#this is because practice and games are things he is always at so time with you is already tight

[bruhstories]

touch-starved

summary: dante is touch-starved, and he thinks the only way for him to feel something is to get punched by you

pairing: dante x afab!reader | based on the netflix version but definitely canon divergent

warnings: dry humping, unprotected p in v, creampie, degradation kink, very light choking, lots of swearing, kind of soft dom dante and light pain kink if you squint, idiots in love, friends to lovers, bit of praise, fem bodied reader

w/c: ~3.2k

a/n: this is definitely not my best work but it's a warm up ig. lol anyway i absolutely loved the dmc netflix version, and i'm considering getting the games

"Punch me."

Not a question, but an indisputable demand coming from the demon hunter, which made you do a double take, place the barrel of your M4 carbine on the table, and flat-out refuse.

"No."

He snarled, yes, snarled at you, slamming his pistol against the table with a loud bang. You looked up from your own weapon, taken aback by Dante's reaction, concern written all over your face. Was he high??

"Come on, Y/N, just do it. Just one punch, one tiny little punch. I know you want to." His cocky grin did numbers on your nerves, but you still refrained from giving him the satisfaction of hitting him. It’s been years since you met Dante, by this point you were used to his shenanigans.

"Why, though?" You decided to focus on cleaning your weapon, the sharp smell of isopropyl alcohol filling the room.

"Because," Dante groaned, snatching the bottle of liquid from you, causing you to glare daggers at him, "I'm touch starved."

You blinked once, twice, trying your hardest to process both his honesty, and the logistics of his request.

"Why not ask for a hug, then? Or, I don't know, go to therapy?"

"Hah! I'm sure my therapist is gonna have a field day with me! So, my dad, a demon, disappeared without a trace, then my mother and twin brother died, but actually my brother is alive somewhere. My therapist is gonna need a therapist."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. Still, you could just rephrase it. Maybe leave out the demon bit." You wiped the barrel clean before setting it aside.

"I'd rather get punched. Now, please."

"Dante, a punch isn’t gonna solve it. Are you sure you don’t want a hug? I could cook you something. Or we could grab a few beers and watch a movie, or talk about your feelings." You shrugged.

Both of you had done this before — went out for drinks, danced, cooked together, fell asleep together — it was so intimate, almost like you were a couple. But the reality was that you weren’t. Not by a long shot. Unfortunately for you, Dante was protective of you in the way an older brother was. You thought that, perhaps, he missed Vergil so much that you were the closest thing he had to a sibling in years.

"A punch would be less time consuming. Cooome on, babe, just hit me!"

You hated when he called you babe. He called other girls babe, girls that were hot, pretty, girls that were his type, and it was the nickname that made you clench your jaw and purse your lips.

"Ugh, fine!" You sat up, rotated your wrist and flexed your fingers. "Are you sure this is going to help in any way?"

"Positive. Right here." Dante pointed at his cheek.

"What, in your face?"

"You're stalling."

Without a single ounce of hesitation you swung your arm, hitting the demon hunter square in his face, but it caused you more pain than it did him, and you stumbled back, holding your fist in your other hand.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" You cried out in pain, knowing damn well that would happen. Still, you couldn't say no to him. Ever.

"Are you okay?" Dante was visibly concerned — a rare sight since he was always cool and edgy, even when his own life was in danger.

"Fuck no! Feels like I punched a brick wall!" You practically growled at him, gaze quickly softening when you saw the pure look of terror in his eyes. "But hey, nothing a little ice can't fix, right?"

"Right." He nodded and got up, making a beeline for the freezer.

There was no ice in it, but there was a pack of frozen peas somewhere at the bottom of a drawer, which Dante picked up and brought to you. When you reached for it, he, instead, took your sore hand in his, gently pressing the cold legumes onto your knuckles. You winced, instinctively trying to retract your hand, but he held it in place, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you from backing away.

The pain wasn't gone, but it was becoming bearable, and a relieved murmur escaped past your lips, one that sounded closer to a moan than a sigh. Dante's cheeks burned, tinted red with embarrassment and arousal because you were yet another girl in his life who just didn't want to be involved romantically with him. Not that he tried anything with you, because he always thought you deserved better. Sure, he was cocky and flirtatious, but he wasn't a dick. If no one reciprocated the flirting, he didn't push his luck. It was simple. And he wasn’t the type who did one-night stands, despite the rumours. Dante enjoyed having a connection to the people he took to bed, he became sexually attracted to those he knew on a deeper emotional level. But sometimes, when he was really, truly desperate, he would download Tinder and hook up with random girls.

And he reeked of desperation.

"Dante, you can let go of my hand now."  You told him, part of you hoping he wouldn't.

Who could blame you? He was an objectively attractive man, with a charming smile and a body sculpted by the gods themselves. Why would he ever want to get involved with you? Dante was your opposite — he talked, he sang, he danced, he was obnoxious. You were quiet, most of the time, and shy. In fact, when he first met you, he thought you had some form of speech impediment, with your nose in Boccaccio’s The Decameron, a book you stole from the public library because you were much too young to read. That’s when knew you were trouble, just like him.

"Yeah, of course." Dante stepped back. "How's your hand?"

"Better. How are you feeling?"

"Me? Why are you asking?"

"Hello?" You scrunched your nose and frowned. "You wanted me to punch you because you were touch-starved. Did it help?"

"I'll be honest, it felt more like a tickle than anything." He shrugged. "Are you sure you didn't pull your punch?"

There it was, the one thing that turned you from an introvert to a bat-shit crazy bitch — his stupid little mouth that he opened without ever thinking.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're telling me I risked breaking my bones so you could feel better, only for you to not feel anything? I swear to fucking God, Dante, this is the last time I'm doing anything nice for you."

"Nice? You punched me!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, while your blood boiled inside of you, sending you into a blind rage.

"You asked me to punch you, you maniac! You should've fucked me instead!"

Your eyes widened at the sentence that came out of your mouth without a single thought, mortified at your own stupidity.

"Hugged. I meant hugged. Shit."

"No, no, hold up, you didn't say hugged." Dante tilted his head, one hand rubbing his chin. "Isn't that called a Freudian slip?"

"I- well- how the fuck do you even know what a Freudian slip is?" You tried changing the subject but he didn't bite.

"Google." He closed the gap between the two of you, and for the first time you felt intimidated by him. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

The bluntness of his question, coupled with the sudden change in the pitch of his voice made you feel like a cornered prey. There was no possible way he was serious. But he wasn't wrong — the nature of your jobs made it impossible for either of you to have partners, and besides, you've known each other for years. It was only natural that some form of physical attraction would have developed between you two, right? But why you? Why now? And the worst of all your questions, why not?

You didn’t want to think about how this would ruin almost a decade of friendship. All you could think about was the look of pure lust in his eyes as he held your gaze, and how months upon months of sexual frustrations accumulated inside of you, bubbling and boiling and exploding when you dropped the pack of peas on the floor.

"Yes. I want you to fuck me."

Without a sliver of hesitation, you felt him pick you up with ease, hands roaming up and down his back as he slammed you down onto the table, desperately pushing away all the guns and knives. How thoughtful of him. Your hands slithered under his blood red coat while he tugged at your t-shirt, pulling it over your head to expose your bare breasts to him.

"No bra? Kinky." Dante stopped to take a better look at you.

"Stop talking." You firmly told him, but the chuckle that erupted from your throat betrayed you.

He was the one person you felt most comfortable around, so much so that you didn't feel weirded out by him pressing his lips onto your neck, or his fingertips bruising the plush of your hips, or his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. No, it felt natural, too natural, like your skin was made to be touched by him.

With his coat on the floor, you tackled his shirt, effectively tearing it off of him because you were just as desperate as he was, and Dante pulled your body closer to his, your clothed cunt accidentally rubbing against the bulge in his trousers. You were aching from the lack of sex, and you uncontrollably moaned at the tiny bit of friction before mumbling a weak 'sorry.'

"Fuck, don't be. That's actually kind of hot." He shamelessly admitted, and you rose a brow.

"Yeah? Then you wouldn't mind me doing it again?" You chewed on your lower lip, but he could see past the fake innocence when you rolled your hips, frantically and feverishly rubbing your clit through the layers of fabric. "Shit, I could come just from this."

For a split second, Dante wondered if this was all real. What happened to your shyness? How was it possible that his best friend, the quiet, nerdy girl he'd known for such a long time, was worse than any demon he'd ever encountered? Not that he was a saint. Far from it, because when you threw your head back, desperate to climax, his is eyes darkened, black seeping into his sclera. It should've made you afraid, but it had the opposite effect. The thought that he could activate his Devil Trigger and quite literally snap you like a twig turned you on.

"Do it, then." Dante's hand snaked behind the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. "Show me just how needy you are."

Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you fucked yourself on the half-demon, fog settling in your brain with each breath, each movement, each beating of your heart. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.

"Oh-" Any sentence you tried to utter stopped in your throat, replaced by a string of whimpers and curses. Whatever you were trying to babble was reduced to incoherent words.

"Well shit, I didn't know you were such a filthy little slut."

"Just- oh- shut up-"

"Hmm, I don't think you really want me to shut up." Dante sneered when you picked up the pace. "I think you like it when I talk like this."

"N-not true!" You yelped as he pinched your nipple, barely doing anything and yet you were a mess already.

"So, you don't want me to call you a fucktoy, then? Bet you're dripping right now. Bet you want me balls deep inside of you."

"Fuck, I'm gonna come!" You proved his point when your entire body quivered under his, mind blank and vision blurry.

"There, there." Dante pressed his lips onto your forehead. "I got you."

The noise of his belt unbuckling made you snap your eyes open, filling you with newfound desire and guilt — poor Dante, his cock was probably aching by now while you had the time of your life. He stepped back, letting his trousers pool at his feet, and you lifted your skirt to peel your panties off. You caught him staring at you, taking the sight in, and what a sight it was — locks of hair fell out of your bun, sticking to your sweaty temples, your legs still shaking from the orgasm, and your cunt dripping wet.

"I'd love to eat you out, babe, but my balls are genuinely gonna explode." He confessed, earning a giggle from you. Even with his eyes pitch black and his Devil Trigger on the verge of activating, Dante was still Dante. And you loved that about him.

"Hurry up and fuck me, then."

"Are you that desperate that you forgot your manners?" He dug his fingertips into the plush of your hips, violently pulling you closer to him.

"Please hurry up and fuck me?" You pouted.

"Good girl, that's better." Dante pushed your leg to the side with his elbow, dragging his cock up and down your slit.

You didn't get the chance to take a look at it, but the tip felt huge, so much so that you gasped, propping yourself on your elbows to see better, and you were not disappointed. In fact, you were concerned. You could not take it.

"Dante, it's not gonna fit."

He shook his head with a half-smile, finding your concern quite cute.

"I'll make it fit."

It was both a promise and a threat, but you trusted him. God, you trusted him with your life. He slowly and gently pushed the tip, your slick more than enough to lubricate his cock, but he stopped every time you looked uncomfortable to make sure you were okay.

"Tell me if it's too much."

"No, you can- it's fine, keep going." You closed your eyes, the discomfort causing you to clench around him instead of relaxing, which made Dande forget how to breathe or think.

But the worst came to a halt when he was fully in, stopping briefly to allow you to accommodate to the size. Your breathing went back to normal soon enough, and the last ounce of pain in your body was swiftly replaced by a surge of electricity when Dante moved, slowly and softly rolling his hips, unable to abstain any longer. And you didn't want him to when his cock filled you up so good, reaching places you didn't even know existed inside of your body. Your fingernails dug into his back, clawing at his skin with desperation and impatience, like you needed more than what he was already giving you.

"See? I told you I’ll make it fit. And you take me so well." Dante said, dragging his mouth over your neck, your scent overloading his senses.

But it just wasn't enough. No matter how painful, you wanted it-

"Harder."

Assertive, demanding, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he pulled back to look at you, as if not believing your request.

"A minute ago, you were wriggling in pain, now you want it harder?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. "I want it harder, faster, please-"

You were shushed by two digits forcing open your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, sucking obediently.

"You talk too much." He gave you a taste of your own medicine. "Should've known you were just a dumb little cocksleeve."

The degrading words caused you to moan and drool around his fingers, tears welling up in your eyes. Each thrust had you clench tighter, the tip of his ridiculously large cock punishing your cervix. Pain and pleasure bubbled inside of you, sparking through your body as Dante practically ripped his fingers from your mouth, only to wrap them around your throat. He was a hungry man, and you were dinner — arching your back to get closer, deeper, you fucked yourself on his cock with his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, and he revelled in your worship.

"Shit, you like it when it hurts, don't you?" He whispered, squeezing harder while you nodded eagerly. "Of course you do."

Of course you did. How could you not when he fucked you so good that your dignity and modesty were long forgotten? When Dante stripped you of your decency to bring out the worst in you? You felt your second orgasm build up, causing you to twitch under him, eyes rolling back as you slipped your hands under his arms, holding on for dear life.

"Again- gonna come again, Dante! Fuck!"

"Atta girl." He held your quivering body, his own hips stuttering, brutally thrusting into you with raw, animalistic passion.

You came undone on his cock, fingers carding through his hair, pushing away white locks to look at his pretty eyes while his arm slithered under your lower back to both support you and bring you closer to him. Dante was close, his throbbing cock still stretching your sore cunt out. He bucked his hips, splitting you open while you latched your arms around his neck, tits pressed against his chest and your lips ghosting over his earlobe.

"Almost there, babe." Dante promised. "You're doing so well." He pulled back, nearly on edge, but you squeezed your legs tighter around his waist.

"Don't pull out." You demanded, and that was enough to help him reach enlightenment.

He filled you up, and when he did pull out, watching his cum slowly leak out of you, you could've sworn he whispered 'marry me' under his breath. Surely it was just the brain fog, or the post-orgasm high. Your whole body was numb, and you stumbled into Dante's arms when you tried to get down from the table, muscles sore and aching.

"You wanna get pizza?" He nonchalantly asked, as if he didn't just fuck his best friend.

"I- shouldn't we talk about this?" You avoided looking into his eyes, opting to stare at the floor instead.

"About what?"

God, he was either insufferably oblivious or remarkably good at pretending.

"Us." You sighed.

"What's there to talk about?" Dante's fingers found your chin, and he gently lifted it up, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't make this harder for me, please. You know things won’t be the same now. We’re not in a relationship and-"

"I don't follow." Confusion was written all over his face. "Do you not want to be my girlfriend?"

"Girl- I- hold up, what? Do you want me to be your girlfriend?" You tilted your head, baffled by his question, because of course you wanted to. You just never had the guts to admit that you like him. It was even more shocking that he liked you back. Wasn’t this all just a one-time thing?

"I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious when I fucked you. What, you thought I nut and dip? That I shoot a load and go back on the road? That I cum n go?"

"Wow, please never use those euphemisms ever again." You cringed at his words, trying your best to hide the smile that crept on your lips.

"Christ, babe, you know I don't do one-night stands unless I’m really desperate. And here I thought you were my best friend. Guess I was wrong." Dante gasped, dramatically feigning offence by placing a hand on his chest.

"I’m not your best friend anymore." You said, voice serious and cold, and his charade was quickly replaced by actual worry and offence. "I'm your girlfriend now. And your best friend."

"Okay, I was genuinely concerned. Fuck you." He flipped you off and you sneered.

"You already did."

"Wait, that's my line!"

"Skill issue."

[simpjaes]

who in enha do you think would take you on a dinner date while ur plugged with a vib and he has the remote >•<

hyung line vibes

★ heeseung:

he's the one who suggested it, buying the remote control vibe as a surprise for you before watching you open the package with a mischievous lil smirk. "come on, just wear it to dinner with me tonight!" and "i promise, i won't go too crazy with it." are his main arguments, and shame on you for believing him. heeseung is the worst when he's sitting across from you with those big, fake-innocent eyes blinking at you, waiting for you to break. He turns the nob up, up, up, til he can hear the vibration inside of you hitting the seat under you. And still, he's smile. "What's wrong baby? you haven't even touched your food," he'd pout at you, watching you sweat and struggle to pretend you're okay before catching your breath.

heeseung would be evil with it.

☆ jake:

desperate to see you cum everywhere, all the time. you're the one who originally suggested it, just as a fun little anniversary thing you guys could do, but it was game over the second he saw you struggle to hide your pleasure in the face of a waitress asking if you'd like broccoli or fries as a side. You don't exactly regret asking him to try it with you, but goddamn, he doesn't give it a rest. you'll need to go to the fucking grocery store because you forgot flour or something and here comes turbovibeman, prancing to you with that thing and putting it in you himself , with a hand down your pants and another holding you tight against him so you can't wiggle away. that grin on his face wide, like "you always pretend to hate it, but you jump me the second we get into the car." sadly, you can't argue with that.

you're into it, it's just more fun to act annoyed and fight him on it. additionally, jake probably would buy one for himself too, asking you to fuck him up in the middle of dinner, or the grocery store.

★ sunghoon:

kinda shy about it but you know he's a goddamn liar. You bought it, you put it in you, you held the remote in your bag up until the two of you got your food, then you slid it across the table at him. "Go on, push a button." you'd urge him, and ofc he'd look at you with a raised brow, thinking his girl done went crazy or something. He does push the button, and in that moment he watches you jolt. You practically see him making the connection before he smirks, narrowing his eyes at you and turning it all the way up. It's...too much. It makes you too sensitive. And when you look at him with pleading eyes, almost moaning out, he just smiles and sips his water with a death grip on the remote. "You knew i would." He comments. You did know. You played yourself with this one.

☆ jay:

the type to moan with you even though he's neglected. the type to get up mid-dinner, forget to pay for the meal, and walk out with a very blatant hard-on in his pants, dragging you out so he can fuck :( i almost think jay would enjoy it, but i also am very biased and believe he'd do it for you, but suffer watching you feel good over a silicone toy in you. Yeah, he's controlling it, but!!!! that could be his fingers!! his mouth!!!! his cock!!!! not saying he'd get jealous of the toy, but he would, and that would even be part of the fun for you. It's not even you who ends up edged when you guys do this, it's him. Watching you like that kills him, seeing you get so close, makes him struggle not to lay you out right there on the table and fuck you for everyone to see :( but hey, he suffers for you, and you suffer for it. true love baby!!!!

[starcandybby]

rings and realizations

haechan x reader

summary: while shopping with Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun on a rare day off, Haechan lingers to long at the jewelry store which prompts questions and encouragement.

minors pls dni

warnings: shitty writing, reader is only in a flashback. reader has she/her pronouns, FLUFF, talks of marriage and engagements, 00z tease haechan but he takes it like a champ, haechan is referred to as donghyuck in this because I can, italics are flashbacks!

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It's a rare day off for Donghyuck. In between NCT Dream and 127 schedules, he'd be lucky to sleep in before practice. But an entire day off? Maybe once in a blue moon- and probably not even that often.

Donghyuck would have liked to spend the day with you- preferably in bed, maybe playing video games with you nestled between his legs. However, much to his dismay, when you heard Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun invited Donghyuck to go shopping, you encouraged him to join them.

"Baby," Hyuck huffed, "I see them all the time. I don't need to go shopping with them."

"But, working with them is different! When was the last time you spent some quality time with them- without the pressure of cameras and practice and idol life?" You returned, soft but firm.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, knowing you were 100% right. It is different spending time with his friends without the context of their jobs; it was more natural. He didn't feel like he had to embody the persona of Haechan from NCT. It was freeing. But, Donghyuck was also stubborn. What was so wrong about wanting to spend time with his girlfriend on a rare day off?

"Plus!" You continued, only encouraged by his eye-roll, "You've been so focused on 127 activities, you probably haven't seen them in a few weeks." A pause, "And, passing them in the company building doesn't count Hyuck." A soft smile graced your lips when you finished, letting him know that you were teasing him. If he really didn't want to go, you would drop the subject and welcome him with open arms on his day off.

"Yeah, yeah fine I'll go." You smile grew at your boyfriend’s response. "But! I get to sleep in, I want to have lunch and dinner together, and I want extra cuddles after dinner."

Your smile was extra wide now, causing the end of Donghyuck's lips to slightly turn up, unmasking his attempt at being serious.

"It's a deal!" And you sealed it with a kiss on his cheek.

So, here he was. At a luxury department store that was seemingly deserted when the four idols arrived. He suspects Jaemin and Renjun had a hand in that. He's half listening to the three discuss what stores they want to stop in; the other half of him is wondering which stores he'd like to stop in himself. Donghyuck isn't committed to a particularly style or brand; if he likes a piece, he'll buy it.

God, he misses you. And, at this moment, he really misses shopping with you, and how your eyes would light up when you really liked a clothing item on him or how you'd get all shy when he returned the compliments.

"Let's stop by Ferragamo first?" Renjun's question snaps Donghyuck out of his daydream. The younger one nodded and followed the three others.

-

Donghyuck hated to admit that you were right. (You always are). But spending time with his brothers felt good. There was no pressure; they could be themselves.

So far, Donghyuck had picked up a few things for himself- new glasses frames, a belt, and a new shirt. For you, he found a luxury purse and matching bracelets for you both. Anniversary gifts secured.

Now, the four men found themselves in Tiffany & Co. Jaemin had mentioned wanting to find some accessories for an upcoming event. While Renjun and Jaemin talk with the sales associate, Donghyuck decides to wander around the store.

He wasn't looking for anything in particular; he had enough jewelry at home and he's not sure Tiffany & Co is his style anyway. So, he just walks around the display cases to pass the time.

Donghyuck has seen so many diamond necklaces, bracelets, and earrings that they're all starting to blur together.

Until, he stumbles upon three display cases of rings.

He almost just walks by but something sturs in his chest seeing the diamond rings. A feeling that tells him to stop, even for just a second.

Donghyuck's eyes move over the rings, taking note of all the different cuts, sizes, and styles.

And he finally caves.

He lets himself imagine which ring would look best sitting on the finger of your left hand.

Which one would you like? What does your dream engagement ring look like?

You two had never discussed marriage or your weddings in depth. But, phrases like: "in our first home", "our kids" , and "when we're married" were not uncommon in such casual conversations about your futures.

Donghyuck was sure hopeful that you would say yes to his proposal, someday.

His eyes continued to move across the display cases, his brain analyzing what you might like or dislike about each ring. He doesn't even notice a faint shadow that appears next to him.

"Getting married soon are we?" Jeno asks smugly. Donghyuck need not to even look at the man to know the teasing smile he's sporting. He's too in his head right now to play along, so he ignores Jeno's question.

"Do you see any that you think she'll like?" He asks; voice coming through serious, almost as an attempt to mask any kind of vulnerability that might lie in it.

Thankfully, Jeno picks up Donghyuck's vocal queue and drops any teasing remarks he may have had prepared. He starts to assess the rings as closely as Donghyuck.

Jeno points out some rings that Donghyuck agrees you'll like. The latter continues to eye the pieces of jewelry while the former now observes his best friend.

Donghyuck. Engaged.

When Jeno first met you, first saw how you and his brother interacted, he knew you were it for him. He just didn't know that his friend was so serious about it so soon.

Soon? Well, you and Donghyuck have been dating for 2 years now, Jeno muses.

"Didn't know you were thinking about asking." Jeno tries to casually begin. He wants Donghyuck to be honest, but he doesn't want to broach the topic too seriously for his best friend to close off.

"I wasn't but I am now." Donghyuck absentmindedly answers, eyes still trained on the rings. But, Jeno doesn't miss the way his eyebrows pinch together and how his fingers can't seem to stay still, always fidgeting in some way.

"How soon?" Jeno continues.

"Not yet." Donghyuck replies.

A moment passes, and another.

"But soon."

Jeno's lips curl up at that. And this is his queue to shift to a more teasing tone.

"Our Hyuckie is getting married!" He shakes Donghyuck's shoulders, finally pulling him away from staring down Tiffany's many rings.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and shakes Jeno off him, "And you're not going to be the best man so don't even ask."

Jeno feigns shock, "If I beg to Y/N, she'll make you make me the best man."

"I can resist her no problem."

To this Jeno howls in laughter, catching the attention of the other two as they make their way over, shopping bags in hand.

"What's so funny?" Renjun asks, eyebrows raised at Jeno.

“Hyuck just said he can resist Y/N!” Jeno said; words paired with a teasing smile.

"Ah! You're funny." Jaemin lightly slaps Donghyuck's arms, in which he rolls his eyes and freigns annoyance.

But, it's Renjun who notices the merchandise before them, making the connection quite quickly.

"Are you proposing to Y/N?!" Renjun asks, holding a tone of surprise, yet excitement.

Donghyuck feels too shy to confirm Renjun's suspicions confidently. But, his bashful smile and avoidance of eye contact tells the older brother all he needs to know.

"Are you serious?" It's Jaemin's turn to become excited, eyes sparkling at the thought of Donghyuck getting married, to you no less.

The fiancé-to-be nods and rubs the back of his neck.

"It's seriously no big deal. Plus, it won't even happen for a while. I want to wait until everything calms down. So no need to get all excited..." Donghyuck says sternly. But his brothers know better.

As he was rambling, Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno's smiles only grew. Donghyuck is nervous. They're sure they can count the number of times they've seen him this nervous on one hand.

"Okay, okay. We get it. We'll leave it alone." Renjun lets it go for Donghyuck's sake and starts to lead the group out of the store.

Jeno and Donghyuck trail behind the other two. The older one can't help but get one last comment in:

"She'll say yes, you know?"

To this, Donghyuck doesn't say anything. But, Jeno doesn't miss the blush that blooms on his cheeks.

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disclaimer: This is purely fiction- nothing in these works reflect real of these people.

a/n: ahhh thank you for reading! I'm in my hyuck feels as always. I wanted to write something small to get me back into writing a little bit. likes, reblogs, and comments are always always appreciated <3

[izzih22]

do one where paige and azzi are hanging out with drew and they keep teasing him about a crush he has at school

Family Business

Note: hope y’all like it

The Bueckers’ living room was a mess of old video game controllers, chip bags, and half-finished root beers.

The summer sun was still slanting low through the windows, casting a soft golden light over everything, making the whole scene feel even more easy and familiar.

Paige sat sprawled on the couch, socked feet up on the coffee table, controller in hand.

Azzi was curled against her side, legs tucked up, watching the screen with a lazy smile.

Across from them, Drew — Paige’s little brother — sat in an armchair, scowling at his screen like it had personally offended him.

He’d been quiet for a few minutes now. Too quiet.

Which, for Paige, was blood in the water.

“Hey, Drew,” she said casually, not looking away from the TV. “Who’s that girl you were talking about earlier?”

Drew stiffened immediately. “What girl?”

Azzi perked up, sensing danger — and opportunity. “Ohhh, wait, there’s a girl?” she said, smiling way too sweetly.

Drew glared at them both. “There’s no girl.”

Paige snorted. “Right, because you’re blushing like a tomato for no reason.”

“I’m not!” Drew protested, cheeks definitely turning redder.

Azzi set her controller down, turning fully to face him.

“Okay, okay,” she said, voice dripping with fake seriousness. “We’re just concerned. As your older sisters, it’s our duty to know these things.”

Paige reached over and mussed Drew’s hair roughly, ignoring his half-hearted attempts to dodge her.

“Yeah, bro. We gotta vet her. Make sure she deserves you.”

“And,” Azzi added solemnly, “we need to know if she’s prettier than us.”

Drew groaned, shoving his face into a pillow. “Stopppp.”

Paige grinned and turned to Azzi. “Remember when he had that crush on that girl in fifth grade who didn’t even know his name?”

Azzi laughed, bright and easy. “Oh my gosh, and he made us practice how he was gonna say ‘hi’ to her in the kitchen for like three hours.”

“You made me!” Drew protested from under the pillow.

“You begged us!” Paige and Azzi chorused at the same time, then dissolved into laughter.

Drew pulled the pillow away, giving them both his best death glare.

“You two are the worst,” he grumbled.

Azzi leaned over and bumped his knee affectionately.

“Nah, you love us.”

Drew grunted, but there was no real heat behind it.

He did love them. Had for as long as he could remember.

Azzi wasn’t just Paige’s girlfriend — she was family.

She’d been around for so many years now, it felt weird to even separate them in his mind. She was just… Azzi. His big sister, whether the world called it that or not.

Paige turned back to the TV with a smirk.

“So,” she said casually. “What’s her name?”

“Nope,” Drew said immediately.

Azzi tilted her head, giving him the big, soft brown eyes she knew were impossible to resist.

“Pleeease?”

Drew tried. He really tried. But it was a losing battle.

He sighed dramatically, dropping his controller onto the floor.

“Fine. Her name’s Riley. She’s in my math class.”

Paige elbowed Azzi triumphantly.

“Knew it. Knew there was someone.”

Azzi giggled. “Is she cute?”

Drew shrugged, all tough and cool — and about as convincing as a wet cat.

“I guess.”

Paige leaned in, voice low and teasing.

“Have you talked to her yet? Or are we still at the ‘staring awkwardly from across the room’ phase?”

“Shut up,” Drew muttered, cheeks flaming again.

Azzi softened a little, nudging Paige.

“Be nice,” she said, grinning. She turned back to Drew, voice kinder. “You’re gonna crush it, Drew. You’re way cooler than you think.”

“Way cooler,” Paige agreed easily. “Especially when you don’t try so hard.”

“And,” Azzi said, laughing, “you’ve got two amazing role models.”

Drew groaned again. “God help me.”

Paige ruffled his hair one more time for good measure.

“You’re welcome, little man.”

Azzi smiled at Drew — warm, real.

“We got your back, okay? Always.”

Drew glanced between the two of them — his big sister, and the girl who had been there through everything right beside her — and, despite himself, he smiled a little too.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low but sure. “I know.”

They turned back to their game after that, the moment slipping away into the familiar rhythm of trash talk and laughter and teasing.

Just a regular afternoon.

But underneath it all, something steady and unspoken thrummed between them:

Family wasn’t always about blood.

Sometimes it was about the people who stayed.

The ones who made you laugh, and made you feel like maybe the world wasn’t so scary after all.

And in that messy living room in Minnesota, Drew knew he had two of the best.

[aventurineswife]

Heyy it's me, 🤡 anon <333

Can I request Aventurine, Jiaoqiu, Sunday, and Dr Ratio (seperate) getting into an argument with reader who is an ice element and they unleashed sharp icicles at the men out of frustration? It's like the scene in Frozen 1 when Elsa revealed her powers to everyone in the ballroom

Reader did it by pure accident, so they start apologizing profusely after realizing it

(Would be nice if there's some comfort at the end, I can't handle pure angst 💔)

I just know you're gonna cook like always with this one

Shards of Silence

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Angst with Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Argument, Accidental Injury, Ice Elemental Reader, Guilt, Apology, Fluff, Protective Behavior, Relationship Tension, Vulnerability, Character Growth.

Warnings: Emotional Conflict, Raised Voices, Accidental Harm, Brief Panic, Minor Injury (Non-Lethal), Reader Feeling Guilty, Touch-Starved Behavior (Sunday), Slow-Burn Comfort.

A/N: You have too much trust on me lmaoo 😭🙏 but thank you! 🤭💖

The argument had been brewing for a while. Aventurine, with his usual smirk, had been pushing buttons, playing with words, treating the entire situation like one of his high-stakes gambles.

"You never take anything seriously!" you snapped, arms crossed as you glared at him. The tension in the air was palpable, the frustration simmering beneath your skin.

Aventurine chuckled, tilting his head. "Oh, come now, sweetheart. You wound me. You know I always take things seriously—just in my own way."

You gritted your teeth. He was deflecting, as always. His voice was light, teasing, but you could see it—the way his eyes flickered, the way his fingers twitched slightly at his side. He was keeping up his act, refusing to let you in.

"I don't get it," you continued, voice trembling. "Why do you do this? Why do you make everything a game? Why can't you just be honest with me?"

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. "Because honesty is boring, darling."

That was the last straw. The frustration, the hurt, the overwhelming need to break through his mask—it all surged at once. A sharp, icy force exploded from you, shards of ice materializing in the air before launching toward him.

Time slowed.

Aventurine’s eyes widened as the icicles streaked toward him, their crystalline edges gleaming in the light. But at the last moment, he shifted—fluid and practiced—dodging with a grace that seemed almost effortless. One shard nicked his cheek, drawing a thin line of crimson.

You gasped, horror crashing over you like a tidal wave. "Oh no—oh my god, Aventurine! I—I didn’t mean to—"

But he was already grinning again, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. "Now that was unexpected," he mused, inspecting the crimson streak on his fingers. "A little warning next time, sugar?"

Tears welled in your eyes. "I'm so, so sorry—I didn't mean to—I just—"

His expression softened, and before you could spiral further, he closed the distance between you, gently tilting your chin up with two fingers. "Hey now, don’t look so devastated. If anything, you just made things interesting." His voice was quieter this time, lacking its usual theatrical bravado.

You swallowed hard. "I—I could've really hurt you."

"But you didn't," he pointed out, his gaze steady. "And even if you had, well—I've been through worse. A little ice isn’t going to shatter me, love."

His hand moved to yours, squeezing it lightly. "Besides, if this is how you show your feelings, I think I should start annoying you more often. Maybe I'll get a lovely ice sculpture next time."

Despite yourself, you let out a weak laugh. He always knew how to ease the tension, even in moments like this.

"You're impossible," you murmured.

"And yet, you’re still here," he teased.

His fingers brushed over yours, warm despite the lingering chill in the air. "Don't go freezing me out just yet, darling. I'm quite fond of this little game of ours."

And for once, you allowed yourself to believe him.

Sunday had never raised his voice at you before. Not once.

But tonight, his usual soft, measured tone was edged with something unfamiliar—frustration.

"You don't understand," he said, eyes dark with something unreadable. "I am not asking for your approval. I am telling you that this path leads nowhere."

"Why do you always act like you know best?" you shot back, voice trembling. "Like you have all the answers, like my choices don’t matter?"

Sunday exhaled sharply, his wings fluttering behind him, his hands clenched at his sides. "Because I have seen where this road ends," he murmured. "And I do not wish for you to walk it."

His words struck a chord—one that made your chest tighten with resentment and sadness all at once. The weight of his gaze, his presence, his unwavering belief that he was protecting you—it was suffocating.

"You can't control everything," you whispered, voice cracking.

Sunday hesitated. And in that moment, the emotions you had been struggling to contain surged outward.

A sharp chill swept through the air.

You barely had time to register the way ice crystallized around you, how jagged shards of frozen energy shot toward him in a burst of raw power.

Sunday's eyes widened, but he didn’t move.

The ice halted midair, hovering inches away from his form, before slowly dissipating into harmless flakes. He had stopped it—his power, his will, had overwritten your accidental outburst.

Your breath hitched.

"I—I didn’t mean to—" You took a step back, horrified. "Sunday, I’m so sorry, I—"

His expression had shifted. Gone was the frustration, the authority. In its place was something gentler—something almost sad.

Slowly, he stepped forward, raising a gloved hand toward you. You flinched, but he only rested it lightly against your shoulder.

"I know," he murmured.

You blinked up at him.

"I know you did not mean it," he repeated, his touch steady despite the way your body trembled. "And I know this power—this weight you carry—is difficult to bear."

Tears pricked your eyes. "But I—"

"You are not alone," he whispered, his golden halo casting a soft glow around him. "No matter what you may fear, you are not alone."

Something inside you cracked—not like ice breaking, but like something fragile giving way to warmth.

And when he pulled you into his arms, wings folding around you in a shield of silent comfort, you let yourself believe him.

"I expected more from you."

Ratio’s voice was sharp—calm, but cutting. The words stung more than you cared to admit.

"You think I don't care?" you snapped, fists clenched. "Just because I don’t think the same way you do—just because I don’t approach things like some cold, calculated formula?"

Ratio sighed, rubbing his temples. "That’s not what I said. But if you continue to act on impulse, if you refuse to analyze before you react, you will only cause unnecessary damage."

Something in you snapped.

Ice burst outward, an involuntary response to the storm of emotions inside you. Sharp icicles materialized in the air, hurtling toward him before you even realized what was happening.

Ratio barely flinched.

With precise, fluid movement, he raised a hand. A calculated counterforce met your attack, shattering the ice before it could touch him.

The room fell silent.

Your breath came in ragged gasps. "Oh my god," you whispered. "Ratio—I—"

He held up a hand. "I know."

You swallowed hard, shame settling deep in your gut. "I didn’t mean to—I just—"

A pause. Then, Ratio took a step forward, his intense gaze studying you, assessing every minute detail of your expression.

"Your emotions overwhelm you," he observed. "That is not a weakness."

You blinked. "What?"

"Your power is tied to your feelings," he said matter-of-factly. "That is not inherently a flaw—it simply means you must learn control. Recklessness will not serve you, but neither will self-recrimination."

Your hands trembled at your sides.

He reached out then, carefully taking your wrist. His grip was firm, grounding. "Next time," he said, voice softer, "tell me when you're reaching your limit."

The words were unexpected. But as you met his gaze, something unspoken passed between you.

And somehow, that was enough.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

//A/N: cute joel miller flirting blurb :’) //

“what would you be if you could be anything in the world? any job, pre or post infection?”

you’ve been driving for a few hours now. you’d known joel for a while.

back in the boston qz, you were a doctor— not by pre infection standards, but you had been practicing for about 15 years in the qz. you were only a teenager when the outbreak happened. then, you got dragged along by joel to check out this ‘medical’ thing he and tess were looking into..

and long story short— you were making your way from boston to salt lake.

so, as you drive, you became bored. you asked ellie to play a game of truth or truth—

ellie wanted to play truth or dare, but you were stuck in a car and didn’t trust ellie’s concept of a ‘dare.’

“an astronaut,” ellie’s answer is immediate. you smile, remembering when you were 14 and knew exactly what you’d be if you could be anything.

“yeah?”

“yeah. it would be fucking sick, right?” and when you glare at her for saying ‘fuck’ she just gives you a sarcastic glance. “being up in space and stuff.”

“yeah, guess it would be pretty cool.” you nod. you’d never considered it. but when you imagine it, starman by david bowie starts to play in your brain. or maybe space oddity. you’re not sure.

you wonder if ellie has ever heard either of them. you desperately wish you could see the expression on her face as she listens to it. to dance to either of the two songs with her.

“what about you?” ellie asks joel.

you wait.

you watch his features subtly shift.

“i always..” he hesitates. “kinda wanted to be a singer.”

“a singer?” you smile.

ellie laughs.

“what would you sing?” she questions.

“probably country.” he answers honestly. you just smile.

“alright, cowboy.” you smile, the nickname slipping out with ease.

“well, how ‘bout you?”

“how ‘bout me?”

“yeah, if you could be anything..” ellie started.

“i’d want to be a writer.” you answer honestly. you had this whole plan. get great grades, go to a great college. become some great writer.

how you longed to have the time, the energy, the urge to create— because you missed it desperately.

your hands ached for long forgotten movements.

“yeah?” ellie’s voice is soft. curious.

“yeah.” you smile. “a poet, maybe. and at least one novel.”

the dream slips out so easily it’s almost freaky.

you’d never told anyone that before. because even at 17, you knew that you’d probably never pursue that dream; you’d become a teacher, or a psychologist.

then joel surprises you.

“you gonna write me a love song, sweetheart?”

your eyes roll as your face flushes.

“i’ll only ever write you a breakup song, miller.” you tease.

joel just rolls his eyes with affection.

yeah, you thought, you would write him a love song. in another life, maybe.

or maybe you’d write it in this life. then you could have him sing your words as you fall asleep, and you’d be a poet after all; and he’d be a country singing cowboy.

your cowboy.

[library-windows]

well shucks, thanks

And also: not a stretch at all! The fonts are very much part of the character design.

The more erudite monks and nuns -- i.e., the ones in the official hierarchy (Gernot, Ferenc, and Mathieu in the monastery, and Cecilia and Lijsbet in the convent) and the ones in the library/scriptorium (Illuminata, Zdena, Piero, Aedoc, and Guy) -- all speak in blackletter/Gothic script.

And because I will take any opportunity possible to point at my wretched little blorbeau, Brother Guy in particular has a unique way of writing his Ys because he learned to write in a Burgundian hand, not a German one -- which means that Andreas can identify his handwriting, if he's a craftsman who takes an interest in such things.

The cursive font is based on Carolingian minuscule, I believe, and used for characters who can read and have some education (the first dialogue below is from Father Thomas, since there's no nametag on it).

And the simplest handwritten font is used for characters who can't read, or who can read but don't do it much in practice; most of the inhabitants of Tassing speak with this font.

Several of the monks and nuns also speak this way, even though it's noted in-game that everyone at Kiersau is literate -- characters like Wojslav, Matilda, Lukas, and Volkbert all use this font. So without ever actually saying it, we're shown that there's still something of a class divide even within the abbey -- between the officials and the scribes/artists, and the people who are doing the more mundane work in the kitchens, the gardens, the infirmary, etc.

The Druckers, as printers, all speak in type rather than written font (including Marie, Bert, and later Magdalene).

Andreas, Werner, and other university-educated characters speak in a humanist minuscule font to reflect them as more modern -- in their background, if not necessarily their personal philosophy.

(Also interesting, or at least interesting to me, is that when we see characters' actual handwriting, it's in cursive -- we see it with Andreas, Magdalene, and Guy, despite their speech being humanist, printed type, and monastic blackletter, respectively.)

But anyway what's really interesting is how the fonts change -- I don't think it happens much with Magdalene, but you see it multiple times through Andreas' perspective, where sometimes text is erased and rewritten in a different font as Andreas learns more about the person he's speaking to. Baron Rothvogel initially speaks in cursive, which changes to humanist writing when Andreas finds out that he's highly educated, despite not going to a university.

Old Til and Florian both start with the simplest "peasant" font; but if Andreas talks to Til and learns that he is a voracious reader with an interest in Roman history, it changes to the cursive font. And in Act II, Florian's read so many books by way of Claus Drucker and has become so enthused about the availability of printed books that his speech turns into type.

The Sommerfelds also start out with the generic peasant font, which turns into type when Andreas learns they're printers.

Some font changes, like the baron's and the Sommerfelds', are written into the story; but if Andreas never stops to have that conversation with Til, or if he gets Florian in trouble in Act I and the abbot forbids Florian to get books from Claus, then the font changes don't occur. Til's is entirely dependent on Andreas learning his assumptions were wrong, and Florian's is dependent on the abbot allowing him to get books from town (which doesn't happen if you rat him out to Gernot or the archbishop).

tl;dr you are 100% correct on the intentional font use! They serve as a quick shorthand about certain aspects of the characters, and also show us how Andreas in particular sometimes "rewrites" his perceptions of characters from his initial assumptions -- as well as showing us that Andreas' assumptions are informed by his own biases, and aren't always correct.

There is a lot of information from Lettermatic themselves here about the process of designing the fonts, it's pretty interesting stuff!

I've hit the image limit in this post which indicates to me that I've probably said enough

(EXCEPT THAT there is an additional point about characters with changing fonts that spoils Act III/the conclusion of the game, so I'm putting it under a readmore just to be safe)

Spoilers for Act III and the climax of the game! IHR WURDET GEWARNT

When Andreas meets her, Amalie initially uses the same bastarda that the educated monks and nuns use, which immediately switches to the "peasant" font when Thomas implies to Andreas that she's illiterate.

That remains the font used for her until the very end, when her role is revealed and it changes again -- not to the regular blackletter of the Kiersau monks/nuns, but to her own unique font/hand that we've been seeing throughout the game, without realizing it's hers.

Kiersau is an old abbey, Andreas, and sometimes even I wonder if it - if we - have outlived our purpose here. . . . Sometimes I wonder if we were meant to change and we just... forgot to.

So here's something I thought was interesting.

Between Act I and Act II, the townspeople of Tassing age and change. Some of them begin going gray (or go grayer). Some grow longer beards or hair. Some have cheekbones become more prominent, or have lines on their face that develop or deepen, even subtly. And of course it's especially obvious with the kids of Tassing, who are growing from babies into children, and children into teenagers.

Even those characters who don't have visual changes to their faces or hair have differences to their clothing to show that time has passed. They've changed, even if it's only replacing or restyling old clothes, or growing out their hair. People have died, been born, gotten married, moved into town, built new businesses, taken up new ideas - the growth and change is often modest, but it's visible.

But at Kiersau Abbey...

... nobody changes - so much so that most of the monks and nuns don't even have different portraits between Act I and Act II, despite the passage of seven years.

For those that do, the only change is to the color of their habit (the seven years between Act I and Act II would encompass the entire period between entering the abbey and solemn profession, so anyone who was a novice when Andreas was there in Act I would have necessarily professed by Act II). The only other one who changes is Aedoc, whose "image" becomes more worn - but even he doesn't change facially. (Compare him to the visible aging of Ill Peter, another elderly male character.) None of the members of Kiersau physically change, visually, in those seven years. No lines on their faces, no gray hair, no wrinkles, no beard growth, no drooping, no aging, nothing.

The only ones who change regardless of the outcome of Act I are Cecilia, who was far more worldly and savvy than her counterpart, more proactive and less caught up in Kiersau as a bubble; and Piero, who understood and accepted that change was inevitable and didn't fear it. And the only way that they could change was to die, and disappear altogether.

And for all that there's been at least one major change to Kiersau with the closure of the scriptorium (and possibly more, depending on Ferenc and Matilda's fates in Act I), almost nothing has changed in terms of how Andreas/the player sees and experiences the abbey. Of those characters in the abbey who have "grown up", Zdena is still half-heartedly tending to the remains of the library under Illuminata's supervision (and Illuminata herself, though she's now Mother Superior, is still in the library sorting books). Lukas is still in the kitchen, and still can't quite figure out what to do without Wojslav directing him. Volkbert is still doing the menial, grubby work nobody else wants to do. He even lampshades how taking his vows hasn't really changed anything except the color of his habit:

I'm a monk now. . . . I still do the same work, but now I have the same robes as the other brothers.

One expects the abbey to change more slowly than the town, given that the monks and nuns aren't likely to be getting married or having children (one presumes, at least); but even those characters who have, in name, taken on new roles are still functionally doing mostly the same things they were doing seven years ago.

The only members of Kiersau that we see change, grow, take on visibly different roles, and age are the ones we see in Act III, after the abbey has been destroyed and they've moved on elsewhere.

Obviously Kiersau Abbey is not some kind of actual pocket dimension where time doesn't move (unless . . . ?). But it's posited even within the text of the game as a deliberate anachronism, a medieval holdover in the early modern age; and it's set against the inescapable presence of the Church's inertia versus the looming Reformation, and the growing social unrest against the feudal status quo. A major theme of the game is the inevitability of change and loss, and how being able to accept it and move on is essential for growth/survival. And it's clear that the stagnation has reached such a point that there can be no lasting change on a social scale in Tassing until Kiersau burns.

So all that said, I don't think the visual contrast between the clear progression of time in Tassing, and the lack of it in Kiersau, is a coincidence.

This is Kiersau, Andreas. You should know by now, nothing here changes.

[skimmingmilk]

Can I pry ur mind for any headcannons u have between the unbreakable bond? Maybe even ones u've yet to include in ur fics?

Ooh, I'd be happy to! I'm just so bad at listing out headcanons without fics to sandwich them in xD I know I have a ton that I haven't had a chance to write about yet, but it's like they're sorted in filing cabinets that only open when a relevant fic needs them, lol.

But let's see…

Tails doesn't actually have a curfew. Sonic will give him a look if he catches him up in the middle of the night, but he's well-aware the kid's a bit of insomniac. As long as it isn't hurting him or putting him in danger by being too sleep-deprived, then Sonic doesn't force him to bed. It’s not like he can’t sleep in or anything anyway. If he's already dozing off at his desk, then Sonic'll put him to bed, sure, but that's just to make him more comfortable. If he's alert and in the middle of a project, Sonic leaves him to it. He'll even keep him company sometimes, because no way does Sonic have a curfew either! If he gets sleepy later in the day, he figures he can always just take a nap.

They like to go skydiving together, taking turns flying and jumping off the Tornado. When Tails installs an autopilot on her, they're able to jump at the same time and do tricks in the air to one-up each other or practice mid-air saves with style~

Their tastes in video games vary: Sonic prefers classic side scrollers, racing games, and fighting games. Tails likes exploratory puzzle games with open worlds where he can explore and craft and he’s also really good at first-person shooters. They do both enjoy playing with each other still, regardless of the format, that's just what they tend to prefer when solo-gaming. Sonic will absolutely play something like Minecraft or Lethal Company with Tails (and die a lot xD) and Tails loves getting to beat Sonic's button mashing technique in a fighting game. I also think they both like to team up for anomaly hunting games, I feel like that's something they'd both find fun for a couple rounds while they wind down after an adventure. Sonic's quick reflexes would help him catch anomalies as they're happening and Tails likes analyzing the scenes for subtle differences. They can only go a couple rounds though before it puts Sonic to sleep, lol.

They’ve both picked up on some of their species-specific behaviors unintentionally. Like Tails sometimes curls into a hedgehog ball with his fur fluffed out to feel safe and he’ll make huffy, snuffly hedgehog sounds from time to time. Sonic's tail will wag a little when he's happy, since hedgehogs typically only wag their tails when they sense danger. I know it's a cute headcanon many people have for him expressing happiness in general, and I love to see it, but this is just my headcanon for why he’ll do that sometimes, and it’s pretty unique to him as far as hedgehogs go and completely involuntary.

When Sonic's around, he cooks pretty much all their meals, though Tails will sometimes want to experiment with a new recipe or cook something for Sonic. He likes cooking for other people. When Tails is left to his own devices while Sonic's traveling, however, his eating habits suffer. He loses track of time and ends up subsiding solely on snacks throughout the day instead, like his veggie chips or roasted chickpeas or mint candy. If he does make something, it's always fast and simple like a bowl of cereal or a peanut butter sandwich. Sometimes Big will stop by with some fish stew to share with him and Sonic usually makes sure to bring a hefty bag of takeout back with him, just in case it's been a while since Tails's last substantial meal.

In return, Tails is the one who keeps pretty much every other aspect of his and Sonic's lives on track xD He keeps a calendar for him and reminds him of things like friends' birthdays or events he promised to go to. Any paperwork involving Sonic is taken care of by Tails. Upkeep on the workshops and the planes are also Tails's responsibility. He also does all the shopping and inventory of household supplies in the workshop. Tails is very good at scheduling most things into his day, eating is just not one of them.

Tails has a few pieces of Sonic merchandise he picked up when he was younger - when it wasn't as embarrassing to say his big brother was his hero. They're kept in his room, mostly out of sight, but he's got a Sonic plushie that he keeps wrapped in one of Sonic's gloves so it'll smell a little like him and he'll sleep with it whenever he's feeling particularly lonely. It's part of why he gets into the habit of working late into the night; it's hard to lie awake in bed in a quiet, dark house by himself. With only his thoughts and nothing to drown them out. He's not afraid of the dark or being alone, but it's the stillness and the emptiness (the void) that encourages him to stay up until he physically can't keep his eyes open any more. Sometimes having the Sonic plush helps with that (not that anyone knows).

Those are just some of the headcanons I have that I don't think have played very major roles in any fics yet. I've got a few WIPs that incorporate a couple of them, but I'm not sure if they'll ever get to become full-fledged fics.

Thanks for the ask! <3

[lipstickreptile]

Courtesy of the Capitol

I guess we can call this a little practice run before Hayffie week! I decided not to dedicate this to any of the promts because I find it a bit too angsty.

TW: Slut shaming. Refrence to prostitution. General government control

-

Effie has always been a social person throughout her life. Yet the district 12 escort has lived alone for the past 10 years. Only accompanied by an aquarium of exotic fish that decorates her bedroom.

She likes to have things her way which has made it difficult to even have housekeeping. Therefore, when Effie enters her apartment on an early September evening she knows instantly someone is there.

The peacekeepers by her terrace door only confirms the gut feeling she instantly had. She doesn't bother to slip out of her flats, only drops her purse to the floor with a thud. They open the door for her to her terrace.

That's the only acknowledgement they give her.

"Euphemia Trinket! There you are." The voice is oddly foreign to her. Even though she has met the President several times throughout the years.

He is well seated in her lounge. Tea prepared with her family heirlooms. She feels like a child ready to be scolded by the principal. Therefore she doesn't know what else to do but stare.

'Manners, Trinket.' She scolds herself, followed by a a decently long courtesy. "President Snow. What an honor".

"You know I like to congratulate my escorts, Miss Trinket."

What is there to congratulate on? District 12 didn't do particularly well. They only lasted longer than usual. Franky, because the 72nd games lasted longer than usual. "Pliny Arausio certainly was a worthy winner". Effie says politely approaching the seating area. She has to remind herself that she is in her own home.

"He certainly was." Snow smiles and gestures to the tea. "I'm terribly sorry to be intruding. I was told you would be late home, so I thought I would get started". It isn't common that she has to force a smile.

Who told him? People in her office? Her doctor? Or do they just know her routine?

Snow pours water from the kettle for both of them into the tiny pink tea cups. "I imagine you're more of a coffee person".

"I am." She agrees. "You know the games can keep us occupied until late at night".

"Certainly. 'Your' girl died this year during the early morning I believe?".

Effie can oddly nod. The poor child had a severe case of hypothermia and had in her madness thrown off all her clothes. Freezing to death, thinking her body was burning. She had been on the phone with the makers for hours trying to censor the girl's death. Not even in death did they care to think about the child's dignity.

"Sugar?".

Effie didn't sleep for three nights after that. Not until Haymitch had talked her into sleeping in his room.

"Yes, thank you".

The president hands her the tea and then quickly returns to his own. Coughing a bit into the steam. She starts sipping, slowly. It gives her seconds to plan the correct responses, proper topics. "I suggest you get used to tea, Miss Trinket. You shouldn't drink coffee in your condition".

Her gut feeling was right. She is not really surprised but it feels like she's falling from a 10-story building. Her hand is shaking, sending vibrations through the porcelain. It's almost a victory when she is able to place the tea cup back on the table.

"I find you and your family amusing, Trinket. Certainly wouldn't think of you as a traitor".

The pleasantries are certainly over. Now she is confronted with the ice blue orbs staring into her. Waiting for a confession. "When Capitol women share their bed with Finnick Odair it's not an issue. I don't understand how this is any different".

"Do not act dumb with me" Snow has finished his tea now and is leaning forward. "Being the whore of a district dog is not the same".

All the powder that is doing it's best to keep her face white can't hide the red that is rushing to her face. She is so angry. Furious.

"Do not worry, dear. I'm sure it was not your intention to let that drunk impregnate you."

Do not cry, Effie. Don't cry! Do not allow him to use it as a admission of guilt. You did nothing wrong.

"I am not getting any younger. This might be my only opportunity to have a child. Besides all his flaws, Haymitch is a pretty man". She just called him a donor. A desperate attempt to conceal what had actually happened.

Of course it wasn't like that. It had been an accident.

They had been sleeping together for years. Every July, sometimes August if the games lasted long enough. And this year? They had more than two months together. Late nights and early mornings.

'I used him to get pregnant'. An offense surely, but not worse than what they had actually done.

"Don't lie".

"I'm not lying. He doesn’t know!".

Snow stands from his seat, stretching his back a bit. "A family should be united, Miss Trinket. Perhaps you would enjoy to stay in 12 permanently". The old man looks up into the sky like he is considering something. "You're expecting in April? May?" He pulls up his fingers and starts counting: "74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85." Effie stands up from her chair approaching him with such hurry, she doesn't even consider that his guards can decide to shoot her.

She is so close to him now that she can smell the rose attached to his jacket. That's when he says the obvious part out loud: "That's what I thought. Your baby will be old enough to countinue the family tradition on the 35th anniversary of their father's reaping"

Any resistance she had in her to contain her tears is gone. She's bawling. "I will quit! Give me another district. Whatever you want me to do. Please. Please don't do this".

"Oh no Euphemia. You're not going to quit. You're going to countinue as per usual. Next year we will find you a substitute of course. Spend time with your newborn miracle"

Snow looks away from her and calls for his assistant. The woman joins them on the terrace carrying a teddy bear with a big gold bow on it. ''Courtesy of the capitol. Congratulations, Miss Trinket''.

It's difficult to tell if the assistant is oblivious to the situation or if she too is here to twist the knife in her stomach. Effie accepts the bear simply out of instinct and then holds it like it was a living thing. Like a kitten, maybe even a baby. The comfort of the soft fabric is everything she has.

"When the 74th Hunger games comes around I want you to remember our talk. Remember how grateful you should be. How merciful I am to Abernathy's little bastard".

The words that are forming in her mouth hurts. She dooms Haymitch. She dooms the baby. And in the long run she dooms herself too. "He will never know about the child. I promise".

"You will have to become a better performer. " He studies her up and down. "You exposed yourself when you started wearing flats".

[pedripics]

PEDRI'S INTERVIEW WITH UEFA CHAMPIONS LEAGUE ahead of the game against Inter - April 28, 2025

On becoming a Barcelona fan

"It’s my life. Since I was a young kid, that has been the case. I would always watch the games with my family, and my father always instilled it in me as a kid. I would always go to watch games at the supporters’ club and always wanted them to win, and now, I can enjoy it from the inside. I’m living everything I dreamt of, and right now, it’s everything to me." "I got to experience the moments where we won everything, with moments of great joy and celebrating goals. It’s a different environment to watching it at home, on the sofa with three friends. There are 30 or 40 people there who are experiencing it just as you are or even more so, and it’s wonderful seeing everyone supporting a team."

On Xavi and Iniesta inspiration

"By watching so many matches on TV, watching videos of Andrés or Xavi, I think something sticks with you. You try to copy them, you try to practice it, but it’s tough to be at that level. So, you try to improve every day so that, one day, you can do what they did." "I would often watch an Iniesta video, who was my idol, and I would try to copy what he did in the video, or what he did in a specific play, how he protected the ball. You sometimes try to copy them; other times, you struggle because it’s tough, but you still try to do it in the best way possible."

On memories of Barcelona’s 2015 Champions League victory

"I especially remember the final, [Ivan] Rakitić’s goal. It was a final I enjoyed a lot at the supporters’ club. It was an amazing final, particularly because of the playing style of the front three [of Neymar, Luis Suárez, and Lionel Messi]. They were genuine stars who had great numbers, and the football they played was very fun to watch."

On Flick and Barcelona’s high defensive line

"It is a young squad and he is a father in the way that he always tries to look after us. He is there for you if you’re not playing. He always tries to help you and, asides from being strict – which he is and which you can see from outside – the side of him that you don’t see from outside is that he always tries to help you when you’re playing badly. He speaks to you, asks what’s wrong." "It was hard to adapt [to the high line], especially when I was watching it from the outside during pre-season and they were implementing it. But from the very start, I think the team has done it really well and when it works, and you see that something is going well with the coach’s idea, I think it gives you much more confidence."

On Gavi

"An amazing person. If he's with you, he's with you to the death, wherever he needs to go. That is a big part of who he is."

On Dani Olmo

"He's often surrounded by four defenders and with just one touch, those four are gone, and he's already facing the goal."

On Ferran

"Ferran is like a brother to me. I think he's the one who's helped me the most – both on and off the pitch. Aside from the goals he scores, he's the one who works the hardest in every training session, always looking to improve."

On Ballon d’Or aspirations

"Since Rodri won it, it’s shown that a player who runs the midfield and dictates the tempo and the rhythm of the game can win a Ballon d'Or. I was really pleased he won it because aside from the season he had, I really enjoy playing with him when I’m with the national team. He’s a player who controls the game really well, wins the ball back, gets forward, scores goals – he’s everywhere on the pitch." "It’s always been a dream of mine to lift the Ballon d'Or. But right now, there’s a month to go, and the focus is on the team – on winning the three trophies, which is what really matters and once that month’s over, we’ll see if we can start talking about things like that."

[simpjaes]

enha hyung line!mtl into dry humping because bring it back

hyung line and dry humping

(im actually not gonna do am mtl bc i know all these mfs would be into it hehehh)

★ jay:

he'd probably be a little embarrassed by it so only does it when he's really insane, always rutting against you once the makeout session gets him desperate, all breathy and furrowing him brows into the kiss (with sexy music playing in the background), thinking you can't tell that he's practically humping your thigh. you're into it though, and it's like a silent little agreement between the two of you. he doesn't bring it up, you don't bring it up. you just let it happen, and he loves you so much for it because goddamn, you always make him feel like he's spiraling, he can't help it :(

☆ jake:

openly humps you and your things. When you're not home, he'll get himself off against your pillow, or your towels, or just rub up against your mattress while he's half asleep and flat on his stomach. but when you are home, oh. You'll be trying to cook and he's right behind you, pressing his cock against your ass repeatedly. You'll be trying to work from home and there he is, hovering over you with your leg between his, and he'd gently graze his cock on you through his sweatpants :( movie night? hump night. makeout session, he's doing exactly what jay does except worse, way more blatant, and absolutely unashamed by it. p.s. he whimpers every time. and don't even get me started on public stuff omfg. puppy!jake agenda!

★ sunghoon:

he's a happy medium. humps up against you on instinct but only when you're in a heated, intimate moment. he doesn't let himself do it for long tho, and thats bc he's too busy dragging your hand down, or your face, or whatever. frottage isn't enough. raw grinding isn't enough. you though, you can hump on him all day long and, in fact, he loves when you do. when you're sliding up his leg, or holding his hand between your legs and rutting against it. baby girl u can do whatever you want, he'll fuck you if you just ask, but it seems you like to grind, you love to get him all messy first.

☆ heeseung:

heeseung looooves when you grind on him, particularly getting yourself off while he's too locked in to a video game or smthn. drives him crazy. he isn't gonna stop mid game to fuck you, obv, but when he wins, you'd better be on the ground face down and ass up. additionally, for heeseung, he does love grinding himself when the mood is right, particularly when you're both just lazily making out on a humid summer night and he's dimmed the lights in his room. the kind of hands in hair kissing. that's when he's practically straddling you, humping up on you, trying to pull his cock out and squish it between your tits ;o;

[fivescocoa]

tell me abt kandrew pls for the ask game <3

for this ask game :3

1. what made you ship it?

EVERYTHING ABOUT THE WAY THEY ARE.

nothing makes me more feral than pairings that are attached at the hip, and goodness are they from the first moment of the first book. kevin was fresh out of a cult and andrew, obstinate heavily medicated andrew, settles right in to the partnership system and helps kevin adjust to the world outside the nest. quite literally accepting kevin into their family, giving kevin a support system he hadn’t been sure he’d have when he fled the moriyamas. andrew and kevin are never more than a building apart. andrew gets on planes (which he hates) several times throughout the series solely to follow after kevin.

another thing that makes me ship it so bad, kevin putting his belief in andrew. he sees andrew as more than just a monster and the manic haze of his meds, when it wasn’t popular among anyone to treat andrew as more than a danger. this is followed up by andrew trusting kevin with his meds when he wants to go off them. and kevin trusting andrew to go off/adjust his meds and being the keeper of them.

another thing. clearly a shit ton of kevin’s self worth is tied up in exy. ​he doesnt view himself as much of a person outside of exy and andrew lack of interest in exy gives kevin this space to be a person without relying on exy. i don’t think this is very well explored in the books because we’re looking at everything from neil’s pov. a lot of scenes that kevin is around for but aren’t inherently about exy, kevin gets quiet — you could almost forget that he’s in the room with them, frankly. i think, when they’re one on one, a medicated andrew would absolutely make a game of getting kevin talking about anything but exy. i think having someone close to him that doesnt view him as The Kevin Day or an exy legend or perfect court or kayleigh day’s son, is incredibly important to his growth. andrew doesn’t give a shit about his stats on the court or if he’s the best.

2. what are your favorite things about this ship?

my favorite thing is their tug of war over andrew caring. andrew is adamant that he’ll come off his meds and nothing will change. he will be as disinterested in every as he always has been. kevin is Certain, dead set, that he can get andrew to care. AND THEN!!! there’s a GIANT payoff when andrew finally gets on the court at night practice while kevin is straining his left hand. followed by the First Time we get andrew smiling after he’s off his meds being at kevin getting his tattoo covered. and it becomes to clear, imo, that kevin succeeded in giving andrew something to build his life around. though, they’d tell you this push and pull was all about exy, it was definitely much more about their partnership

my other favorite thing, kevin having panic attacks and leaning on his faith in andrew. andrew asking him to Have faith in him. “look at me. it’ll be fine. you believe me, yes?” and it wasn’t that kevin really thought andrew could face off against the mafia and win. the thing that he had faith in was andrew keeping him grounded in palmetto, faith that no matter what andrew wouldn’t let him go back to a place that had hurt him so bad, faith that andrew could hold his weight and withstand kevin leaning on him for support.

THATS EPITOMIZED BY THIS WHOLE SCENE:

"Help me," Kevin said, almost a whisper. Andrew clucked his tongue and cocked his head to one side. "Help you? Help a man who lies to my face for a month? How?" "I want to stay," Kevin said. "I'll ask you again: don't let him take me away." "You're the one who would tell him yes," Andrew said. "Maybe you forgot." "Please." "You know how much I hate that word."

Kevin stared down at his hands where they were clenched in his lap, eyes on the scar that ran across the back of his hand. Andrew heaved an exaggerated sigh and held his hand out, blocking Kevin's view of his scar. "Look at me," Andrew said. Kevin turned a haunted look on him. Neil wasn't sure how Andrew could smile at such an empty stare, drugs notwithstanding. Neil felt Kevin's despair all the way across the room, and it was such a familiar feeling he thought he'd be sick. "It'll be fine," Andrew said. "I promised, didn't I? Don't you believe me?" It took a while, but at last Kevin visibly relaxed. The dead edge melted out of his eyes as he absorbed every ounce of strength Andrew could give him. The unwavering trust Kevin had in Andrew was amazing.

3. is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

an unpopular (maybe?) opinion i have is that i don’t think kevin felt cast aside or left behind when andrew started up his thing with neil. it definitely shifted their dynamic — andrew being as aggressively protective of neil as he is kevin — but i don’t think kevin took is as a threat or was alienated by what was between them. i also think he was the first person to recognize andrew’s attraction to neil and was wholly unfazed when they all found out for sure that there was something going on between the two.

also unpopular (maybe?) opinion. i don’t think andrew choking kevin fundamentally changed anything about their relationship. that wasn’t even the first time andrew had hurt kevin (i.e. the slash wound across his chest when he slammed andrew into the lockers). it was glaringly known that andrew was aggressive and violent, and that was one of the reasons kevin put his faith in andrew to begin with. i think he knew well enough that he’d get bit sometimes. also kevin grew up with those closest to him being violent towards him – i truly don’t think andrew choking him charts on his laundry list of trauma. NOT SAYING THAT IT WAS RIGHT OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT, just that i don’t think kevin was shocked, traumatized by, or afraid of andrew after the incident.

[po3tbbygirl]

Under your wings~

Pedro pascal x platonic!reader

In which reader, a rising star and The Last of Us’ leading actress, faces some rough moments on the red carpet… and Pedro, as always, is ready to step up

content warning: nawt proof read ‼️, mentions of losing a parent, big father figure/ girl dad energy

a/n: he’s so dear to me

It had only been a few days since the final episode of The Last of Us had aired.

I was buzzing with excitement for our last red carpet before award season officially kicked off. As thrilled as I was, though, there was this nervous energy bubbling inside me — because while this wasn’t my first time on a red carpet, it was the end of the first-ever project I had booked in my life and career as an actress.

Not something the rest of my cast could say. They were seasoned, experienced — professionals who had done this kind of thing a dozen times over. Meanwhile, I still felt like the new kid, trying to keep up.

I was standing there, answering questions, smiling for photos, soaking it all in — when my interviewer blindsided me with something completely different.

“Hey, we heard that you lost your dad a few days before recording started for the second season of The Last of Us. Is that true?

I froze.

I let out a small sigh without meaning to, the weight of the question crashing down on me. I hadn’t expected them to go there. Sure, there had been whispers online after those awful leaked photos from my father’s funeral, but I really didn’t think they’d bring it up to my face. Not here. Not tonight.

I looked up at the interviewer, feeling my eyes start to sting.

I can’t do this, I thought, panic setting in. I just can’t.

It didn’t matter how grateful I was to be standing there, surrounded by so many incredible people. It didn’t matter how badly I wanted to do a good job, to smile and be strong.

This… this was too much.

I opened my mouth, desperate to find something to say — even if it came out shaky and broken — when suddenly, I felt a warm, steady hand on my shoulder.

Before I could even process what was happening, I was being gently pulled away from the interviewer.

“Hey, man,” a deep, familiar voice said, firm but calm. “I don’t think those kinds of questions are really appropriate for the red carpet, do you? You’ve got an amazing actress here, playing an amazing character from an amazing TV show and video game, and that’s what you choose to ask? Not cool.”

I turned to look — and there he was.

Pedro.

The guy who, from day one of filming season one, had taken me under his wing without a second thought.

I was Ellie. He was Joel. And even though our characters started off cold with each other, our bond off-screen had been instant, natural, and just as strong.

Pedro was like a father to me.

When I lost my dad, he was the one who comforted me.

When he saw me spiraling with nerves before a big scene, he cracked jokes in Spanish — our shared mother language — just to get a smile out of me.

I still remembered that first table read, me sitting there as a bright-eyed sixteen-year-old who had never even been on a real set before, heart hammering against my ribs.

And there was Pedro, making it all a little less scary. Making me feel like I belonged.

After losing my mom when I was just a little kid — and now losing my dad right before the second season — Pedro had stepped into that empty space in a way no one else could.

He hadn’t just been a co-star.

He had become family.

He had become my dad.

Pedro practically dragged me away to the sidelines of the red carpet.

Me, still numb from what I had just been asked.

He led me away from the cameras, the microphones, the nosy and rude interviewers. Somewhere quiet, somewhere safe.

He stopped, took my shoulders in his hands, and bent down slightly so he could meet me at eye level.

“¿Estás bien?” he asked softly. “Say the word and I’ll take you out of here. We’ll go eat some crappy, oily burgers and have a movie marathon. Dime, ¿qué piensas?”

His voice was calm but full of concern. I could see it all over his face — the worry, the protectiveness.

But after almost a year since my father’s passing, I had learned something important: how to acknowledge his death not just with grief, but also with gratitude for the time we had shared.

Even if moments like these still hurt.

I looked up at him, feeling a tear slip free. He wiped it away gently with his thumb, just like a real dad would.

I gave him a small, tired smil

“Estoy bien, gracias,” I whispered.

Then I looked down at my ridiculously expensive shoes, the ones my stylist had insisted I wear.

What was I even doing here?

Wearing shoes that cost more than my first paycheck, standing under these blinding lights, pretending everything was fine?

This is so stupid, I thought.

I looked back up at Pedro, feeling lighter somehow, but also more certain about what I needed.

“Creo que sí me quiero escapar de acá,” I said with a laugh.

He laughed too — that warm, real laugh that always made things feel less heavy.

The truth was, we were both pretty awkward at these events.

Sure, he was way better at socializing than I was, but he didn’t love it either. And honestly? Neither of us needed an excuse to ditch.

We found our managers, made our case (with a lot of pleading looks and promises to make it up later), and somehow convinced them to let us sneak away for the night.

We ran down the street until we found the nearest burger place.

The kind of spot that looked slightly shady but smelled like heaven.

We ordered everything. Burgers, fries, milkshakes. Enough food to fill our stomachs until we felt like we could go without eating for days.

We talked about everything, anything, and nothing at all.

Movies we wanted to make. Dreams we hadn’t said out loud before. Silly memories from set.

And sometimes, we sat there in comfortable silence, just sharing the space.

Pedro understood me. He knew me.

He always knew when to crack a joke, when to let me talk, and when to just sit there and let me be.

Later that night, he walked me back to my hotel, refusing to let me go up until he made sure I was changed into something comfortable — sweatpants and an old hoodie that still smelled like laundry detergent.

I led him to the door, feeling a little sleepy now, the weight of the night finally settling down in my bones.

Before he left, he turned to me one last time, his face serious under the hallway light.

“¿Estás segura de que estás bien?” he asked again. “Dí la palabra, y me quedo aquí. Ponemos unas almohadas en el sillón, y mientras tú te duermes, yo te cuido. Tú dímelo.”

I smiled up at him.

Tire but grateful. So, so grateful.

“Pedro, estoy bien,” I said softly. “Ya no soy esa niña chiquita que conociste hace años.”

He looked at me for a moment, eyes shining with something between pride and sadness.

Then he smiled — that real, heart-deep smile that always reached his eyes.

“Ya lo sé,” he said. “Pero aún así te voy a proteger, porque aunque no eres mi hija por sangre, todo lo que hemos pasado juntos te ha vuelto mi hija en mi corazón.”

I smiled back, feeling tears threaten again — but this time, they were happy ones.

In that moment, standing there in an empty hallway in an overpriced hotel, I knew something simple and true:

Nothing would ever replace my father. Or my mother.

But Pedro had carved a permanent space for himself right next to them.

And I would carry him there forever.

“I love you, Pedro.”

He grinned and pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tight.

“I love you too,” he said.

And I knew he meant it.

Every word.

a/n #2: a alguien le gustaría un fic en puro español?? no se si hacerlo digo mi cuenta es casi toda en inglés pero ya me estoy adentrando a escribir en español

[ifistayitwillbedouble]

oooh interesting, i'll give it a shot

2 Red Flags:

1) I'm Airport Mike Sometimes: WAIT! Hear me out-so I have social anxiety disorder and I'm absolutely not saying that that's the red flag! It's just that the disorder has helped me foster some not-so-great behavioral habits that make it hard for me to express how I really feel, especially when I don't know someone so well. Sometimes I just don't know how to be myself so I just "play it cool" and put on a sort of facade to help me get through a social interaction. But then I don't tell people stuff like how much I love their laugh or how I wish we could go out and skateboard together more often or how it hurts that we've been drifting apart lately. It can be hard to guess what I'm thinking. So I'm like Mike at the airport, but I'm not as much of a gay mess as he was.

2) No Romantic Vulnerability: I am aspec, so the idea of romance being prized over all types of relationships is something that I have thought about a lot and despise greatly. But I wanted to focus on it here just because this is a "get to know me" kinda game and this is honestly something that I find interesting about myself: I'm asexual and while I do want romantic relationships, I'm super averse to them and my own romantic feelings, which is kinda wild because it's one of the only ways in which I'm in the majority (being alloromantic rather than aromantic). Basically, I kinda shut down any time I feel like someone might be showing interest in me and I almost always brush my feelings off to the side (i like to pretend it's just gender envy or other things i can internalize to myself only). I also kinda lied earlier, I'm absolutely as much of a gay mess as Mike, but I've had lots of practice keeping it in lmao. I think this one comes from most of romance in media and such not being appealing to me and gender roles (can you tell I like analyzing myself).

Romance in media and to an extent in real life feels like a lot of people reaching for the idea of a romantic relationship itself rather than forming a relationship with someone naturally as a consequence of caring about the other person. It's like an ideal that distracts people from the base fact that a relationship is with another person and that never made much sense to me. It felt like dating often was using other people as a means to end and to achieve ✨a relationship✨and that was never it for me, so I didn't wanna participate (also that so much of what I saw was imbued with strict gender roles and I personally could not be in a relationship that didn't feel gay). The gender stuff though was a bit more sticky. With growing up very nonbinary, I basically gave up on the idea that someone could like me in a way that didn't hurt me. It always felt like I was shoehorned into a certain gender and that was how people would treat me and it genuinely caused me pain. It made a younger me give up on the idea that I could ever feel seen for who I was in a romantic relationship because it's really hard to get a lot of people to truly see you and respect you as nonbinary. While I was consistently treated as a binary gender, when it came to romantic things it felt like that increased tenfold. I don't believe this quite as much as I used to anymore (thank god for queer friends), but the feelings still stick. Okay that was long, lmao, I just feel like it's something that's interesting to try and look at from an outside perspective so I had a lot to write about it 😅

2 Green Flags:

1) I'm a Huge Fan of Communication: I'm not trying to claim that I'm good at it, but I think even being open to communication goes a long way. My biggest troubles in relationships have always been with people who sort of view communication as a sort of conflict and avoid it entirely, but not me baby! Communication is wonderful and hard and so so necessary. I wanna understand other people as much as I want to understand myself and there's nothing quite as satisfying as being able to bridge that gap. I like admitting I'm wrong. At the end of the day, it feels good.

2) I'm Not Judgemental: Unless it's something that's unethical, I'm pretty good at not being unnecessarily critical. Cringe culture never really got its hooks into me. I don't let those feelings quickly mar how I see someone forever, and I'm pretty good at changing my mind about people. I know it's impossible to fully understand how another person came to be where they are/do what they do and so I feel like I don't really have a place to judge. I just want everybody to figure out what their authentic lives look like to them and find a way to live it. Plus, judgemental people can make people feel on edge around them and I'd never want to be that.

3 Things I Look For:

1) Sweet/Gentle: Honestly, sweet/gentle people have been some of the most beautiful people I've met and I think they deserve that acknowledgment. I really admire them and I find them so easy to be around. I think it's kinda hard to stay that way, especialy with the internet now? Like, I think a lot of people find it more rewarding/cool to by cynical or witty even in ways that can hurt others. I want the people around me to either have these traits or 100% see their merits.

2) Similar Moral/Political Values: What is it they say, "the personal is political"? I know some people think they can push aside things like their political views to get along with someone, but honestly a lot of my political views feel like basic things to me. If a person doesn't believe in things like gay marriage or that nobody should ever have to deal with poverty no matter what, they're just ethically not on the same page as me. There's plenty of opinions/beliefs I have that I'm absolutely willing to be flexible on, but there's just some stuff that I absolutely will not.

3) Thinks Deeply: Someone who thinks there's something worth thinking about in themselves, other people, and life in general. Also someone that I can talk to about my favorite bits of writing and Queer/Feminist Theory. Someone who engages with those conversations! That would be awesome. There's so much that comes along with the willingness to think about things that I think shows both in silly and serious moments.

Love/Intimacy:

i got a little silly with it rather than just aesthetic (i'm also sorry to any ex-vld fans who might see this, but i had to)

(the sleep one got me a bit because I have pretty bad sleep problems, but being around people/cats that make me feel safe essentially makes them disappear)

Thanks for the tag! This was really interesting to do and it's so cool to learn more about people on here, especially stuff that feels a bit deeper. This was also interesting for me to do because I still sometimes struggle with the idea that my love is less than on account of me being ace, but it made me feel a lot better to talk about it, ngl

npt: @bylerpining @boyfriendsmalec @pansexualdisasterrr

let’s play a question game because i’m tired and i like talking about myself + i’m curious about you’re guys’ answers

Rules: State 2 of your red flags, 2 green flags, 3 things you look for in a partner / life companion and make a collage of 6-8 pictures about what intimacy and love look like to you <3

i’ll go first

2 Red flags

1) High standards / Loses interest really fast. In general, i tend to get overly excited at first when i meet someone and im very eager to get to know them, but the moment i sense something not clicking i shut them off and distance myself. I’m nervous about being disappointed and slightly scared of intimacy. I mostly need to feel understood, like on a philosophical and psychic level (i feel like a goddamn book character, sue me) so if that isn’t the case, i’m not interested.

2) Overthinker / minimal self-confidence. I’m pretty insecure and feel like everybody hates me so it’s pretty difficult for someone to convince me that they genuinely like me as a person and they’re not in fact disgusted by me (trauma babe <3). I also tend to over-explain things and i get too into my head, being suspicious of everything and everyone. I also apologise like- a lot. Must be tiresome.

2 Green flags

1) Emotional intelligence. I feel like one of my best qualities is my ability to listen and at least try to understand other people. I’m very considerate and i always confirm my love for my beloved ones via poetry, art, physical touch and words of affirmation. I’m also a very sensitive person so i don’t judge and try my best not to make others uncomfortable.

2)Always has something to say. Yep, im a yapper and a nerd to the bone. I have plenty of interests and i’m a very curious person who always looks for meaning in things. Im also very animated when i speak, which may be annoying to some, but it’s certainly entertaining, for better or for worse.

3 things i look for in a partner

1) Communication skills. I feel like communication is the basis of a healthy relationship, without which there can’t be trust, sincerity and depth. Someone who’s willing to reach out, to talk things through and not give up immediately, to express their love, fears, dreams, things i could do on my part to strengthen our bond. Someone who makes their boundaries clear and asks whenever they are uncertain about things.

2) Intelligence / Interests. To be clear, by intelligence i do not mean “ Straight A’s, PhD, successful, NASA FUCKING APPROVED”. Nope. I mean in general, someone who thinks for themselves and has opinions, someone with interests and passions, real passions that give meaning to their life. Someone with a high EQ (emotional intelligence) because i could never be with someone emotionally unavailable.

3) A strong ethical compass. Someone who stands up for what’s right and whose ethical values align with mine. Someone brave and outspoken, who doesn’t tolerate bigotry, insensitivity, ignorance. Someone kind and gentle.

What is intimacy?

No pressure tags <3 @robintheoriedbyler @bylerfiles @justwhenbluemeetsyellow @miwihearts @miwiromantics @yourlocalbadgerscales @star-41306 @nommereranger @somewiseoutthere + anyone who’d like to join

[paperbackribs]

[habibisagi]

if isagi was supposed to go out with his friends and you come sit in his lap or get even a little bit clingy he is STAYING home. wrapped around your finger instantly. that look in your eyes and raise in your brow that suggests he doesn’t go works every time it makes him sit. you don’t even have to ask. he has no shame bailing on his friends every time for you. doesn’t even deny when they ask if it’s because of you. like yeah, always you, always for you, and he doesn’t care every time