#AN ACTUAL BLUE WAFFLE

[etcexpo]

What is This Blue Waffle Disease Everyone Is Freaking Out About?

Introduction:

In recent times, a topic called "Blue Waffle Disease" has been making waves across various online platforms, leading to confusion, concern, and even panic among internet users. The term itself is provocative and intriguing, but what exactly is the Blue Waffle Disease? Is it a real medical condition or just a fabrication? In this blog post, we will delve into the origins of the blue waffle disease, its validity, and the importance of critically evaluating information on the internet.

Understanding the Origins:

The Blue Waffle Disease first emerged online in the late 2000s, primarily on shock websites and graphic forums. It gained notoriety due to its graphic and disturbing nature. The term "waffle" was used metaphorically to describe the appearance of infected genitalia, while the color blue added an extra element of shock value. However, it is crucial to note that the Blue Waffle Disease was never recognized by any reputable medical or scientific authority.

Fact or Fiction:

Despite its prevalence on the internet, the Blue Waffle Disease is widely regarded as an urban legend, an internet hoax, or a deliberate attempt to spread misinformation. No medical evidence or credible documentation supports the existence of such a disease. This fictional condition was likely created to shock and frighten internet users, highlighting the importance of fact-checking and skepticism when consuming online content.

Internet Culture and Misinformation:

The rapid spread of the Blue Waffle Disease is a clear example of how easily misinformation can circulate in today's digital age. Social media platforms, forums, and websites allow information to be shared and amplified within seconds, often without any verification or accountability. This incident serves as a reminder that critical thinking and responsible information consumption are essential skills in navigating the online world.

The Dangers of Graphic Content:

While the Blue Waffle Disease is a fictional concept, the explicit and graphic nature of the associated images and descriptions can be distressing and harmful, especially to younger or vulnerable individuals who may come across them accidentally. Graphic content can have a profound impact on mental health and well-being. It is crucial to promote responsible online behavior and provide guidance on how to deal with potentially harmful material.

Promoting Digital Literacy:

To combat the spread of misinformation and urban legends like the Blue Waffle Disease, it is crucial to emphasize the importance of digital literacy. Educating individuals on how to verify information, identify reliable sources, and think critically can empower them to make informed decisions and avoid falling victim to online hoaxes. Teaching media literacy in schools and promoting fact-checking organizations can contribute to a more responsible and knowledgeable online community.

The Role of Health Professionals:

When encountering alarming or unfamiliar medical information online, it is vital to consult trusted medical professionals rather than relying solely on internet sources. Health professionals possess the knowledge and expertise to provide accurate information, address concerns, and guide individuals toward reliable resources. Building a strong doctor-patient relationship and seeking medical advice can help dispel myths and alleviate unnecessary anxiety.

Conclusion:

The Blue Waffle Disease, despite its popularity online, is nothing more than an internet hoax or urban legend. This fictional condition highlights the power and danger of misinformation in the digital age. It serves as a reminder to critically evaluate the information we encounter and to seek guidance from trusted sources. By promoting digital literacy and responsible online behavior, we can navigate the internet more confidently, ensuring our well-being and fostering a more informed society.

[cozylittleartblog]

"woah i can't believe you've read blue sky!"

hoho. my dear followers. i have done more than read it. do you have any idea what you are dealing with.

[xiaoluclair]

max going from mainly gold boots to mainly blue boots this year, charles going from mainly black boots to mainly red boots this year, the narrative is literally shitting itself with dynamics.

[dykeinthedark]

venting in tags about gender n shit (long as hell) (u can comment and talk 2 me as always :3)

[krysmcscience]

Saw this prompt for incorrect OC quotes and couldn't resist with a bunch of my Breach goobers. Some of them would absolutely say these things word for word in canon if I gave them half the chance to, though. XD

They're in order of when they showed up in person - Qīng, Ghost, Red, Marisol, Shio, Cam, Daruk, Tawoos, and Alondra - as well as some important honorable mentions who have only been mentioned or gotten dialogue - Star, Blake, and Creation.

Star's design is a slight spoiler, I suppose, but it doesn't reveal if they're human or impostor, so it's all good. Creation's "design" also isn't a spoiler at all, because They can look however They want, LOL. As for Shio...some of you who have seen the body horror I've done of them may be wondering why they look so normal here, but I promise there are Reasons. :3c

In other news, will I be making a liar out of Shio in an upcoming Breach canon divergence? ..........Maybe~ >:3c

[bepki]

It's wild how you can't even say like, the word "die" on websites anymore. Back in the day you had to Google "blue waffles" at age 11 whether you wanted to or not

[essentiallyleaf]

day 09. belly bulge kink. with. wonyoung.

1438 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, dom reader, sub/bratty Wonyoung, belly bulge kink, or whatever the kink name is for seeing your own dick through her abs, deepthroating, squirting, pet names, relationships are hard, you won’t take my beloved parentheses off of me and there is no argument to be made about that, the punctuation is… interesting, i actually wanted to use the word thrussy, should i have?, you can actually pinpoint the second when writer gets tired.

notes.

would’ve dedicated this to @kaedespicelatte, but the kid hasn’t been behaving. cheatingly, leaf.

“You sure you won’t be cold?”

“Mm-hmm~”

She’s just such a tease. Because when she leaves the house with an outfit that exposes her belly button for the third straight day, it’s not a coincidence anymore. It’s an act of defiance. And it’s not like you need to tell her what you like about her, what you’d like to do to her. She knows. She sees you ogling at her when she goes out, and more importantly, she sees you looking sideways at her when she comes back home from fansigns with a flower bouquet in hand. She knows.

It’s just a fan. They see her once and fall in love, then forget about her in two months’ time and pick the next plastic girl to play pretend with. Kind of a cruel routine. You just can’t see her as that, ever. To you, she’s the girl that asks you to brush her hair and help her wear her sky blue princess dress and crown on her birthday. That’s not for show. That’s Wonyoung doing what she loves.

It wasn’t exactly clear-cut, between the two of you. The, lines of your relationship, that is, they weren’t exactly drawn. She was a friend, a close one, who one day in front of a cup of, some latte you don’t remember, went “Wouldn’t it be nice if we moved in together?" and then you did. She worked, you worked (at a high-end clothing shop, where you get to see the worst of spoiled people that have never seen struggle, but at least the work schedule was regular and the pay was decent), sometimes she came home tired and needed cuddles, almost every morning you made breakfast for her (she likes your blueberry waffles the best), once she joked “Isn’t this basically what couples do?” and with the unserious teasing tone you love about her, she started calling you baby. Then with the cuddles came little pecks, more daring hands; she was suddenly and inexplicably more scared of thunderstorms, and when she woke up next to you, she asked you to spoon her for a little while before going to work. One day of summer you slept in boxers and a tank top and she in her short pajama, one of you started rocking their hips while spooning, and the other followed. You both came on each other’s hands before 7.30. You’d have a lot to think about that day at work, but at least you’d be on time.

It turned out fine between the two of you. She was okay with it, you were okay with it; the thing is, both of you were kind of tap-dancing around the conversation.

Now her bed is always made, she takes her showers with you (and well, you know), and the pet names roll off the tongue much better. But your relationship is not exactly a straight railroad leading to town, more like some kind of meadow, an open space where to, go around and explore. No questions, just… no questions.

“Don’t come back too late tonight”

“Okay babyseeyoulaterbyeee!”

That’s the other thing about her. Wonyoung is your cuddle bear, but that teasing tone seems to always be there. It’s like she knows you need her in your arms (or around your dick, that also works), but she wants you to earn it. It’s a challenge, that much you’re certain about, so you take on it. A fair response to an unjustified provocation. You’re simply taking what’s already yours.

She comes back as the sun is still up, that night; baby knows how to behave. She says she’s not hungry yet - you thought she’d been hungry for three days straight. Well if she’s not, you’ll make her.

You start making out with her while she’s still in the hallway like almost every night by now.

“You want to just lay on the bed, then?”

“Only if you join~”

“Wanna take some of those clothes off? I turned the heater up”

You say some, you really mean all. Wonyoung knows, and won’t make you ask twice. Actually, that’s when the other side of her kicks in.

“I thought you were worried I’d be cold~”

She still doesn't make you ask twice.

You get down to your underwear with her, but you don’t lie down with her, you just tell her to lay face up and feet away from you, then guide her towards you so her head is dangling off the edge. She knows where this is going. She looks up at you with an upside-down smirk. Her fucking lips. You need them around you.

So, drop your boxers and place your half-limp cock on them, rubbing yourself on her face. She pulls her tongue out and uses it like it’s second nature, licking and spreading saliva all around your head, your shaft, and your balls as you hover them over her opening. As soon as you’re fully hard and lubricated, you put your tip (together with a good fourth of your length, to be fair) into her mouth. She can take you, she’s done this before, just never in this position. So you offer her all the time she needs.

As you slowly push further and further into her throat, you see it swell slightly and wrap a hand around the back of her head while throwing your own back in pleasure. No. You need to see. You’re almost fully in, and her neck is molding around your girth like never before.

“You’re doing a great job, baby. Just a little bit more”

She really is. She keeps breathing at a steady pace through her nose, unusually relaxed despite the situation. When you bottom out, she only notices because you stop moving. You stay in position for a few seconds, then almost as slowly (she always seems so fragile, like you’re on the verge of breaking her; so you always make sure to handle her with care) you pull out of her. You caress her cheeks dotingly.

“Are you okay, princess?”

That’s the pet name you used to call her on her birthday and on her birthday only. Now, it’s for any special day, and today, Wonyoung is behaving herself.

She nods really fast while smiling upside-down, she has a lot of saliva built up in her mouth and some on the corners of it.

“Can I go in again?”

“Mm-hmm~”

This time it’s all much faster. You push yourself into her in one go and immediately start pumping. Her throat inflates and deflates at each passage as you close your eyes, lost in pleasure. One of her hands reaches down to her gray panties (a little wet spot is already there) and starts rubbing, the other feeling her own abs. Your quick thrusts are now drawing high-pitched moans out of her.

You open your eyes again, and stop thrusting.

“Who said you could touch yourself, baby?”

Not a princess this time. She can’t answer, she still has your wood in her throat. But even if she could, she’d still be left speechless.

So you simply remove your shaft from her mouth, spin her body around 180 degrees and pull her hips towards you on the edge of the bed. You take her panties off, and see her glistening, gorgeous slit. You don’t give her that, though, not yet. Palm her abs, from top to bottom and back up. Live by the tum, die by the tum. She’s just whimpering, waiting, begging for you to touch her pussy. You won’t touch her, you’ll ravage her.

Guide your now monstrous looking dick with your hand to her tiny lips and split them apart. Your girth plunges into her extreme tightness as both of you watch, between surprise and arousal, her belly bulge in the shape of your cock. That simply encourages you to thrust quicker and more powerfully, making your girl whine loudly. Your right hand instinctively reaches for her still bra-clad cute titties and fondles them alternately. You wreck, shuffle, and re-shape her insides as your eyes stare at her tummy inflating and deflating hypnotized.

So hypnotized that it’s only her scream that, announcing her orgasm, takes you out of your trance. Wonyoung repeatedly contracts around you, squirting transparent liquid that pressures your dick out of her. It only takes two more strokes for you to hit your own peak and release seemingly endless spurts of white nectar onto her beautiful abdomen. A whole minute is filled only with pants for air.

“Baby, I’m cold”

“I told you you would be. Come here,” you invite her to be your little spoon. “Princess”

-

footnotes.

a bit of a return to form, i'd like to think. but no, probably just about average. classicly, leaf.

[imaluckygirl]

bunggeoppang ( p.sunghoon )

synopsis: where your boyfriend comes back home with little somethings after an argument.

( 엔하이픈 ) - sunghoon x fem.reader ; fluff , crack & it reminds me of a cliche k-drama >< ( words : 3,2k+ )

──── bookshelf .

warnings : mentions of food ( obviously ) note : i didn’t checked this headcanon so it might contain some grammar error lol just ignore them !! ( there is the most waited headcanon from this previous pool i made, enjoy! )

sunghoon and you have been dating for about one year, and being friends for a decade. you still remember when he confessed to you. he came up with a “i like you” out of the blue and you remember to wide your eyes and gasp, while a red tint appeared on sunghoon’s cheeks; making him adorably purse his lips feeling embarrassed and shy.

but, well, in the end, that shyness unconsciously was brushed away the moment you said “me too- i mean, i like you”. um, you might not be wondering where you guys were at such a special and meaningful moment, and it was at a street fair. you know those street fairs where they sell those delicious and mouth watering street foods? that was the place where he confessed to you.

it might sound simple, and it actually was! both of you have been going to this street fair for ages! and it was kind of a daily night routine after a long and exhausting day at college.

you remember the first time sunghoon kissed you laugh. it was such a innocent and soft kiss that you melted the moment he crashed his lips into yours. it was clumsy, but it was so pure and full of love; that you felt like you were the luckiest person in this world for having such a precious boyfriend.

you also remember his family’s reaction after he revealed you weren’t his best friend anymore, but his girlfriend. you still have the clear memory of how happy his sister was and how shocked his mother was while his father laughed at his wife’s reaction; saying that he always knew.

things seems too sweet until i talk about arguments you had in the past with sunghoon. in the very beginning you didn’t knew how to manage your jealous over your — now — boyfriend. you were used to peak at his phone’s screen, trying to find out with who he was talking. even though sunghoon didn’t gave you any motives to doubt about his loyalty, you were concerned about other girls trying to hit on him — and perhaps, steal him from you somehow.

the day sunghoon found out you were peaking at his chats while he was distracted on his phone and how jealous you were, he felt betrayed. he was clearly upset that you didn’t trust on him. with that he confronted you about all of this. however, when he heard your sobs after he yelled at you, he knew he fucked up, so he hugged you. very very tightly, whispering so many apologies that you felt like you were hearing a broken record play.

you both apologised as both of you should. still, he felt so bad for yelling at you after figuring out you were super insecure that he went to that street fair and bought you bunggeopang — that warm rice waffle filled with chocolate. when you went out with him to go to this street fair for the first time — almost five years ago — you said your favorite desert was bunggeoppang after taking a savory bite of it. “id’s so gud.” you spoke with a stuffed voice, offering your friend a bite, making him laugh and lean to get a small bite out of it.

“are you okay?” a soft voice, sounding fearful, spoke close to your ear, making you slightly jump.

you were giving your boyfriend a silent treatment. it was his least favorite after-fight treatment. let’s say he prefer being shouted than being ignored by his pretty baby.

he was usually cling when he was back home from college, especially when you decided to call it a day. he was so used to spoon you when it was bed time or cuddle time, that it was weird for him to watch the scene of you watching tv with a straight face; instead of kissing him.

he doesn’t want to bother you or make you uncomfortable, so he gulps down tightly his desire to shower your face with wet kisses and hug you tightly like he always did. it was like a baby having to abandon the love of his life: his dummy. or pacifier whatever.

“jagi, don’t do this to me...” he hums, snuggling his face onto the gap between your neck and your shoulder.

you were also having a hard time resisting the urge to shower him with kisses, not knowing how much he wanted to shower you with kisses as much as you want.

realising you wouldn’t give in that easily, he sighed and glanced at his phone to check the hour. and you sighed just like him a second ago, and with a sudden movement your boyfriend went to your shared room. you pretended to not care and to not be curious about what he was planning to do or what was going on.

meanwhile, sunghoon was picking up a warm jumper of his — to face korea’s harsh winter — and walking out from the room with a calm face, avoiding your not discreet curious gaze. he picked up his phone that was laying on the sofa cushion — right beside you — and took his keys. however, before he went out, even though you were mad at him and he was kinda upset as well, he placed a soft and hesitant kiss on your scalp, whispering a very very light “i’ll be right back, don’t be mad, please...”

you tried to keep your lips shut and not show him you were forgiving him already, knowing how mad you were still mad at him since the previous day; because he forgot about the monthly couple dinner, making you wait for him for two hours at a fancy restaurant.

you heard the flat’s door shut and you sighed, thinking sunghoon went out to take a deep breath or sleep at a friend’s house to give you some space, when you actually don’t want this distance. you felt bad for ignoring him, but you knew he understood you — since he knows you long enough.

sunghoon rubbed his hands together, instantly regretting about forgetting his warm gloves at home, but he was already walking to that vaguely familiar tent. gazing at how the tents were illuminated, he remembered how sweet was the first time you two went there together.

“thank yo- oh my! sunghoon?! what are you doing here without a bigger coat boy?” the sweet old lady he met eight years ago hit his arm while being across the tent’s desert showcase watching how he shyly smiled. “where is that beautiful girl you were always with?” she smiled at him sweetly while handing the other costumers their orders.

“oh? y/n?” he chuckled, realising that old lady didn’t remembered your name since he was the one who walked to her tent more often. “she’s at home.”

“why didn’t you came with her? i think the last time i’ve seen her was three years ago!” she chuckled too.

sunghoon laughed at the old lady’s comment saying: “we had an argument, nothing really serious...” it was serious, but he didn’t want to expose his relationship in that way.

“aigoo...” she cooed, frowning. “you young couples...” the old lady muttered shaking her head.

sunghoon felt embarrassed, like he was being judge somehow. however, he knew she was an old lady and her opinions about the reality are clearly different, so he just shrugged and pursed his lips while cringing himself; because of the cold wind blowing on his face.

“why did you guys fight?” she asked curiously.

“i made her mad and we fought, now i need to apologise.”

“mhm, your mum raised you well sunghoon.” she tapped his cheek twice, praising him like he was from her family and she was a proud one.

“thank you.” he bowed his head, thanking her. “can i order?” he asked after an awkward silence.

“oh! yes, i got a bit carried away!” the old lady giggled. “what would you like to order? remember our hotteok? now we have tanghulu too-”

“bunggeoppang.”

“mhm?” she leaned a little bit to hear him a bit clear.

“i want a bunggeoppang please.”

“how many bunggeo-”

“six.” he coughed after answering her like he was desperate; and that was exactly how sunghoon felt.

“seems you really want to apologise to her, right?” she playfully asked laughing, grabbing a tong and picking up the fish shape sweet snack. “good job young man.” her eyes shined when she smiled, feeling her chest hurt after noticing how much that little shy boy has grown.

“oh... thank you so much.” he took the small paper bag from the old lady’s hand across the tent’s table, handling her the money to pay for the six unit of bunggeoppang’s.

“no, no! keep the money and go see your girlfriend!” she waved her hands, refusing to accept the small amount of cash he was handling her.

“no, let me pay it’s just six hundred won...” he pouted when he felt her wrinkly hands pushing his hand out of her sight.

“go to your home and say sorry to her!” she interrupted him, nodding her head to the right direction, like she was telling him to rush home.

“but-”

“go sunghoon! i’ll be happier if you come back with her instead of paying me.” she chuckled. “now, go!” she gestured with her hands, telling him to rush home another time.

“okay, i will come back with her then.” he nodded his head at the smiley old lady like it was a mission and he has to succeed.

she nodded her head, trusting on him and yelling an good luck before he started dashing back home to you. hopefully a bunggeoppang would fix things up.

as like luck began to get closer to his side, a stranger was giving random flowers on the street. he handed the flowers to strangers while some of them were in a rush after work, with their friends, partner, family, shopping and even handing flowers at foreigners; speaking a funny english with a ridiculously stupid accent. “thankiu!”, “hab’ a gud naith!”, “beourtibbul!” he would scream at a cute young couple, gesturing hearts exploding and sending them flying kisses.

that funny man was making people on the street stop just to laugh at him or record him, specially locals, who weren’t used to see such a funny and smiley man in the middle of their evening after work; it was even more rare when it comes to seoul — because mostly of the time these events happens to happen in hongdae or itaewon.

as i mentioned above, his luck was by his side, even though his face expression was blank towards the guy, the man seemed like taking it as a challenge, so he called sunghoon out. “hello love bird, where is your other love bird?” his brows went up and down, teasing him while following along his own way.

“why are you following me?” sunghoon cocked a brow, not really interested on what the man wanted.

“ugh... rude people nowadays...”the man quietly muttered, rubbing his eyes with a bit of annoyance, but he quickly recovered his enthusiastic energy, putting a smile on his own lips. “take this flower and give to your other half, trust me.” he handed sunghoon the prettiest rose he could find in his full hand without even hesitating or waiting for his reply.

sunghoon just scoffed, but not out of annoyance, but because he knew how lucky he was for meeting this guy.

you were already laying on bed and taking angry deep breaths, feeling left out by your own boyfriend. even though you thought he was pretty coherent for letting you have your own moment. feeling frustrated you got under the covers, covering your whole body — from head to toes.

however, you wanted him to come back and cuddle you on this cold bed. so, hesitantly, you grabbed your phone and called your boyfriend. you wanted him to not grab his phone, but in the other head you wanted to hear his voice so bad.

meanwhile, sunghoon was just unlocking the flat’s door and walking in with no hesitation, excited to see you and apologise for his stupidity. his phone was silenced and inside his trousers pockets

“love?” he called you when he realised the room’s light was turned off. “can i turn the lights on?” and when he heard no answer, he turned the lights on. “baby?” he whispered while walking closer to the edge of the bed, sitting there. “baby… are you okay?” he softly asked while waiting for you to say something.

“hoonie…” you finally gave in, your head peaking out from under the covers and revealing your red eyes and regret tone.

“oh-?” he gasped, placing the rose and the small paper bag with bunggeoppang’s aside and quickly went to place his hands over your cheeks. “my baby…” he rubbed his thumb over your soft skin from your cheeks. “why are you crying?” he frowned his eyebrows, feeling guilty that somehow he was one of the motives behind your tears.

you shook your head, like you already had read his mind, “there’s nothing to do with you, i was just-” you quietly sobbed and sunghoon pushed the covers off from your chest and hugged you very very tightly.

“i won’t ask why are you sad anymore,” he gently kissed your temple as he had leaned over your body to hold you. “i just want to see you okay.” he caressed your face, like he was trying to wipe that sadness away from you. “it’s okay,” sunghoon leaned forward again just to hold you even tighter — if that’s even possible… — “i’m here now.” he was rubbing your back once he got you to stand your body a bit upright.

you just closed your eyes and enjoyed his manly scent, a bit sweeter than you remembered. his smell was the perfect mix of the sweet and the citric. you just want to shove your face into his neck and smell the out of him.

his hands are warm — even though he was outside ten minutes ago — and rubbing his thumb over your back. when he felt you calmer, he softly and slowly pulled away. “i have something for you…” he shyly said, but his shiny doe eyes couldn’t hide his excitement for too long.

when you saw that familiar small white paper bag your eyes felt watery once again, but you weren’t crying because you missed him, but because you remember how lucky you were to meet him. opening your arms and smiling happily, he held you again.

“thank you hoonie…” you thanked him sniffing.

“it’s your favorite right?”

“it is.” you chuckled. “and it’s your favorite thing to give me whenever i’m mad at you, am i wrong?” you cocked a brow, slightly pushing your body to look at him — while your arms rested on his shoulders — creating a playful atmosphere, like things were getting back together.

he whined and hid his blushed cheeks placing his head above your shoulder. “mhm…” he groaned. “you got me...” he laughed against your neck, and you followed him.

“you little thing!” you messed up with his hair, but pulling his whole body closer to yours. “let’s eats some bunggeoppang together like the old times?” you suggested, feeling his head being pushed away from your neck to look at you instantly.

“darling, let me feed you.” he took one of the fish shaped rice waffles and placed afar from your mouth/sight. “baby, say ah~” he waited you to do it, except that you shook your head pouting.

“i’m not doing it.” you scoffed, but he insisted, not dropping his hand down.

“pretty, don’t make this hot pilot wait!” he referred to himself.

“sungho-“

“ah~” he interrupted you and you clicked your tongue, refusing to open your mouth. however, when you did, he finally sang “here comes the airplane~” and the bunggeoppang ended up in your mouth.

“you’re ridiculous,” you kissed his lips. “i love you and… i’m sorry-” a finger shushed you.

“no talking with your mouth full.” and he took a bite out of another bunggeoppang. “oh! by the way,” he licked his finger before grabbing the rose that guy handed him earlier and surprising you with the sight of it.

“a flower?” you smiled softly, brushing your fingers against sunghoon’s hand before taking the rose and smelling it. “it smells good?” you were kinda surprised.

“really?!” his eyes widened, leaning closer to sniff the rose’s core ( where the sweet smell comes from).

“where did you get this?” you were chuckling at yourself. “it’s too late to have a flower shop open right now, and it’s kinda hard to find one aroun-”

you were taken back by sunghoon’s lips crashing with yours. “doesn’t matter where i got it, just… just enjoy this moment, okay?” he tried to stay calm and not embarrassed/shy at the view of a silly smile spreading out of your face.

sunghoon was playing with your hair while cuddling you, just like he wanted two hours before. you were almost falling asleep, but couldn’t because your boyfriend decided to turn into a talkative at night; having at least three hours long pillow talk.

those pillow talks happened even before you two started dating and as an official couple. sunghoon sometimes get very talkative as i mentioned before, however you don’t really mind.

during this pillow talks, you just hum at everything he says, because you know your boyfriend knows that you usually fall asleep. usually the motive behind your droopy eyes were his soothing voice and natural low tone. it was like he was singing a lullaby to you without actually singing.

“that lady from the tent remembered about you, we should go there and say hi to her.” sunghoon commented after placing a sweet and light kiss on your scalp.

“that old lady that works at that street fair?” he hummed. “i haven’t been there in ages.” you pouted.

“she said she wanted to see you.” sunghoon mentioned.

“we should go see her tomorrow then.” you suggested, shrugging.

“mhm...” he groaned, unsure.

“by the way, i’m still curious about how you got that flower...” you slightly pulled your head away from his chest to gaze at him.

“ugh... long story.” he just shook that story off, hugging your waist tighter, taking a deep breath. “i love you.” he whispered to you.

“i love you more.” you whispered back, kissing his chin.

“i would buy all the bunggeoppangs in this whole world just to have you like this in my arms...” he whispers before falling asleep, happy that he could fix thing up with a simple warm fish shaped rice waffles; with a chocolate filling and some vitamin C(uddles) — like he always did, because he just knows you so well.

© imaluckygirl , originals .ᐟ 24.

taglist : @jakesangel . . .

[sonicslushie]

Slipped My Mind ~ P.P.

Summary: You’re the person who designs Spiderman’s suits, but you never actually met the man- or boy- behind the mask. 

A/N: terrible summary & first fic, originally this was going to be based on the conan gray song “yours” but it took an odd turn in there so it's not lmao. But if you wanna read that let me know i’m dying to write more for petey boy. This is also like a little fluff thing that i threw together in a few hours so it’s not the best (my b) 

a playlist for u to listen to as u read<3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark Intern!Reader 

TW: kinda a clueless reader, mentions of blood and open wounds, 

Wordcount: 3.6k

Ice cream was all you wanted. It was your lunch break from Stark Industries, the place you interned at because of your impressive resume, and partly because your dad just so happened to be the owner of Tony Stark’s favorite burger place. You had been a pretty smart kid, finished highschool early and graduated MIT with a degree in engineering and all you wanted was to build supersuits. That was the dream, wasn’t it? Helping the world’s mightiest heroes by being the one who created their high tech suits and accessories, actually making a difference for those who saved billions of lives? Yeah, no. 

You started out three years ago as Ms. Potts' personal assistant at the ripe age of 16. You spent 2.5 years of that assisting just doing the basic intern stuff; grabbing coffee and burgers, attending meetings to take notes, scheduling and yatta yatta, the occasional fake laugh at a dad joke that Mr. Stark made. It wasn’t until you joined Ms. Potts in Mr. Stark’s lab to give him his burger, and you corrected his formulas on some project and you thought it was OVER. He looked surprised that you even spoke to him, oh fuck, you messed up. Or so you had thought. He actually told you that you were right?? Then, I swear to god, he asked what you would do to improve the project he was working on. (It was a super suit for the newest hero, Spiderman.) He liked your idea to add what you called the “training wheels” protocol. Mr. Stark decided to give you a chance and he had you help him create the rest of the suit, and now 6 months later, you were in charge of all things Spiderman. 

But that’s not the point of the story right now, right now, you wanted ice cream. 

And you had just bought two big scoops in a freshly made waffle cone. Honestly the best use of 5 bucks, or so you thought. Just as you were about to take the first lick, a red and blue streak sprinted past- no into you. It was like a movie, all you saw was your delicious creamy dessert flying up in the air in slow motion, then- SLAT! Both you and the ice cream were on the ground, a familiar looking super suit standing above you, stammering about how he was “so sorry” and “chasing a bad guy” in a very peppy voice. 

“You’re Spiderman, why weren’t you swinging from building to building?” You asked, furious you were now going to have to buy another one. You just wanted one thing, could you not just have it without dealing with this bozo? 

“Forgot to put in new web fluid. I’m sorry about your ice cream but I’ve really gotta- I don’t see him anymore. Shoot.” He says, shaking his head. “You know what, let me make this up to you. I’ll buy you another one.” 

Well that seemed fair and it slightly cooled off your now bad mood. You agree and wait in line with the dude who you create super suits for. The funny thing is, this was actually the first time you ever met the one and only Spiderman- or Spiderling as Mr. Stark calls him. You don’t even know who the person is under the mask, but at this point you really didn’t care about it, you just wanted your ice cream. 

After waiting in line for what felt like forever and making meaningless small talk with the masked hero, you make it to the front of the line. 

“Two scoops of strawberry, please. Waffle cone.” You smile at the worker, then turn to Spiderboy. You say at the same time as the employee, “5 bucks.” 

The Spiderdude pats his sides as if feeling for a wallet, then looks at you with that expressionless mask- god you had to work on that- and says, “I don't have my wallet.” 

You could almost smack him in the back of the head, but you just take your wallet out and give the worker a 5 dollar bill. Taking the new ice cream, you turn to the hero, “Well now you owe me two, Spidey.” 

“I-I’ll make it up to you, do you have Venmo?” He asks, panic rising in his voice. He sounded young, maybe around your age. If you were honest, he piqued your interest. So instead of rolling your eyes and walking away, you pulled your phone out. 

“Here,” you say, ready to just get back to the lab. He takes a picture of it and gives you a thumbs up. 

“I’ll have to make a new venmo so you can’t figure out my identity, but I gotta run.” He says, and literally runs off. You stand there, looking at the hero you basically manage but just met, then your ice cream. What a day, huh? You shrug it off and begin to eat your ice cream as you head back to the office. 

The ice cream had been off your mind ever since you finished the yummy dessert, and went back to designing your own web fluid. Sure the dude had his own way of making it (you weren’t really sure if it had been coming out of him or not until today, you never really had the chance to ask anyone), but you knew you could do it better. Everyone at Stark Industries called you ‘Junior’ for a reason, and it wasn’t just because of your crazy intelligence. It might have also been the slight egotistical self assurance and the stubbornness you possessed. 

As you worked you listened to music and snacked on the various foods you hid in the lab unbeknownst to Mr. Stark. Here and there you would test the web fluid with some of the new web shooter prototypes you had made, at this point you could swing around New York from how often you used these things. You often thought of it and giggled at the thought; ridiculous, these silly little dreams you possessed. 

You had been giggling about it to yourself when the one and only Mr. Stark walked in- with a kid who was talking so fast and in such a familiar peppy tone that you couldn’t help but look up. 

“-and then I looked up dodo birds and did you know they’re basically just big pigeons?” He finished, looking up at Mr. Stark with big brown doe eyes that sparkled in the light. Sparkle in the light? Oh come on, y/n. You caught yourself ogling at the new kid, still trying to figure out where you heard that voice before. Little miss genius might be able to create the highest tech super suits in the world, but boy oh boy did you have a hard time connecting dots. 

“Right, big pigeons. Anyway, Peter, this is y/n y/l/n. Junior, this is Peter Parker.” Mr. Stark says, looking at you as if you could take the excitable kid off of his hands. 

Now, Mr. Stark is a lot of things, and busy is one of them. This just so happens to affect his memory, and in this case, he completely forgot that he never introduced Spiderling- Peter Parker- to his favorite intern. It slipped his mind, I mean when you’re a billionaire CEO and a superhero, the little things tend to slip the mind. It’s not like he meant to never introduce you two, he really did mean to. But every time Peter’s been at the tower, Junior was always gone either for the weekend or for her lunch break. Plus, Mr. Stark had things to do. Like right now; get out of this boring conversation and get burgers from his favorite burger place with Happy. 

“Oh it’s nice to meet you, Peter.” You say, not knowing that you met Peter earlier that day as Spiderman. But Peter knew, and he also forgot that he had to venmo you for that ice cream from earlier. Caught off guard, his eyes just go wide and he awkwardly smiles and waves at you like an idiot. 

“Um okay. Anyway, Mr. Stark, I was about to head out, but I got the new web fluid made and finished up the new prototypes for web shooters. I also started up blueprints for a new suit. I forgot to mention I saw Spiderboy today and I gotta say, that suit does nothing for his ass.” You say, going back to the blueprints in front of you, making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow morning. Mr. Stark takes a peek over your shoulder, nodding in approval, then says, “Well I’ve got to hit the road, I’ve got… an important meeting to attend. Yeah. See ya tomorrow, Junior, same to you Pete.” 

You and Peter tell Mr. Stark bye in various fashions, being left in an awkward silence, neither of you really knowing how to proceed from there. Mr. Stark never told you that you would be meeting with Spiderdude to discuss your progress on the new ideas you had come up with but if he didn't show up before 5 you weren't staying, you'd didn't get paid enough. Peter wasn’t told he would be seeing the girl he literally ran into and owe her ice cream money. Seems like it just slipped Mr. Stark’s mind again. 

“So um, whatcha doing here Peter?” You say, begin to clean up your workstation to go home. Peter was just standing awkwardly behind you, trying to figure out what to say. He was also unaware that you didn’t know that he was Spiderman, he had figured Mr. Stark would have told you if you were the one working on his suits all this time. 

“Oh I was um- just leaving actually. Looks like you’re ready to go home, so I- Yeah I’m just gonna go.” He says quickly, turning on his heel to leave. At this point you were just ready to go home, so you shrug it off and say, “Nice meeting you, Peter. See ya.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves. If he was being honest, he’s never been good at talking to pretty girls. Not to mention super awesome pretty intern girls who have been providing him his super awesome super suit. Probably too many “supers” but he didn’t care, he could barely even function in the same room as you. Not to mention he made a fool of himself earlier, but honestly you didn’t even seem to remember, which threw him off even more. And when you said “nice to meet you” it confused him, you two had met earlier that day. God, he had to get some fresh air. 

Peter made it outside and was cooling down from that super awkward and weird encounter, when he saw you pulling out of the car park in your car, singing along loudly to some Miley Cyrus song. He turns away, trying not to make it obvious that he was avoiding you. But you turned your head as you were looking for oncoming traffic, and you saw him. 

You don’t know why you did it, but you rolled your window down and yelled above the loud ass music, “Hey Peter! You waiting on a ride?” 

He was too caught off guard to lie, and to be fair he didn’t even like lying, so he shook his head and before he knew it, he was getting in your car. 

“Where are you heading?” You asked, turning the music down. He tries not to be as awkward as before as he says, “Queens, but it’s a far drive you really don’t have to-” 

“Oh I live there too! Don’t even worry about it,” you say, happy you could do something for the odd kid. He was a bit awkward, but in a cute sort of way. It almost made your stomach get butterflies at the thought of you of all people making him nervous. 

“Oh okay, thanks so much. I really appreciate it,” he says, then after a beat of intense silence with Miley wailing in the background, he decides to try and make conversation. “So how long have you been working for Mr. Stark?” 

“Since I was 16, so like 3 years. Most of it was being Ms. Potts’ assistant though,” you say, tapping your fingers to the beat. 

“Woah, wait so did you like graduate early?” He asks, now immensely intrigued. You give him the rundown of the past 6 years of your life, to which he’s very impressed and totally not thinking about how pretty you look in the dying sunlight. Totally would never do that. 

“But yeah, that’s me. What about you, how did you get involved with Mr. Stark?” You ask, glancing over at him slightly. You must say for a dork, he had some very nice features. 

“Very long story that includes him hitting on my aunt. Ugh,” he shivers at the memory, “And a trip to Germany.” 

That rings some bells in your head, but to be fair Mr. Stark is in Germany a lot so you don’t really question it. Like I said, you don’t connect dots very well unless it’s in the form of equations. 

You guys talk all the way to Peter’s apartment, you even give him your phone number if he ever needs a ride to the office. As Peter walks off, you both can’t help but wonder how weird the day has been. But as you drive off and turn up the radio, you put it out of your mind. Time to go home and relax. 

Only when you got home, you didn’t relax. Almost as soon as you step into your apartment, your phone lets out a little “cha-ching” noise, notifying you that someone just venmoed you. You completely forgot about Spidey owing you for your ice cream until you saw the little notification: Spidey paid you $10 with an ice cream emoji underneath. You smirk, then go back to fully entering your apartment. Only to hear your phone go off a few seconds later, another venmo notification, this time a comment left under the money he just paid you. 

I feel really bad about earlier. I figured I’d pay for both. 

You raise an eyebrow at your phone, smiling a little to yourself. He seems sweet. Sweeter than most guys you’ve run into in the middle of New York. And trust me, it’s happened more often than you’d like to admit. 

You type back. 

I really appreciate that Spiderdude. Love the profile pic;)

His profile picture was that one Spiderman meme with the three Spidermans pointing at each other. It made you giggle, at least he had a sense of humor. Most superheroes (*cough* Steve Rogers *cough*) didn’t. A few seconds later he sends another message. 

Next time I’ll get you three scoops:)

You smiled and decided that was a pretty good deal, three free ice creams? Sounds like a scam but you weren’t going to question it. You just put your phone down and decided it was time to have a nice warm bath and rock out to Taylor Swift. 

It was a while before you heard from both Peter or Spiderman, and you were still clueless to the fact that they were the same person. After a few weeks of that whole situation being off your mind, you were going into work on a late night call from Mr. Stark said that something urgent came up with the Spiderling and he wasn’t in town to take care of it. So, you jumped out of bed and rushed out still in your pajamas to the Stark Tower. 

You sped all the way there, the stars oddly bright for the city. You made note to go to the rooftop of your apartment whenever you were able to make it back. You always had a thing for the stars, having not grown up in New York. The city was beautiful, but you could truly say that you hated the nights there. No stars glittering overhead, cars and people being loud at all hours of the night. The only good thing you could say about the night in New York was all the food places that were open 24/7. (You tend to have a craving for Thai food at odd hours of the night.) 

Upon arriving at the Stark Tower, you ask F.R.I.D.A.Y what’s going on, and she directs you to your lab. You make your way up there, wondering what in the world this kid could be needing that’s so urgent. If it’s something stupid, dear god, help him. You would molly whop him into the next dimension. 

The lab doors upon a very beat up Spiderboy, who’s laid across your desk. Laying in a pile of blood. Okay, good enough reason, you supposed, immediately dropping all idea’s of punching the poor kid in the head. 

You rush up to him, taking in his half dead state of being. A giant would- no a hole would be a better way of putting it. Just a big hole in his side, with a lot of blood seeping out of it. You poke him, making sure he’s still breathing. He groans in response, it’s enough to get you moving. You had planned on this a long time ago, you created a device to regrow skin just for this occasion. You found it and within seconds, his wound began healing, though it might take a while for him to create enough blood to be able to even be able to sit up again. At that thought, you ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get the building’s onsite medical team to get the kid. 

Once you were finished fixing his gaping hole, you poked him again, praying he was still alive. There was so much blood everywhere, but you tried to keep your Thai food down as you begged for him to wake up. 

“Come on kid, you can’t die on me. Mr. Stark would kill us both,” you say, starting to shake him now. You could see his chest moving up and down slightly, but he wasn’t waking up. You pleaded in your head for the med team to get there quickly, you didn’t know why you were so upset by this. Sure, it would be sad if the kid died, but you didn’t know him like that. You didn’t know him well enough to be crying over his dying body, begging him to just open his eyes or say something. Not that you could see them through the mask-

The mask. 

Your trembling hand goes to take it off, but the medical team rushes in just as you begin peeling it off, only exposing his neck. 

You step back as the med team begins working on him, you let them know that you healed him, but he needed blood. That was all you could say before they moved him onto the gurney and began taking him away, you called after, “Just wake up, Spidey, please!” 

That was the first thing that Peter remembers hearing, your voice. Lights were flashing overhead as he heard people saying things above him, though he couldn’t comprehend any of it. God, he was so dizzy. And why wasn’t his side hurting anymore? He started grabbing for his side, but the people around him stopped him from doing so. What was going on?

“You were bleeding out,” one of them says from above him, he’s starting to hear them more clearly now. Maybe his superhealing had finally set in. “No, Ms. y/l/n just saved your life. Now calm down, you’re going to be okay.” 

Peter didn’t realize he was just speaking his thoughts as they came to him, he also didn’t realize that you had decided to follow the medical team just to make sure he ended up okay. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to be sure. So much for looking at the stars, huh? 

Peter kept babbling as the medical team got him to their facility a few floors down, starting to connect tubes to give him more blood. One of them goes to take his mask off to check for any head wounds, but he stops them. He’s conscious enough to know that he knows none of these people, and none of these people need to know that he’s Peter Parker. 

“You’re Peter Parker?” You say, total confusion in your voice. Damn it, did he say that out loud? “Yes, you did, you idiot.” 

You get as close as you can without getting in the way of the people trying to help him. Once they were all done and he was getting the blood that he needed, you asked them to leave so you could talk to Peter. How did you not realize? He has a very distinctive voice, and obviously that’s why Mr. Stark brought him into your lab a few weeks ago. Seriously, not your best moment. 

“So you’re the infamous Spiderman?” You say, sitting on the edge of his cot. He peels his mask off and takes a breath of fresh air. 

“Wait,” it hits him that you didn’t know, what is going on? “You didn’t know?” 

“Nope,” you laugh, “I’m not really sure how I didn’t, especially after Mr. Stark brought you in there. I’m also not sure how he never mentioned that you were there person I’ve been making all this superhero stuff for. Must have slipped his mind.” Understatement of the century. 

“I thought you knew, that’s why I never really mentioned it. Also,” he smiles a little to himself, “I promised to get you ice cream next time I saw you. How about it?” 

You raise your eyebrow at him, “You’re in a cot getting blood poured into you.” 

“When I’m better?” 

“Sounds like a date.”

[lovebugism]

Hi I am begging on my knees for more of your steddie x reader it’s so good I’m crying

BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGLE | baby fever

summary: steve's got a bad case of baby fever. it's not so bad until you start getting sick with it too. eddie has to come up with a solution before all of you fall ill.

pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / eddie munson

a/n: i just realized i haven't posted anything steddie related in almost three months. i am so sorry. this is a total travesty. please enjoy this 3k blurb and find it in your heart to forgive me <3

You squint at the grocery list scribbled on a bright blue sticky note. It’s a mish-mash of all your different handwritings. Some are certainly neater than others. “This just says crabs… I think...”

“It doesn’t say crabs, you loon,” Eddie laughs from where he mans the shopping cart beside you. He’s steering the thing about as well as his van. “It says cereals.”

“No, it says a bunch of gibberish that no one can read but you,” you retort with a giggle of your own as you follow him down the breakfast aisle. “And we just need one box of cereal, alright? Singular.”

He turns to you with a cartoonish pout on his lips. “But why?”

“Because you’re like a kid, Eds. You eat the entire thing in one sitting, and then you’re absolutely haywire for the rest of the day.”

And, just like a child, the boy stands in front of the vibrantly colored boxes of cereal with a wide grin on his face.

The local grocery store was smaller compared to the others in town, but they had every brand of the breakfast food known to man, stacked in neat rows from the floor to ceiling. 

Eddie’s got a twinkle in his eye as his gaze runs over them all. And even though you think it’s all boyish and hilarious, you let him have his fun. 

He grew up unable to enjoy all the goodness of overly sweet cereal because bills and food with actual sustenance were always more important. Now, he’s got a halfway stable job with Wayne at the car shop, and he’s living at his own place with his boyfriend and girlfriend, and he can buy whatever the hell kind of cereal he wants. 

So, as far as he’s concerned, everyone who said he’d never amount to much can suck it. 

And you know you’ll let him buy the whole damn grocery store out of their cereal if that’s what he wants. It’s the least you can do for the world’s best boyfriend — a title he begrudgingly shares with Steve The Hair Harrington.

You’d give him the world if you could, but for now you’ll have to settle for a couple of boxes of Lucky Charms.

“Okay, so the OJ’s we got last time tasted like absolute shit,” Eddie mutters, mostly to himself as he crouches to peer at the lower shelves. “I saw a commercial for Waffle-O’s this morning, and they looked pretty good. But I know you like Breakfast With Barbie and Steve ate a bowl of C3PO’s every day for, like, two weeks, so…”

You stand by the cart and laugh at his rambling. You turn to look behind you with a lighthearted joke sitting on the edge of your tongue. It dissipates when you realize Steve isn’t next to you. 

Instead, he’s still standing at the end of the aisle with his back to you and Eddie — like his feet forgot how to work when he caught sight of the family across the store. It’s a mother and a father, dressed in their mid-weekday finest, with a baby swaddled at their chest and a toddler bouncing in the seat of the shopping cart. 

And you know it’s got the boy totally lost in his own head. You know he's picturing you and him and Eddie as that happy family — the one fills every store you walk into with baby babbles and bubbly laughter. 

Steve told you his senior year of high school he wanted a baby, that he wanted six of them, and that he wanted them all with you. And you were just a stupid seventeen-year-old girl who would’ve done anything he asked you to, though you definitely drew the line at babies. 

But you’re older now, and far more settled than you had been all that time ago. Steve’s ready for a family, but you don’t think you’re anywhere close.

“How about we just compromise and get all three?” Eddie finally concludes with the boxes already in his arms. He dumps them into the cart and notices that your attention is elsewhere. He realizes then that Steve’s gone too because his attention is stuck on a nice family minding their own business. 

“Not again…” he murmurs to himself while you go rescue the boy.

“I’ve never seen someone so sick with baby fever in my life,” you laugh as you drag Steve back to the cart by his wrist.

“I can’t help it!” he defends weakly. “They were so cute! They were all matching and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I can’t wait to coordinate outfits with our baby. Doesn’t that sound like the cutest fucking thing ever?”

“It sounds very adorable, Stevie,” you nod understandingly and try to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of him and his baby girl wearing matching pastels every time they step out of the house. “And we can be just like them in five years—”

“Five years?” he gapes.

“Maybe even ten,” Eddie shrugs and nonchalantly tosses a box of Count Chocula into the cart.

“Ten years— You guys are insane if you think I’m waiting ten years to have a kid!” Steve protests with a pair of buff arms crossed boyishly over his chest. “I’m not getting any younger over here, you know that, right?”

“You’re twenty-five, Steve, stop being so dramatic. We’re just now trying to get settled. I’m still in school, you’re still working at Family Video, Eddie’s still… Eddie. Don’t you think we should have actual careers before we have a kid?”

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance even though he knows you’re right.

It’s not like he wants to keep working at the stupid store on Main Street. He keeps putting off the conversation with his dad about another job, because he puts off every conversation with his dad. He’s scared of what asking for a position at his firm will do to his pride.

“She’s right, and you know it, Steven,” Eddie tells him, then scoffs. “I mean, can you really imagine me with a baby strapped to my chest on tour?”

You and Steve both pause and tilt your heads to the side as you picture the sight, terribly in sync as always. You can imagine it, quite perfectly actually, tangible enough to touch.

“Well—”

“That’s the cutest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Steve finishes your thought for you.

Eddie cowers at the sudden attention. “Okay, stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat, alright? We are not having a kid right now. There’s no fucking way.”

Steve all but deflates at the rejection as Eddie pushes the cart down the aisle, desperate to escape the bubble of tension the conversation had created in the cereal section.

You smile sheepishly over at Steve and wrap your arms through the crook of his elbow, standing on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “He’s being grumpy about it, but he’s right… It’s just not a good idea right now— but it will be, okay? One day. Just not… to-day.”

┄

The day, for you, comes exactly seven of them later. 

You accompany Steve on his morning run and his routine stop for coffee. You’re not quite sure how he’s still mobile because your muscles are screaming, even after the warm shower you took to soothe them.

You left him alone for all of half a second to use the bathroom while he ordered drinks for him and you, and something extra for Eddie for when the boy decides to roll out of bed.

When you return, you find him bouncing a baby on his hip — a young thing, maybe three if you had to guess, with two buns in her hair like bunny ears and a sparkly pink dress to match the bows she wears in them.

Steve smiles down at her, talking to her in a baby voice and saying something you can’t hear because you’re frozen in place. You resemble him at the grocery store a week ago, when he was thrown into a daydream so suddenly that his body all but shut down. 

You look at him now, tickling the baby’s sides just to hear her giggle, and you see him with your firstborn — sleep deprived, covered in spit-up, and still the most beautiful human you’d ever seen.

You have to shake your head to remove the thought before it ruins you entirely. 

Freshly jostled from your stupor, you walk over to him. “Steve… Please tell me you didn’t steal someone’s baby.”

He laughs. “What? No! She was just a little fussy, and I offered to take her while her mom looked for something,” the boy explains. You look just behind him to see the woman bent over at one of the smaller tables, sifting vigorously through a large baby bag.

“She doesn’t seem very fussy now,” you observe, eyes flitting between his and the child's and noticing they’ve both got matching grins.

“She doesn’t, does she?” he smiles, softly scratching at her sides again to make her laugh. And she does, most enthusiastically so, tilting her head back and letting the giggles spill from an open mouth.

He turns back to you, with wide eyes and raised brows and a bemused grin. “I like she likes me.”

“Of course, she does,” you scoff. “Babies always like you.”

The mom returns with a snack in hand and a relieved smile. Steve passes the baby back to her with little effort. She whines at the loss of him, though the brightly packaged treat is quick to quell her sorrow. 

“Thanks for taking her,” the mother's grateful smile falters with exhaustion. “If I don’t give her the same snack at exactly the same time every day, she tends to go a little nuts.” 

Steve tells her that it’s no problem, that he was a part-time babysitter at one point in his life, and that her kid was better than those little shits combined. He censors himself before the swear slips out, though.

You go your separate ways when the barista calls out your drink orders and walk hand in hand back to your place.

“Did you get their names?” you ask him before taking a sip of your latte.

“The mom’s name was Maeve and the kid’s name was Harper—”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Steve snaps his head over to you because he thinks you’ve burnt your mouth. Instead, he finds you with a distant smile on your face.

“Those are the cutest names I’ve ever heard. It sounds like something out of a fucking cartoon or something.”

“Yeah…” is all he can say because his mind is preoccupied with a million other thoughts. He doesn’t tell you them, obviously, but you know they’re there. The sly smile pulling at his lips makes it obvious.

“…Why are you looking at me like that.”

“Because I’m totally gonna wear you down,” he grins and brings his coffee to his mouth, sipping through his smirk.

You only scoff in response. “Never.”

┄

It doesn’t take you very long to realize that Steve was right.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about it — about him with a baby and how perfect he'd be as a dad. The thoughts plague you far more than they usually do. They take up the entire frontal cortex of your brain and make it nearly impossible to think about anything else.

You’re self-aware enough to beat yourself up about it. 

You were just telling him that it wasn’t time yet, and you knew you were right. As far as you’re concerned, you still have another few good years before you’re ready to even start seriously considering it. 

But here you are, having to calm yourself down every time the thought of Steve Harrington with a baby, your baby, crosses your mind.

You wait until the boy heads to bed to talk to Eddie about it. You find him in the kitchen, eating handfuls of Breakfast with Barbie like a maniac. You’re too preoccupied to make a snarky comment about it.

“Steve wasn’t lying,” you warn him.

“..About what?” he wonders through the mouthful.

“About him not waiting ten years to have a baby! He wants one now!” you explain through a yell-whisper hybrid. “And he told me he was going to wear me down, and he was right.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide too, like he’s just learned you caught some sort of plague. You have. It’s called baby fever, and it’s only a matter of time before the entire house is afflicted. “Shit…”

“So you have to be the strong one, Eddie.”

“Oh, god,” he whines with pinched brows. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because I saw him hold a baby today.”

“…And this is a bad thing?”

“Of course, it’s a bad thing! My hormones went crazy, okay? It’s like my brain stopped functioning, and I started thinking with my ovaries or something! All human instinct told me to lay down and procreate the second we got home!”

Eddie laughs to himself. “Are you sure it was human instinct, or was it just you on a normal Wednesday?”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you tell him, a sudden solemnity to your features. “You have to put your foot down whenever Steve talks about it because I will cave.”

“Alright, alright, have some Barbie cereal and settle down,” he tells you with a playful grin.

He offers you the box and you pout for a moment before sticking your hand into it and pulling out several red and purple butterfly pieces.

The boy wraps an arm around you with his free hand. He pulls you closer and noses at the crown of your head. You sigh as you relax into him. 

“I’ll take care of it, okay? I actually have the perfect idea.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you waver through a mouthful of cereal.

“Don’t worry about it,” he lilts with a grin, smacking a kiss to your forehead. “Let me take care of it.”

┄

You and Steve are tangled in bedsheets, both slowly rousing but trying desperately to go back to sleep. 

You’re laying on your stomach, face smushed into the pillow you clutch to your head. Steve lays halfway on top of you — his legs knotted with yours, arm splayed over your back, and softly snoring in your ear. 

Both of you noticed the lack of Eddie’s presence, but chose not to linger on it too much, figuring he must’ve gone for a breakfast run. 

He returns hardly a moment after the thought of him crosses your mind. You hear the door open and shut again, then the shouts of your names entwined with a muffled barking.

You groan at the intrusion on your sleep.

Steve huffs and shifts against you, voice gruff with fatigue as he wonders: “Why do I hear a dog?”

The mixture of confusion and subtle knowing has you both shuffling out of the bedroom and trudging into the living room.

You round the corner and find Eddie standing by the door with a rowdy goldendoodle bouncing at his feet. He’s trying hopelessly to undo its leash when the thing starts to squirm at the sight of you and Steve.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the both of you when he notices you standing across the room. A smile bursts like early morning sunshine on his face. “Surprise!” he beams.

The metal of the leash clicks when he finally gets it unbuckled. The dog dashes your way, all but jumping into Steve and then spinning in circles with excitement as it tries to figure out who to accept attention from. 

“You got us a dog?” the boy wonders, head cocked back to dodge the thing as it licks at his chin.

“You said you wanted a baby,” Eddie shrugs. “So, I got you a baby.”

“This is so not what a meant,” the boy grouses in response, though he’s got his arms wrapped around the dog like he’s hugging it. “I mean, it’s not even a baby— it’s huge.”

“The woman at the shelter said he was eight months old. And he is a he, so stop calling him it.”

You crouch beside Steve, scratching the dog behind his ear. He pants with his tongue sticking out, almost looking like he’s smiling. It makes you smile too. 

“We don’t even have dog food. Or toys. Or a bed,” you stress. “What are we even gonna name it?”

“Well, I took care of exactly one of those things,” Eddie lilts with a grin. “They only had that gross artificial shit at the grocery store, but they did have some badass collars and an engraving machine, so…”

You and Steve peek through the dog’s golden curls and find a black band with silver spikes dotted around the neck. “Super metal, huh?” you hear himEdiejoke as you reach for the dangled heart pendant handing around the collar.

“…Ozzy?” you recite.

“See what I mean?” he beams. “Metal.”

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

taking what's not yours - f. castle & m. murdock

a/n: ALRIGHT ITS FINALLY DONE uhhh sorry this has no smut i was just goofing and wanted to write something cute with our two favorites and you guys seemed to really want this one so! i have no regrets actually! im gonna go take a nap now warnings: polyamorous relationships, frank has nightmares, reader is autistic, reader has an oral fixation/biting problem, nosebleeds/blood, crying, cursing, lots of cute nicknames, talks of death, some sexual comments, lots of kissing and fluff word count: 3.2k comments and feedback are always appreciated <3 summary: a week in the life of a relationship with frank castle and matt murdock, your two favorite vigilantes. pairing: frank castle x autistic!gn!reader x matt murdock now playing: taking what's not yours - tv girl "you know where to find me/and i know where to look"

Soft country music from before country music as a genre went modern and became what it is today plays from the radio Frank insists on keeping on while he cooks dinner. His flannel is tight around his chest and the sleeves are rolled up as he brings a spoon to his mouth, tasting the sauce he’s been preparing for the past few hours. He adds more pepper.

The door opens from across the apartment, and all he hears is, “Frank! Tell Matt to stop being mean to me!” You and Matt make your way through the apartment after taking off your shoes and coats, Matt loosening his tie as he follows you into the kitchen. Frank turns when you step into the kitchen, immediately moving over to him and finding your place in the crook of his arm.

“Red bein’ mean to you, honey?” Frank asks as he kisses the top of your head, grinning at Matt as he huffs, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter if it’s handsome if he’s so mean, does it?” You ask.

“No, it doesn’t,” He grins, and you stick your tongue out to Matt playfully, and he mimics you before going over to Frank and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hi.” The lawyer hums, happy to be back home with his two favorite people.

“Hi.” Frank grins, unsure of how serious you are about Matt being mean to him. “What’s going on, why are you being mean?” Matt raises an eyebrow at you, unhappy with your running to Frank.

“Can’t just run to daddy to fix your problems, pup.” He accuses, and you scoff. His words are playful, but your face is red at the call out.

“You know what, Murdock—”

“Hey! Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Frank cuts in, and Matt tilts his head in your direction, and you quietly plead for Matt not to tell on you, and--

“They bit me.” Frank sighs at his words.

“I was being affectionate!” You immediately go into defense mode, ducking out of Frank’s arm, trying to casually walk off from the pair towards the fridge, only for Matt to grab your arm, pulling you between the two men, your back against Frank’s chest, face to face with Matt.

“You cannot bite people, pup.” Matt says, and you frown.

“I like biting people—”

“That’s a problem!” Frank’s words attempt to be serious, but they’re coated by a soft laugh as his hands, rough from a long day of working blue collar, rub up and down your arms.

“See? You’re getting Frank to agree with me, do you know how hard that is to do?” Matt hums, and you tilt your head.

“What? You love Frank, it’s actually kind of gross—”

“It is gross isn’t it?” Matt asks teasingly, leaning up to kiss Frank again. You roll your eyes at the fact that you’re being reprimanded by your boyfriends, sandwiched between them, forced to deal with the consequences of your actions. “But I’m being serious, okay?”

“Matty,” Your head leans back against Frank’s chest, “I don’t bite anyone who isn’t you or Frank..”

Alright, let’s level with each other—Frank and Matt are well aware of the fact that you’re neurodivergent. You get overstimulated with loud, crowded situations very easily, you struggle to understand jokes a lot, and you once told them that in middle school, you became so hyper fixated on waffles to the point where you ate them for breakfast and lunch most days, practically begging your mom to let you have it for dinner most nights (She let you have them once a month) and then, after fourteenth months, you stopped. You have not been able to eat a waffle since.

The point is the two men you’re sandwiched between are no strangers to your neurodivergence. They know it’s stimulating in the best way to chew or suck on something, your oral fixation coming back with a vengeance after you tried to repress it for so long. You chew on everything. You chew on the strands of your hoodies, you chew on your sleeves, you chew on ice, gum, you chew on your boyfriends, and you chew on your cheeks to the point where you draw blood, which always gets Matt to scold you, because he can smell the coppery blood from his place across the room, and immediately tells Frank.

Matt Murdock is a little tattletale.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Frank hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ll get you something to chew on—”

“What, like a chew toy? That’s embarrassing,” you groan, and Matt just laughs a bit, leaning in to oppress a kiss to the shoulder that Frank is not leaning on.

“Then stop biting, pup.”

You pause, contemplating the options you have. Fix your biting issue or have Matt and Frank fix it for you. Honestly, you don’t think you have the neurotypical willpower to fix this problem, so you go,

“Okay, fine. You guys have my permission to do what you want to fix it.” You huff. Frank presses a kiss to your cheek while Matt presses a kiss to the other. You feel the smirks against your skin, and you realize what’s happening before you can run, “Wait, no, I swear to god—” Matt picks up your legs with ease as Frank secures his arms around your torso, the pair beginning to carry you to the couch. You groan as they throw you onto the leather couch, landing with a huff. “You’re both awful.”

Matt leans down and bites your shoulder.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“Jokes on you, Daredevil, I’m into that—” You feel Frank sink his teeth into your arm.

“Wrong answer.” Matt responds for him.

//

Later that night, after dinner, you’re laying against Matt, your legs resting in Frank’s lap. You’re listening to music, and the environment is very relaxed, none of you are particularly on edge. Matt’s fingers are resting in your mouth. You relax like this a lot, just sucking his fingers gently. You’re absentmindedly just sucking on his fingers when you bite down on them—It’s not an accident, and Matt would call you out on it if you lied.

So when you bite down, not entirely consciously, he huffs, “With the biting, baby, come on,” he softly condemns, and remembering your deal, Frank gets up with a sigh, patting your leg before he got up and headed to the kitchen. You’re confused for a second before Matt’s nose twitches with recognition, so he grabs your shoulder and pulls you close, his hand finding your cheeks and squeezing your mouth so that it’s in an ‘o’ shape.

Frank approaches you with a spoon and a jar of peanut butter, and your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and the rest of your features are squished by Matt’s hands. Frank scoops a big wad of peanut butter onto the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. You’re confused, as Matt’s hand leaves your face, as you begin munching on the peanut butter.

You take a while to eat the peanut butter, quietly enjoying the taste while enjoying how long you’re keeping yourself busy, since it’s taking a long time to work down the peanut butter due to how sticky it is in the roof of your mouth. When you’re done licking and enjoying the taste of the peanut butter, you look to Frank.

“What was that for?”

“Well, it kept you busy from biting, didn’t it?” He grinned. Your face is flushed as you hand him the spoon.

“Can I have some more?”

Frank chuckles and kisses you quick.

“Sure, honey.”

//

A few nights later, Frank sits on the couch of the apartment, the windows open wide as he listens to the howling wind outside. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know. His skin is still hot, trying to relax after waking up from a nightmare. It’s always the same. Maria and his children, always dying in his arms. Always sitting at the kitchen table, always with you and Matt, always dead.

The chill that comes in from the window is enough to make him feel alive through as he quietly waits for Matt to get back. He’s in an old tee shirt and sweatpants, flicking his lighter on and off in the quiet as he tries to focus on something that isn’t the idea of the pair of you dead, dead like his wife, dead like his kids, dead dead dead—

“Frank? What are you doing up?” Matt’s soft voice echoes through the apartment, and his head tilts softly. He goes over to the couch, still in his full Daredevil suit. Frank stands up and goes over to him by the window, pulling off his cowl just to look at his face. His hand lands gently on Matt’s face, his thumb rubbing gently on the scars that surround Matt’s eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Matt catches the lie and does not call him out.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Frank’s jaw hardens, and even though Matt cannot see, he avoids his gaze. And in a moment of pure vulnerability, he wraps his arms around Matt, holding him close. Matt’s hand gently runs up and down his spine, trying to comfort him. After a few moments of quiet, he asks, “Do you want me to wake them up?” You were always better at making people feel better than Matt was—Especially Frank.

“Nah.. No point..” He says quietly. After a few more minutes of quiet, he feels another pair of arms wrap around him from behind, your chest against his back. You press soft kisses onto the back of his shoulders.

“Too late.” Matt hums. You’re wearing an old tee shirt of Frank’s, a pair of boxers you bought for yourself and a pair of Matt’s fuzzy socks. You stay there for a little while, sleepily hugging Frank, comforting him. Your eyes grow heavy, and slowly, you fall asleep against him, just for a moment. Then, Frank picks you up, and you wake up again, tired.

“What? What’s going on?” You ask him, and he just smiles down to you.

“We’re gonna go to bed while Red showers, and he’ll be right back.” He tells you, gently placing you on the bed. You yawn as Frank crawls into bed, and you find yourself on top of him, your legs tangled with his. You listen to Matt shower and fall asleep waiting for him to come join you. 

He comes back out with his hair wet, in just his sweatpants. He tucks himself into bed, his arms around Frank, as you sprawl out on top of them, desperately needing to be close to both. Frank is nowhere near tired. Matt knows that, and just gently kisses his hair and the back of his neck.

“You need sleep.”

“You ain’t the boss of me, red.” He grumbles, and you hush them harshly, causing them to both laugh a little bit. Matt slowly falls asleep, trying to stay awake to comfort Frank, but he’s spent his entire night beating the shit out of goons and criminals, so he’s absolutely spent. Frank tilts his head and presses another kiss to his lips. “Go to bed, I’ll be okay.” Matt wants to protest but he just buries his face in the crook of his neck.

Frank’s hands gently trail your torso a bit. His hands are rough and sort of cold, but they just explore your back as he attempts to find sleep. It’s a fruitless venture, but he doesn’t mind. He’s okay with just listening to the pair of you breathing. 

//

“Are you two wearing my flannels?” Frank has about seven flannels, and he has four in the wash and one that has a tear waiting to be fixed, so he’s looking for his spare two when he finds you painting Matt’s nails on the floor of the apartment. You’re painting Matt’s nails a nice shade of dark red, with little hearts in a lighter pink.

That had taken a lot of convincing, really, but once you had agreed not to bite him all day, he reluctantly agrees to let you paint his nails, desperately wanting to be good at something and be focused on one thing for more than twenty minutes.

Periodically, Matt’s foot will tap against your back, reminding you to adjust your posture as you work on your masterpiece. He just got done with a big court case, so he tells you he’ll maintain your artwork for at least a few days. But yeah, you two are most definitely wearing Frank’s last two flannels.

“They’re comfy,” You defend, focusing on your work. Matt’s foot taps against your tailbone to remind you to straighten your back.

Really, Frank doesn’t mind. But he enjoys fucking with the two of you, so he just smirks and sits behind the pair of you. ‘

“But they’re my clothes—”  

“Well, you should have thought about that before you left them out, Frank.” Matt smirks, knowing exactly what he’s up to.

“Besides, look how good Matt looks in your clothes!” You hum, leaning over to nudge him gently, a grin on your face. You finish up Matt’s nails, capping up the nail polish as Matt begins gently blowing in his nails to get them to dry faster. Then, you wipe your nose, thinking it’s running, and when you pull away, you see a swipe of blood on Frank’s warm flannel. Oh, fuck.

With his slightly wet nails, Matt’s movements are not nearly as quick as he would have liked as he smells the blood before the gushing really starts, ripping off a paper towel and quickly holding it under your nose, and you take it from him to hold it there as he stands up, going to get something softer like a tissue or toilet paper to pack your nose—

You hold the paper towel to your nose, and guilt already starts to eat at you, as hot tears fill your eyes and then you feel silly because you think Frank might think you’re overreacting, but you just find his hands on your shoulders as he says,

“Hey, hey, why are we crying?” And you feel even sillier.

“I ruined your flannel.”

Frank had been covered in blood more times than he could count, as has Matt—their bodies are riddled with scars, head to toe, bullet and stab wounds echoing over the rough skin of both men, mostly faded now, but Frank is no stranger to blood—It doesn’t even bother him anymore, and Matt can’t see anyways, so what does he care about the sight of blood?

But you, who cannot kill the bugs that find their ways into your apartment, who gasps and covers their mouth when you accidentally curse in church (Matt always laughs, the dick), who orders the same lunch every day and has been unable to drink anything that wasn’t ice water, are horrified at a swipe of blood on a stolen flannel.

“Oh, no, honey, you didn’t ruin anything,” He shakes his head, and gently tugs at the flannel that hangs on your arms, “Come on, let me get this off,” The Punisher’s voice is gentle, a type of gentle reserved just for you, one that the countless skeletons in his closet, all with a bullet in their skulls, do not know and could not possibly perceive. You allow him to slip the flannel off, as Matt comes back with a rolled-up tissue, before sitting in front of you, kneeling as if he’s at mass—

“Lean your head forward for me,” he asks, his hand on the side of your head, and you do, taking the paper towel away, just for Matt to gently push that bundled up piece of tissue into your nose, to get it to stop bleeding.

Your boys, they are experts at getting things to stop bleeding.

At least Matt’s nails look really nice.

Frank throws the flannel in the wash, along with the rest of your laundry, and you find yourself sandwiched between them, the perfect amount of squeezing happening on either side of you, the same affect a weighted blanket would have on you. Your hot tears roll still, quietly betraying you, as the pads of Frank’s rough fingers come up to wipe them away, and Matt’s thumb finds it’s place sitting between your lips.

You sit like this for a while—Frank pressed up against you, Matt in his flannel and you, gushing blood from your nose, packed tight with tissues, and Matt’s thumb as your favorite stim toy.

//

A few days later, you’re just decompressing from work—Your bones ache, and you’re waiting for Matt to get home, wanting to satisfy that oral fixation, as if it’s the worst craving you’ve ever had. Sensing your restlessness, Frank puts a small package in front of you. You raise your eyebrow, and look at him, skeptical.

“Is it a bomb?” He scoffs and chuckles a bit.

“Open the damn package.” His voice is laced with the smirk that sits on his face, not mad, not upset, not at all judging. Your fingers peel back the packaging, and when you’re done unwrapping, you’re left with a soft necklace, and a blue, rubber moon. You look to him curiously. “It’s uh,” he leans down so his forearms are keeping him up against the counter. “You chew on it. You’re not gonna stop bitin’ or sucking on stuff, so, you might as well bite something that isn’t human.” He tells you.

In truth, Frank had spent all damn day scrolling on your laptop, looking for the perfect fix to your problem, and grew frustrated when he realized that all the stim toys were marketed towards young boys who had the privilege of getting a diagnosis young (living with and loving two people with disabilities, as well as having horrible PTSD, has radicalized Frank Castle).

You grin when you hear his explanation, getting up and going to him, resting your hands on his shoulders before leaning up and kissing him softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Honey.”

From across the apartment, you hear the door open, and a voice calls out,

“Are you guys cheating on me? You know I can hear you across the apartment, right?” Matt’s voice calls out, and you laugh, as Frank just smiles.

“Yes, I can, Red,” He says back, before leaning in to kiss you again.

//

Your eyes are heavy with sleep as you spot Matt, laying across the couch, looking like a god damn renaissance painting. He’s so hot. You find yourself walking over to him, dropping your new necklace on the coffee table, as you climb on top of him,  finding yourself literally acting like a blanket, burying your face in his neck as his hand comes up to, like usual, let you gently suck on his fingers.

Frank rolls his eyes when he sees the pair of you cuddling, and just shakes his head when he sees the stim toy abandoned on the table. He takes out his phone and takes a picture of the pair of you, Matt just in his briefs, and you in your entire pajama ensemble.

The apartment is full of a gentle silence, as Frank watches the pair of you sleep, quietly thankful that he kept living.

[strawberrynightmare]

Mikey, Mitsuya, Koko & Izana with foodie s/o

Content warning: Just Izana being a little bit... extreme

Koko

~It all started when he took you birthday shopping. The two of you went to a mall and he told you to take anything you want and not look at the price, to which you hesitantly agreed. He expected to be dragged into a clothing or electronics shop. Whatever you wanted; jackets, shoes, bags, perfumes, headphones, games, or maybe, once you get more confident, a phone, tablet, laptop? Or even a tv?

~He got so lost in his fantasies it took him a few minutes to comprehend your current whereabouts. 

~...A grocery store.

~Well, that’s fine. It’s completely reasonable that you’d want to do groceries. Duties first, pleasures second. Although he had to assure you that he’s more than happy to pay for your overflowing shopping cart full of sweets, snacks, cheese and other stuff.  He didn’t let you carry everything yourself, either. He insisted he carries at least 3/4 of them.

~Then the two of you went to get pizza. For that, he paid without even asking. Of course, it wouldn’t be good to shop hungry. And then a sweet dessert - ice cream!

~And when he thought that this is where the actual shopping trip starts, you said that you were done and thanked him. He looked at you as if you were insane. Surely, you must have been joking. 

~But instead of saying “just kidding”, you asked him if there’s anywhere he wants to go. This man was so flabbergasted that he just shook his head and silently walked you home. 

~It didn’t take him long to accept his fate and change his strategy, though. 

~Instead of more “classic” gifts, he began to buy you food. And rather than to the shopping malls, he took you to some of the most recommended restaurants. Pretty chill about it too. Although only for as long as he gets to pay. He can get petty when you don’t let him. The two of you literally race to the checkpoint

~And no, you are not visiting McDonald's, KFC or such things. He’s willing to (respectfully) argue with you about that. Why would you even look at their trash-quality food, when he’s more than willing to pay for something healthier and tastier? *proceeds to wave his credit card in front of your face until you give up*

~If there’s a specific food you crave out of the blue, all you have to do is text him. He’ll order it for you. Hell, he’ll even order anything he sees advertised on the internet that he thought you might like, so don’t get surprised when you get random parcels delivered to your door.

~If you’re worried about your eating habits, he’ll suggest visiting a dietician and will even accompany you there. Won’t force you or stick his nose into your eating habits unless it’s clearly dangerous for your health, though. Most of the time he just supports every decision you make.

~Literally the definition of “Eat whatever you want, I can pay.”

Izana

~Okay this guy 100% loves to watch you eat. You can’t convince me otherwise. 

~Like, imagine you’re casually enjoying your waffles and he sits right in front of you, staring at you, drilling holes into your soul with his gaze. Like this ◉_◉. He doesn’t even order anything for himself no matter how many times you ask him if he’s sure that he’s not hungry. 

~Your boyfriend literally can get high on dopamine from watching you eat something you like. He doesn’t get bored. Each time the two of you meet, he just kinda gives you some kind of a snack and at this point, you don’t even question it, cause he’s gonna do it either way. The two of you start talking, he automatically extends his hand with a snack towards you and you automatically take it without missing a beat. 

~The moment you split your food in half and offered it to him, he was so moved. In his mind, he swore to protect you forever. I’ve seen memes about girlfriends saying they don’t want anything to eat and then eat their boyfriend’s food. Which kind of resembles him because he’ll only eat if it’s from your plate. Can’t get his own for his life. 

~I can clearly imagine a scenario where a gang fight occurs and all of the enemies get heavily beaten up except for that one guy who’s captured at the very beginning and then, at the end, they let him go with no more than a scratch, simply because he’s the son of the owner of your favourite sushi restaurant. 

~At the same time, imagine what happens to the people whose food you dislike. Without a blink, he’d watch you eat something, and instead of the usual bliss he sees on your face, you frown and begin to slow down before hesitantly putting down the eating utensils. He’d ask you if anything’s wrong and after you reply that this dish is not really to your liking, he’d just smile and offer that you eat somewhere else. Then, the next day, you heard in the news that the very same restaurant burned to ashes during the night. The cause of the fire was unknown. 

~Another time, he accidentally saw you out in the town with a friend. He just happened to be nearby and considered saying hello when he heard your friend complaining about you eating way too much. You didn’t seem to take it seriously, but a dark glint in his eyes appeared at that time.

~”I never had a problem with how much they eat…”

~Hopefully, you weren’t very close with that friend (._.)

~Lowkey the devil on your shoulder. He only means good, but he never really tells you no. If you’re thinking about whether to get something to eat, you don’t even have to look at him to know his advice. And if you can’t decide between two things, he’ll just get you both no big deal. Even if he’s aware that it might not be the best for you, it’s not like an additional portion of ice cream will harm you, right?

~He’ll even go as far as to rob a grocery store with his gang to get you a good supply of snacks. You might want to establish some boundaries with him. Just saying. 

~Overall, wants the best, but tends to take things to the extremes.

Mitsuya

~Say no more.

~Actually, he’d cook for you almost each time you come to visit him even before he learns about your fondness for good food. And when he does? You got yourself a personal chef and no amount of insisting and resisting will get you out of this. 

~Legit gets offended if you refuse to let him make you food and suggest eating in the town instead.  

“Haaa? You’d rather pay for some stranger’s stuff rather than eat what your boyfriend prepared for you with love?”

~And it doesn’t matter that you only have the best intentions in mind and you don’t want to overwork him. He’s having none of that. If you really insist that you want to eat at some restaurant or worse- a fast food restaurant (!) he has no power to stop you. He’ll go with you, but he’ll be silent most of the time and will be glaring at you as you eat.

“I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.”

~But the moment you finally break, and promise to always choose his food over others, he’s momentarily back to himself, apologising and cuddling the hell out of you. Overbearing, but he does it out of care.

~That’s where it ends though. He invites you to eat dinner with him every few days and sometimes makes you snacks, but the rest is up to you. He doesn’t really stick his nose into your eating habits. And he doesn’t forbid you from eating in restaurants either. He’ll straight out encourage you to try out new places, but that’s only as long as he’s not able to cook for you himself, probably due to lack of time.

~If he sees some occasional food trucks or other kinds of time-limited food stalls, he’s absolutely getting you stuff from there. He’ll probably get a little bit of everything so that the two of you can go back there and eat whatever you liked the most.

~And if he sees someone bothering you for your eating habits, he won’t hesitate to pull them aside and scold them or even start a fight if necessary. 

~Will ask his friends and fellow gang members if they’ve been to any good restaurants/bars/cafes/food stalls or anything recently so that he can take you there later.

~Also, will try out even more new recipes and even has a little notebook where he writes down your favourite ones. Then, on some grand dates like anniversaries, your birthday or valentines, he’ll prepare little feasts entirely made out of your favourites.

~HOLD HIM FROM BEHIND AS HE COOKS. The first time you did it he froze and started blushing like crazy. He’d pin you to the wall and make out with you if he didn’t have milk on the stove. 

~From there on, he usually demands that you do it each time you ask if he needs any help or feel guilty with how much effort he puts in for you. This is it, this is the payment. Bonus points if you nuzzle your face into his shoulder. It’s his favourite thing to make him relax.

~Compliment his cooking and he’ll be genuinely thrown off. It’s something which always manages to make his mind all hazy and the butterflies in his stomach spring to life. Don’t let him brush it off! Keep going to witness the great mitsuya takashi embarrassed and shy.

~All in all, LET HIM COOK

Mikey

I came up w/ this one while taking a shit

~I can literally see a whole love story forming there.

~Imagine you decided on a study break, went to some shop nearby and bought some snacks. Let’s say, a croissant or two. A full ass croissant with chocolate inside and stuff. And you go to the park to enjoy it. It’s late afternoon, you find a bench hidden in the shadow of some old maple and bon appetit!

~You were halfway in, when you noticed that someone sat at the opposite side of the bench. You glanced that way and saw a blonde who looked to be about your age. He was also eating, but it was dorayaki. Without thinking much about it, your attention shifted back to your treat. After you were done, you quietly left.

~Then, a whole week later, it was also around that time that you decided to have some air, went to the same store and this time, bought a box of cookies. Once again, you ventured into the park and soon noticed that the bench you occupied last time was once again empty. So you sat there and enjoyed your break. 

~And again, the very same blonde appeared and sat nearby but with a different snack. 

You were suddenly pulled out of your blissful state by the stranger’s voice. 

“Can I have one cookie?” You turned to look at him. “I’ll give you pocky in exchange,” he noticed the slight surprise on your face and sent you a reassuring smile. “Is it too sudden? Sorry, but they just smell so good. Seriously, what flavour is this?”

“I think it’s because of the orange filling,“ you extended the box towards him as he moved closer to you. He took one cookie and offered you his pocky. 

“Thank you! Now try this, it’s green tea flavoured.”

“Nice, thanks.”

~No more words were spoken and as you finished, you simply said your goodbye and left. But the next time you went there, he was on the bench already. When he noticed you, he waved you in greeting and another exchange took place, this time, you also had a little small talk. Then, the same situation kept repeating until the two of you sat right next to each other and chatted casually. 

~Every few days, you headed to the bench, hoping to see him there. But after some time, it didn’t simply end on the bench hangouts. He’d ask you to go with him to that cafe you spoke so fondly about. Or the ramen restaurant he recommended. 

~As you began to spend more time together, you exchanged numbers, began to text each other and even developed feelings. None of you could point out the exact time when you fell in love. It just felt so right when you were together, you soon began to officially date. 

~Which brings us to this point. Seriously, you’re like twin souls. It is now a common occurrence for the two of you to exchange food or even steal each other’s. Literally imagine you and a few of his friends hanging out at his place and he looks through his drawers frowning for a while and finally asks “who took my limited edition strawberry taiyaki?” with a death voice. No one dares to breathe, but there you are, head peeking from the bathroom. “Oh, I ate it”.

~Everyone gets ready to hold Mikey down to at least give you a few minutes to run, but he just gets back to his normal mode and smiles. “Did you like it? I’ll buy more for you next time then.” And they’re absolutely bewildered. No, I will never get tired of this trope

~Food dates all of the time. Cafe, restaurant, bar, grocery store, name it and you’ll be going there. Especially if you’re too shy to go on your own. There is no such thing as ‘too much food’ in his dictionary. Eat to your heart’s content and if anyone dares to comment, we all know what happens. 

~Totally the type to bring you some sweets and ask for cuddles, kisses and letting him sleep on your lap in exchange. But hey! You can do the same. Actually, you don’t even have to get him anything. He’s physically unable to say no to you even if he sometimes gets a little bit pouty, a few minutes later he doesn’t even remember why he was mad in the first place.

~Once you have dated for some time, he’s the type to ask you how does your food taste while you’re eating, and as you’re moving your plate towards him, it’s 50/50 whether he demands you to feed him or steals a kiss and then licks his lips and says, “it’s good.”

~The spoon feeding though. He wants you to feed him just as much as he wants to feed you. It makes everyone in the 10 metre radius look away. Especially if you happen to be hanging out with his friends. The moment you start, various groans and sighs can be heard all around you. But at the same time, they all have those little smirks on their lips. 

~Their leader is smitten. Good for him.

[bettysupremacy]

congrats on the jobbbbb!!!! you’re gonna be the cutest ice cream scooper evaaa (close tie to Steve) 🍦

Could I please request something where you’re the cute new hiree at scoops and Steve has to teach you the ropes while crushing a little (are we sensing a theme?)

thank you beautiful I loved writing this he’s such a nerd

“Okay,” Steve sighs heavily, leaning his weight onto the counter. “And this is where we make the cones.”

“Got it.”

“You might think ‘how hard could this be?’, well, you’d be surprised-“

“It was only hard for you!” Robin yells from behind the counter.

Steve laughs, welcoming the tease. “Yes, she’s totally right. It really was only hard for me.”

He shines in the fluorescent light of the sailor themed shop. The lights are actually loud, louder in your nervousness than you assume for him. His hair is big, swooping over and curling at the nape of his neck. He wears no hat, but you can assume why.

“Would you like her to teach you?”

You shake your head adamantly. Steve’s cute. Really cute. You’d seen him around town before, glimpses of a boy seemingly untouched by the hurdles of life, but you hadn’t known he’d worked here. Robin had given you the application as she had laid in your bed. Music played, the windows were down, the warm summery air drifted through the windows smelling of grass, and the both of you had collapsed silently on your twin.

“Please.” She had said, and you’d agreed.

But you didn’t know Steve worked here as well. Maybe Robin held that on purpose. You’d been to his house once. Once, for a party. It wasn’t lame and neither was his home. Tall ceilings, pretty staircases and family portraits. Why did he work here for $3 an hour? Steve doesn’t seem to know either.

“I’m very clumsy — I burn myself a lot — please ignore it.”

“I promise.”

He teaches you the mechanics of the waffle machine. It’s really simple actually, a lot simpler than he made it seem. The batter is pre-made, shipped once a week and held in the small fridge they desperately need to upgrade. Pour it in, wait 30 seconds, flip, and wait thirty seconds again. He’d burned himself pulling it out, hissing, but never faltering.

It’s golden and warm, crunchy and smelling softy of vanilla. He holds it until it’s no longer hot, and then hands it to you.

“Here,” he shrugs. “Eat your first creation.”

“Really?”

“It’s already touched my hands.” He smiles innocently. “I can’t tarnish our A+ health inspection.”

Your smile is shy as you grab it. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

You bite it carefully, tearing off a piece for him to eat. He takes it from your nimble fingers, eyeing the blue nail polish that cracks on your fingertips.

“So..” Steve’s awkward. “I heard you’ve known Robin awhile?”

You break off another piece of and pop it on your mouth. “Definitely awhile.”

“She’s cool,“ He smiles fondly. “Or whatever, but yeah.”

“Yeah.” You laugh a little at his redirection.

“Also,” he adds messily. “They say you have to wear the hat but..” he leans in to whisper cheekily. “screw company policy.”

You laugh loudly, startled at his closeness.

He goes to say something, pink lips parting before he’s cut off by Robin. All he can get out his a huff a breath and dully you notice you’re staring at his lips. You think he’s noticed too.

“Y/N!” Robin yells from the ice cream stand. “Get out here and let me teach you the scooper!”

You turn, smiling in the direction of your short haired friend.

“Guess I’ve gotta quit slacking.” You murmur.

“See you soon.” He’s remorseful.

“See you soon.” You amuse a little, walking towards the swinging door. He walks too.

“Right,” He bumps into you, laughing nervously. “Sorry.”

You smile, talking over him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He cringes.

The door swings behind you, letting glimpse of laughter from the bustling store through. He sighs, palm to his eyes.

Yeah, he’s pretty cute.

[dandylovesturtles]

just a little A Team hurt/comfort

------

Raph knocked over some moving boxes during their last shouting match - he spares them a guilty glance as he walks past. Someone has tried to clean up the mess (Mikey, most likely), but he can still tell that they were recently upended and their contents left scattered on the ground.

He knows this is why they told him to go get Leo for breakfast. They want this to be a peace offering. Raph would like for it to be a peace offering, too, but...

Well, it's not like he likes fighting with Leo. Things are just... complicated.

He makes it to Leo's train car, and takes a deep breath before pulling the curtain back. He can do this. One civil interaction.

Leo's already awake, scrolling through his phone. That's in his favor - Leo's always grumpy if you wake him up. At least this way, Raph doesn't have to.

"Hey Leo," he says, and his brother flicks his eyes up from the phone screen. "Breakfast in five. Mikey made waffles."

"Oh, sweet," says Leo. He grins, but even Raph can tell it's forced. "I'll be there in a sec - just checkin' the socials."

And for a moment, Raph almost says something; says that he's sorry, and he takes back everything he said, and Leo should just forget about it, not worry about it, he doesn't want to fight anymore and this is stupid-

And then he thinks about Karai, and the Shredder, and their dad, and the far too close call they had to losing each other, New York, the whole world-

And he thinks about Leo skipping training to go skateboarding, Leo showing up late to patrol with a quip and laugh, Leo charging into fights without so much as a word to the rest of them, Leo who can't take anything seriously-

And it dies in his mouth. He says instead, "Yeah, sure. Just get there before it gets cold."

He turns to leave, but before he can, Leo calls out, "Hey, Raph?"

Raph only half turns, looking over his shoulder at Leo. Wondering if, maybe, Leo is going to try to say something instead. Wondering if he finally gets it, or if they're going to start fighting before breakfast.

Maybe Leo is running the same calculations. Raph is sure he is, actually, because Leo's brain twists over words the way Donnie's twists over physics.

So he must come to the same conclusion, because he doesn't say anything about the fight, or training, or his responsibilities, or any of it. What he says is, "Love you, big bro."

And Raph's heart drops into his stomach.

-----

Leo's always been looser with those words than any of the rest of them. Been that way since they were little, and Splinter kept them in the same part of the sewer, sleeping on pallet beds with whatever pillows and sheets he managed to find in the dump.

"Goodnight, Daddy. I love you," said Leo. "Goodnight Raphie, I love you. Goodnight, Donnie..."

The ritual was long - Leo always used three times as many words as other people. Sometimes Splinter would say, "Yes, yes, Blue, now let your brothers sleep." Sometimes Raph would say, "Hurry it up, Leo." Sometimes Donnie would hide his head under his pillow, or smack that same pillow over Leo's face.

Nowadays, Raph misses that: the sincerely sweet way Leo wanted them all to know he loved them.

As he grew older, Leo began using those words more flippantly. "I love you, but" became one of his stock phrases, a way to soften the blow of criticism. "Come on, you know I love you," said to ward off any retaliation after a prank or insult. "Love ya, bye!" rushed out at the end of one of their rare phone calls, a signal he didn't want to talk anymore.

But every now and then, Raph still got the sincere version. When he brought Leo tea the morning after a bad bout of insomnia. When Leo fussed over an injury, gently winding bandages around his arm or leg. When Leo was sleepy after a long Lou Jitsu marathon, and he reverted to the old ritual as Raph tucked him into bed: "Goodnight, I love you."

The "love you" Leo says to him now, in his room, before breakfast, with the mess of their last big fight barely cleaned up, is none of those.

The "love you" Leo says now is a question.

He doesn't pronounce it like a question. There's no upward lilt to his voice. He doesn't end it by asking if Raph knows. But Raph can still hear it, buried deep in Leo's tone: he's not sure. About loving Raph? About being loved? About what there still is between them?

Raph loves Leo. He loves him so much it aches. It's why he knocked the box over. It's why he wants to knock another ten boxes over. It's why he just needs Leo to understand, to hear him, to see what he sees when he closes his eyes and sees Karai, and the Shredder, and their family almost-

But here they are. With Leo saying "love you" like it's a question and Raph doesn't know the right answer.

"Yeah," he says. "Breakfast in five," he says.

He doesn't know the right answer but he does know that wasn't it.

He leaves Leo in his room, and goes back to his own. Puts his face in his hands. He sees Karai.

He knocks another box over.

-----

Leo's hand is a tiny thing in his. It's also, maybe, the only part of his body that isn't broken. Not like his legs, his arms, his shell, his jaw, his neck-

Raph can't look at his neck. The bruise there makes him want to throw up.

Leo's been out of critical condition for almost two full days. It hasn't made any of them less on edge, and they still spend most of their time crowded in the med bay, watching Leo's chest like it will stop rising the moment they turn their backs.

But Leo's heart doesn't stop, and he breathes in and out, and Raph holds his hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb.

He'd wanted Leo to understand.

He hadn't wanted this to be how Leo learned.

When he closes his eyes now he sees Leo right next to Karai, and he has to touch Leo again, to make sure he's still really there.

Movement from the bed, and a soft noise. Raph's gaze trails up from Leo's hand to his eyes, open but heavy lidded, clouded with a haze of exhaustion and medicine.

"Hey, Leo," he says, trying to keep his tone upbeat despite it all. "You're home; you're safe."

"Mm," hums Leo, still sleepy. He twists the hand that Raph's holding, adjusting his grip so it's wrapped around Raph's thumb. He strokes at Raph the way Raph had just been doing for him, and Raph feels tears sting his eyes.

"Love you, Raphie," says Leo, and this time, there's not a hint of uncertainty.

Raph's heart lurches again. Whatever answer Leo had been looking for last time, he must have found it.

But.

Raph doesn't plan to leave anything to chance. Not anymore.

"Love you too, Leo." He leans in, press his forehead to the top of Leo's head. "I love you, too."

Leo makes a pleased noise, low in his throat. He's already sinking back into sleep, his grip on Raph's hand growing loose. His breaths are still steady and even, heart beating strong, the look on his face peaceful.

"Goodnight, Leo," says Raph. "I love you."

[lilisouless]

Zoya: the theater group that was supposed to come for the anniversary of the end of the Ravka war cancelled, i promised a play!

Nikolai: don't worry, i got this

---

Zoya: remind me never blindly trust an "i got this"

Nikolai: why? they are making a good job on the effects, and they will do anything for money

Alina: shhh! my big moment is comming!

Jesper with a long white wig: But my beloved Mole-

Wylan whispering: Mal-

Jesper: There has to be another way!

Wylan shirtless and with a six pack painted on his belly with a marker: There is no other way, Alina. Its your fate and dying for you its mine, as said by the cool and not at all awful tattoo of mine

Mal: I wasn't shirtless when i died

Alina: in my mind you were

Jesper: i can't do it!

Wylan: you must!

Jesper: okay! (fakes stabbing Wylan who fakes a collapse) oh Mal, Rakva will honor your braveness, and i will always remember how much i love your abs...and personality and all that shit

Alina snifs: its like they were just there

---

Zoya: so..why did she choose that role?

Nikolai: she said it she wanted a loud range of emotions

Nina with a big fake black kefta: Join me, Alina Starkov! join me to the shadow side , HAHAHAHA!

Zoya: at least practicing her evil laugther actually paid up

Jesper: Never! you just will just steal my power!

Nina stomping her foot; but why won't you give it to me?! why-won't you give it to me!

Mal: and...now "the darkling" is crying like a baby...at least they got that right

Nina: You need me! you need the shadow!

Jesper: no...this is..BONE! (fakes stabs Nina)

Nina: noooo! i am dyiiing....nooo, why didn't i bring a blade proof kefta, nooo

Nina fake coughing: Alina...please...do something for me...

Jesper fake crying while an onion slips from his fake kefta: yes?

Nina: "cough" tell...Zoya...to give that little grisha, Nina Zenik (the cutest one) all the waffles she wants (fakes a collapse)

Jesper: now its my time to die too, Tamar. Tolya, bring me my boytoy

Mal: excuse me? "man toy" please

Kuwei enter the scenario while dragging Wylan around

Tolya: is he supposed to be me or you?

Tamar: he has an undercut, so probably me-

Kuwei: Sankta Alina, we can cure you! I can cure you with my axe!

Kuwei turning around,showing a sidetail on the other side of his face: this makes me want to do some poetry

Tamar: oh, he is both of us, like the detail that the arm playing me is more muscular

Tolya: its literally not-

Jesper: no...i´ll die, my job here is done

Kuwei as Tolya : but my saint! you can't leave us!

Kuwei turning around as Tamar: Ravka is still a mess

Jesper: And thats your problem now, so long suckers! (fakes to die over Wylan´s body as Kuwei cries)

---

Inej with a fake blue kefta: i hope all of you know how lucky you are to be on my pressence

Zoya: this whole play is awful, all our portrayals are so one note and exagerated, we are not like that on real life. My eyes are too good for this sight

Inej : A triple funeral, a country with no money (flips her hair) my eyes are too good for this sight

Zoya: everyone shut up

Matthias with a cardboard crown: Oh yes, and i am the king now, i was hidden to treat my injuries completely unrelated to demonic possesion and (looks up at cue cards) improbable...i am a pearl...something , something...charming

Nikolai: who let him play me?

Kaz with a cheap red wig and a patch before the big curtain falls : and i...was ruination

Zoya: always the need to have the last word

Genya clapping: as "she" should

[hittoki]

[ CHAPTERS.05 ] く the girlfriendification of wonbin ₊☆ word count: 0.8k

as soon as wonbin sent her the address, y/n punched it into her car's gps and started driving. she turned on her red velvet playlist, humming along while sitting at the red light. the mini golf place was only 10 minutes from her apartment so wasn't in much of a rush.

when y/n arrived, she sat in her car for a few minutes before getting a call from wonbin. "hey, are you here yet?" wonbin asked.

"yeah, i'm just in my car," she replied. "where are you?"

"i'm in my car too. what does your car look like 'cuz i'll meet you over there."

suddenly, y/n forgot what her own car looked like. "uhh, it's navy blue and there's stickers on the--here--why don't i just step out?" wonbin hung up when he saw her. "rude."

she looked up from her phone, seeing the long-haired boy. "are you ready for the best, most extravagant, fake mini golfing date?" he jokingly moved his hands a bunch, extending one to her. y/n looked at his hand hesitantly and he took it back, awkwardly putting it back in his pocket.

the two walked toward the entrance, y/n kicking a pebble on the ground and wonbin passing it back to her. wonbin opened the door for her and smiled. y/n returned the smile and stepped into the building. it was more so a shack as it was hysterically small. the couple had agreed beforehand that wonbin would pay for mini golf while y/n would pay for ice cream so he asked the lady at the desk for two tickets to the mega course. y/n chose the ___ golf club while wonbin chose the red one with the corresponding golf ball.

the first course was easy-peasy, y/n thought. and it was, because she and wonbin were tied one to one. as for the next course,of wonbin had a bit of trouble. between y/n blowing air into his ear to mess him up and making annoying noises, he couldn't seem to concentrate on getting the ball in. he made sure to get payback on y/n, giving her a play-by-play of her own golfing. she laughed and shushed him. "hey! you distracted me, this is only fair." y/n stuck her tongue out, flipping her hair over her shoulder. as her club struck the ball, she watched it in anticipation as it went into the hole. she cheered and wonbin scoffed. "you cheated."

y/n shrugged, saying, "it's all about mindset."

through the next ten courses, it was clear that wonbin was kicking y/n's butt. she had racked up 21 points while wonbin only had 13 since he kept getting hole-in-one's. y/n started to blame her repeat losses on her hatred for odd numbers. "wonbin, i swear, i only mess up on the odd-numbered levels. look," she showed him her paper. "i got a hole in one on the even numbers but everything else is weird." wonbin mockingly agreed with her, shaking his head while laughing.

wonbin ended up winning with a score of 24 while y/n had 43. "good game," he patted her on the shoulder as she sulked. "now let's go get some ice cream."

the two walked back to the parking lot after returning their clubs and balls (don't laugh). "just follow my car. i don't remember the address." when y/n got into her car, she secured her score sheet in the sun visor before closing it and starting the car.

at the ice cream parlor, there was limited space to sit inside so y/n decided they would sit outside. smiling to the cashier, y/n started her order. "hi, can i get one almond-coffee waffle cone and one," she grimaced. "mint chocolate chip waffle cone?" y/n dug through her purse for her wallet but did not feel it anywhere. she groaned. when she looked back up, wonbin had already handed over his card. "i'll pay you back when i get to my car."

he waved his hand, telling her she didn't have to. "it's on me."

"i thought you didn't have any money." wonbin's eye twitched at the question. his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, an action y/n found insanely attractive.

"i'm not, like, actually broke. i just want more money and my mom only pays me minimum wage because i'm her son." when the two got their ice cream cones, wonbin got out his phone to take a picture.

"i still can't believe you like mint chocolate chip. anyway, did you tell your mom we're talking."

he nodded, taking a bite out of his ice cream. "she was like, 'i don't understand your generation with your talking stages. just take the girl on a date.''

"she's got a point."

"if i told her about situationships, i think she would go into cardiac arrest." y/n laughed, using her finger to swipe the ice cream that was dripping down the cone.

the two started to plan their next fake date before they each went their separate ways.

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★. . description 𓂃 y/n plays the violin in a prestigious youth orchestra. wonbin is a struggling artist who works for his family's music store. when y/n's bow snaps during a rigorous day of practice, she searches high and low for her favorite brand but cannot find it anywhere. she settles for the local music shop and, low and behold, they sell it. wonbin needs a girlfriend and when y/n unintentionally interrupts his argument with his parents, he takes the opportunity.

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