone over for "a quiet evening," which meant they were playing board games and pretending they weren't all secretly trying to outsmart each other with complex strategies and alliances.

But it wasn’t the games that were bothering Sam.

It was you and Bucky, like always.

You and Bucky entered the living room at the same time. He was holding a bag of fries like it was an offering, and you had a look on your face like you were trying to keep from laughing at a private joke. It wasn’t obvious to anyone else, but Sam’s gut tightened. He'd been through this before.

He had a sixth sense for this kind of thing.

A totally normal looking Bucky waved at Sam, but there was something about the way he did it—too casual, too... loaded. You smiled as you sat down on the couch, and Bucky followed.

Then, the thing happened.

You both reached for the same side of the couch at the same time. And you didn’t immediately pull away like people usually do when they're not on the verge of launching into some kind of... well, whatever this was.

You just... stayed there.

Sam squinted, his eyes narrowing like he was a detective trying to crack an impossible case. This was the moment. The moment when his suspicions shifted from theory to solid fact.

Sam wasn’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly—without explanation—Bucky’s arm was draped over the back of the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

A few moments passed.

Still no words.

Just an... unsettling silence as you both stared ahead at the game unfolding in front of you.

Sam looked from you, to Bucky, then back to you. His fingers twitched. The notepad was in his lap, but he hadn’t written a single thing down yet. How was he supposed to document what was happening?

It was... too subtle.

He turned to Steve. “Are they—?”

Steve, blissfully unaware, was deep into his Monopoly strategy. “Hmm?”

“Do you notice anything... off about them?” Sam asked, nodding toward the couch.

Steve glanced over and blinked. “What? They’re sitting next to each other?”

Sam clenched his jaw. “It’s the way they’re sitting. They’re... too comfortable. Like they’re already sharing the same DNA. You see that?”

Steve squinted for a moment, then shrugged. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

Sam was about to respond when Tony strolled into the room, “What’s this about reading into things?” he asked casually, taking a seat next to Steve.

“They’re being weird,” Sam muttered, pointing to the couch.

Tony leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean how they’re subtly acting like they’ve been married for thirty years, without the commitment?”

Sam’s eye twitched.

Tony grinned at the chaos unfolding in Sam’s mind. “Don’t overthink it, Sammy. Some people just get comfortable with each other.” He took a sip from his glass.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky were still sitting there, but now you were exchanging an absurdly synchronized look.

You both looked at each other like you were reading a secret book written in a language only the two of you could understand. The silence was thick enough to slice with a knife.

Then—just as Sam felt his sanity slip away completely—you both laughed. At nothing.

A soft, almost eerie laugh, like you were in on some joke only the two of you got.

Tony, who was now practically snickering, leaned over and whispered to Steve, “We should’ve put money on it. Sam’s on the edge, and he’s about to combust.”

Sam stood up abruptly, looking at the pair on the couch, then back at Steve, his eyes wide with the fury of a thousand unanswered questions. “That’s it. I’m gonna ask them directly.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “You really don’t want to.”

But Sam was too far gone. His mind was locked in a war with his instincts. He marched over to the couch, put his hands on his hips, and shot you and Bucky an unrelenting stare.

Bucky didn’t even look at Sam, he was handing you the fries, leaning toward you. You smiled at Bucky like he was the best thing since sliced bread, and Sam felt his soul physically leave his body.

This was it. This was the moment that proved it.

"You two are literally a walking romcom," Sam spat out in a low voice, too quietly for anyone to hear except you and Bucky. "I see it. The fries. The eye contact. It’s like... like... a plot."

You smirked. “What’s your deal, Sam? I’m just getting some fries. Everyone loves fries.”

Bucky nodded, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his grin. “Yeah, Sam. What’s your deal?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You guys. Are you really gonna sit there and keep telling me you’re just friends?”

Both of you paused. The air felt like it shifted, like it thickened, as if the universe was waiting for the punchline. Sam’s pulse quickened.

And then, in perfect unison, both of you said:

“We’re friends.”

Sam stared at you both, utterly dumbfounded.

“Friends?” he whispered in horror. “With... this?”

You both blinked at him innocently.

“Of course,” you said.

“We’re just good pals,” Bucky added, just barely holding in a laugh.

 “I—I can’t,” Sam muttered, trying to make sense of the absolute absurdity unfolding before him.

Bucky slapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, like the world’s least convincing therapist. “You’ll get there, Sam. You just have to let go and stop thinking so hard about it.”

Sam made a strangled noise that could’ve been a scream or the noise of a man who had just realized he was doomed. He glanced at Peter, who was giving him a look of pure, unfiltered sympathy.

“Is this some kind of test?” Sam asked, his voice rising. “Am I being pranked? Are you two secretly married? Or, like... I don’t know, are you... trying to get a rise out of me?”

Bucky leaned forward slightly. “No, Sam. We’re just casually enjoying life... together.”

“Together,” Sam repeated, clutching his head dramatically. “I’m going to be sick.”

And then, just to make sure he was completely defeated, you reached over, casually brushing your hand against Bucky’s arm before giving him a tiny, affectionate squeeze.

Sam blinked. His notebook hit the floor with a dramatic thud.

“I knew it.” he gasped, and then, as if the universe had somehow heard him, he heard Natasha’s voice from across the room, still half-asleep:

“Sam, you’re being ridiculous. Just let them enjoy the vibes.”

Sam’s soul left his body.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky exchanged yet another impossibly synchronized glance.

Tony, still grinning, patted Sam on the back. “Don’t worry. One day you’ll look back on this and laugh. Just not today.”

And with that, Sam grabbed his coat, shook his head, and walked out the door.

Meanwhile, Bucky reached over, snagged the last of the fries, and handed them to you. “You think he’s buying it?”

You shrugged. “Nah, I think we’ve got him exactly where we want him.”

Bucky smirked. “Good. Let’s mess with him some more tomorrow.”

The room was quiet now. The chaos had died down. Steve had gone to clean up the kitchen, Tony had retreated to a mysterious project involving lasers, and Natasha was now fully asleep, curled up with a blanket over her face on the armchair.

That left just you and Bucky, still curled on the couch — the battlefield of your dramatic emotional warfare against Sam.

You reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the deck of Uno cards you’d swiped earlier. You looked at Bucky with a mischievous little glint in your eye.

“Wanna play?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “I thought we already emotionally destroyed a man tonight. Isn’t that enough chaos for one evening?”

You started shuffling the deck, your fingers moving deftly. “Just one game. Come on. I promise not to make you cry.”

“Oh, please,” Bucky said, grabbing a throw pillow and tossing it at you. “You’re only confident because you’ve been cheating.”

You gasped, mock-offended. “I do not cheat! I win with style.”

“Sure,” Bucky said, lounging comfortably as he took the cards you dealt him. “Style, manipulation, same thing.”

The game started quietly, the soft rustle of cards filling the silence. You both sat cross-legged on the couch, knees bumping occasionally. The warm, low lamp cast a golden hue over everything, and the mood had shifted from chaos to... something soft. Comfortable.

Halfway through the game, you narrowed your eyes. “You’re letting me win.”

Bucky paused mid-draw. “What?”

You pointed at his hand. “You had a +4 and a Reverse like, four rounds ago. You haven’t played either.”

He blinked, all innocent puppy eyes. “What are you talking about? Maybe I just forgot.”

You squinted harder. “James Buchanan Barnes. Do not lie to me.”

He chuckled, then leaned forward, lowering his voice like it was a secret. “Fine. Maybe I’m letting you win a little. You get this cute little proud look when you think you’ve cornered me. It’s adorable.”

Your face flushed, and you tossed your card at him. “That’s cheating in a different way.”

“It’s strategic emotional warfare,” Bucky replied smoothly, grinning as he finally laid down a card. “I’m adapting to modern combat.”

You crossed your arms, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Well, stop it. I want a fair game.”

He nodded solemnly, eyes twinkling. “Understood. No mercy.”

You resumed playing, and this time he was relentless—Reverse, Skip, Draw Two. You shrieked in betrayal as your carefully constructed hand crumbled.

“This is what happens when you ask for a fair game,” Bucky said, laughing.

“I take it back!” you shouted, laughing as you threw your hands up. “Bring back the gentle sabotage!”

Bucky leaned over, gathering the cards again, but this time he didn’t start a new game. He looked at you, expression softening.

“Hey,” he said, voice quieter now. “Being here with you… it just makes everything else fade out..”

You tilted your head, suddenly serious. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reached over and brushed a piece of lint off your sleeve. “Feels like home. Like peace.”

Your heart melted a little, the kind of soft ache that came when you realized you were exactly where you were supposed to be. You shifted closer, your legs pressed gently against his, and rested your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move for a moment—then his arm wrapped around you, pulling you just a little closer, like muscle memory.

“Uno?” you whispered.

“Only if I get to win this time,” he whispered back.

You smiled into his shoulder. “We’ll see.”

And in the warm, quiet room, surrounded by discarded fries and chaos-shaped memories, the two of you played on.

“Uno,” you announced, placing your second-to-last card down with a triumphant grin.

Bucky stared at you in betrayal. “You said we were being nice this round!”

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I was nice. I could’ve skipped you again. You should be thanking me.”

He shook his head in disbelief, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm?” he asked, all wide-eyed innocence as he picked up a card from the draw pile.

You squinted at him. “Say it again.”

He leaned in, his voice low and smooth like velvet. “You heard me.”

Your heart fluttered. Stupidly. Ridiculously. And yet, you couldn’t stop the shy smile that spread across your face. You rolled your eyes and tried to keep your cool, placing your final card down with a flourish.

“Game,” you declared smugly.

Bucky groaned and dropped his hand. “Unbelievable. First you destroy Sam’s psyche, now you destroy my winning streak.”

“I’m on fire tonight,” you said, laughing.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes softening as he looked at you. “You really are.”

There was a pause—just long enough to feel like something was shifting again. Not in a chaotic, Sam-spiral kind of way. In the way the air gets thicker when something good is about to happen.

He leaned forward, slow and certain.

You met him halfway.

The kiss was soft. Unhurried. His hand cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing along your skin like he’d been waiting forever for the right moment and wanted to savor it now that it was here. You melted into it, your fingers curling into the sleeve of his henley.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, and you both just... stayed there.

No words. No teasing. Just you and him and the warm hum of everything unspoken.

You yawned a moment later, trying (and failing) to hide it behind your hand.

Bucky chuckled, pressing a tiny kiss to your temple. “Okay, game champ. Time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” you said, already half-asleep against his shoulder.

“You just yawned into my clavicle.”

“Coincidence,” you mumbled, snuggling closer.

He smiled, shifting so you were tucked more comfortably into his side. He grabbed the discarded throw blanket and wrapped it around both of you.

“You’re staying right here,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You made a sleepy little noise of agreement, already drifting.

And as the last of the game night chaos faded into silence, Bucky pressed one more kiss to your hair, rested his cheek against your head, and held you close.

Neither of you moved for a long, long time.

Hours later, the room was wrapped in a sleepy kind of silence, warm and golden under the dim light.

You and Bucky were curled up on the couch, tangled beneath a blanket, both long since surrendered to sleep. Your head was tucked against his chest, his arm securely around you like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. His metal fingers rested gently against your side, thumb unconsciously tracing small, soothing circles.

It was peaceful.

Quiet.

Almost.

From the armchair in the corner, Natasha Romanoff slowly opened one eye.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just... observed.

Because of course she’d heard everything. The kiss. The whispers. The “you’re lucky you’re cute.” The affectionate laughter. The unmistakable sound of two people falling completely, irrevocably into something more.

A slow, knowing smile tugged at the edge of her mouth.

She watched as Bucky instinctively pulled you closer in his sleep, like even unconscious, he wasn’t letting you drift far. You murmured something incoherent and nuzzled into him, and he murmured something back that sounded suspiciously like your name and definitely like trouble.

Natasha shook her head slightly, amusement flickering across her face.

“You two are the worst,” she whispered to herself, barely audible over the sound of the heater kicking on. “Hopeless.”

But her voice was warm. Fond.

She leaned back into her chair, pulled her blanket tighter around her, and closed her eyes again—smiling like she’d just watched the final twist in a very long-running, extremely satisfying spy mission.

She wasn’t going to tell.

Not yet.

After all, what fun would it be if she ruined the secret when she could just enjoy watching the rest of the team slowly unravel trying to figure it out?

She’d wait.

She could keep a secret.

For now.

next part

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd@poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust @homeless-clown @kitasownworld @loversrocktvgirl2 @herejustforbuckybarnes @stormy-stardust @fallen-w1ngs @winchestert101 @f4d3d-st4rs @ultravioletter @xamapolax @theendofthematerialgworl @doilooklikeagiveafrack @fablehaven-rulez @theproblemisthatimnotfictional @winter107soldier@softpia @shakysif @lucyysthings @unadulteratedpastazonkpeach @surebutwhy @tmb510 @kaiari @totallynotabuckybarnessimp @quinquinquincy @tellybearryyyy @roxyym@starstruckfirecat @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @oliviaohanessian1 @arignipanja574 @creat0r-cat @katheriner1999 @kaiari @authoressskr @antisocialfiore @f-1-girlies-blog @ifilwtmfc @darkrock3t @navs-bhat @ravenswritingroom @lunawitchbitchraven @elfypineapple

[oscopastry101]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 LOVER

charles leclerc x piastri!male reader synopsis: two guys in love, but nobody really knows. six years in, and its still just quiet mornings, secret glances, and a shared life out of the publics eye. well, for now.

smau, fluff, uhm other??

warnings: just Pinterest guys as fc, any brunettes = charles, blondes = reader, this is kinda everywhere tbh?

!!! also i made reader have chronic leg pain, but like its not super severe nor is it mentioned outside of like.. one picture?

authors note: for the plot the leclercs consider ollie a leclerc and oscar well obv a brother-in-law lolz, uhm first story? also reader is oscars brother. also sorry if the french and stuff is wrong im using a translator..

enjoy!! C:

oscarpiastri posted a story! charles_leclerc posted a story!

[caption: always looking out for my brother] [caption: new additions to the family]

arthur_leclerc replied: your brother looks oddly like my brothers husband ↳ oscarpiastri replied: you can't even see their faces, how would you know? ↳ arthur_leclerc replied: magic.

user1 replied: oscar has a BROTHER??

user2 replied: so oscar has a brother- but who is his brother with??

nicolepiastri replied: stays safe my boys ❤️ tell charles he should visit again soon! ↳ oscarpiastri replied: i'll share the word with him ❤️

lando replied: i've lost the plot, wdym brother osco? ↳ oscarpiastri replied: stay confused ↳ lando replied: you're so MEAN

arthur_leclerc replied: do i get one too???? ↳ charles_leclerc replied: uhm no?? you're not my husband ↳ arthur_leclerc replied: IM YOUR BROTHER???

user2 replied: omg they're so cute

leclerc_pascale replied: how cute, quels sont leurs noms? [what are their names?] ↳ charles_leclerc replied: Gizmo et Poppy, maman [Gizmo and Poppy, mom] ↳ leclerc_pascale replied: parfait, je t'aime [perfect, I love you] ↳ charles_leclerc replied: je t'aime maman [I love you mom]

georgerussell63 replied: you should get me one as well ↳ charles_leclerc replied: uhm, no!

liked by oscapastry, nicolepiastri and 507 others yourusername i'm being forced to bake

tagged oscarpiastri and justaninchident

oscpastry: you offered to bake them wdym 💔 ↳ yourusername: no i was forced by cha ↳ oscpastry: thats not my fault ↳ justaninchident: I ASKED NICELY? ↳ yourusername: sure... ↳ justaninchident: just say you hate me 💔

nicolepiastri: they look amazing! ↳ yourusername: thank you, mam ❤️

user3: those look so good, send some to me asap

bff: yumm pls send the recipe! ↳ yourusername: ofc i will

kingarthur: do i get any???? ↳ yourusername: only if you come over

bearguy: wth they look so good yn let me have one ↳ yourusername: uh i mean if you somehow get here feel free to take one? bring kimi if you come. ↳ bearguy: ON IT!

charles_leclerc posted a story! arthur_leclerc posted a story!

[caption: almost back on season!] [caption: say hi to the cute dog]

yourusername replied: you look so good my love ↳ charles_leclerc replied: never as good as you, amour

user2 replied: looking fine as always mr. leclerc

user4 replied: i cant wait for this season!! new teammate, im excited

ferrari replied: can't wait to have you back! ↳ charles_leclerc replied: i can't wait either!

lewishamilton replied: excited to race beside you, charles! ↳ charles_leclerc replied: me as well!

arthur_leclerc replied: wow that excited to leave yn and i ↳ charles_leclerc replied: not yn, but you? of course

charles_leclerc replied: awwss its my big dog

yourusername replied: hi hydra, my cutie

user5 replied: hi cute dog! hes so adorable!

user6 replied: now whos dog is that??

olliebearman replied: DID YOU GET A DOG? ↳ arthur_leclerc replied: no, its hydra ↳ olliebearman replied: that.. makes sense!

kimi.antonelli replied: hi cute dog!

liked by 300,221 people gossipf1 Mclaren driver Oscar Piastri was seen walking into the Australian Grand Prix with a mysterious guy! Is this the brother who Piastri posted on his story about a week ago, or is it someone else we don't quite know? Stay tuned!

user7: I honestly think it's his brother

user8: if it's his brother BOOMSHAKALAKA DAYMMMMM ↳ user9: have we even seen his face?? ↳ user8: I did! I was there when they walked in, and let me tell you WOW! he was gorgeous

user10: who cares!! first race of the season and its Oscars home race, im so excited!

yourusername: they're quick with it, oh my ↳ oscpastry: always.

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 423,201 others ynpiastri new account, who this?

tagged: oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: welcome aboard ↳ ynpiastri: thanks osco

lando: YOURE THE BROTHER?? ↳ ynpiastri: well, yes? you're the other driver? ↳ lando: yes!! nice to meet you, cooler piastri ↳ ynpiastri: nice to meet you too, less cool driver ↳ lando: BETRAYAL..

mclaren: welcome to the paddock, yn! ↳ ynpiastri: thank you very much mclaren

ausgp: excited to have you

user11: uhm user8 was right he IS fine ↳ user8: ID NEVER LIE

user12: PLS ONE CHANCE MR PIASTRI

user8: OMG I TOLD YALL

liked by ynpiastri, oscarpiastri and 928,123 others ausgp OSCAR PIASTRI GETS P1 THIS WEEKEND!! not only, but fellow aussie and rookie, Jack Doohan, gets points!! congrats!! p1 and p9 are no joke!

tagged: oscarpiastri and jackdoohan

ynpiastri: australians RISE, so proud of you osco!! and so glad to meet you jack, i'm very proud! ↳ oscarpiastri: thank you yn! ↳ jackdoohan: thank you so much yn, it means a lot!

mclaren: THATS OUR DRIVER!

alpinef1team: Lets Go Jack!!! Amazing first race, keep it up!

user13: IS THIS REAL??

user14: LETS GOOOOO

user15: OP81 DOMINATION IS REAL!!!

lando: congrats mate! you raced well today ↳ oscarpiastri: you as well!

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 512,123 others ynpiastri about sums up this week

user16: who are you doing the titanic pose with??? ↳ ynpiastri: secret shh

oscarpiastri: smoking in the house again? 😒 ↳ ynpiastri: my house my choice ↳ justaninchident: you're lucky i'm not home tsktsk

user17: hes so FINE?

user18: is this like.. a soft launch or sum

olliebearman: pls make more cookies, it was a rough weekend ↳ ynpiastri: sighhh alright, bring kimi

liked by oscpastry, bearguy and 89 others kingarthur i know what i saw...

justaninchident: delete it. ↳ kingarthur: nuh uh ↳ justaninchident: arthur, arrête d'être ennuyeux! [arthur, stop being annoying!]

yourusername: be so fr arthur

oscpastry: oh dear what now.. ↳ kingarthur: they were being... yk! ↳ oscpastry: oh come on yourusername justaninchident you said you'd behave ↳ yourusername: we were! arthur was just nosy 🙄

arthur_leclerc posted a story!

[caption: would you look at that.. husband reveal? charles_leclerc] [caption: arthur is dead to me, but hes not wrong]

arthur_leclerc replied: oh no.. did i post that

oscarpiastri replied: YOU SAID YOU WOULDNT DO THIS

ynpiastri replied: you're dead to me. ↳ arthur_leclerc replied: tbh im not sorry

user19 replied: WDYM??? WDYM???? HUHHHH

user20 replied: CHARLES AND YN PIASTRI???? WHT.

lando replied: ARE YOU SERIOUS??? ↳ lando replied: WHAT ELSE DONT I KNOW?? ↳ arthur_leclerc replied: i'm sorry you found out this way, man

olliebearman replied: papa y papa!

kimiantonelli replied: i hope you asked :( ↳ arthur_leclerc replied: duh, charles and yn have been planning to, charles just told me to get it over with

ynpiastri replied: my beautiful, handsome husband ↳ charles_leclerc replied: and my beautiful, handsome husband

leclerc_pascale replied: Félicitations mes garçons! ↳ charles_leclerc replied: merci maman

arthur_leclerc replied: you asked for it ↳ charles_leclerc replied: yeah, but i have to play the part

carlossainz55 replied: congrats amigo! ↳ charles_leclerc replied: merci carlos!

lorenzotl replied: finally, congrats charles! ↳ charles_leclerc replied: thank you, enzo

user21: YOURE WHAT?? YURE MARRIED?

liked by oscarpiastri, arthur_leclerc and 1,203,202 others charles_leclerc home is where you are ❤️

tagged: ynpiastri

oscarpiastri: finally, hardest kept secret

ynpiastri: hard launched by my brother-in-law but i could never regret marrying you ↳ charles_leclerc: i'm glad arthur doesn't repulse you ↳ ynpiastri: only sometimes ↳ arthur_leclerc: HEY!

arthur_leclerc: you're welcome!

leclerc_pascale: my boys

carlossainz55: i can't say it enough, congrats amigos! ↳ charles_leclerc: thank you very much carlos ↳ ynpiastri: thank you carlos!

user22: i'm still in shock.

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 723,123 others ynpiastri married this guy who used to pay me to make trays of cookies for him! but i wouldn't change a thing ❤️

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: you forgot to mention they were the best cookies in the world ↳ ynpiastri: i didn't forget, i just let you say it

oscarpiastri: do i get brother of the year or what ↳ olliebearman: you get no awards, you've known forever...

user23: are these cookies still available in the current day or..

kimiantonelli: congrats!! you two are amazing ↳ ynpiastri: not as amazing as you

BONUS!! (i was gonna do a cool gc thing but i cant find any good apps so ill write it down ig..)

groupchat: leclerc family (unofficial)

arthur: so.. i may have done something!

oscar: WDYM MAY HAVE?? you said you wouldn't post it

yn: I hate you. no. i DESPISE you

charles: You.. posted the story?? 😐

arthur: TO BE FAIR! you told me to "get it over with" i took that as encouragement

oscar: HE WAS JOKING??

charles: i WAS JOKING. i meant we'd plan a cute post later?? then reveal it???

ollie: to be fair.. everyone kinda knew well, anyone who payed attention you guys weren't subtle

kimi: I think youre all dramatic i think it was very cute

lando: IM STILL PROCESSING??? MARRIED??? FOR TWO YEARS??????

oscar: why are you in this gc again?? like genuinley

lando: i'm here through acquaintanceship, duh! and because of you

yn: arthur you aren't invited to the next family movie night

arthur: You say that every time :((

charles: this time we mean it. and you're paying for dinner next time

arthur: how rude! but worth it

authors note!! that's a wrap! i honestly can't believe i wrote this and that it's over. this originally was a silly idea with charles and a polish baker but then i switched it up so much. do i regret it?? only a little bit. thank you for sticking around though!

to everyone who will like, comment, scream beside me, or just read quietly: thank you!!

[icycoldninja]

How would dmc guys carry their partners? ❤️

Dante: Over-the-shoulder. He treats you like a sack of potatoes and thinks it's hilarious.

Vergil: Bridal style. He's authentic and romantic; gentle, yet supportive.

Nero: Piggy-back rides. You guys are basically the dream Disney Channel couple, except edgier and more violent than your average youngsters.

V: Physically cannot carry you. The most he can do is kinda drag you along with your arm over his shoulder like you hurt your ankle or something. Anything else is impossible.

[visionsofmagic]

day 2: ryomen sukuna [breeding kink]

࿓ synopsis • sukuna just wants a womb to put his babies in but it changes when he fucks you.

―❦ nsfw, explicit language, f!reader, heian era!sukuna who has fours arms, concubine!reader, contains of a bit dark themes, licking, marks, pet names, humiliation, sukuna is being sukuna, a bit of fluff, sex addiction, fingering, cum, overstimulation [‘is all I guess?] • 1.8k • the first time I am writing for my favorite villain from jjk. Excited but there can be mistakes. enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“fuck brat!” a dark chuckling, mocking you as his crimson four eyes look at below - at the mess you are making because of his thick cocks inside your walls, deep enough to make it ache like hell yet magnificent enough to give you the pleasure no one can. “look at how my seed is coming out of your pathetic pussy.” 

he doesn’t wait for you to respond- to even comprehend what he’s saying, holding your smaller face by the chin as his palm stays on your cheek. 

he lowers your head down, making you look at his cocks disappearing inside your pussy, and a bit of his hot semen dripping from it to his abdomen. 

“it’s-“ you try to say, sounding husky since you have only moaned, and screamed in the last few hours. closing your eyes, a jolt of electricity mixed with pain and pleasure runs through your body, even in veins, when he moves his hips, thrusting into you one more time before making you sit on his cocks once again - oh, his two damn big cocks should’ve ripped you apart if he wasn’t this gentle, surprisingly calm and gentle because he wants you to stay alive - you will have his legacy inside your womb after all, the reason why he fucks you for the past few hours.

“is it too much?” mocking again, his tongue on the abdomen takes a lick from your abdomen, traveling to your breasts from there, sending another mix of tears and moans.

“suku – aghh!“ a slap on the ass, “my king! oh, it’s - it’s too much! I can’t - I can’t -!” 

he only laughs at your poor attempts, “you can’t?” he asks, not a question though, only a treat as he sounds like pure poison. one of his hands holds you from your neck harshly enough to make you shake in fear for a moment while the other free one caress your hair - the opposite actions of his two arms gives you a dizzying sensation that takes your logical side from you, giving you pure insanity in return.

“be grateful that I fuck you whore,” his other two hands hold your waist as he makes you move forward and backward, riding you slowly. you only hear your own breaths as if there is nothing left inside your lungs, eyes already blurred that look at his bastard but attractive face, hands standing beside you because you have no brain to use them, not anymore, not after he fucked you in 5 different positions already. “there are thousands of women and men who beg for my cocks, you know that, right brat?” 

his hands move from your waist to your ass, grasping the flesh tightly – too tightly to leave red marks as you believe after feeling a sudden heat rushing to the skin he is holding, however, he doesn’t care at all – why he should anyway? you’re just one of his concubines – maybe his favorite one for the moment, and him showing you mercy and a bit of affection – unlike he does for others – doesn’t mean anything; you’re just there to take his hot semen every now and then, whenever he wants to fuck that pussy and brain of yours so that you can have his legacy inside you, heir to him – lots of heirs.

“puff –“ he says, scoffing after that, picking you up – a pathetic and cuckdumbed woman in his arms, he thinks, gazing at your half-closed eyes, agape mouth – salvia running out of it, “disgusting,” he says in a low tone but contrary to his words, his actions are proof that he likes what he sees because he keeps going and going until his eyes travel from that open mouth of yours he wants to put one of his cocks in, to your breasts full of biting marks that turned to red, moving to your pussy from there.

his cocks’ tips standing beneath your pussy that is pouring his semen ‘cause it is too fucking much.

shaking his head in arrogance, he puts your body on his lap with a bridal style, left hands staying on your back while a free one stays on your pussy, caressing it and he watches how your body begins to shake again, a hand is put on his chest, holding his wide open sleeve’s side tightly as if you have right to do that, and even your head fall into his shoulder, breathing rapidly yet lowly as he holds your body close to him.

why he does that – why he allows you to do that; remains unanswered.

he doesn’t think much, not now, he has a desire to put that damn semen into your wide-open pussy.

holding your thighs apart, his fingers – two long and thick fingers enter into your messy slit, white wetness joins into hot walls one by one, and it continues until sukuna is satisfied with it. “do not fucking dare to move now, woman.” he treats you. he sounds he is one step away from breaking your neck if you do move. you should fear him, you know, oppositely, you do otherwise, giving astonishing state to sukuna, making him freeze for a moment when he feels you getting closer to him, a hand travels on his neck, and a head sits on his shoulder, you even open your legs wider.

you don’t say anything, the mouth is too dry to speak aloud; he gets it though – and that gives satisfaction to him, and his responses end with a new position.

being the definition of menace for desires live within him, and you witness it when he puts you on the carpet, hovering below you as he cages you between his four arms, then, one of them appears on your abdomen, pushing it into the floor – gently yet it feels terrifying.

you look into his crimson eyes, hoping to see sanity inside them – what a fool you’re to try searching.

no, no – you think to yourself, conscious coming back even though you're high – he will not fuck you as a concubine now, he will fuck you as if you’re his queen, you’re so sure of it and the words slipping out of his smirking mouth prove you right.

“I will fuck so many babies inside this womb that you won’t be able to even walk, pretty slut,” a compliment, huh, sounds different than you thought, still, gives a jolt of happiness throughout your entire body that lying beneath his massive body, ready to take him one more – or maybe even more – time.  “I will make a fucking queen out of you with my children. don’t you worry whore,”

the only thing you can remember is seeing his big smile – entertaining before the only thing you can comprehend is his presence below you, behind you, under you – hands conquers every part of your body because you’re his – the one who will give him heir, stay beside him, being a fucking queen of kings of curses. “you’re entirely mine now. mine to have – fuccck! – mine to fuck! and mine to breed.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina !

[gleafer]

THERE’S NO “I” IN EFFORT

Part 5: THE END (or is it?)

Go to Reddit/r/Goodomensafterdark search smut war art for BONUS ENDING

Also, epilogue and outtakes will be dropping soon on my Patreon, so if you want to join us, now is a great time to jump on in!

Hope you enjoyed the ride!😘❤️

[t4kalcvr]

EL CHICO DEL APARTAMENTO 512

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐘𝐀 word count :: ( 9,341 ) genre :: fluffyyy, strangers to neighbors to lovers content contains :: a lil spicy action at the end, but overall fluff !!!

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

it starts with the ceiling.

the soft thuds above you are uneven, clumsy in the way only children’s footsteps can be. you’re curled into your couch like it’s a second skin, eyes half-lidded, a blanket tangled around your legs, when the chaos begins. first a faint screech—maybe a chair leg scraping across the hardwood—then a flurry of movement. small feet darting. a louder stomp. a laugh. giggles.

and then a voice.

not a child’s. smooth, worn-in like a favorite hoodie. young, maybe. maybe your age, maybe a few years older. he sounds gentle, patient even through the walls—laughing low and quiet as he says something you can’t quite make out. you catch the word “hey,” and then one of the girls shrieking in response. then something about socks.

your brow furrows. you glance up at the ceiling like it might offer answers.

great. loud neighbors.

you haven’t had any before now. apartment 512’s been empty since you moved in six months ago—no footsteps, no chatter, no sound of life above your own. for a while it felt like your space floated on its own little island between concrete and silence.

now it vibrates with energy that doesn’t belong to you.

you listen without meaning to.

more movement. the scrape of something heavy being dragged. a soft thump. then another. maybe furniture. you shift on the couch, the remote slipping off your blanket and thudding softly onto the rug.

a young dad, you think. probably moved in with his two little girls. you picture him: tall maybe, shoulders broad from carrying groceries and toddlers. dark hair, soft eyes, tired smile. there’s a tenderness in his voice—even muffled—that suggests he’s used to wiping away tears and tying shoes with quick, practiced fingers.

your lips twitch into the faintest smile.

you’ve never met him, but he sounds like a good father.

the sound of running resumes. then a shriek—this time louder—and a muffled, exaggerated “nooo!” from the guy. something slams onto the floor (a pillow, hopefully) and one of the girls lets out the kind of giggle that makes your heart do a small, involuntary flip.

you close your eyes for a second.

but it’s too loud to nap.

so instead you drag yourself up from the couch with a groan, arms stretching over your head as you shuffle toward the bathroom. the floors are cool under your feet, and there’s a thin layer of tension still lingering in your spine, coiled from a long day and now from all the upstairs ruckus.

you twist the faucet. the pipes gurgle—reluctant—but warm water flows, steam already beginning to kiss the mirror. your fingers test the heat before pulling your shirt over your head.

they’re still moving around up there.

something thuds in the hallway above. a laugh chases after it, followed by the slam of a door. he yells something—“watch your toes!” maybe—and the girls erupt into more laughter.

you shake your head, lips curving despite yourself.

they seem… happy.

the steam curls around your bare shoulders like a fog rolling in over your thoughts. as you step into the water, the heat bites at your skin before settling into something comforting, melting the day off your muscles one inch at a time.

the ceiling creaks again. you close your eyes under the stream.

it’s fine, you tell yourself.

you don’t mind loud kids.

you don’t mind young dads.

you don’t mind apartment 512.

not yet, anyway.

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

the days begin to blur, and with them, the gentle hum of a life above you.

your alarm buzzes at 7:15 most mornings, but you’re always half-awake by then—stirred not by the sun, but by the thudding footsteps overhead. they’ve become your unofficial wake-up call. light, clumsy steps—too chaotic to be anything but children—racing back and forth like tiny storms brewing on hardwood.

some mornings it’s music. not loud, just low enough to be a background pulse. you don’t recognize the songs. one had soft piano keys. another had a beat you found yourself tapping your toothbrush to.

and always—always—his voice.

not constant, not invasive. just… there.

a thread between floorboards, weaving into your daily routine. you hear him call out to the girls like clockwork—“tie your shoes,” “where’s your backpack?” “no, we don’t eat gum we find in our pockets.” things like that.

you start to notice how patient he is. no raised voice. just this warm, even tone. a rare kind of softness. it seeps through your ceiling and wraps around you when you least expect it.

you still haven’t seen him.

not once.

not in the elevator, not in the stairwell, not in the mailroom. it’s strange. a whole family above you and not a single face to pair with the voices. it starts to feel almost ghostlike—like you’re living beneath a story that plays only in echoes and shadows.

you learn their schedule without meaning to.

8:00 a.m. – they leave.

6:15 p.m. – they return.

the ceiling groans softly when he walks across the living room. he’s heavier than the girls, obviously, but still quiet. thoughtful with his steps. you imagine socks instead of shoes. a mug in hand. maybe he’s the type to light candles in the evening.

sometimes, they watch movies. the muffled sound of animated voices filters through when the night’s especially still. one of the girls cries during sad scenes—you’ve heard it. soft sniffles, a hiccup, and then his voice, close and comforting. a lullaby in low tones.

you keep the volume on your TV lower now. you don’t want to interrupt.

friday nights are loud. there’s laughter, more music, the occasional crash of something toppling over followed by a dramatic “you okay?” and an immediate “i’m fine!!” that makes you grin into your wine glass.

saturday mornings are quieter. sometimes eerily so. you wonder if they sleep in. or maybe they go out for breakfast. your ceiling is silent until around noon, when one of the girls seems to burst into song. she’s always slightly off-key, but she belts it anyway, bold and free.

you’ve grown used to it.

used to the lives living above you.

it’s funny how they’re strangers, and yet you know the older girl hates brushing her hair. you know the younger one calls pancakes “panny-cakes” and once cried for ten full minutes because she dropped her favorite fork. you know one of them sneezes like a kitten, and the other laughs like she’s bouncing on a trampoline.

and him… you still don’t know his name.

but you know his voice.

his rhythm.

the calm he brings with him.

you don’t realize how much you’ve come to rely on it until one night—late, well past midnight—the apartment above you is quiet.

no footsteps. no hums. no soft voice telling someone to go brush their teeth.

just stillness.

and you lay there, staring at your ceiling, listening to nothing.

you hate how empty it feels.

you hate how much you notice.

it’s just past midnight when you hear it.

the creak of footsteps—small ones—darting across the ceiling like a mouse in socks. you blink at the ceiling through the dim blur of sleep, half-expecting the sounds to vanish. but instead, you hear a soft voice. a child’s.

“but i can’t sleep!”

your brows lift, and before you can register what you’re doing, you’re slipping out from under your sheets, feet brushing against the cool floor. you tug your hoodie over your head, not bothering with the zipper, and pad softly toward your balcony door.

the night is quiet. the air smells like the city trying to rest—concrete and moonlight and a hint of rain that never came. you slide the door open and step onto the small space, lit only by the halo of a streetlamp two buildings away.

and then you hear her again.

little feet scuffle just above you, the creak of the railing shifting slightly as weight leans against it. she must’ve snuck out onto her own balcony, one floor above.

you glance up and call softly, “can’t sleep either?”

a tiny gasp.

then: “who said that?”

you smile. lean forward just enough so your face can be seen from the balcony above.

“from below. i’m in 412.”

she peeks down, eyes wide and round, hair messy with sleep. the moonlight catches on her cheek as she peers at you like a curious cat.

“you live under us?”

you nod. “yup. i hear your little stampedes in the morning.”

a giggle. it tumbles out of her like wind through chimes. “that’s me and my sister. but she’s asleep. i’m mana mitsuya.”

“hi, mana,” you say, voice gentle. “i’m y/n.”

“y/n,” she repeats, like she’s testing the syllables for sweetness. “that’s pretty. do you always stay up this late?”

“only when the ceiling talks,” you tease, and she giggles again.

a short silence settles between you. she leans her chin on the railing, eyes still bright despite the hour.

“what do you do when you can’t sleep?” she asks.

you think about it. “sometimes i drink tea. sometimes i write. sometimes… i sing.”

her ears perk up. “what do you sing?”

you pause, then smile softly. “would you like to hear?”

mana nods furiously, already turning to run back inside. “wait right here! i’ll get my stuff!”

and she does—she really does. you hear her shuffling, hear drawers open and close, hear the enthusiastic thumps of her small feet. two minutes later she returns, arms full of soft things: a polka-dot blanket, two pillows, and an army of stuffed animals, including what looks like a slightly-worn rabbit and a pink unicorn with a lopsided horn.

she piles them up against the railing and flops down dramatically. “okay, i’m ready.”

you chuckle, resting your arms on the edge of your own balcony, looking up through the lavender shadows of the night.

and then you begin.

soft, slow.

“hold me close and hold me fast, the magic spell you castc this is la vie en rose…”

your voice floats upward, delicate as a ribbon caught in the breeze. mana goes still. even the breeze seems to hush for a while, like the whole building is listening. her eyes flutter halfway shut, a faint smile blooming across her cheeks.

“when you kiss me, heaven sighs and though i close my eyes, i see la vie en rose…”

you keep going. your voice is a lullaby. not perfect—slightly husky from sleep, warm from quiet—but it’s enough. the kind of voice meant for night songs and safe spaces. when you glance up near the end, mana’s head is tucked into her bunny, her blanket curled up to her chin, eyes heavy.

“give your heart and soul to me and life will always be, la vie en rose…”

the last note lingers like a whisper. and then—

“y/n?” mana mumbles sleepily.

“yeah?”

she snuggles deeper into her pillows. “you sing like a fairy.”

you smile, heart soft and full. “thanks, mana. now get some sleep, yeah?”

”‘kay…” she yawns. “goodnight… neighbor…”

the lights from above fade out, one by one. you stay out on the balcony a few moments longer, gazing at the stars you can barely see, listening to the quiet. and for the first time since moving in, you don’t feel so alone in the city.

not with mana takashi above you.

not with laughter in your ceiling.

not with the echo of la vie en rose hanging in the night air.

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

he finds her curled up like a misplaced dream—half under her blanket, face smushed into the crook of a unicorn plush.

mana.

asleep. on the balcony.

mitsuya blinks, squints against the sunlight bleeding through the sliding glass door, and slides it open with a sigh that’s more amused than anything else.

“mana?”

she stirs, nose scrunching up. one sock has fallen halfway off her foot, and there’s a trail of stuffed animals leading from the living room to where she now lies, as if she migrated in her sleep like some kind of tiny, determined hiker.

he crouches beside her, brushing a bit of hair from her forehead.

“mana, c’mon. you can’t sleep out here. it’s cold.”

her eyes open in slow blinks. she smiles lazily up at him.

“i was waiting for her…”

he raises an eyebrow. “her?”

“the fairy,” she mumbles like it’s obvious.

mitsuya blinks. “…fairy?”

mana nods sleepily, rolling onto her back and pointing downward. “from downstairs. she talked to me. she sang to me. last night.”

his first instinct is to chuckle—but he reins it in. not because he believes her, of course. but because she looks so sincere. wide-eyed, cheeks warm with the kind of belief that only kids can conjure.

“you made a new friend in your dreams, huh?”

“no! she was real!” mana sits up with sudden energy. her hair’s sticking up in every direction, her unicorn’s ear is in her mouth, and her face is full of morning indignation. “she lives below us. her name is y/n.”

mitsuya pauses.

the name does tug at something faint. familiar. maybe from a name on the mailboxes.

but—

“mana, sweetheart, if there was someone on their balcony last night, i would’ve seen them. you probably imagined it.”

mana frowns. crosses her arms. “did not.”

he stands and stretches, glancing down at the balcony below. empty.

no blankets. no girl.

just potted plants and windchimes.

“mana, no one’s out there.”

“she’s probably asleep,” mana tries.

“or maybe,” he says gently, “she’s not real.”

“she is!”

another voice cuts in.

“who’s not real?”

luna.

barefoot and frowning, her hoodie sleeves dragging over her hands as she steps onto the balcony with a sleepy pout. she eyes mana with suspicion.

“mana thinks she met a fairy.”

“i did!”

“fairies aren’t real, stupid.”

“don’t call me stupid!”

“you said a fairy sang to you like a lullaby CD. that’s not even—”

“her name is y/n and she lives right there!” mana jabs her finger at the balcony below. luna peeks over the railing. no one’s there. her expression shifts immediately into something victorious.

“see? empty. it was your weird baby dream.”

mana gasps like she’s been insulted on a personal, spiritual level. “take it back!”

“no.”

“you’re just mad she didn’t sing to you!”

“am not.”

“are too!”

mitsuya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. the day hasn’t even started and they’re already two minutes into a heated sibling summit.

“girls.”

they both snap to look at him.

“go brush your teeth. put on socks. argue later. if you’re not ready in fifteen, i’m leaving without you.”

“you wouldn’t,” luna challenges, arms crossed.

mitsuya raises one brow.

mana gasps. “he would.”

“he would,” he says, walking back inside. “and i’ll buy chocolate milk for myself on the way back.”

a chorus of outraged footsteps follows behind him.

but just before he closes the balcony door, he looks down one more time.

empty.

still…

there’s something oddly specific about the name. y/n.

and… wasn’t that a soft humming he’d heard last night, just before drifting off?

his eyes linger a second longer.

then he shuts the door.

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

it’s exactly 8:03 p.m. when your keys slip into the lock and the weight of the day finally melts off your shoulders.

the sun’s nearly gone now—just a smear of tangerine and lavender on the edge of the skyline. you’ve got groceries in both hands, a slightly crumpled receipt in your pocket, and the hum of an old love song still lingering in your mind from the radio on the walk home.

you step inside, flick the lights on low, and toe your shoes off—

“FAIRY??!”

the scream nearly makes you drop the milk.

your eyes dart upward, heart skipping, but you already know exactly who it is. you don’t even have to look.

mana.

you set the bags down carefully, a little smile tugging at your lips as you walk toward the balcony and slide the door open.

she’s already there—peeking over the railing of 512, arms waving frantically, hair fluffed out in every direction like she hasn’t brushed it since morning.

“mana,” you call softly, stepping out into the golden light, “what’s wrong?”

she gasps in relief, like you’re a lost treasure she almost imagined. “don’t move! stay right there!”

you blink. “uh. okay?”

she disappears.

just like that. gone from view. a tiny stampede follows—footsteps and the screech of the balcony door above slamming shut.

you stand there in your hoodie, confused, the city humming below your feet.

then:

“luna!!! she’s real! come outside, hurry!!”

a new voice joins the chaos. quieter. a little more skeptical.

“wait, what is??”

more footsteps. then a second pair of eyes—bigger, rounder, more guarded—peek over the edge of the balcony. this one has neater hair, a hoodie with glittery stars, and a look like she’s halfway between wonder and disbelief.

mana is bouncing in place beside her.

“this is her!! this is my fairy!! she talks and she sings and her name is y/n and she’s real and you didn’t believe me but now you have to!”

luna stares at you like she’s analyzing a myth.

you give her a small wave. “hi. um. i’m y/n.”

mana gasps. “see?! she even says it the same way!!”

luna narrows her eyes slightly. “…you don’t have wings.”

“well,” you tease, “they’re invisible.”

mana lets out a delighted squeal. luna’s jaw drops slightly.

mana turns to her sister triumphantly. “told you.”

luna, clearly offended at being proven wrong, immediately redirects. “we have to show nii-chan.”

your head tilts. “older brother?”

mana nods so hard her unicorn hairclip falls sideways. “mhm! he’s the best big brother ever. he does our hair and makes pancake bears. he’s out right now but he’ll be home soon!”

luna crosses her arms. “not until ten. he’s at work.”

“so we need you to keep us busy.” mana says this like it’s a royal decree.

you blink.

“…busy?”

“until ten,” mana clarifies, very serious now. “you can do magic stuff or sing again or tell us about your fairy job—wait! are you on duty right now??”

your laughter bubbles up before you can stop it.

the wind picks up a little, tugging at your sleeves, as both girls lean over their railing like you’re a bedtime story in the flesh.

you glance back at your apartment—groceries still on the floor, lights soft and warm, kettle waiting.

then you look back up at them.

“alright,” you say, “but only if you let me bring snacks. fairies can’t work on an empty stomach.”

mana gasps like you just revealed a secret of the universe.

luna looks like she’s still not totally convinced—but she nods, one brow raised. “fine. but no raisins.”

“deal.”

they vanish again—another stampede across the ceiling—and you smile to yourself as you go back inside to grab something sweet and fairy-worthy.

you don’t know their older brother yet.

but if he’s anything like the little chaos he’s raising…

you think you’ll be meeting him very, very soon.

it’s 10:30 p.m. when the balcony lights flicker on upstairs.

you’re back inside, finishing the last of your tea, half-dozing on the couch with your window cracked open and the balcony door still ajar. the city hum is quieter now, distant sirens and wind brushing leaves across the sidewalk. you hear them before you see them—mana’s giggle, luna’s shushed warning, the faint clink of snack wrappers rustling in tiny hands.

then another sound.

a key in the door above.

the soft creak of tired footsteps.

a voice.

low. familiar somehow, even though you’ve never heard it directly before.

“mana? luna?”

no answer.

“what are you doing out here?”

the balcony door slides open upstairs.

“you’re still awake? it’s past bedtime.”

mana’s voice comes quick, excited. “nii-chan!! the fairy came back! she brought cookies and told us stories and—”

“mana.” his tone is firmer now, still calm but edged with parental exhaustion. “enough with the fairy thing. and snacks this late? seriously?”

you sit up, guilt blooming in your chest.

before you can stop yourself, you're back outside and you call out softly, “sorry—that’s my fault.”

a pause.

a long one.

above you, the balcony floor creaks.

“…what?” he says, blinking down through the rails like the moon just spoke.

you step outside slowly, hands tucked into your sleeves, looking up toward where his voice came from.

“i didn’t mean to keep them up. they caught me coming home and… well. i guess i got enchanted.”

another pause.

you hear mana whisper, “see?”

luna mutters, “told you.”

he sighs, the kind of sigh that says of course this is real, and then says out loud, more to himself than anyone:

“you’re the balcony fairy?”

you grin. “apparently.”

he finally leans over the edge—and there he is.

hair tousled from the wind, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, expression caught between suspicion and something else. softer. curiosity maybe. or disbelief.

his eyes meet yours and stay there a moment longer than you expect.

then he blinks, shakes himself out of it.

“girls,” he calls over his shoulder, “bath. now.”

groans. protests. giggles.

“no buts. or i’m canceling pancakes for breakfast.”

you hear them scramble away with a chorus of “okay okay okay!” and the slide of the glass door closing behind them.

the balcony falls quiet again.

he exhales.

leans his arms onto the railing.

“sorry about them,” he says eventually. “they’ve got wild imaginations.”

you smile. “don’t apologize. they’re wonderful. you’ve got a good team up there.”

he huffs out a small laugh, tired but warm. “team, huh?”

you nod. “captain mitsuya?”

his eyes squint like he’s trying not to laugh. “you know my last name?”

“mana introduced herself. full name, very official.”

he looks away briefly, like he’s hiding the way that makes something in his chest shift.

then looks back at you.

“and you’re… y/n?”

you nod.

the breeze picks up a little, brushing your hair behind your ear. his eyes follow the motion before flicking back up toward the stars. he’s quiet for a beat, then:

“you really sang her to sleep?”

you nod again. “she asked nicely.”

he exhales a laugh, almost disbelieving. “you’re kind. that’s rare around here.”

you shrug. “i just don’t like hearing little girls cry through my ceiling.”

that gets a real smile from him.

brief. crooked.

but real.

he nods slowly, eyes back on yours.

“well…” he says, voice dropping just a little, softer than before, “thanks for looking after them.”

you smile.

“anytime, captain.”

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

you’re still awake.

not out of restlessness—more like… reluctance. like your body hasn’t quite given the day permission to end.

your lights are off now, but the balcony door’s open again. the night air slips in through the screen, cool against your skin. the city’s fallen into that strange hush that only exists at 1 a.m.—no horns, no voices, just the occasional rustle of wind and the hum of faraway traffic.

your tea’s gone cold. your fingers rest loosely around the mug anyway, tucked against your chest as you sit curled on your little balcony, knees pulled up, cheek leaning against the chair back.

you almost don’t hear the soft click above you.

but then: the quiet squeak of old metal.

the upstairs balcony door.

your eyes flick up.

he steps out like someone who doesn’t expect to be seen—hoodie on again, hair damp, probably from a quick shower. you catch a glimpse of him rubbing at his neck with a towel, slow and tired, before he finally looks down.

his eyes widen slightly when they land on you.

you offer a small wave.

he hesitates—then lifts his hand in return.

neither of you speak right away.

you sip from your empty mug. he leans onto the railing, arms crossed. the silence stretches—not awkward, just… unspoken. shared. the kind that needs no explanation.

then:

“you’re still up.”

his voice is quieter now. softer than before.

you nod. “could say the same to you.”

he exhales through his nose. “i guess i’m on post-fairy-duty watch.”

you grin. “are you implying i’m a flight risk?”

“you showed up with cookies and vanished into the night. yeah. i’d say you’re suspicious.”

you laugh. it echoes faintly into the open air. his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t quite smile this time.

you tilt your head.

“what’s keeping you up?”

he looks down at his hands, fingers curling slightly against the railing.

“…just thinking.”

you wait. give him room.

eventually, he speaks again.

“they’ve been through a lot. mana and luna.”

your eyes soften. “they seem happy.”

he nods, almost absently. “they are. now. i just…” he sighs. “i want to keep it that way.”

you don’t ask for details. you don’t press.

instead, you say: “they’re lucky to have you.”

he looks down at you. really looks.

the weight of it is surprising—like he’s seeing you in full for the first time. not the blurry outline through balcony bars. not the voice in the dark.

you.

his mouth opens slightly. maybe to say thank you. maybe to disagree.

but instead, he says:

“you didn’t have to do all that.”

you glance down at your mug, smile faintly. “i know.”

a pause.

then—

“why did you?”

you let the silence fill up for a moment. let it settle into your chest.

then you lift your eyes back to him and say, simply,

“because i heard her say she couldn’t sleep.”

he watches you like he’s trying to memorize that.

and maybe he is.

you both fall quiet again.

the wind carries a small leaf across the edge of your railing. it trembles slightly before tumbling off.

he leans forward, resting his chin on his arms.

“you really sang her to sleep.”

you smile. “i told you.”

his lips finally curve—genuine now.

“would it be weird,” he asks, “if i asked you to sing me to sleep too?”

you laugh, surprised.

“yes.”

he shrugs. “figured.”

another beat.

then he says your name.

not as a question.

just… as if he wanted to feel the sound of it.

you meet his gaze. you feel it settle somewhere deep.

he straightens a little, rubs the back of his neck.

“maybe next time you come up, you won’t be a fairy,” he says.

“no?”

he smiles. slower this time.

“maybe just… a neighbor.”

you look up at him. let the night press in around you.

let the warmth in his voice linger.

“i think i could live with that.”

you don’t realize how late it’s gotten.

not until your voice catches mid-laugh and you glance down at your phone resting on the balcony table beside you—face-up, glowing faintly in the dark.

3:04 a.m.

you blink at it like it must be wrong.

but no, the sky above you is nearly ink-black now, the stars sharper, colder. the warmth in the air has softened, turned more into a hush than a blanket.

above you, he’s still there. arms crossed on the railing, hoodie loose on his frame, silver glinting faintly in one ear. his hair’s a little messy still from the towel, but he stopped caring about that around 2 a.m.—sometime between his second story about his sisters and the first real smile you gave him.

you lean your chin against your knee, curled up in your chair again.

“so… let me get this straight.” your voice is soft, almost drowsy. “you’re in a gang.”

he winces, but only slightly. “yeah. i am. not like… what you’re probably imagining. we’re more like a… well. kind of a family. sometimes dumb. sometimes violent. but loyal.”

you hum. “and this gang’s name is…”

“toman,” he says, watching your reaction.

you blink. “sounds like ramen.”

he laughs—soft, warm, unguarded. “not quite as comforting, but yeah. close.”

“is it like, leather jackets and switchblades?”

“try oversized uniforms, matching logos, too many haircuts that should be illegal.”

you snort into your sleeve. “do you still have to wear the uniform?”

“maybe.”

“and you design clothes ?”

he nods. “i’ve always loved it. sewing, especially. i used to make things for my sisters—costumes, blankets, little bags for their toys.”

your heart aches at the thought.

he shifts, his elbow resting against the edge of the railing. “i like creating something from nothing. it feels like magic. not the kind with wings,” he teases, “but close.”

you roll your eyes playfully. “fairy jokes? really?”

“you handed that one to me on a silver platter.”

you smile at him, eyes soft in the dim light. he holds your gaze for a little longer than before.

there’s something quiet about him. something that hums low—not shy, not hesitant. just… steady. like he listens closely to everything, even the things you don’t say.

“you’re not what i expected,” you say finally.

he tilts his head. “what did you expect?”

“the guy upstairs with the loud kids and the mystery voice? honestly, i thought you were some tired single dad trying to survive.”

he grins. “do i give off ‘divorced with two toddlers’ energy?”

you nod solemnly. “strongly.”

he lets out a soft groan. “i’m only sixteen. that’s brutal.”

“you’re sixteen?” you blink. “wait—me too.”

he raises a brow. “guess we’re in the same tax bracket and age bracket.”

you smirk. “careful, that sounds dangerously like bonding.”

he leans on his arms again, eyes sharp even in the dark.

“oh no,” he says quietly. “is the fairy getting attached?”

your cheeks warm.

you throw a pillow up toward his balcony. it flutters and drops back onto yours.

he laughs.

the silence that follows is thick with something different now—something golden and slow.

“you’re not what i expected either,” he murmurs.

you blink at him. “and what did you expect?”

he shrugs. “someone quiet. maybe nosy. maybe mean.”

“mean?”

“you heard mana through the ceiling and didn’t ignore her. you brought snacks. you stayed until she fell asleep. i figured you’d be tired. annoyed. normal people don’t do that.”

you tilt your head. “and what kind of people do?”

he looks at you like it’s obvious.

“fairies.”

your breath catches.

he watches the way your expression softens.

the city’s heartbeat slows around you. the wind dips. the stars blink lazily above the two of you.

“we should sleep,” you say, even though you don’t want to.

he nods. “we should.”

neither of you move.

“goodnight, y/n.”

your name sounds softer from him now. like it’s not just something he’s heard, but something he’s decided to remember.

“goodnight, mitsuya.”

his eyes flicker.

a heartbeat passes.

“you remembered?”

“i’m not a forgetful fairy.”

he smiles. wide. surprised.

“it’s takashi.”

you repeat his name. and then—

“sweet dreams, neighbor.”

you linger out there a few seconds after he disappears inside, hand resting on the cool railing, the echo of his voice wrapped around you like a blanket.

and this time, when you fall asleep…

you dream of balconies.

and boys with kind eyes.

and the quiet, golden glow of something new beginning.

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

you’re halfway through a quiet morning stretch when you hear it—

“pssst!! fairy!!”

you freeze, arms mid-air, sweater sleeves bunched at your elbows. slowly, you step out onto your balcony, the soft morning sun washing everything in amber.

mana is already there—perched at the edge of her own balcony, chin over the railing, cheeks puffed like she’s trying to hold in the most important news of the year.

“come up here!!” she whisper-yells. “we’re making breakfast! i saved you a seat!!”

you blink. “…does your brother know?”

“no!” she grins like that’s the best part.

“mana—”

“pleaseee! just sneak through the hallway! no one will know! you have to come!! mikey’s already trying to steal the syrup and luna said she’ll take your glass if you don’t show up in five minutes!”

you sigh. but your smile’s already giving you away.

“fine. but if i get arrested for balcony trespassing, it’s on you.”

“DEAL!!”

and just like that, you’re climbing the stairs in your oversized sweater and sleep-wrinkled shorts, heart thudding against your ribs like it’s more than just pancakes waiting for you at the top.

when you knock gently on the door of 512, it’s not mana who answers.

it’s a tall guy with a long blond braid and a face that says don’t waste my time, but not unkindly. there’s a dishtowel tossed over his shoulder and something cinnamon-sweet hanging in the air behind him.

he raises a brow. “…you lost?”

“um.” you glance past him into the apartment. “i was invited?”

before he can reply, a voice behind him calls out:

“is she looking for mitsuya?”

your gaze flicks over—this time to a much smaller blond boy, sitting cross-legged on the counter, sipping from a juice box like he lives there.

you open your mouth to answer—

“SHE’S HERE!!” comes a triumphant screech.

mana blasts into view like a firecracker, shoving the tall blond (who barely moves) out of the way and latching onto your hand. “hurry hurry hurry!! nii-chan’s already cooking and mikey’s eating your chair!!”

you blink. “…mikey?”

the smaller blond waves from the counter.

you don’t have time to process that.

you’re being dragged now—mana tugging you down the hall, past hanging fabrics, half-folded laundry, the hum of morning chatter—and straight into the dining room.

and then—

you see him.

mitsuya’s mid-sentence, standing at the end of the table with a spatula in one hand and a plate in the other, turning to say something just as mana barrels in behind you like a herald of chaos.

“FAIRY’S HERE!!”

he turns.

freezes.

chokes.

literally.

“oh my god,” you mutter, stepping forward, “are you okay?”

he coughs once, hard, sets the plate down like he forgot how his hands work. his eyes are wide, like you’re a ghost—or worse, a crush in real-time.

his gaze drags over you: soft sleepwear, messy hair, bare legs, pink-tinted cheeks from the climb. you raise a hand in a small wave.

“hi.”

mana beams. “she came through the balcony!”

mitsuya turns slowly toward her, voice flat. “…you invited her through the balcony.”

“she said yes!”

he drags a hand down his face.

you try not to laugh. “should i go?”

“no!” mana shouts. “sit next to nii-chan! it’s the only seat left!”

you glance at him. he’s still pink in the ears. still not speaking.

you slide into the empty chair beside him.

he finally exhales. then, under his breath:

“did she really invite you?”

you raise a brow. “you already know the answer.”

he groans softly into his hands.

across the table, mikey’s sipping your milk. luna’s glaring at him. the tall blond appears again with another stack of pancakes and mutters, “this house isn’t real.”

you nudge mitsuya gently.

“takashi. you blushed again.”

“shut up.”

but when he slides your plate over, your fingers brush again—

and this time,

he doesn’t pull away.

mana’s already halfway through her first pancake by the time you finish unfolding your napkin.

the table is packed — stacked plates, small mismatched bowls of fruit, a lonely bottle of strawberry milk that everyone seems to be keeping tabs on, and at least three different conversations happening at once. you barely adjust into your seat before mikey reaches over and steals your fork.

“you don’t need this, right?” he says with the blankest expression on earth.

you blink at him. “i—literally, yes?”

“too late.” he starts cutting into your pancake.

you look at mitsuya like is this allowed, and he just sighs and grabs another fork from the drawer without a word. his hand brushes yours again as he sets it down, and you think: maybe that was on purpose.

mana’s chewing loud enough to shake the table. luna is frowning into her cup like someone gave her skim milk on purpose.

the tall blond — draken, you think someone called him — is making eggs in a pan and threatening to turn the stove off if mikey doesn’t sit like a human being.

mikey is now lying down across three chairs.

and mitsuya — beside you, close enough that your elbows keep brushing — is the only one not actively complaining. or eating.

he’s watching.

he doesn’t realize you’ve noticed, but his eyes flick to you again and again, always fast, always like he’s trying not to.

you take a small bite of pancake and whisper under your breath, “are you okay?”

he blinks. “…me?”

you nod, hiding your smile behind your fork.

he clears his throat. “fine. totally fine.”

you nudge his leg under the table. “you look like you’re in shock.”

“i’m just…” he glances at you, blush returning in full force. “…not used to this.”

“what, breakfast?”

“no. you.”

you blink at him.

and it’s quiet. just for a second.

the rest of the room blurs out, all sharp edges and background noise. you stare at him, startled by the softness in his voice.

but before either of you can say anything else, mana is climbing onto her chair.

“nii-chan, can fairies live here? like in real life?”

he coughs, looking back down at his plate.

“i think they have… apartment leases like the rest of us.”

“what’s a lease?”

“it’s when the fairy agrees to never leave.” mikey mutters, still chewing.

draken side-eyes him. “are you high on syrup right now?”

mana gasps. “so y/n’s gonna stay forever! because she said she likes us!”

you glance at mitsuya — and he’s staring at his plate like it personally offended him.

“mana,” he says gently, “you can’t trap people with pancakes.”

she folds her arms. “then why’d she stay?”

you lean forward, smiling. “because mana invited me.”

mana throws her arms up in victory.

luna quietly slides the strawberry milk toward you, as if conceding your place at the table. you take it with a small nod. she nods back, seriously.

mitsuya watches the exchange, quietly amused. and then, in a voice only you can hear:

“you really meant it, huh?”

you look at him. “what?”

he doesn’t look away this time.

“you didn’t have to say yes to her. but you did.”

you shrug, slow and honest. “i wanted to.”

he smiles at that — a real one, the kind that melts the stiffness out of his shoulders.

and then mana, somehow holding a fork in each hand, says:

“you should come for dinner too.”

you open your mouth to respond, but mitsuya speaks first:

“mana.”

“what?”

“stop inviting her to everything.”

“she’s our fairy.”

you meet his eyes. they’re full of quiet laughter and a question he’s not brave enough to ask yet.

you answer it anyway, softly:

“i’d like that.”

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

you’re sipping the last of your milk when it happens.

the table has calmed, mostly. luna is peeling the stickers off her orange juice box. mana is drawing something (possibly you, possibly a magical pancake god) on the back of a napkin. draken is finishing his third cup of coffee and quietly regretting waking up today.

mitsuya, finally, is starting to look like he might survive this morning without spontaneously combusting.

until—

“so, when are you two gonna kiss?”

you choke.

literally.

a cough breaks from your throat mid-sip, and you cover your mouth with your sleeve while mitsuya goes rigid beside you like someone just poured ice water down his back.

you whip your head around.

mikey is still sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, face deadpan.

“what?” he says through a mouthful of rice. “you’re both being gross. just get it over with.”

draken doesn’t even look up. “mikey, shut up.”

“what?”

“you’re being annoying.”

“i’m just pointing out the vibe!” mikey turns to you, completely unfazed. “right? you feel it too, don’t you?”

mitsuya stands.

very quickly.

his chair scrapes back. his face is bright red.

“i’m walking her back,” he says, like it’s an emergency. “mana, stop putting syrup on the table. mikey, don’t touch my stove. draken—actually, you’re fine. y/n, let’s go.”

your eyes are wide, your face still warm. you glance around the room, offer a soft wave, and follow him down the hallway like a very stunned, very amused guest being escorted out of a sitcom.

mana yells behind you: “don’t forget dinner!!!”

“i’ll remember!” you shout back.

the front door closes behind you.

the apartment quiets in its absence.

the walk to your floor is short, but quiet.

not in a bad way.

mitsuya’s hands are in the front pocket of his hoodie, his hair still a little messy from earlier, his gaze fixed ahead.

you glance up at him as you reach your door.

he exhales slowly. then looks at you.

“…sorry about that.”

you grin. “you’re not denying it though.”

his eyes flicker—just a little.

“you’re not either.”

you lean against your doorframe, arms folded. “hm. i guess i’m not.”

he bites down a smile. barely.

“…mana wasn’t supposed to invite you, you know.”

“but you’re not mad.”

“i didn’t say that.”

you tilt your head. “are you?”

his voice is quiet.

“no.”

he leans a little closer, just enough to feel the weight of it settle between you—something softer, something new.

“i’m glad you came,” he says.

you blink. the warmth from earlier rushes back in.

“i am too.”

he steps back then, only slightly.

“enjoy the rest of your day, y/n.”

you smile at the sound of your name in his voice. “you too, takashi”

he turns, takes one step, and then—

“hey.”

you look up.

he’s facing you again, one foot still on the stair.

“don’t forget,” he says, a little quieter now. “you’re invited to dinner.”

your smile spreads, real and wide.

“i won’t.”

and when he disappears up the stairwell again—quiet hoodie, soft steps, silver earring catching the light—you realize your heart’s still beating a little too fast for this to be nothing.

this is definitely something.

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

“mana! luna! i swear—if you answer the door in pajamas, i’m canceling dinner.”

the sound of mitsuya’s voice echoes through the apartment, sharp and commanding in a way that says he’s said it at least twice already.

you hear a thud. possibly a slipper being thrown. then luna’s voice, deadpan:

“it’s not a date, nii-chan.”

a beat.

mana’s louder: “unless he wants it to beee—”

“MANA.”

you press your knuckles to your mouth to keep from laughing as you stand outside the door, your hand still lifted from knocking.

you’d arrived right on time — hair brushed, sweater tucked into your nicest jeans, a tiny bit of gloss on your lips that you’re already starting to regret — only to walk straight into the middle of domestic chaos.

bang.

a door slams down the hall.

“you said this shirt was cool!”

“it is cool!!”

“you said that last time and then you made me change—”

mitsuya’s voice cuts back in, sharper now: “five seconds, or i’m eating without you!”

you grin.

then knock, three times, soft but firm.

immediate silence.

a second later, the door swings open.

and there he is.

mitsuya, in a deep navy long-sleeve pushed up to the elbows, faint wrinkles still on the front like he pulled it out of the dryer five minutes ago. his hair’s freshly combed, earrings in. he looks calm.

until he sees you.

and then his mouth opens just slightly, like he forgot what he was about to say.

“…hey.”

his voice is quieter this time. like he used up all the shouting on the kids and now you’ve reset the volume.

you smile. “hey.”

his eyes scan you quickly — not in a way that feels invasive, but like he’s taking inventory of everything. your soft perfume. the little ring on your hand. the gloss on your lip you knew you should’ve wiped off.

“…you look nice.” he steps aside, ears already pink. “come in.”

you brush past him and glance toward the kitchen where the smell of curry hangs warm in the air. from deeper in the apartment, you hear scrambling feet and whispered chaos.

“was that a threat about pajamas?” you murmur.

he shuts the door behind you. “you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“i heard all of it.”

“god.”

you try not to laugh as you step out of your shoes. he leads you toward the dining room again, but something feels different this time — like the table’s been set on purpose. placemats. napkins. little cups of fruit with tiny spoons.

and there’s an empty seat beside his.

again.

you turn to him. “this seems familiar.”

he runs a hand through his hair. “they assigned you that one.”

“mhmm.”

“not my fault.”

“sure.”

before he can defend himself, mana explodes into the room wearing a pink dress with one mismatched sock and a sparkly headband that’s definitely from a halloween costume.

“YOU’RE HERE!”

she launches at you. again. you catch her mid-hug.

“you said six!” she yells. “you’re on time! you’re so cool!”

luna appears behind her, more subdued in a sweater and leggings, arms folded. she gives you a small, silent nod.

“hi, luna.”

“hi.”

you turn to mitsuya. “do i pass the dress code?”

he’s watching you with something unreadable on his face. soft, a little caught.

“you more than pass.”

mana tugs you to your seat, practically vibrating.

“she sits here! i told you! i told you she’d come back!”

mitsuya’s voice is low, but full of something warm.

“i didn’t doubt it.”

and as you settle in, the laughter of his sisters bouncing around the room, the clinking of plates and the soft shuffle of slippers over hardwood — you realize:

this feels nothing like a first dinner.

this feels like home you didn’t know you’d been missing.

the table’s become a little louder than earlier.

not that it’s a bad thing.

mana’s halfway through a story that you can’t quite follow, luna’s gently correcting her every few sentences, and mitsuya’s trying to pass a bowl of rice across the table without knocking over the fruit cups.

it’s warm.

not just the food — which is incredible, by the way. the curry’s perfect. comforting. made with care. and the soft little bowl of pickled veggies he sets beside you like an afterthought?

deliberate.

everything feels like that.

deliberate.

the folded napkins. the fact that there’s a tiny pink plate for mana and a slightly bigger one for luna and matching ones for you and mitsuya. the second spoon already laid beside your bowl, just in case you needed it.

the seat next to his.

luna reaches over and plucks a carrot slice from your plate without asking. mana gasps like she’s committed treason.

“luna! you can’t steal from the fairy!”

you grin. “it’s okay. i’ll get her back later.”

mitsuya hides a smile behind his chopsticks. “you shouldn’t have said that.”

“why?”

“they take revenge very seriously.”

luna, deadpan: “i have a list.”

mana, immediately: “add this to it.”

she dumps three tiny red pickled radishes onto luna’s plate. luna glares at her like a war crime has been committed.

mitsuya sighs. “don’t start.”

you’re laughing into your bowl when you feel it.

his knee.

barely brushing yours beneath the table.

at first you think it’s an accident — but it doesn’t move. it stays there, warm and solid, just enough contact to send a ripple up your spine.

you glance at him.

he’s not looking at you.

his face is calm, like he’s focused on refilling his sisters’ bowls.

but his ear is pink.

you nudge your knee back, just slightly.

he pauses. then presses back.

you don’t even realize you’re smiling.

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

a few minutes later, mikey drifts into the room like a cat with no sense of timing.

“yo. is there food left?”

mitsuya doesn’t even flinch. “if you touch that pot, i’ll break your hands.”

“sharing is caring.”

“go away.”

mikey leans over your chair. “fairy, back me up.”

you blink. “you weren’t even invited.”

“ouch.”

mana giggles so hard she drops her spoon. luna kicks mikey in the shin. draken appears out of nowhere to drag him out again like this is a nightly routine.

as soon as the door swings closed, mitsuya mutters:

“god. finally.”

you turn to him.

he looks relaxed now. or maybe just resigned.

his hand moves under the table — brushing yours this time.

this time, you let him.

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

somewhere between the second helping of rice and mana asking you if fairies eat dessert, mitsuya leans in, just enough for only you to hear.

“thanks for staying.”

you turn to him, fork still in your hand. “you say that like i’d rather be anywhere else.”

he looks at you for a second longer than he probably should.

“i’m hoping that’s true.”

and the way your stomach flips?

yeah.

that’s not just the curry.

𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

the apartment feels quieter now.

not empty — just… softened.

the plates are drying on the rack, the stovetop is wiped clean, and mana’s soft little snores are echoing faintly down the hallway. luna’s door shut with a soft click not long after. and now, it’s just the two of you.

still at the table. still side by side.

but the room feels different without the noise.

mitsuya glances toward the hallway one last time — checking, confirming. then pushes his chair back with that familiar, effortless calm.

“stay there.”

you blink. “what—”

but he’s already moving — crossing into the kitchen, bending to the lower cabinet beneath the sink like he’s unlocking a vault.

you watch him curiously.

and then:

a bottle.

dark. slender. clearly unopened.

he turns around with it in hand, an eyebrow slightly raised.

“…wine?”

you blink. “what?”

he lifts it slightly. “red. not the sweet kind. decent year.”

you pause.

then smile. “are you allowed to offer that to your upstairs fairy?”

“only after dinner.”

he pours carefully — two mismatched glasses that don’t belong together, but somehow make sense here. he walks one back to you and sets it down before taking his seat again, this time just a little closer than earlier.

you pick it up, eyes flicking to him over the rim.

“how’d you even get this?”

he takes a sip first, lips brushing the glass, and shrugs.

“i have my ways.”

“is that a gang thing?”

he chokes.

just slightly.

then laughs — actually laughs, low and caught off guard, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“jesus, y/n.”

you sip. it’s warm and dry and stronger than you expected.

you shrug. “i���m just saying. i have seen you boss people around with a dishtowel in one hand and a spoon in the other.”

“that’s not a gang thing.”

“you sure?”

he leans back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass like he’s trying not to grin.

“…maybe it’s both.”

your knee brushes his again. neither of you move this time.

the silence that follows is different. softer. less like you’re filling space and more like you’re both just… in it.

“do you always do this?” you ask, voice quiet. “cook dinner, herd kids, hand out wine?”

he hums, takes another sip. “not always with wine. but yeah. this is kind of it.”

“the grown-up life?”

he glances at you.

his gaze lingers.

“only parts of it.”

you set your glass down slowly. “what parts are you missing?”

he leans forward a little. not enough to crowd you. just enough to let you feel it.

“the quiet parts.”

“this seems pretty quiet.”

he nods. “it is. but it’s better with company.”

your heart does a funny little twist at that.

you tilt your head. “is this your way of saying you’re glad i stayed?”

he doesn’t look away.

“i thought that was obvious.”

and you don’t answer — not out loud.

just reach for your glass again, sip slow, and hold his gaze like a secret shared.

the wine warms your chest.

his voice warms the rest.

the second glass of wine was warm.

the third? a little dangerous.

not in a dizzy way. not even in a tipsy way. just enough to make you looser. softer. a little more brave.

the apartment’s quiet now — really quiet. the clock’s ticking. the laundry machine somewhere down the hall gives a distant sigh. the dim kitchen light flickers slightly above you both, golden and soft, casting long shadows against the tiled walls and the curve of his jaw.

your feet are curled beneath you on the bench, and mitsuya is still beside you — knee pressed to yours, body turned in your direction, wine glass now mostly forgotten on the table behind him.

you’re laughing — about something dumb. a story he told from when he was fifteen and ended up sewing himself into his jacket sleeve. his grin is wide, toothy, rare. he’s loose in a way you haven’t seen before.

but then the laughter slows.

not because it fades — but because something else grows in its place.

a pause.

a breath.

his voice, quieter now:

“you do that a lot.”

you blink, still smiling. “do what?”

“look at me like that.”

“…how am i looking at you?”

he doesn’t answer.

but his eyes drop to your mouth.

your breath catches — because suddenly he’s closer. inches. centimeters. your noses almost brush. his hand is braced behind you on the bench, caging you in without trapping you. your shoulder brushes his chest every time you inhale, and you can feel his breath — warm, soft, and shallow — when he says:

“like i’m something you’re trying not to want.”

you don’t deny it.

your fingers curl gently into the fabric of his sleeve. your lips part — just slightly. barely.

his hand slides up to your cheek, knuckles soft, calloused fingertips grazing the curve of your jaw. his eyes search yours like a question. like he’s asking for a yes without needing to hear it.

and you give it to him.

not in words.

just in the way you lean in.

his lips find yours like a promise delayed — slow at first, then not slow at all. the kiss deepens quickly, hands finding hips, fingers sliding over fabric. your hands move to his shoulders, then the back of his neck, tugging him in with an urgency you didn’t know you were holding back.

he breathes your name against your lips like a confession, and it hits you somewhere you can’t place.

his hands move lower — grip firmer — and in a single fluid motion, you’re lifted, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he sets you down on the nearest countertop with a soft thud. the marble is cool beneath you, but his body is warm and close, pressing into the cradle of your knees, hands firm against your lower back as his mouth meets yours again, deeper, slower this time. like he’s trying to memorize you.

it’s quiet.

your breathing is loud.

the silence wraps around you both like a blanket pulled tight — the kind of heat and hush that only happens when the world slips away and it’s just you and him and the impossibly small distance between.

until—

a creeaak.

a door. somewhere down the hall.

you both freeze.

you don’t move — just slowly turn your heads toward the sound of socked feet padding across the hardwood.

mana.

rubbing her eyes, messy hair haloed around her face, her tiny silhouette wobbling past the kitchen like a sleepy ghost.

“fairy…” she mumbles, eyes half-closed. “i know she’s still here…”

she shuffles past the kitchen entrance.

mitsuya’s arms are still around you, your hands still tangled in his shirt. you both hold your breath.

mana disappears into the bathroom.

the door shuts.

silence again.

you glance at him. he’s already looking at you.

and then—

you both burst into quiet laughter. muffled giggles spill into the space between your chests, your foreheads knocking softly together as you try to stay quiet and fail miserably.

you lean back just enough to see his face.

he’s grinning.

rosy. breathless. soft in the eyes.

and then, in a voice low and warm and so full of meaning it almost feels unfair, he says:

“you should come over for dinner more often.”

you smile.

“i just might.”

copyright © t4kalcvr 2025 all rights reserved

💬, help this song has been stuck in my head so i just couldnt help but to make a fanfiction based on it 😝 AND OBVIOUSLY ABOUT MITSUYA YUMMY BOY, ANYWAY ENJOYYYYY (lwk might keep doing this)

ko-fi 🎧

look here for your next read 📚!

permanent 🔖 : @sukunasrealgf @sinamew

[elizzsush]

Deadpool coded reader:

Reader: dramatically and sadly, “Day 925, the bats show no sign of releasing me- a totally normal and amazing citizen from this prison.”

Reader; “he has left the second scariest Robin to guard me, Jason.”

Red hood: a little offended; “Second?”

Reader: shuttering looking like she’s reliving something, “Damien is like a angry dog, he bites.”

Reader: “also is this lega- and he walked away. Hey! I want to speak to a lawyer!!”

Reader: now yelling “I have rights!!! I think- do you have rights in Gotham?”

_______________

Batman: finally shows up.

Reader: “hey It’s You! You know if I head a penny for a rich completely normal guy who is the center of a multi million  franchise of hero’s- while also being a hero himself through the means of money… well Id have two pennies!”

Dick: “what…?”

[palmolli]

Something is wrong with Sun. (Sky's Zelda)

Okay... so this is lowkey highkey far-fetched and a wee bit stupid... but I'm posting anyway because free will and uh... for fun.

These two pages are what sparked this dumb theory. You'd expect Sky and Sun to be exchanging letters regularly given their CLEAR attachment issues.

(Evidence of the attachment issues)

That's not "young love", Time. It is trauma. I doubt that was hyperbole given the crap Sky did to get Sun back home during the events of his game. The two are inseparable, basically two halves of one whole. Separate them if you dare.

OH WAAAIIT. They already are!!!

So why isn't Sun sending him letters? Now, there is a possibility she HAS been sending him mail. We just haven't seen it. Or, the postman just isn't visiting Sky's era since... he doesn't exist there, and he seems to only be giving out mail to the Links in the eras he exists in. And most Skyloftians just stuff a letter in their bird's beak and send em off with a pat on the back. They have no need for a mail man they have mail birds... but STILL...

Could there be an alternative, less factual, and reasonable explanation for her lack of letters?????

Uhhhh... honestly, this is more of a fanfic idea than a theory so.... why not.

THE SHADOW KIDNAPPED HER! YES! UH... PLOT DEVICE!!! CUZ SHES UH... HYLIA REBORN... AND STUFF... POWER SOURCE? REVENGE? PETTINESS? SIMPLY JUST TRYING TO BAIT SKY?!?!?!?!?

anyways... this is... so stupid... but... whatever. I've actually been really drained recently, so... no art... no writing... sorry. I needed to post like... SOMETHING. (yes, I posted that Hylia drawing, but I posted it a few days after drawing it) my creativity is gone, and all my writing drafts are so cheeks 💔 so.. eat up... I guess.... sigh MY HEAD HURTS

[adestroy]

[mintfullyyours]

I don't know where this falls in the time line of ex-husband!simon but he's been brewing in my mind and I love him so much. You can read the first part here: patching up exhusband!simon and as always thank you for reading!!

& lmk what you guys think about ex-husband!simon.

thinking about the night of your first date out while "single." You sigh, putting the car in park and resting your forehead against the steering wheel. Jeff. That was his name, right? He wasn’t a bad guy—asked the right questions, paid for dinner, had a steady job that kept him local. A fine first date. Predictable. Safe.

Then why did it feel so… empty?

Rubbing your temples, you tell yourself this is for the best. Stability. Normalcy. That’s what you need. What you deserve, too. Maybe, in time, you’d even believe it. Sliding your key into the door, you frown. It doesn’t click. A chill slithers down your spine as you push it open, your stomach knotting at the sight of the dim light bleeding into the hallway from your bedroom.

You already know who’s inside.

Your breath hitches as you swing the door open, and there he is—Simon, sitting on the edge of your bed, his broad shoulders hunched slightly forward. The faint gleam of metal catches your eye. Your engagement ring. It rolls fluidly between his fingers, like a an awful habit he never broke.

His gaze lifts, pinning you in place.

"Took it off, did ya?" His voice is eerily calm, but there’s something coiled beneath it, something ready to snap. "Wonder if he knows you still wear my name."

Your stomach tightens. You take a good look at him—really look at him—and the past five months apart have not been kind. His beard is thicker, his jaw sharper, his frame even larger than you remember. Like he’s been drowning in something darker than loneliness.

"Simon, I’m not in the mood. You can't be in here, shouldn't be in here." Your voice is firm, though your chest heaves with the effort to keep it that way. "Just because you refuse to sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together."

A slow, humorless chuckle rumbles from his chest. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and lets the ring settle in his palm before closing his fingers around it.

"That’s where you’re wrong, love."

He stands, and in an instant, he’s in front of you, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body. His scent—familiar, overwhelming—wraps around you like a pretty string tied in a bow.

His hand trails up your arm, slow, deliberate, until his fingers ghost over your pulse. His eyes drop to your lips, then flick back up, dark and unreadable. The silence was deafening. It was as if he knew the power he still had over you, or at least your body. Simon wedges his muscular thigh between your legs, and your hips buck ever so slightly.

You whimper and he smirks, knowing your body would never betray his.

"You think a piece of paper makes you any less mine?" His grip tightens, not enough to hurt—but enough to remind you just how easy it would be.

"Any less of a Riley?"

You swallow hard. He leans in, lips a breath away from your ear.

"Tell me, dove— and he honest, because you know I hate liars, did he make you feel anything at all?"

tag list

@ebodebo @meheheasasa @thegirlintheshadows101

[cesiscribbles]

GO SPOILERS AHEAD (I mean... kinda spoilers?)

After all the set pics we saw over the last few days with David's and Michael's hair and overal appearance there were a lot of "Them turning human" theories going around.

I personally prefer both of them to stay Demon and Angel as they are but I also had an idea for a Human theory~

Some people are concerned about the "What happens when they die?" question because it would suggest that Azira and Crowley have to turn back to Heaven and Hell, so here is my theory:

What if, at the end of their adventure of the Finale, Azira and Crowley do something really big (big combined miracle maybe?) that turns every Angel and Demon in existence (including themselves) into humans? Changing the very core and structure of Heaven and Hell.

This way there would be no more your side - my side, black and white, good and evil. No more miracles.

Just humans.

This way they could make sure that there will be no more war between the two lots or apocalyptic plans that could endanger Earth and all the life on it.

It's like our universe and only God knows what will happen when we die, as the big mystery of life.

[oscopastry101]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗TROPHY

lando norris x actor!male reader

synopsis: little lando norris is in love and has fully soft launched. too bad the internet doesn't believe he's in a relationship

smau, fluff, honestly no clue what else!

warnings: pinterest guys as fc.. was going to do more andrew garfield but forgot as soon as i started, lando kinda being shit on tbh

REQUESTED!!! request is here

author's note: uhmmm yay, idk if i did the request totally right but i have major headache! soz guys, and i would've done football player reader if i knew shit about it but i dont so!

1hr lando posted a story ! 10m oscarpiastri posted a story !

[caption: hehe yum] [caption: lando was the one who invited me btw]

user1 replied: now hold on! thats yn ln.

carlossainz55 replied: i'm surprised people believe this one ↳ lando replied: me too, i think ive posted enough they finally believe it! ↳ carlossainz55 replied: i doubt it, amigo

user2 replied: that hoodie has been in landos vlogs before?

charles_leclerc replied: HES ACTUALLY WITH YOU?

user3 replied: everytime u post one of these i just assume u pretending to have a man 😭

user4 commented: WHY IS IT ALWAYS A HOODIE?? WE NEED FACE PROOF LANDO

user5 replied: he invited you and hes asleep first?? 😭

georgerussell63 replied: holy, is he actually dating him

user6 replied: IS THAT NOT YN LN??? LANDO WAS TELLING THE TRUTH?????

user7 commented: this guy could always be oscars cousin

user8 commented: lando could have a whole husband and u guys still wouldn't believe him 😭

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 492,145 others lando.jpg long night before he goes ;(

user9: oh we're making men up again and using pinterest pictures huh

user10: u got separation anxiety from an imaginary bf??

user11: he's real guys that arm IS yn lns??? LIKE SPIDERMAN?

oscarpaistri: this is my roman empire 😂 ❤︎ by author

comments are limited

3m lando posted a story!

[caption: he bought ice cream :(]

user12 commented: do you guys actually believe oscar would do ts with him??

user13 replied: LANDO WHOOOOOOOOO

oscarpiastri replied: mcdonalds ice cream is goated, good choice ↳ lando replied: thank you mate, i agree, so does yn

carlossainz55 replied: why is he driving? ↳ lando replied: he likes driving, always makes me be passenger

georgerussell63 replied: wow so he actually is ln 😲 ↳ georgerussell63 replied: happy for you mate

user14 commented: i still don't believe it

user3: STOP PLAYING W US.

user8: IS THAT THE BF???

justaninchident: ik they were giggling under there

smoothoperator: this is a good angle hahah

user15: TELL ME THAT IS NOT YN LN. ↳ user11: I BEEN SAYING?? ↳ user16: and so has lando, maybe we have to stop thinking everything lando says is fake...

8m oscarpiastri posted a story ! 3m oscarpiastri posted a story!

[caption: they did it again :(] [caption: uhm you didnt see that]

user17 replied: WAS THAT THE BF

user18 replied: WE SAW THAT OSCAR U HARDLAUNCHED THEM!!

user11 commented: OHHH THATS YN LN WHO TOLD U SO!!! ↳ user20 replied: u did... ↳ user11 replied: EXACTLY! never doubt me, i told u ↳ user21 replied: but lando also told us?? like ages ago, nobody believed him because its YN LN? ↳ user11 replied: details

user1 replied: are we in the wrong..

user22 commented: its yn ln, i went back and matched the ears!! ↳ user1 replied: pardon..? ↳ lando.jpg replied: oh...😥

charles_leclerc replied: i thought we were SOFT launching? ↳ oscarpiastri replied: i panicked okay? ↳ charles_leclerc replied: YOU panicked??

user6: this is so insane

user23: lando norris and a spiderman varient.. is this even real.?

user24: i like how lando said this all the time in the beginning and nobody believed him but now yall do??

smoothoperator:🤦🏻

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။ lover - live from paris taylor swift

liked by lando, oscarpiastri and 1m others

ynlnofficial✓ you guys always need so much proof.. 😓

tagged: lando

lando: and even now i bet they won't believe me ❤︎ by author

carlossainz55: tell them your favorite color next lando ↳ lando: it's actually brown lol ↳ oscarpiastri: NO ITS BLUE ↳ ynlnofficial: its both, depending on the day

user4: ARE YOU GUYS.. RESPONDING TOGETHER?

user25: THE HOLD, THE HANDS, IM SICK. VOMITING, DYING.

user9: it's all real.. 😲

maxverstappen1: i've been knowing but cute ig. ❤︎ by author

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။ till forever falls apart ashe, FINNEAS

liked by ynlnofficial, lando and 921,322 others

oscarpiastri sorry guys! at least i can post all this now

tagged: ynlnofficial, lando

ynlnofficial: oh this is cute :( ur forgiven ❤︎ by author ↳ lando: UHM NUH UH ↳ oscarpiastri: papa y papa? ❤︎ by ynlnofficial ↳ lando: uh no but funny

lando: yn is right this is adorbs osco ❤︎ by author ↳ oscarpiastri: i am sorry but about time

georgerussell63: best trio ig. ❤︎ by author, ynlnofficial and lando ↳ oscarpiastri: thank you george 😂

BONUS 1!!

MCLAREN BOYS QNA (FT. surprise guest!!)

Q: who is the better driver? oscar: me. lando: absolutely not! oscar: statistically lando: only barely for this year! lando: besides i win vibes wise, always yn (in background): he got lost on a track once oscar: SEE lando: WHY IS HE HERE?

Q: who takes longer to get ready? oscar: lando lando: me, but only because im in love and want to look nice oscar: oh my god. yn(in background): thats kinda cute oscar: i hate this

Q: are you guys roomates?? oscar: no. lando: basically, he sleeps over all the time yn: he invites himself over, actually oscar: because you guys forget to feed yourselves and im SCARED youll die? lando: thats love oscar: how are you a driver

Q: who's the messiest roommate? oscar: lando lando: me yn: him lando: OSCAR YOU'RE NOT EVEN MY ROOMATE? oscar: and yet we agree

Q: icks? oscar: probably people who swallow their water super loud lando: people who don't like oat milk yn: you've actually called it "nut water". oscar: he did. i have it on video

Q: is yn dating lando or both of you oscar: i WISH it was both lando: hey! oscar: shut up yn: im legally obligated to say lando. emotionally, its complicated??

Q: do you all sleep in the same bed? oscar: not by choice yn: he tucks himself in like a victorian child and sleeps against the wall lando: hes warm though :( oscar: IM LEAVING

BONUS 2!!

groupchat: nut water lovers😽

1:16 am lando: i miss him he's only been gone 3 days this is hell

oscar: what the hell its 1am and he's literally filming, not dead and you facetimed like twice yesterday

lando: HE LOOKED SO HANDSOME im spiraling

oscar: he said "be back on monday" and you said "ok" and now you're laying on the floor and listening to taylor swift

lando: how do you know that...

oscar: i can hear it through the walls, mate

5:34am yn: hello. hi. im alive

lando: DO YOU MISS ME?😭😭😭😭

yn: i miss you like a fork misses soup

5:41am oscar: that's beautiful write that in the vows

lando: what are you doing :(

5:46am yn: filming a stunt they said "do not text while hooked up" so naturally, i texted you guys!

oscar: I SWEAR TO GOD

yn: also one of the stunt guys said i "looked familiar" so i think he knows we're dating or he just watches a lot of f1 either way i panicked and said im oscar

oscar: IM SORRY YOU WHAT 😕😕

lando: NO THATS SO FUNNY you're gunna ruin his PR rep 😭 👎by oscar

yn: anyways im safe and good they're feeding me snacks and letting me nap lots im basically a dog

oscar: you've always been one

lando: pls take a picture, i miss your stupid little face

yn: stupid and little?? do i look like a lego man to you??

lando: a really hot lego man🙂

oscar: okay im gone. this relationship is giving me a headache 👎by lando and yn

lando: hey wait oscar

oscar: what

lando: if yn was a lego man would you build him a house

oscar: im going to bed

yn: he didn't say no! ❤︎ by oscar

lando: HAHA I WIN 👎by oscar

authors note!! that's a wrap! second time around i think i like it more, idk if i really displayed trophy husband well but i still think its cute guys, and dont mind the random oscar addon in the end, in my heart they're roomates.. or worse! thanks for sticking around :)

to everyone who will like, comment, or just read quietly: thank you!!