#THURSDAY IS DAWN OF THE FINAL DAY

[theolivefox]

I HAVE RESIGNED

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: Lonely!Seungkwan shows up at your fishing tent and goes fishing alone because his friends didn't show up. And you make sure he doesn't feel lonely by offering him company on your breaks. — WC: 3.2k — WARNINGS: Mentions of being left out, smut, fluff, penetrative sex, fingering, g'spot stimulation, squirting, oral (m. receiving), sk is mentioned ab being good with girls一he fucks u good because he likes you sm <3

[Issue Club Serie]

You arrive at the fishing center early, just as the first light of dawn breaks over the island bay. The salty tang of the sea air fills your lungs, a familiar comfort. Your dad's fishing center stands quiet and still, a stark contrast to the bustling weekends when groups of men flock here, escaping their everyday lives with beer and fishing rods. You brace yourself for another routine day of serving loud, boisterous customers.

But today is different. As you unlock the kiosk and roll up the gate, you notice a lone figure waiting by the entrance. He's much younger than your usual clientele, with dark brown hair that catches the early morning light. He’s standing there, hands in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," you call out as you finish opening up, "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, I'd like to rent a fishing rod," he replies, his voice carrying a hint of shyness.

"Just one?" you ask, somewhat surprised. He nods.

You hand him a rod and watch as he sets up at one of the chairs by the water. He moves with a calm, practiced ease, casting his line into the bay and settling in. You expect his friends to arrive soon, but as the morning stretches into afternoon, no one joins him. He remains alone, reeling in a fish here and there with quiet patience.

The hours pass, and you lose yourself in the rhythm of your tasks. When the guy finally returns to the kiosk, you notice the slightly downcast expression on his face as he pays for the rental.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

He chuckles softly, "Not many options," he says, and you frown, wiping down the counter.

"What do you mean?" you probe gently.

"I invited some friends to come fishing with me today, but no one showed up," he admits, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Your heart squeezes in your chest. There's something about his cool, easy-going demeanor that makes his confession all the more poignant. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. "I'm sorry to hear that," you say sincerely.

He shrugs, offering a pained smile. "It's okay. No need to be."

But you can tell it does bother him. The way he looks down at his hands, the slight slump in his shoulders—it's clear he had hoped for more from today.

As he leaves, you find yourself hoping that next time, he'll have someone to share his fishing trip with. Until then, you'll remember the lonely young man who came to the fishing center, looking for company and finding only the quiet expanse of the bay.

A few days pass, and the familiar sight of the boy on his bike comes into view again. Your kiosk is already open as he pedals up. You glance at him and smile. “Good morning...?”

“Seungkwan,” he says with a small nod.

“How can I help you today?” you ask, leaning your elbows on the counter.

“One fishing rod, please,” he replies.

“Again,” you think to yourself. You give him a small smile and hand him the rod. He sets up alone, just like last time. You sigh at the sight. It’s a sunny Thursday, the perfect morning to fish under the warm sun with good company. With no customers around, you decide to join him.

You grab your fishing rod, some bait, and two glasses of cold lemonade. As you approach, you place the cups on the table next to him and your things on the floor. Seungkwan watches you set up a chair beside him, glancing at the two glasses. You start fishing by his side, and it’s completely silent. Seungkwan seems so used to being alone that your presence feels foreign to him.

After a while, the silence begins to feel natural. You break it, asking, “Is there a reason why your friends didn’t come today?”

He looks at you before turning his gaze back to the water. “Well, Joshua works a lot, Seokmin studies non-stop, Woozi doesn’t leave his home, and Jeonghan is dating right now. So... I don’t blame them.”

You hum thoughtfully. “They must be very busy.”

He nods. “They are.”

You hand him the lemonade, and he thanks you. Then, he asks, “Why are you fishing with me?”

“Well, I’m not exactly fishing,” you say. You both glance at your rod, which is just laying in the water, not cast far out, just resting on the sand.

He laughs. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”

You shrug, laughing too. “I’m used to selling fishing stuff, not really going fishing.”

“Then why are you fishing now?” he asks.

You smile. “I wanted to talk with you.”

Seungkwan looks surprised. “You don’t need to keep me company out of pity.”

“No,” you brush his idea away, “I really wanted to get to know you.”

Someone genuinely excited to know about him? He feels so happy he almost explodes. Every time you ask him about his favorite song, what he likes to do, what he’s studying, or why he likes to fish, he feels more and more content.

As the morning sun climbs higher, your conversations flow easily, the gap between two strangers closing bit by bit.

Seungkwan fights the urge to visit your dad's fishing center every day. He doesn't want to seem desperate. Each time he comes, he brings something new—a sweet treat, a fresh loaf of bread. You two have developed a routine of walking along the beach at sunset, feeling the cool waves lap at your feet. 

Sometimes, he even helps you with the work at the tent. Your dad is charmed by his kindness, and you can't help but love Seungkwan's company too.

He's become like a keychain, always by your side. The thoughts of him being alone have dissipated since he met you. Your friends adore him too, though you sometimes have to remind them that you were his friend first. His good looks don't go unnoticed, and it’s hard to deny that you noticed his charisma from the first time you saw him.

Now, as you close the kiosk after a successful Saturday, Seungkwan helps roll down the window gate. Your dad has gone to take some goods to the city center, leaving just the two of you. You rearrange the fishing rods on the holder on the wall, glancing at Seungkwan out of the corner of your eye. darkened interior closed kiosk, you can see the outline of his physique through his tight shirt.

"Thanks for your help today," you say, trying to sound casual.

"No problem. I like being here," he replies with a smile.

You finish with the rods and turn to face him fully. "You know, you don't have to bring something every time you come."

He shrugs, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I like seeing you smile."

The words make your heart skip a beat. You step closer, his body resting on the counter "I like seeing you too, Seungkwan."

He seems to consider this for a moment, then says, "I don't feel so alone anymore, thanks to you."

The tension between you installs, but it's a comforting kind of tension, one that promises something more. In that moment, you realize how much he means to you, how much his presence has become a part of your life. The darkness of the kiosk feels intimate, like a cocoon wrapping around the two of you.

"You know," you say, trying to lighten the mood a bit, "you're pretty good at this fishing center stuff. My dad might start paying you."

Seungkwan laughs, the sound filling the small space. "I'd do it for free, just to be around you."

Your heart swells at his words. "Careful, or I might just take you up on that."

He grins, and the warmth in his eyes makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. "Deal," 

You two start to notice how close your bodies have become, a proximity you didn't even realize until now. The air is thick with the shared breath between you and Seungkwan, heavy and shallow. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you sense him moving even closer.

"Seungkwan," you say softly, breaking the tension. "You said you were alone because of your friends... but I never asked if you had a girlfriend."

He looks at you, his expression serious. "No, I don't."

Your heart races as you gently pull on the hem of his shirt. "So, if I kiss you right now, there won't be any problems, right?"

He breathes out slowly, his eyes locked onto yours. "No problems at all," he whispers.

You take advantage of the intimate darkness of the kiosk, leaning in to press your lips against his. His body responds instantly, molding against yours. One of his hands finds its way behind your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss, while the other slides down to your ribs, fingers teasing the edge of your bikini, thumb sliding on your underboob before slipping under it to touch your nipples. 

The sound of your kisses fills the small space, wet and urgent. "Kwan," you gasp, pulling back slightly to catch your breath.

He hums, eyes dark with desire as he looks at you. You turn quickly to lock the door, a preventable act. Before you can turn back, Seungkwan's body is pressed against yours from behind. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as his hips grind on your ass. You can feel the hard bulge between his legs pressing against you.

Your head rolls back onto his shoulder as you linger in the sensation, his lips finding your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. His hands roam over your body, one slipping inside your shorts, the other trailing up to your boob.

One thing Seokmin had told you when Seungkwan brought you to meet him was that Seungkwan was really good with girls when they studied together. 

You had forgotten it.

But now, with his fingers moving in and out of your pussy, under your bikini, as you grind against him, the memory suddenly resurfaces. You didn't even notice when you started moaning, your head resting on his shoulder, mouth open as louder moans escape with each movement of his fingers.

You feel so wet, as if you'd been swimming in the ocean, but the truth is that you're melting under Seungkwan's touch. He curls his fingers against your g'spot, and you quiver, your hand bumping against the wall, knocking a few fishing rods to the ground.

"C-cumin'," you warn, your hips rolling against his hand. 

He intensifies the curl of his fingers, making them go deep into your pussy, reaching the spongy spot harder, making your body flinch up with the strength of his grip. His other hand holds your ass firmly against his cock, guiding your movements.

"That's it," he whispers in your ear. "Let go."

Your back arches, pushing your ass harder against him. The sensation completely consumes you, every nerve in your body is glowing with delight. Your orgasm builds rapidly, the tension coiling tightly in your core until it snaps, making you cum, his hand drenched inside your bikini. You cry out, your body trembling as you ride the high of your orgasm, Seungkwan's fingers never stopping their fast pace.

As you come down from your peak, he holds you close, his breath hot against your neck. You can still feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, a constant reminder of how much you both desire each other.

He removes his hand from inside your bikini and shorts, and you can feel the wetness as he slides his hand up your belly. Your mind snaps to attention when you hear him sucking his fingers clean, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. You turn around, your legs like jelly as you manage to kneel between him and the door.

Your hands are desperate to find the hard muscle of his cock. Seungkwan braces himself by laying a hand on the door frame, and the sight of his cock, slightly slapping your face as you pull his boxers down, makes his knees quiver. The bulbous head rests against your cheek, smearing precum on your skin.

You relax your jaw, preparing yourself. Holding the crown of his cock, you prop your hands on his balls and take his perfect length into your mouth. You've seen a lot of beautiful things in your life, but hearing Seungkwan's moans is quickly becoming your favorite. He moans, sensitive to the slightest licks, and the sound makes you keenly aware of how wet you are, your bikini and shorts sopping together.

"God, you feel so good," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. His fingers tangle in your hair, gently guiding you.

You hum in response, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth. You take him deeper, savoring the salty taste and the way he fills your mouth. Each moan he releases, more you deepthroat him, your cum pooling between your legs.

Seungkwan's breathing becomes ragged, his hips bucking slightly as he tries to control himself, his grip tightening in your hair.

You pull back slightly, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock before taking him in again. The way he reacts to every touch, every flick of your tongue, makes you feel powerful, in control. You glance up at him, seeing the bliss etched on his face, lit bitten to contain his moans, and it only spurs you on.

The sounds of his pleasure, the taste of him, the feel of his body trembling—it's unforgettable. You lose yourself in the act, in the way you're linked, the darkness of the kiosk, the intimacy of the moment, everything else fades away.

He pulls you off him with a gentle but firm hand, panting heavily. "I don't want to finish like this," he says, voice hoarse. "I want to be inside you."

You nod, breathless and eager. He helps you to your feet, and you feel the slickness between your thighs, a signal of your arousal. Seungkwan kisses you deeply, hungrily, tasting himself on your tongue as he guides you to the counter. His hands roam over your body, shivers following whenever he moves them on you.

You lean back, feeling the cool surface against your skin as he pushes your shorts and bikini aside. Every nerve in your body alight with need., and Seungkwan seems very proud of the effect he was having on you. 

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

"Yes," you breathe, barely able to wait any longer.

With a final, searing kiss, he positions himself and pushes into you slowly, filling you completely, his cock so rigid, fighting to penetrate, as your pussy squelch around him. He starts to thrust in and out slowly, even gradually the feeling is intense, because you had already one orgasm, and Seungkwan was looking for his. 

"Seungkwan," you moan, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

He groans in response, his movements becoming more urgent. "I can't hold back," he admits, his voice strained.

"Don't," you say, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer. "Faster, please," you ask, your voice desperate against his lips. 

The request makes him nearly collapse to his knees, overwhelmed by your need.

Seungkwan adjusts his grip, holding your leg up with one hand under your knee, spreading you wider as he thrusts deeper. Your head falls back, strangled moans escaping your mouth as your eyes roll back in ecstasy. The sensation is overwhelming, the heat of his embrace makes you feel dizzy and weightless.

At a certain point, you become aware of Seungkwan sobbing in pleasure in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. You glance down, seeing yourself dripping onto the ground, squirting uncontrollably. You couldn't hold back even if you tried; the orgasm doesn't just crash over you—it overturns you completely.

You stare in shock, gasping for air as the longest orgasm of your life pulses through you. Your body convulses with pleasure, and Seungkwan's reaction only heightens the intensity. His raspy moans fill the air, his balance faltering as he tries to maintain his rhythm.

He pulls out of you, unable to hold back any longer, and strokes his cock with his hand. His cum spills onto the floor, mixing with your own fluids. His body convulses against yours, and you can feel his weight as he leans on you for support.

You're left trembling, unsure whether to hold onto the counter behind you or to cling to him. Your legs are weak, and your breaths come in shallow gasps. Seungkwan's body is still pressed against yours, both of you trying to catch your breath in the aftermath of such an intense experience.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice still shaky.

You don't answer, your breath still coming in shaky gasps. Instead, you pull Seungkwan into a tight hug, feeling his warmth envelop you. He hugs you back just as tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

The two of you stand there for a while, wrapped up in each other, trying to regain your composure. Your heart is pounding, but there's a sense of calm in the embrace, a shared understanding that words can't quite capture.

His hands move gently over your back, a soothing motion that helps you steady your breathing. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own.

Seungkwan finally breaks the silence, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "I don't want this to end," he whispers.

You nod against his shoulder, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Me neither."

He pulls back slightly to look at you, "I never thought I'd find someone like you here, I don't want to be alone again," he admits, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You smile, knowing that the day you decided to spend with this lovely boy, resulted in something like this. "I feel the same way."

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you hadn't realized was there. "Let's not let this be just a moment," he says, his gaze earnest. "I want to be with you, really be with you."

Your heart swells at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you feel lighter than air. "I'd like that," you say, your voice steady and sure.

He smiles, and it's like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Good," he replies, leaning in to kiss you softly.

The kiss is gentle, a promise of more to come. As you pull back, you both laugh softly, the tension melting away into something lighter, more hopeful.

"We should probably clean up," you say with a small chuckle, glancing at the mess on the floor.

Seungkwan nods, a playful grin on his face. "Yeah, we made quite the mess."

Together, you set about tidying up the kiosk, the comfortable silence between you filled with a new sense of unity. Every now and then, your hands brush against each other, sending those butterflies to your stomachs. The mundane task of cleaning up feels almost ceremonial now—a simple act that solidifies the bond between you.

[bunnysbrainrot]

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

[todayontumblr]

Thursday April 13th.

ffs neil will you stop banging out those damn tunes. it's the morning, for pete's sake

We won't ask you again, Neil—we have work first thing tomorrow and it is a big day at the office: we are presenting a keynote pointpower slideshow for the big cheese over at HQ to increase optimum brand synergy across all departments ahead of this upcoming 5th annual quarter in review, and we are getting pretty sick and tired you and that f*cking keyboard playing Clair de Lune (badly) on what you have apparently decided to be your very own live IRL ten-hour loop from early evening through the night until the break of day, because you are a rat, and rats are, of course, nocturnal!! 

*

It all began on April 13th, 2006. Neil's alarm went off at around 7:30pm, just as the human world was winding down for the day. He sat on the edge of his bed, yawned, stttrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetcchhed, cracked his fingers, and got to work. He tucked his tail beneath him and took his place at his grand, multi-colored piano, and began to play. And my goodness did he play. As if possessed by the spirits of the maestros of old, Neil's claws flowed up and down the keys in a manner not dissimilar to the ebb and flow of the oceans themselves. No one could believe their ears on that day, almost 20 years ago: after so much early promise, so much self-destruction, torment, and pain, Neil finally accomplished what so many knew he could do if only he could find it in himself to achieve it: he began banging out the tunes.

Only this was something of a pandora's box. It is, as we saw, nearly 20 years later—and Neil continues to bang them out with a vengeance, regardless of whether we have to be up early for work in the morning.  

*

It is April 13th, 2009. Neil continues to play, enraptured by the majesty of the melody expressed by the delicate touch of claw on key in primary-colored plastic. As Neil reaches the end of the day's performance, a young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that this is the young man's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is, inexplicably, only today he will be given a name.

His name is John. As was previously mentioned it is his BIRTHDAY. A number of CAKES are scattered about his room. He has a variety of INTERESTS. He has a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES. He likes to program computers but he is NOT VERY GOOD AT IT. He has a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE, and is an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN. He also likes to play GAMES sometimes. 

As day dawns, Neil closes the fallboard upon the keys of his instrument for another year. John goes to retrieve his arms. And the rest, as they say, is history.

*

It's April 13th, folks. You know what that means: it's time for #homestuck and #neil banging out the tunes.  

Go bananas x

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

Prompt: Martha Jones spots The Fourteenth Doctor around London doing a mundane thing like food shopping. Thank you :)

At first, Martha wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognise him; she’d know that hair and that side profile anywhere, even if he was now clad in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead of the long coat she’d been so used to. He was holding a jar of jam, reading the ingredients with bright interest, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to be in Tesco Express at ten o’clock on a Thursday night shopping for preserves; the basket beside him contained further mundanities like bread and milk, and she was so baffled by all of this that she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t him. It couldn’t possibly be him. He was a Time Lord, for god’s sake; he didn’t do dull things like buy pints of semi-skimmed milk or reduced Kingsmill white loaves.

But then he turned away from the shelf, sticking the jar in his basket, and the look on his face took her breath away. For several seconds she surveyed him as he continued to be unaware of her presence, and she tried to put her finger on what had changed. It was the eyes, she thought; there had been so many ghosts behind them when she’d first known him, and now he looked almost… well, serene. Calm. There were no spectres weighing heavily on his shoulders; there was no lingering pain in the easy, contented expression on his face as he scooped up his basket from his feet – still clad in Converse, because some things could never change – and then finally caught sight of her.

“Oh,” he said, the syllable hanging in the air between them for a moment, and she couldn’t read it; was he pleased to see her? Angry? Sad? Guilty? Was he about to cut and run? Then he beamed from ear to ear, really sincerely beamed, and held out his arms to her for – no, that couldn’t be right. He wanted a hug? Since when had he been a hugger? “Martha Jones!”

“Doctor,” she said reservedly, looking him up and down; he was older than he’d been since she last saw him, but all of the tension and impatient anxiety that he’d held within him seemed to have dissipated in the interceding years. Questions crowded her mind; questions about time and space and clothes and the air of contentment and – “Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?”

“Oh,” he said again, with dawning comprehension. “We’re out of bread.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“Oh,” he repeated for a third time, then ran a hand through his hair before chancing a glance at the checkouts, and for one awful moment she thought he might be about to bolt. “It’s sort of a long story, actually. Why don’t we pay and find a pub, or something? Unless you’ve got somewhere to be… is Mickey expecting you?”

“He can wait,” she said with amusement, irrationally touched that he’d remembered. “Yeah, alright. Let’s pay.”

“Why are you in Tesco in Richmond?” he enquired, flipping the question back on her with some of the old cheekiness that she was used to. “That’s the real question.”

“Staying with mum for a few weeks while we have the kitchen redone,” she told him as they headed towards the self-checkouts; she started scanning her items while he did the same at an adjacent terminal, and she half expected him to sonic it, or in some way cheat it – space cubes, or god knows what else – but instead he took out an honest-to-god wallet and tapped a perfectly normal credit card on the reader. Her surprise must have shown, because he shot her a sidelong grin as he bundled up his groceries in a canvas tote bag and hefted it onto his shoulder as she swiped her Clubcard and did the same.

“Bit different to the old days, isn’t it?” he said ruefully, and she laughed.

“Yeah, never had you down as a wallet sort of man.”

“It was a present. I lost my last four credit cards.”

“That sounds more like you.”

[andypantsx3]

SOMETHING IN THE WATER | 4 | SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems. TAGS/WARNINGS: mermaid au, interspecies relationships, mating rituals/courting behavior, (sort of) case fic, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns/afab reader LENGTH: 3.3k of est. 21k, 4th of 8 chapters

The next morning dawned with the news that Sunfish had finally settled on a day your team could tour the facilities.

“They did not seem pleased,” Death Arms reported over your morning coffee, his mouth a grim line. The group of you were stuffed up in his room, working through the several plates of homemade breakfast that Inko had blessed you with. Yu rolled her eyes even as she speared egg off of Kamui’s plate. Kamui looked resigned to this behavior.

“They should be honored, we're here to potentially clear their name,” Yu sniffed, then hummed appreciatively as she swallowed. “Wow, Inko knows what she’s about. Is there crack in these eggs?”

“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been able to taste anything off my own plate,” Kamui returned, sipping at his coffee instead.

Yu’s mouth opened to respond to him, but Death Arms quickly spoke over whatever quip might have fallen out of it.

“Anyway, we’re going next Thursday afternoon,” he said loudly. You smiled into your own food at Yu’s disgruntled expression. “If we haven’t found anything by then, and everything looks in order at Sunfish, I think we can safely assume the initial reports were fabricated. We will issue a reminder that they are not to overfish as populations are just slightly smaller than we would expect, but it seems there’s no real issue to address.”

An unsettled feeling twisted in your stomach.

You didn’t know quite what it was, considering that you hadn’t actually found anything persuasive of Sunfish’s guilt. But something sat heavy in your gut, the memory of both Bakugou and Shouto expressing dislike of the cannery. Neither had said anything to you about wastewater pollution, but you remembered the bioelectric scrape of dislike in Shouto’s words when he spoke, how you could literally feel it at the back of your throat.

Maybe it was just a gut feeling on both of their parts. But gut feelings usually were formed out of something. You didn’t want to leave things here just yet.

The crew finished up breakfast and you set about your usual tasks, running errands between all the researchers, double-checking counts, compiling results, and going glassy-eyed in front of observation station footage.

It was only later in the afternoon that you were unleashed back onto the water with Yu and Kamui, boating out to check all the nets and the occasional trap. Kamui frowned over a couple of the specimens you’d caught, but eventually judged that they looked mostly okay, and tagged them to release.

You were on the north side, penning down the observations Kamui occasionally called back to you, when you heard the sluicing sound of something breaking the surface of the water a few feet behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder—only for an ice cold stab of panic to puncture your gut.

Shouto was floating a couple of meters away, looking curiously towards your boat. From his angle, you could tell he was definitely registering Kamui and Yu onboard with you, and you could just see the tiniest little tilt of his head, a blinking of those two-toned eyes.

Oh no.

He wasn’t considering swimming over, was he?

Yu and Kamui probably could be trusted to keep the secret, if they caught sight of him, but they were also marine biologists—and Shouto was a discovery that could make an entire career.

Even if they were to never say anything, though, the more people who knew about him, the more chance there was of that information escaping them. You could just imagine Yu giddily reliving her discovery several cups into a bottle of sake, and that wasn’t nothing if a marine biologist was claiming it, drunk or not.

As if on cue, Shouto swam closer, and you dropped the log book like a hot potato, frantically flapping your arms at him not to come any nearer.

He stopped, blinking those beautiful eyes at you again, their colors clear and true even a few meters out. From this distance you could just make out a tiny frown pulling at his mouth.

Oh, his pout was so cute. But you didn’t have time to care right now—you had to get him out of there before Yu and Kamui saw him.

You waved again, making a shooing motion, as quietly but as panicked as you could make it, to convey urgency. Shouto’s frown deepened, and you raised your eyebrows at him, flapping your hand even faster.

“What do you think, kiddo?” Yu’s voice suddenly floated back to you from the front of the boat.

You whipped around, registering her head just beginning to turn towards you.

A bone-deep panic slashed down your body, instantly blanking out all thought. Before you even registered that you were moving, your shin had already connected with the side of the boat, and you were throwing yourself over the side opposite Shouto.

The warm water slapped you in the chest as you fell, knocking the wind right out of you. It rushed up your nose, filling your mouth. You coughed and sputtered as you broke the surface, inhaling more water droplets than air, the salt burning in your throat. Yu’s startled yelp met your ears, sounding truly rattled.

“Kid! Oh my god, are you okay?” she yelled, louder than needed when she was only feet away. You hadn’t fallen far.

You licked the salt out of your mouth and rubbed it out of your eyes, catching sight of her leaning over the side of the boat in concern. Kamui had also apparently dropped the fish he was inspecting, and was holding out a long, nut-brown arm to you. You couldn’t see Shouto from down in the water, but you hoped he’d taken the opportunity to clear out.

You coughed again and paddled back over, letting Kamui catch your hand. He hauled you back up into the boat, helping you over the side with a hand under your elbow.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, even as you sopped water everywhere climbing back over the side. Your clothes weighed about a million pounds, dragging you down into the seats. “I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.”

Yu clucked as she shoved a spare towel down onto your head, blinding you in teal fabric. “You gave me a heart attack, you little meatball.”

You yanked the towel out of your mouth, giving her your most apologetic grin as you emerged from the terry cloth folds. “It’s just a little water, I’m fine,” you promised.

A quick glance behind her and Kamui told you that Shouto had disappeared, and a wave of relief washed through you, pooling in your limbs and weighing you down further into the pale vinyl of the boat seats.

“What the heck were you even doing?” Yu demanded, hands on her hips. You noticed Kamui’s eyes dart quickly to the swell of her thigh as she did, and then away again, as if he’d been momentarily pulled by a magnet. You suppressed a laugh. They were both so obvious.

“I was just looking at the island, I wasn’t paying attention when I stepped forward,” you lied, trying your best to look innocent.

Yu’s mouth twisted, but then she sniffed, seeming satisfied. “Well don’t do it again, kid,” she ordered you, waving a perfectly manicured finger at you.

You saluted her, then adjusted the towel around you, wrapping yourself securely like a waterlogged burrito. “Yes ma’am.”

She sighed, then turned to exchange a couple quick words with Kamui, and you peered back behind her, satisfied when you only saw the turquoise, glassy sparkle of unbroken water lapping gently around the reef. No Shouto, for sure.

“We’ll call it here for today,” Yu decided. “Since we’re not finding anything anyway.”

You didn’t protest, eager to get out of the area in case Shouto was still around, just lurking. You really would think a merman whose species had effectively hidden themselves for all of human history would have been like, a little bit more discerning about who he showed himself to. Honestly, the fact that you even knew he was around was a bit of a concern.

A sudden suspicion formed in the back of your mind.

Come to think of it, just why had Shouto been skulking around your boat in the first place, nearly a week ago? You made a mental note to ask him, when he inevitably found you later.

Which was another thing of concern. He always, always seemed to find you, no matter what stretch of island water you even dipped a toe into. How the heck was he doing that, either?

The three of you boated back to the island dock, Kamui ducking into the grocery for a couple of takeaway sandwiches for dinner, since you were still soaking wet and in no state to settle in at a restaurant. You discussed your lack of findings again briefly with Death Arms as you returned, and then you were free to trek back to your room, left to your own devices for the rest of the evening.

You wrestled yourself out of your wet clothes and into a bathing suit and a dry pair of shorts, and then took your dinner down to the beach, almost certain you would find Shouto there.

And within minutes, you were proved correct. A head of white and scarlet hair broke the surface of the water just as you unwrapped your sandwich. Shouto drew closer, dragging himself heavily through the shallows on the strength of his arms alone.

You watched, slightly transfixed, as all that wet muscle glittered in the orange light of the evening sun, cording with his lithe movements.

“Are you alright?” Shouto asked as he drew up in front of you, still in a few inches of water. The soft waves lapped the skin of his hip where it joined his tail, fading from smooth, pale flesh into speckled red and white muscle.

You blinked, your gaze flashing back up to his face, which quickly proved to be a mistake. It was even prettier than the rest of him, an almost impossible feat. His eyebrows were drawn with concern, and his mismatched eyes were darting over you, like he was evaluating you for injury.

You reached out, poking him in the chest. “I’m fine! I was distracting them from you! What the heck were you doing, swimming towards the boat like Kamui and Yu were old besties?”

A frown pulled at Shouto’s perfectly plush mouth. “They were with you,” he said, his deep tone earnest.

This drew you up a little short, your finger going limp against his chest. “What?”

Shouto leaned in closer, dipping that handsome head to look you more closely in the eyes. You tried not to find the move so charming. “They are your friends, are they not?”

You puzzled over this. “Well, yeah, sort of. They’re fellow researchers and I just met them a few weeks ago, but I think they’re good people. But—Shouto, you can’t just go up to people like that!”

Shouto’s mouth pulled into a tiny frown again. “I am aware. But you are an exception, I thought…”

The look on his face was enough for you to instantly cave, everything crumbling in the face of the sweetness of his pout. You sighed. Who would have ever thought, weeks ago, that you would succumb to the pout of a merman, of all things?

“Shouto. I think the researchers I am with are good people who want to help. But at the same time, you are a legend that humankind has chased for centuries. You would make a marine biologist’s career—you could make someone one of the most famous researchers of all time.”

Warm, wet fingers met the underside of your chin, startling you. But Shouto grasped your face gently, tipping it up to his. “Then—when you fell in the water. You were protecting me?” he asked.

Your face flushed hot. Really it had just been a distraction, a brief bout of lunacy. He made it sound way more noble than it had been intended to be.

“I was providing cover,” you said defensively.

Shouto’s eyes roved over you, long and slow and evaluative, ending in an unhurried catlike blink. Then a tiny hint of a smile pressed at the corner of his mouth. “You were protecting me,” he decided.

Your face went impossibly hotter, burning so warm you were certain he would feel it against his fingers. But Shouto just looked pleased. The hand on your face disappeared, only to reappear on your ankle, gripping gently but firmly, as he always seemed to do.

You did not want to ask what that was about.

You took a bite of your sandwich to avoid answering, pausing in your chewing when Shouto looked interested.

“You wanna try?” you asked, offering it to him. “It’s veggies and cheese—do you know if you can digest cheese?”

Shouto blinked those beautiful eyes at you, his nose scrunching the tiniest bit. “Izuku lets me try his food sometimes. I do not like cheese.”

You laughed. You couldn’t imagine not liking cheese, but you supposed it only made sense if you hadn’t grown up eating it.

“You want a veggie out of it, then?” you asked.

Shouto leaned forward, inspecting your sandwich. You noticed him inhale slightly, like he was taking stock of it, before he eventually nodded. “The rest of it smells acceptable.”

You smiled, working some tomato, basil, and a sprig of arugula free for him. “Your order, sir,” you said, laying them out in his outstretched hand. You tried not to laugh at how ridiculous the sliced tomato looked sitting there in his large palm, caged in by five deadly-looking claws.

Shouto took a delicate bite of the tomato, his sharp canines another ridiculous contrast. You hid another smile by taking a bite of your sandwich.

Which of course is when he struck.

“For my people, it is customary to provide for one’s mate,” he said, his tone low and thoughtful. “Food and protection, both of which you have given me today.”

A chunk of bread lodged itself suddenly in the back of your throat, and you spluttered, hacking.

Shouto leaned in, concerned, and you waved a hand at him as you coughed to indicate you were okay, barely managing to wheeze out, “I’m fine. Swallowed—wrong.”

Shouto lingered close, looking you over with a little frown until your breathing regulated again.

“Sorry. Just swallowed my sandwich wrong,” you said. “You surprised me.”

Shouto’s brow knitted. “You do not exchange such things with mates?”

Your face went hot, like an instant sunburn. “I—you must have learned from Bakugou and your sister that humans don’t—-it’s not quite like that.”

Shouto blinked guilelessly, looking like he was waiting for you to continue. You looked out to sea, unable to make any sort of eye contact with him while discussing this. You were suddenly all too aware of the strength and shape of him next to you.

“Humans don’t like, inherently know their partners,” you told him, fixing your eyes to the orange shine of the late evening sun on the gentle waves. “We live in mostly monogamous cultures but there’s also no like, biological imperative to choose just one permanent mate. And the way modern culture is structured—we don’t have traditional, um, practices like that. There are common dates people go on, like dinner and a movie, but that’s it.”

You heard the scrape of Shouto’s scales over the sand next to you, a sudden swish of his tail in the shallow water. “Dinner and a movie,” he repeated.

You nodded. “Have Izuku or Bakugou explained movies?”

Shouto gave a deep hum of affirmation. “I have never seen one, however.”

You scrunched your toes in the sand absently. “You might like them. There’s a bunch of ones about mermaids—you’d probably think they’re funny.”

Shouto made that low humming sound again, sounding thoughtful. “And your people don’t have other mating practices?”

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Why the heck was he so interested, anyway? Could he not just eat his tomato and give a marine biologist a break?

“There’s nothing super standard across all cultures,” you said. “I guess where I’m from guys will give a girl flowers or jewelry or something.”

Shouto made another small sound, more interested this time, and you turned to look at him just as he leaned into you again. You froze, startled by his proximity. Up close his eyes were even more beautiful, the blue of his left eye the exact shade of the tropical waters of the island, made even more standout by the surrounding pink scar tissue.

You clenched your fingers at your side against the urge to smooth them over it.

He really was so pretty, a thought that you absolutely should not be having about a dude who wasn’t even fully of your same species, though he was certainly fairly human enough, you thought. The rest of him was all hard muscle and strong lines in the corner of your vision, and you stared resolutely at his face so your vision didn’t snag on the clench of those abs as he leaned over you.

A hand touching your free one made you jump, and you just managed to keep your sandwich from dropping into the sand.

You glanced down, to see Shouto pressing two chips of something knobby into your hand, carefully avoiding the delicate skin of your wrist by angling his claws up. “For you,” he said, his tone low and soft.

It tickled something at the back of your brain, making your flush deepen, and you kept your eyes pinned to the chips shyly.

When you brought your hand closer to your face, the chips resolved themselves into two differently-colored pieces of coral, clearly sliced off by Shouto’s sharp claws again. One was a brilliant red, nearly scarlet like the color of the left side of Shouto’s hair. And the other was duller, a washed out white, the color of his right.

You blinked up at him, your mouth opening with a question about why he would be giving this to you—until your gaze jerked back down again, focusing on the white coral.

White coral. As in, bleached of all color. As in, coral bleaching, which occurred with changes in seawater chemistry, due to temperature, acidity changes, or pollution.

Pollution like the kind you’d been looking for from Sunfish.

“You seemed to like the coral, the other day,” Shouto said, by way of explanation. It was your growing concern, however, that had you only half-focused on his words, your entire world narrowing to the sliver of white coral in your hand.

“Shouto,” you said, looking up at him in wonder. “You are literally amazing. I think you might have just cracked this entire case for me.”

Shouto blinked, looking as though he did not know how to feel about this. His skin flushed, a strange sudden peek of red color creeping over his face, and his pupils went a little sharper, more slitted. Any other time you would have been fascinated by a change like this, maybe have even been bold enough to lean in and inspect him.

But you were already getting to your feet, your sandwich falling off of your lap.

“I have to go to the lab—I’ll see you later, alright?” you said distractedly.

Shouto’s brows knitted, but you did not wait for a reply. You began sprinting for Kamui’s makeshift lab—leaving your sandwich and the handsome merprince behind you in the sand.

[bloodmoonmuses]

you want me so bad rn... | choi beomgyu

genre: beomgyu x reader, established relationship, fluff, drabble (600ish words)

summary: you and beomgyu go on a date to an aquarium, during which he leaves you more flustered than you anticipated.

warnings: the build up to the kiss gets a bit steamy, some suggestive language by my standards lol (but nothing explicit)

The bluish glow leaves a halo around Beomgyu’s face. It’s a random Thursday and the aquarium the two of you are at is practically empty. You admire him lovingly, warmed by his boyish infatuation with the twinkling fish. They refract like specs of glitter- orangey, yellow and gold in their flickering. 

Beomgyu’s a walking a paint palette. You think of the colors you’d use to render his beauty- if you were bestowed with such a skill. A wash of watercolor, bleeding and pooling into the grooves of sturdy paper… the faintest of blues. Warm gray, like the clouds that hung in the sky the day you met him. Chestnut-y browns as a final touch- like his eyes, his hair, his guitar. You wish you had brought a camera, to immortalize the joy radiating off of him, but you’re left to rely on your faulty eyes (and memory).

“You’re staring,” says Beomgyu as he reads the placard next to the fishtank. Golden Dwarf, Tiger and Cherry Barbs. Schooling fish. They’re not to be in groups less than six. 

“Can’t help it,” you simply say. 

You’re certain the amazement in your eyes as you look at him parallels Beomgyu’s intrigue with the fish. It’s funny really; for a guy in such a glitzy career, he’s easily impressed. Beomgyu is also very contemplative. You liked watching him think, his brows furrowing and relaxing over and over again, or when he scrunches his nose. He does the latter right now, and you’re overcome with the urge to kiss it. Realizing you possess the privilege to do so, you reach over to take Beomgyu’s face in your hands. Instead of moving immediately, you linger there, drinking up his delicate features. 

“Like what you see?” Beomgyu quirks an eyebrow, in that goofy way he does. He’s never serious, save for the purpose of expediting your impending demise (also known as making you fall in love with him). You answer him with the kiss you so desperately yearn for, barely touching your lips to the tip of his nose. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says. Then, Beomgyu pulls you into an embrace. 

The fish tanks murmur in the background, the running water almost mimicking rainfall. Fluorescent lights sift through the glass creating wavy lines that dance on the wall. You could stay like this forever. 

Beomgyu tilts your chin upward, fingertips grazing your skin just slightly. The touch is hypnotizing, clearing your mind of any coherent thoughts. All you can think of is Beomgyu. Beomgyu, who was born in spring. Beomgyu, who writes hushed ballads as dusk burns into dawn. Beomgyu, who loves you in his own way- patiently and attentively. His breath fans over your lips. Your face twitches for his touch, but all you can do is stand there. You’re frozen. It feels as though if you move, you’ll break into a million pieces. You silently beg him to move. 

Beomgyu likes to tease you in this way, though he’d never admit it. He likes to see how quickly you get flustered and how intensely you crave his touch. A few times, he pretends to lean in, watching how you crane your neck. When he does this a third time, you sigh exasperatedly. 

“Would you like me to kiss you?” he asks with a coy lilt. You nod feverishly. Beomgyu stifles a laugh. “Didn’t catch that.”

“Yes, please,” you manage to whisper. When he finally does kiss you, you’re somehow even more breathless. If only you could be outside of your body- you’d paint this too. Vermillion to render the blush that’s probably dusting Beomgyu’s cheeks, pink to match the tinge on your ears, green to commemorate how evergreen your love will remain. You deepen the kiss, moving impossibly closer to one another. When the two of you come up for air, chests heaving as if you’d ran a marathon, Beomgyu laughs.

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

“Oh… you want me so bad right now!” he teases. 

“Whatever!” You hit his forearm, covering your embarrassed face with your other hand. 

a/n: feedback is always appreciated! <333

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Love strategy p.5

Hi guyss, here's the new part and part 4 if you've missed it. Btw let me know if any of you are rooting for Carlos x reader.

Thursdays at the paddock aren’t usually the busiest days, typically reserved for media and press duties. But today feels different—charged with a tension you can’t quite shake. It’s not the usual pre-race nerves that settle into your chest; today, it’s knowing that you and Lando are planning to expose your "relationship." The weight of what’s to come sits heavily on your shoulders.

Carlos has already wrapped up his interviews and filmed with Charles, leaving only one thing left on your agenda: filming the collaboration with McLaren. You can feel the anxiousness thrumming through your body, each step toward the McLaren motorhome sending a fresh wave of nervous energy. But when you finally arrive and catch Lando’s eye across the room, some of that tension eases. His presence is a quiet reminder—you’re in this together.

He flashes you a quick grin, and in that moment, it’s like a silent agreement passes between you. You’ve got this. Both of you.

As the filming begins, Lando, Carlos, Charles, and Oscar gather in front of the cameras for the challenge. The atmosphere lightens with the familiar chaos of drivers joking around, ready for the game ahead. Today, they’re playing Two Truths and a Lie, and the crew is already laughing as Charles delivers his statement, trying to fool the others.

The mood is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing a bit, the anxious weight in your chest slowly lifting. You watch as they take turns, each trying to outwit the other with absurd or strangely believable stories. Charles goes first, followed by Carlos, whose grin grows wider as the others try to guess which of his outlandish claims is the lie.

But then it’s Lando’s turn, and suddenly, your nerves come rushing back, the realization of what’s about to happen hitting you like a tidal wave.

Lando, with his usual playful smirk, steps up to deliver his three statements. He starts with something simple—“I hate pineapple on pizza,” followed by a more random, “I once beat Oscar at mini-golf by 10 strokes.”

Everyone chuckles, waiting for the third, and you brace yourself, knowing what’s coming.

“And… I’m dating her.” He nods in your direction.

The room falls silent. Charles and Carlos exchange bewildered glances, and Oscar just stares at Lando like he’s grown a second head.

Carlos is the first to speak, raising an eyebrow. "Wait… what?"

Charles lets out a nervous laugh. "No way. That’s got to be the lie, right?"

But Lando just shrugs casually, that playful smile never leaving his face. "Guess you’ll have to figure that out."

All eyes shift toward you, and you feel the heat of the moment rise, your heart racing in your chest. The shock is palpable in the room, the drivers still trying to figure out if he’s serious or if this is all part of the game. You can’t help but smile, trying to play it cool despite the pounding in your ears.

Carlos is the first to react after the initial shock, narrowing his eyes as he looks between you and Lando. "You dating him? That’s definitely the lie," he says, crossing his arms with a challenging smirk. It’s clear he’s waiting for the punchline, certain that Lando’s last statement couldn’t possibly be true.

You feel your pulse quicken, trying to keep your expression neutral. Lando, on the other hand, is perfectly calm, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Oscar jumps in, a grin tugging at his lips. "Actually, I can already tell you that the lie is… we’ve never played mini-golf. Ever."

The room goes silent again, but this time, the atmosphere shifts. The realization slowly dawns on everyone—Lando’s last statement wasn’t the lie. The truth of your "relationship" is out, just like that.

Carlos’ arms drop to his sides, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Charles looks between you and Lando, stunned but clearly trying to process it. Oscar just chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief as the video crew wraps up, signaling the end of the shoot.

"Wait—so… you two are actually dating?" Charles blurts out, breaking the silence with a laugh. "That’s mad!"

You manage a smile, trying to keep your cool under the weight of the attention. Lando throws a playful arm around your shoulders, grinning as he faces the group. "Yep. Surprise!"

The filming wraps up, and the drivers begin to disperse, but Carlos doesn’t leave right away. Instead, he walks straight toward you, his usual laid-back demeanor gone. His expression is harder, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"Can we talk for a minute?" Carlos asks, his tone more serious than usual. There’s a hint of frustration, maybe even a little aggression, in his voice.

You nod, not wanting to cause a scene, and follow him to a quieter spot away from the others. His gaze doesn’t leave yours as he speaks, the intensity catching you off guard. "How long has this been going on?" he asks, crossing his arms. "Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

You swallow, feeling a lump in your throat. "Carlos, it’s not—"

But before you can finish, Lando steps in, positioning himself protectively beside you. His playful energy has faded, replaced by a calm, steady seriousness. "Hey, relax, mate," he says, his voice low but firm. "It’s not a big deal. We didn’t mean to hide anything from you. It just… happened."

Carlos narrows his eyes, clearly not buying the nonchalant explanation. "Really? So you’re just together now, out of nowhere?"

You step in, trying to defuse the tension. "Carlos, it’s not like that. We didn’t want to make things awkward for anyone, especially with work. That’s why we waited."

Carlos lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he mutters, though it’s clear he’s still not entirely convinced. "Just… don’t let this mess with things."

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with Lando. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the weight of the moment finally hitting you.

Lando, sensing your tension, leans closer and mutters, "Well… that went better than expected."

You can’t help but laugh, even though you’re still processing everything. "Better?"

He grins, nudging you playfully. "Hey, he didn’t throw a punch, so I’d call it a win."

Tag list: @abq654 , @spaceflowergal, @mads94sworld, @anewpersonthatexists, @qlovalova, @itsskavya, anaferreira-4, @willowsnook, @larastark3107, @blueberry648579, @luckyangelballoon, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @gtwdahhh, @edsmunsonsgirl, @under-seasoned-pasta, @marshmummy, @weekendlusting

[peaches2217]

Summer Rain

AO3 link!

~~~

There’s nothing quite like falling ten feet to the ground and landing flat on one’s back to bring a person back into reality. When he came to, Mario’s first reaction was relief. Rest, finally. Everything burned. His throat, his lungs, his muscles, his stomach. His ears rang and his head spun and his vision created doubles of every last block and obstacle overhead, and at long last, he was free to simply lay in the grass and observe passively.

As with all good things, it didn't last.

Get up.

The all-too-familiar voice, maybe his own and maybe some divine call from the universe, repeated these words in his head, but he couldn’t make his muscles obey. He could hardly breathe; air returned to him in unsteady gasps, and with each one, his short-lived relief melted further and further into frustration.

Get up. Something gurgled in his throat that was neither air nor bile, and the taste of copper coated his tongue. Get up. How had he slipped? He’d run this training gauntlet hundreds of times, if not thousands, in the past weeks. Had he grown complacent? Get up. This was no time for complacency. No time for failure. Get up, get up, get up.

“Mario!” He registered the cry of his name the same way he registered the pain in his spine or the ache in his limbs or the muted yet near-constant growling of his gut: with little more than passing acknowledgement. He knew he was hurt. He knew he was hungry. He knew someone was calling out to him. He didn’t care. His only concern was get up, get up, get up, sit up, stand up, get back to training.

Get back to her.

“Mario?”

Just as soon as he’d pulled himself to his knees, dizziness overtook Mario, and he barely caught himself on his hands, his arms shaking from the effort to support his weight. Her voice. All it took was the ghost of her voice to sap his fight, drain the furor that fueled him, until he was empty, empty, empty.

She wasn’t— he knew she wasn’t— and yet she— she sounded so near—

“Oh, Mario,” Peach sighed, pressing a gloved hand to her cheek, “what am I going to do? If I have to sit through one more unproductive commission on import tax rates, I think I’m going to scream.”

Mario chuckled sympathetically. “So I’m guessing third time wasn’t the charm after all?”

“I thought surely the senators would be just as sick of all the arguing as I am by now. Sadly, I’m fairly certain they enjoy it.” Another sigh. “So a fourth commission has been scheduled for Thursday.”

Thursday. Mario wracked his head for upcoming happenings, possible excuses, any circumstance he could twist in her favor, and he found it in short order.

“Hmm… it sure is a shame you won’t be there for that meeting, Princess.”

Peach halted in her tracks, and Mario stopped alongside her, meeting her confusion with pointed nonchalance.

“I… won’t be?”

“You didn’t forget, did you? That play in Mushroom City you were invited to? That’s Thursday night, yeah?”

Peach shook her head. “Mario, I’d hardly call a letter written in crayon by a child begging me to attend their Kindergarten theatre production an ‘invitation.’ More of a… um…” A pause. The realization clicked into place, her bright eyes glowing ever brighter in the twilight, and she graced Mario with a sly, cheerful smile. “Well, how many children have the courage to write to the castle directly? It would be rude to turn such a thoughtful invitation down.”

“My thoughts exactly!” He nudged her side, winking up at her. “Now, I know you’d rather sit and listen to grouchy old Toads shout over each other all day, but we all have to make sacrifices sometimes, yeah?”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” A very un-regal giggle slipped her lips, juvenile in its conniving yet ethereal all the same, and Mario couldn’t help but feel especially proud of himself. “So we’ll meet at the carriage hold Thursday at dawn, then? Plenty enough time to escape before Toadsworth catches on.”

Her proposal didn’t surprise him; it had become customary, after all, to act as her guard any time she ventured beyond the palace walls. This made her invitation no less sacred to him. “You can count on me, Princess.”

Peach took a moment to breathe in the fresh spring evening, exhale her worries, and as their walk resumed, her hand found his, small and light but present and real and warm. “Oh, Mario,” she laughed, “you’re my hero!”

You’re my hero…

Another rush of oxygen hit his brain, and she was gone once more. Memories of golden hair in the waning light of sunset were washed out in smudges of green and brown and red — his fingers digging into the earth, damp from a recent summer rain, a trickle of blood dripping from his bottom lip onto the backs of his hands.

Some hero he was. 

A familiar pressure welled within his chest, and he huffed in relief. Anger. It made his heart pump harder and brought his surroundings back into focus and flooded him with unbearable energy, and he was finally able to clamor to his feet, spitting blood so he could breathe properly. Turning towards the gauntlet’s nearest springboard, he wiped his sleeve over his mouth and let that rage consume him once more, let himself believe again that it wasn’t rage at all, but hope. Hope in its rawest, most painful form.

She was counting on him. He would bring her home. He would have pleasant evening walks in the gardens with her again, he would laugh with her over tea and cakes, he would ensure no similar misfortune ever befell her again. Maybe he would even tell her that he loved her, just so he could say he no longer held any secrets from her. And until that day came, he would train and train and train until no force, earthly or cosmic, could stand in his way.

How could you let this happen?

That fragile illusion of hope burst into flames, its fire coursing through Mario’s veins, but now that he was on his feet again, he made no further effort to fool himself. With a final, sharp breath, he lunged forward—

“Basta così!”

Something caught his left wrist, and the unexpected intrusion snuffed Mario’s fire, like water tossed on a blazing bed of coals. He clenched his jaw and smoldered uselessly for a moment, quivering with unspent energy, giving his captor a chance to free him without provocation. The grasp ensnaring him only tightened.

“Lasciami andare, Lu.” He kept his voice as steady as possible, deathly quiet and low, because he knew it would shake if he raised it any louder, and he couldn’t afford to be perceived as weak.

“No.” Luigi’s voice was equally unwavering. “I’ve let this go on long enough. You’re coming home.”

Mario scoffed. Oh, now his timid little brother was choosing to stand his ground. Now, of all times, for all purposes—! He lurched forward to free himself. He didn’t have time for such games.

Luigi moved with him easily, and before Mario could reestablish his footing, he was yanked backwards by the arm so hard that his vision went blurry and his legs briefly gave out beneath him.

But he didn’t have time to collapse. Luigi powered ahead, and Mario was forced to twist his body in the same direction and stumble along behind him, and by the time his surroundings stopped shifting they were well past the athletic center’s gate and into the streets of Toad Town.

What in the Eight Realms was going on? His brother was strong, but he was stronger. It should have been easy to pull free or at least anchor himself and force an impasse, but he wouldn’t slow down.

“Let me go, Luigi,” he repeated in their mother tongue, half so the dozens of Toads craning their stubby necks as he was dragged past couldn’t eavesdrop and half because his grasp on the English language was one of the first things to go when he was upset. 

“You really think I’m that useless?” Luigi didn’t even look over his shoulder as he responded in the same tongue, yet his voice pierced through the ambiance of the streets. “I don’t need a missing friend and a dead brother.”

Another white-hot burst of fury flared within Mario, and he tried once again to break free (once again, to no avail). Useless? A “missing friend”? A princess — their Princess! — was abducted by a notoriously homicidal warlord who promised to kill her and seize her kingdom by force unless he was met with unconditional surrender, and all his brother cared about was how he was perceived? How these events affected him?

Mario was the only living person with any chance of bringing her home safely, or at least alive. He’d devoted himself to that cause wholeheartedly and without hesitation. Fought and trained and redefined himself over the past two months while waiting for royal spies to figure out where she was actually being held. He’d never thought Luigi to be so selfish, that he’d stand in his way. That he’d sooner trade Peach’s life for his. Did she really mean that little to him? The very thought nauseated him. Or maybe those were hunger pangs.

They arrived at their shared cottage in short order, and Mario spit one last mouthful of blood into the grass before he could be dragged onto the porch and through the door. This wasn’t just selfish. This was betrayal of the highest order. 

Luigi all but tossed him inside, and only then did he let go. Mario seethed at his green-and-blue-clad back as he shut and locked the door, rubbing his wrist absentmindedly, stimulating the once-restricted blood flow. Betrayed by the last person he would ever have suspected. The one person who should have been supporting him, who he’d thought already was supporting him before today. He held his internal fire close at bay, ready to make his disappointment and disapproval clear, and with a heavy sigh, Luigi turned to face him—

“This isn’t your fault, Mario.”

Mario’s belligerence fizzled out. Where there was once fire, there was now ice, still and cold.

“...What?”

“This isn’t your fault.” Luigi enunciated each word carefully as he approached his older brother. “N-no one blames you for this except for you. So you’re not proving anything to anyone by torturing yourself, bro, okay?”

For a long moment, all Mario could do was gape in bewilderment. Not once since the Princess’ abduction had a word been uttered about blame. There was no need, he'd just as quickly assumed: anyone with two functioning brain cells knew exactly who was to blame, and verbalizing accusations wouldn’t get her home any faster, so he bore his cross with a heavy heart and his head held high. 

Even Luigi had never spoken up on the matter. Mario just assumed that meant he agreed. Why bother kicking someone that’s already down?

“I-I…” Mario swallowed. No. No, he was lying. Reality was sinking in and he was lying in a last-ditch effort to defend what hadn’t already been lost. He knew just as well as Mario that… and yet he…

Selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“I’m her guard, Luigi,” he finally answered, and unpleasant but ever-familiar heat rose once more within him, making his face and ears tingle. “It’s my job to protect her! Literally my job!”

“Yeah, during the day! But you’re acting like she was nabbed under your watch! You’re acting like everyone expects you to be on guard twenty-four-seven!” He drew closer to lay a hand on Mario’s left shoulder; what should have been comfortable and familiar instead felt foreign and cumbersome. “The truth is, you were exactly where you were supposed to be when it happened: in bed, conked out.”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have hit as hard as those words.

Mario jerked away from his brother’s touch, nostrils flared, breath coming to him far too quickly now. If he grit his teeth any tighter, he was certain they’d crack. Yes, he’d been asleep that night. He’d protected his Princess like always during the day and left her to fend for herself at sundown and he’d never forgive himself for it. So much for not kicking someone while they’re down.

“Thanks,” he huffed. “Very helpful reminder.”

“Mario, that’s not what—” Luigi sagged backwards, his eyes rolling to the ceiling in exasperation, as if he was the one who’d been slighted, and he cursed beneath his breath before refocusing. “She was never your sole responsibility. Everyone knows that but you. And no one wants to see you run yourself into the ground like this. Th-they trust you! They love you! Seeing how much guilt you're drowning in, seeing how badly you’re hurting, that hurts them, and—”

A deep, shaking breath. Mario tapped his foot impatiently, his fists clenched.

“A-and it hurts me too!" Luigi finally confessed. "Mario, you’re not the only victim here! How do you think I’ve been handling all of this?”

“Forget about that!” Mario fired back. “Just imagine what she’s going through! Can you think about something other than yourself for once and look at the bigger picture?!”

Alarms sounded deep in the recesses of his brain, warning signals, crying a mantra of Too far, too far, too far. He didn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care.

“She wouldn’t want this either! If she was here—”

That was the final straw. Putting words in the Princess’ mouth— what little patience or composure Mario still held, already stretched thin, snapped. 

“Well she’s not!” He stamped his foot like a child throwing a tantrum, grasping Luigi’s arm and forcing him to look directly into his eyes. “Don’t— don’t you dare tell me what she’d say or what she’d do! You don’t have that right! Because you’re not her, and she’s not…”

Mario blinked. Had… had Luigi always looked this tired? His eyes, normally so cheerful and blue, appeared dull and gray, wide with regret and brimming with unshed tears. And there were bags under those eyes too, and overgrown flyaways poking through his normally well-groomed mustache, and…

“...here.” All of his bravado, all of his energy, left him as he whispered that final word.

How long had it been since he’d fulfilled his role as the older brother? Peach was Luigi’s friend too. He was every bit as much Mario's responsibility as Peach was.

“I don’t need a missing friend and a dead brother.”

Only in the ensuing stillness did Mario realize how terribly he shook. He felt both weightless and impossibly leaden, cold and clammy, trembling not in outrage or determination, but something far meeker, far more pathetic: fear.

He was no hero. He was an idiot who’d failed someone he claimed to love and was desperate to make things right, no matter the personal cost. He was a useless brother that dealt with his own inadequacies by lashing out at those who cared for him most. He was nothing.

“Weegee…”

Luigi swallowed, taking a deep, slow breath before responding. “Martyring yourself isn’t the answer. I mean, think for a minute here. You can’t save her if you get yourself killed first.”

It overtook Mario again, a wave of unwelcome emotion, and his knees wobbled beneath him, threatening to buckle.

“Then… then what do you suggest I do? Huh? Clearly you have more answers than I do! So tell me what to do!”  He let go of Luigi’s arms to grasp his overall straps and pull him down, searching his face for those fabled answers. There was no spite in his words or his actions. He shouted at and jostled his brother not in anger, but in pure helplessness. “Tell me what to do!”

The uncertainty etched into Luigi’s face didn’t go away completely, but he buried it beneath something harder, more determined. He braced his gloved hands against Mario’s shoulders, grounding and steady.

“I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do,” he said, his voice low yet firm. “You’re going to sit right there on that couch, or on the floor, or wherever you feel like, and you’re gonna cry and scream and get all of this pent-up anger out of your system. And then — look at me, Mario, listen!” He jostled the elder brother back, shaking his shoulders. “Then you’re going to eat something. Okay?” He smiled then, the strain of it contorting his face into some pitiful mimicry of humor. “We can’t have you wasting away when the Princess sees you again, yeah? What would she say?”

Mario’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly swollen shut.

What would she say? Maybe she would rush forward and cup his cheeks, demanding to know what happened and if he was alright, as if he was the one who had been swept away in the dead of night. Maybe she would be so exhausted and so weakened that she didn’t notice; maybe she would only have the strength to smile as he took her battered body into his arms, her face pale but her eyes vibrant. Maybe her gaze would be glassy and there would be nothing left to hold but an empty shell that had once been his best friend, her fate sealed the moment she’d chosen to place her trust in him.

Or maybe he would die long before he reached her. If only he could trust anyone else to save her, he would have been perfectly fine with that outcome. It was the least he deserved. But that would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? What would become of her then? What would become of Luigi?

He would be free of his suffering, and it would fall directly onto their shoulders instead.

How could you let this happen?

The breath trapped in his throat forced its way back out, some mix between a cough and a hiccup, and finally his knees gave out. He held on tighter and sunk his face into his twin’s shirt collar, and he tried to apologize, he tried to beg forgiveness, but the only sound he could produce was a breathless, almost primal whine.

“Ecco.” Luigi’s voice cracked yet remained soft as he sank to the ground with him, cradling his head close. “Sfogati. Ti sono vicino, fratello.”

Mario’s intended response came out once more as a whine. Ti voglio bene. Ho paura. Aiutami. Ti prego aiutami. Each effort to speak proved increasingly futile until he gave up entirely, surrendering to the wordless screams and sobs and tears his overworked, underfed body forced from him. And Luigi just held him, his fingers brushing through his hair as he fell apart.

Thunder rumbled distantly outside, heralding another summer rain.

~~~

“I’m sorry.”

By the time Mario was able to speak, he still didn’t have much to show for it; his voice was too hoarse to do anything but whisper, and the pounding ache in his head prevented him from doing even that very well.

Luigi shushed him, readjusting his head in his lap. “Just relax.”

“I don’t think you’re selfish,” he continued anyway, curling into himself tighter, soaking in as much of his brother’s body heat as he could. “Or useless.”

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t have any right to go off on you like that.”

“In your shoes, I doubt I’d be handling things much better.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I forgive you. Now we’re even.”

This remark wasn’t quite enough to make Mario smile, but it did make him feel lighter, if only a bit. From his spot on the floor, he watched the rain patter against the living room window, dark and dreary and soothing. With the rain outside and Luigi’s fingers still combing through his curls, he felt properly sleepy for the first time in ages, a feeling far more pleasant than the exhaustion that had plagued him for eight, coming up on nine weeks.

Come to think of it, when was the last time he’d slept in his own bed? Most nights he’d find the nearest wall to slump against or a decent patch of grass to crash in when he couldn’t make his body cooperate any longer. And when was the last time he’d had a proper meal? Luigi had forced him to sit down and eat a packet of crackers a day or two ago, Toad brought him soup sometime last week and refused to leave until he downed at least half of it, but…

“Weegee?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.”

The hand in his hair stilled, and the response came after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“Well duh. Of course you are.” His voice wavered, yet Mario could tell he was smiling. “What’d’ya want? We’ve got plenty enough to make anything. Don’t hold back.”

Mario hummed, closing his eyes. Making that choice on his own was a mental process he didn’t have the resources for. “Surprise me.”

Luigi vocalized his approval, but he didn’t move to stand quite yet. Instead, the hand in Mario’s hair found his own hand, and he gladly took it, permitting himself that comfort at least.

“Hey Mario? Can you… promise me something first?”

Mario nodded, a small and rapid movement of his head. He knew what was coming: Promise me you’ll eat everything I put in front of you. Promise me you’ll take a bath. Promise me you’ll get into clean clothes and sleep on a bed tonight. He was all too ready to agree. It was the least he owed his long-suffering brother.

“When you save the Princess… promise me you’ll come home too. Okay?”

Mario’s eyes snapped back open. The rain still fell against the window before him, steady and unending.

Easy enough to promise, at least in theory. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to make more pleasant memories with his friends, with his love, with his brother especially. There were so many adventures he still wanted to go on. So many things he wanted to see and do. But if worst came to worst, and he had to lay his life down to save Peach’s… he’d already made up his mind.

“This isn’t your fault.”

He took in a deep breath through his nostrils, exhaled it slowly through his lips. Luigi was strong and selfless. He’d had the strength to lie just so he could ease Mario’s woes. The least Mario could do was offer up a comforting lie of his own.

“Yeah.” He nodded again, and if maybe he held Luigi’s hand a bit too tightly, that was okay. “Yeah, I think I can promise that.”

[casuallyawkardd]

Dating Miguel O’Hara

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: An overview on what dating Miguel O’Hara would be like. Starting from how you meet/get together to actually dating and the long run

Warnings: fluff, angst, age gap kinda?? I picture reader in their early/mid 20s and Miguel in his early/mid 30s

A/N: Wow, two in one day, a rare sight indeed 😂 This is SFW but like if ya’ll want a NSFW it’s here and send in requests if you have them! Or just your own headcannons I don’t care I have no one to talk about this man with🤷‍♀️

Meeting

Miguel is a workaholic, so he doesn’t leave the Spider HQ hardly ever. He usually spends his time in his office/lab working, in the cafeteria on the hunt for an empanada and maybe in his private quarters if Lyla convinces him to take a break. Aside from going out to save the world, both his own and others, Miguel is basically a homebody....except for when it comes to one thing.

Coffee.

Miguel lives off of the stuff. His superhuman abilities can only keep him going for so long. He needs an extra boost to keep him going through the long nights. That being said, he’s very picky about his coffee and refuses to touch the liquid trash the cafeteria offers. Which is how he meets you.

You’re a college student, in your senior year actually, having spent the last three and a half years working at a small cafe for some spending money. It’s nothing special, somewhere that’s a secret delicacy to the locals of Nueva York. It’s quiet, which is what Miguel likes. It also stays open late, something he appreciates as well. 

The first one to fall is you. To you, he’s the handsome regular who always comes in ten minutes before closing, orders a Red Eye, requesting that a questionable amount of espresso shots be added to his black coffee, and grumbles a ‘thank you’ before leaving. Does he know you’re the person behind the hand that slides him his coffee? Probably not. But seeing his face every Tuesday/Thursday night is fine with you. 

Call it a middle school crush, if you will.

One night you decide to change the routine, preparing his drink before he’s even arrived. Like clockwork, the bell at the front door rings and he comes in. You throw him off as you present the coffee and tell him the total before he can get a word in. 

He finally looks at you, really looks at you. 

You think it’s the first time he’s actually lifted his head, making him even taller than he already seemed. Miguel pays, mutters the same ‘thank you’, but leaves a much more generous tip than usual. 

Catching Feelings

Things go on as usual, that is until Miguel notices that it’s no longer you serving him his drink. Whoever the new guy is, he doesn’t make the coffee like you do. It tastes shitty now. How do you even mess up black coffee???

When he finds out you switched to working mornings, he’s suddenly getting his coffee at the buttcrack of dawn. You take this as a good sign, daring to strike up conversation. You had tried in the past, but only ever received grunts as replies. To your surprise, he indulges you and even asks questions of his own.

“Why’d you switch shifts?”

You explain that you had started taking classes in the afternoon, prefering to end the day studying and doing homework rather than wiping counters and serving half awake customers. He keeps going.

“What are you studying?”

“How much longer until you graduate?”

“Any jobs lined up?”

It’s the kind of questions you’d hear from your distant relatives who don’t know you well enough to ask anything interesting. But when he does it...your stomach finds itself in knots. He’s no longer some handsome regular. Miguel is funny, in a sarcastic, blunt sort of way. When he chuckles, it rumbles in his chest. His smiles are small and brief, usually only one corner of his mouth turning up rather than a full on grin. 

Miguel doesn’t notice that you’ve wormed your way into his thoughts. It’s a slow process. The small talk building up on itself with every visit until one day he realizes he knows that when you were little, your older brother pushed you off the slide at the neighborhood park and that’s why you have a small scar on your temple. How you love your anatomy/phys class, but hate the TA that runs the lab. How it’s ironic that you make the best coffee he’s ever tasted and yet you personally prefer tea. 

Hell, even the other spiders are starting to become aware that something has him distracted. How his ‘quick coffee runs’ progressively taking longer and longer and that he smiles a little when he tosses the empty, cardboard cup in the trash. It’s all an inside joke until Peter B. opens his stupid mouth. 

“So who are they?”

“Who’s who?”

“Don’t be coy, O’Hara~”

Miguel doesn’t know what his friend is talking about until he’s alone later that night, watching his screens. He finds that he can’t focus as well as he usually does, thinking maybe he needs some coffee. The thought makes him freeze.

“....God dammit.”

Dating

It doesn’t take long before he asks you to be his partner. Not because he’s fallen ‘madly in love with you’, as Peter likes to say, the thought seeming childish to Miguel. Rather, it’s because he wants a reason to keep you around. 

Hear me out.

You go on a couple dates when his schedule allows it. Rather when Lyla/Jess/Peter convince him to touch some grass... He enjoys going to the science museum, tagging along with you to the gym and treating you to a nice dinner from time to time. But like I said....he’s a workaholic. What most would consider quality time with a potential new love interest, he views as time away from his job. Worrying that the multiverse will collapse at any minute if he’s not watching it. 

When he asks to be exclusive, it’s more of an excuse for himself to keep seeing you. He likes you, likes how he acts when he’s around you. Likes how you make him feel. Miguel wants a reason to keep seeing you and not have the reason be to satisfy his coffee fix.

It helps that you’re both busy, that way he doesn’t feel like the only one who has to take rain checks for date night. He was upfront from the beginning, telling you that he was Spiderman and letting you know what you were signing up for. That he’ll try to be attentive, especially in those crucial first months of dating, but that he wouldn’t be able to always give you the attention that you deserved.

It’s a lot to hear, but you agree to be with him. He’s too pretty to pass up, you think. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? It doesn’t work out and you break up? You’d been there and done that with past partners; it was nothing new. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for dating a man like Miguel O’Hara.

He’s got more pros than cons, being written in the books as your first ‘mature’ relationships. The honeymoon phase is short lived, only a few weeks as you two enjoy the new relationship. He shows you around HQ, you invite him to events at your college, the typical stuff. Afterwards, you two go back to being busy, you’ve got finals/graduation/job hunting and he’s got a Spider Society to run. The result being that you call each other more often than talking in person. Miguel doesn’t do texting, you thought you were reserved with your emojis, but Miguel brings a whole new form of dry to the table. With a call, at least you can pick up on his tone. 

Miguel, from the beginning, isn’t one for PDA. Reserving the times when he holds you and kisses you breathless for when the two of you are alone. That being said, he’s affectionate in his own way. Holding doors open, remembering what you like to order from your favorite food places, standing between you and anyone he deems as sketchy. Spoiler alert, it’s anyone who isn’t a fellow spider. He cares and you know it, which is what matters. 

Future

Okay girliepops, yes that’s a gender neutral term, let’s be honest with each other. 

If you want to be a for lifer with him, it’s not gonna be an easy road. He may have more pros than cons, but the cons are a lot more severe. 

He gets absorbed in his work. He’ll go for long periods of time without contacting you. Hell. you two will probably be on and off for a good chunk of time. It’s not that he doesn’t love you like when he first fell for you; rather he struggles to find a healthy balance. He’s used to the world being on his shoulders, being responsible for the fate of the multiverse, at least that’s how he sees it. 

Normally you’d drop him like all your other exes, but you’re in too deep now. You reminisce on the good times because when things are good between you, they’re really good. 

You decide to be the push the both of you need. Even if it’s considered ‘toxic’, you give him an ultimatum. He either prioritizes you or the rest of the multiverse. Miguel scoffs at the idea at first, thinking the choice is obvious, but then he really thinks about it. Realizes that he’s as much in love with you as you are with him, arguably more so. He’s mad, but not at you. Mad at himself. Mad that the idea of you out of his life is almost the equivalent of when he lost the life he had with Gabriella. That he’d be a fool to let you slip away.

“....God dammit!”

You two get married shortly after that incident, ya’ll have been together for years at this point if you include the on and off phase of your relationship. It’s nothing fancy, just signing some papers and throwing a party with a small group of friends and family. Similarly to when you first started dating, Miguel considers the marriage an excuse to be around you more often. The voice in the back of his head that tells him to go home to sleep rather than on the platform. That reminds him that there’s something worth going home to now. 

Is he the perfect husband? God no. He’ll fall into his old habits of putting work first and you second, but he does better about it and it doesn’t happen as often as when you two were just dating. The thought of getting to crawl into bed, wrapped in your arms as he falls asleep, motivating him more than anything else to keep the multiverse safe.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 9: Upside Down

wc: 547 | Rated: T | cw: Ambiguous/Unresolved Ending

Tags: Years Later, The Upside Down, Steve Harrington Angst, Searching for Eddie, Platonic Stobin (Robin Not Present), Ambiguous/Unresolved Ending

'Hope'

Steve somersaults downwards, careful to keep a tight grip on the line of rope suspended between worlds as he feels gravity even out again. He lands planted on his feet and the cracked linoleum beneath his boots echoes out loud crunching sounds.

Looking around, Steve determines that the Munson’s trailer is clear and he dusts off his hands. He pauses, deciding to forego the map he has tucked away in the inside pocket of his jacket.

He doesn’t need it.

Not after all this time.

Steve has poured over his map of Hawkins more times than he can count. He is certain he knows every square inch of his hometown.

Even if he hasn’t traversed the whole thing yet.

He didn’t get too far last week. Only made it to the Quarry before the ground started to shake. There are still tremors down here, and they can be felt up above too. But Steve made a promise that if he was down here, he would leave if such a thing happened.

He promised Robin.

And friends don’t lie.

It would be much easier if the other gates were open. Hell, Steve would even take his chances at Lover’s Lake again if it meant he didn’t have to start from the same spot every week.

He told Robin that he wouldn’t be down here too long today. His best friend wanted to head to the next town over and go to a market. And he won’t deny her a simple pleasantry, something fun to do, for once.

Before, they’d make a day of it and pile into his car at dawn, head on over to the gas station for snacks and sing the whole way. They’d go further, stay over. And he’d never once look at his watch.

But Steve won’t skip a day.

He can’t. He has to come down here.

Not too long after he had first journeyed back down here, Steve started to feel like he was being watched. He was sure it wasn’t any kind of monster or a hoard of undead bats. And El and Will said they couldn’t feel Venca, either – even if they continued to wait for him to return.

So, he has hope.

And it is why he ventures down here every week without fail.

Even when his parents are home and asking him a million questions. Even when he has work and Keith is busting his balls about flaking out on a shift.

When it’s the holidays. When Claudia insists that Steve stay with her and Dustin.

When his best friend wants to go somewhere fun.

It has been five years now.

Hawkins is mostly put back together, even if half the town moved away. Even if there is still a crack running straight down the middle of Cherry Street.

They left Eddie in the Upside Down on a Thursday night in 1986, and when Steve finally made it back, despite the protests of his friends, his body was nowhere to be found.

He hasn’t told anyone that part yet.

Steve looks at his watch. He promised Robin three hours.

He reaches for his flashlight with one hand and removes his baseball bat from its makeshift holster with the other.

Maybe today will be the day.

He hopes.

[octuscle]

Ski instructor calendar

Philipp hated the mountains, Philipp hated the snow and he especially hated skiing. But after he was new to the company and his entire department flew to the Italian Alps for a weekend of skiing, he had to bite the bullet and take part in this event. As the new head of department, he had to integrate.

While the arrival on Thursday evening had been quite fun and he had made good conversation with the new employees, Friday turned out to be an absolute debacle, as expected. Philipp looked absolutely silly in his ski suit. He moved awkwardly and at walking pace across the piste. And was still on the ground more often than he skied his turns.

His ski instructor was close to despair, all the other complete beginners in the short were making rapid progress, but not Philipp. When the afternoon and the end of the first day of ski school finally arrived, Philipp breathed a sigh of relief. The moment he took off his ski boots in the ski cellar was the highlight of the day. He actually wanted to go to the sauna undisturbed for a while, as long as his colleagues were still happily racing down the slopes. But after standing naked in front of the mirror in his comfortable single room and seeing the bruises on his misshapen body, he decided against it and sat down in front of the fireplace after a shower and a coffee in the lobby.

Dinner and the digestive at the bar were pure gauntlet running for Philipp. He had made a fool of himself today. And that was the first impression he had made on many of his colleagues. His start at the new company had been a complete failure. His night was correspondingly restless.

Phil didn't care that he had to share a double room with a trainee from the accounts department. Firstly, he was glad that he was allowed to come along as a trainee at all. Secondly, he had never been on such a luxurious ski vacation in his entire life. He was more used to sweat-smelling dormitories in youth hostels. And thirdly, the trainee was damn hot. They had both slept naked, which had also been due to too much booze at the hotel bar. And when his roommate went to piss in the bathroom at dawn, he had an impressive morning wood. Phil took devoted care of the beast afterwards.

The two of them were among the first at breakfast afterwards. Phil couldn't wait to get back on his snowboard. He loved the crisp air, the snow was fantastic and with his new-found fuck buddy it was incredible fun to glide through the deep snow off-piste. It was already dusk when the two of them just managed to catch the last lift back to the hotel. The other colleagues were a little critical that Phil came to dinner unshowered and in his snowboarding clothes, but having fun on the apres-ski was more important to him than getting changed for dinner.

"Filippo" called his Mama. That didn't mean anything good. Actually, everyone just called him Pippo. It was also written on the name tag on his ski instructor's uniform. "Filippo!" The call became more piercing. Pippo ran into the kitchen, naked except for his boxer shorts. His mother held out a tray with a pot of tea. The fat guest from room 118, who had dropped out of his ski course yesterday, had asked for it. Pippo had been delighted to get rid of this completely untalented student. And now he had to play waiter at his parents' hotel before the ski school started. He quickly changed into a tracksuit, took the tray and brought it to the guest. The zipper of his jacket was wide open and showed a lot of his tattooed, well-trained chest. Philipp, as the guest was funnily enough called, stared at the youthful skin for a long time. At least there was a good tip.

At the end of the ski school, Pippo would have liked to go boarding with Phil. An excellent sportsman and a hot guy. But unfortunately the group had to leave early for the airport. And Pippo had to model for the ski instructor calendar.

Next year he was Mister March. It was his Mama's birthday that month. She would be very proud of her son.

[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 5: Collide

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - Joel makes up for the time he stood you up.

A/N: just wanted to say a big thank you for the support on this series so far! love u all<3

also im so excited for this chapter because they’re finally starting to (officially) like eachother guysss ahh

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, a few dirty thoughts (because what is this fic without them), slight language

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Also this chapter has a song..!

The next week, you have another lighter schedule - two patrols and three nights at the Tipsy Bison. Unfortunately though, your first patrol is on Monday morning at the ass-crack of dawn, and Joel can definitely tell that you’re not a morning person from it.

“So today we’re heading out to-” he begins, and you cut him off.

“I know, Joel.” You sigh heavily, getting annoyed just from that in your grumpy state. He doesn’t take it personally though, quickly deducing what’s wrong.

“Not a morning person, I take it?” He chuckles, and you just nod, taking another large swig of your coffee before screwing the lid back on and going over to May, your mare, to prep her for the patrol.

He does the same, keeping conversation light and just asking about your supplies and whatnot, still receiving a little attitude from you despite his efforts, before the two of you exit Jackson’s gates once more.

After almost an hour of riding, the sun is close to being fully risen and you find yourself watching it with awe. You never really took the time to watch the sun rise, but it really was beautiful, especially out here with no distractions or pollution to ruin the view of it.

“It’s so pretty.” You find yourself commenting, and Joel looks over at you, seeing the view which you’re talking about.

“I guess. I can think of something prettier, though.” He murmurs, staring directly at you. You turn to face him and realise what he’s done, smiling shyly before averting your gaze once more.

“So, where’s that music store you were talking about last time?” You ask.

“It ain’t this way, so I don’t think we could go today. We could try go on Thursday’s patrol, though. ‘S just a little ways past that town we cleared.” Joel replies, to which you nod.

“Guess we’ll go then.”

That morning’s patrol is fairly quick and quiet, a few straggling runners dotted around the outlook you two end up at, and nothing more.

You get back to Jackson just before lunchtime and return your horses and weapons. You’re tending to May, giving her a treat and combing her mane, when Joel enters the stables.

“Hey.” He says, voice gruff and nervous, almost.

“Hey,” you smile, turning to face him, “what’s up?”

“Nothin’, just.. It’s lunchtime.”

You nod slowly, a little confused. He picks up on this and sighs.

“Wanted to ask if you.. if you wanted to come over for lunch. Ellie’ll be there too… Thought it might be nice.” He mumbles, not able to meet your eye as he braces himself for rejection.

“That sounds great! I’d have to get changed and stuff, so I could be over in maybe.. Half an hour?” You say, smile wider now, and he finally looks back up at you, trying to hide his surprise.

“Yeah- yeah. That sounds good. See you then.” He says, giving you a wry smile before leaving you in the stables, hurrying back home to get everything ready for you. It was a last minute decision, and he was honestly already regretting it, but he just wanted to spend more time with you. Even though the two of you had just spent almost 4 hours together, he needed more.

Ellie’s surprised to see him in such a rush, and to see him in the kitchen actually cooking something for once.

“Dude.. what are you doing?” She laughs as she watches him pull out a pot and almost throw open the fridge door.

“I invited her over for lunch. Dunno what I was thinking.” He grumbles, squeezing his eyes together and pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation when Ellie cheers and whoops excessively.

“You finally did it! Oh my god. It only took you 10 years.” She smirks, sitting at the island and watching him grab the most random ingredients, as if they’ll make something good when he puts them together. Her brows furrow before pity floods her system, and she gets up with a deep sigh.

“Okay, what are you actually doing..?” She says, rounding the island and coming to his side.

“I don’t.. I don’t know,” he sighs, “this is gonna be shit.”

“Not if I can help it.” She says, determined to not let this fail. “Just.. gimme 20 minutes and I can make something good.”

“You want any help, or-”

“No! You have to go get ready for your date!” She says abruptly, cutting him off and grinning slyly when he starts going red at her words.

“It’s not a date.. She’s just coming over for lunch. You’re gonna be here anyway…” He mutters, turning and going upstairs to get ready nonetheless.

“You keep telling yourself that, old man.” She smirks, getting herself busy with the cooking.

20 minutes later, Joel comes downstairs freshly shaved and changed into some better clothes than the ones he wore for patrol.

Ellie lets out a low whistle when she sees him. “Wowwww, you actually look half-decent for once. Well done.” She teases, to which he just rolls his eyes.

“What’d you make? Actually looks half-decent.” He smirks as he comes to see what Ellie’s cooked up.

“I made this spaghetti for us, and it looks more than decent to me, thank you very much.”

–

Just breathe.

You keep repeating that in your mind as you walk down the street to Joel’s home. Overthinking, as always, but trying to quell your thoughts when you reach his front porch and make your way up the steps. You clench your fists, taking a deep breath before raising your hand and knocking on the door. It’s opened surprisingly quickly by a very eager Ellie, ushering you inside and informing you that Joel’s just finishing up in the kitchen. You start up some conversation with Ellie as the two of you sit at the table, waiting for Joel. He approaches with the food and your breath catches in your throat when you see him.

He looks fucking beautiful.

He’s wearing a different shirt, one you’ve never seen him in before. It’s a deep green, with the sleeves rolled up just past his forearms and exposing even more skin which you try your hardest not to salivate over, and it’s tucked into his jeans. The jeans are criminally tight on him and you quickly avert your gaze when you catch yourself almost eyeing his bulge, finally meeting his eyes.

“Joel. Hi.” You breathe, and he gives you an equally flustered greeting.

You had just changed into one of your better sweaters and some jeans. Both of them hugged your body perfectly, showing off your curves. The sweater was off-shoulder so it showed off your collarbones as well.

You guessed the outfit was a good choice when Joel’s brain visibly short-circuits at the sight of you, and he blinks a few times before he even realises you’ve said something to him, greeting you back and setting the food down.

“Ohh, damn it. You know what I just remembered? Dina actually wanted to see me like… now. So I guess I’m gonna have to leave you guys here. So sorry.” Ellie smirks, clearly not guilty in the slightest as she gets up from the table and makes her way to the front door.

“Have a nice lunch, you two.”

Joel looks like a deer in headlights, still standing by the table as Ellie leaves, the door swinging shut and leaving the two of you in silence.

“I’m gonna just.. grab some forks.” He mumbles, and you nod, watching him leave and trying not to focus on how good his ass looks in those jeans.

After giving himself a silent pep talk in the kitchen, he returns with the forks and sits across from you at the table.

At first, the conversation is a little slow. Mundane topics like what else have you been up to and the weather’s been looking good recently but eventually, you get into a flow, moving from topic to topic, laughing together and having a really good time.

“This has been great, Joel. Thank you.” You say after helping him clean everything up, much to his protest - ‘you’re my guest, shouldn’t be cleanin’ up’ - but you insisted.

“Pleasure’s mine.” He smiles softly, willing himself to not get lost in your eyes again, averting his gaze quickly.

“Um.. you don’t have to leave just yet.” He starts, and you turn back to face him.

“Got a few guitars upstairs, if you wanted to play… I know we didn’t really get to last time.” He offers shyly, and you can’t hide your grin this time. You’re finally getting to hear Joel play.

“I’d like that.” You say, and he nods, going upstairs to grab them.

He comes back and hands you one, the two of you sitting down in the living room as you strum a little.

“So, what d’you wanna play?” He asks after a minute of letting you get acquainted with the guitar.

“I actually wanted to hear you play first… If that’s okay! It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna-”

“Nah. Figure I owe it to ya.” He says, thinking of a song and taking a deep breath before starting to play. It’s a little bit of a bold choice, but he figures he could play it off if you don’t receive it well.

The dawn is breaking

A light shining through

You’re barely waking

And I’m tangled up in you

You’re stunned into silence as his deep voice cuts through the air, positively transfixed by it and his skilful playing. You’re so entranced that you barely realise the lyrics of the song, but when you do, your eyes go even wider.

But I’m open, you’re closed

Where I follow, you’ll go

I worry I won’t see your face

Light up again

Surely he doesn’t mean it. He just chose a random song. He hasn’t made the same association with it that you have. It’s just a random song.

Even the best fall down sometime

Even the wrong words seem to rhyme

Out of the doubt that fills my mind

I somehow find

You and I collide

You listen quietly as he plays all the way til the end of the song, admiring how he plays, as lost in the music as you find yourself becoming.

You finally find

You and I collide

A final strum rings through the air as he looks up at you, meeting your wide eyes with his own, hoping that you understood what he meant from the song.

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re interrupted by the front door swinging open.

The moment is lost, and you blink quickly, standing up as two voices come from the front door.

“Yeah, we can just go to the gara- oh. Hey.” Ellie says bashfully, realising she’s probably just interrupted something.

“We’re just going to my place. Sorry.” She chuckles, walking through the living room with Dina, to whom you offer a small wave. Dina’s a nice girl, you know her from the school.

As the back door closes, you look back at Joel.

“I should probably get going.” You say, offering him a small smile.

He just nods, clearing his throat to fill the silence.

“I knew you’d be good at guitar.” You comment, and he smiles back at you this time.

“Thanks, sweetheart. You want me to walk you home?” He asks as the two of you walk to the front door.

“That’s okay. I’ll see you on Thursday?” You ask as red taints your cheeks once more from that name.

“Yep. See you then.”

“Thank you for this. Bye, Joel.” You say, leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, something you’d decided to do before you could think about it too hard, before opening the front door and leaving him once again stunned, frozen in place on the other side.

You exhale shakily, taking a second to calm your nerves before heading back home.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

Next Chapter

Tags- @mermaidgirl30 @tuquoquebrute @joelmillerisapunk @pascals-doll @casa-boiardi @konigslittleliebling @xxx-silhouette-xxx @hannah9921 @friskispunk @orcasoul @s0meoone

[milfsloverblog]

Stood Up (Part 3) (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: This took me so long to write, I reaaaally wanted to write the angst (beware) but then got stuck at the smutty part (which is why it isn’t as detailed). I hope you’ll enjoy reading this chapter as much as the previous ones! Lil reminder that my requests are open and I’ll happily write for any of Gwen’s characters <3

~1,8k

Saying you had fallen for Larissa would be an understatement. In a couple of weeks the tall woman had insidiously made her way inside your brain and inside your heart. She was usually your first thought in the morning when your eyes fluttered open, and your very last at night when you went to bed and moaned her name, your hand buried between your thighs under the bedsheets.

You hadn’t dared use her phone number yet. She’d said to use it wisely and you weren’t sure that calling or texting her every time you wanted to would make her very happy. You knew she was a busy woman, probably working until late at night only to wake up early in the mornings, and the last thing you wanted was to bother her.

A couple of times you had thought about sending her flowers, you even had the perfect bouquet in mind. Some black pearl amaryllis paired with baby’s breath and eucalyptus. Love and passion, new beginnings, protection. The perfect bouquet. But you had no idea which school to send it to and even if you had, you still weren’t sure that sending flowers to a woman you were having casual sex with was a good idea.

————

You sighed as you flipped the sign on your shop window, staring at the word “closed” written in bold letters while you locked the door. Thursdays were always slow and you had only made a few sales that day. You hated Thursdays more than Mondays, but at least you had Fridays to look forward to. Even more now that you knew Larissa.

“Lydia!” You called as you walked past Ellen’s and noticed your friend taking her cigarette break outside the restaurant.

The girl stubbed out her cigarette and waved as you approached her, pushing an awkward smile.

“Are you alright ?” You asked with a soft chuckle, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“No, no I’m fine! It’s just…It’s so rare to see you on Thursdays!” Lydia laughed uncomfortably and rubbed the back of her neck.

You were about to answer when you noticed it, the silver hair through the restaurant window. You couldn’t believe your luck.

“Larissa!” You whispered, watching the woman for a few seconds before moving to walk inside the restaurant.

“No, no wait-“ Lydia tried to hold you back but it was too late, you had already pushed the door open and taken a few steps towards Larissa’s table.

That’s when you finally realised that another woman was sitting across from Larissa. A redhead with big glasses who looked around Larissa’s age.

The tall woman leaned in a little, telling her companion something that made her laugh loudly. Larissa smiled, looking proud of herself and you watched as the redhead put her hand on the blonde’s one on the table.

Oh. Oh. It suddenly dawned on you that you were witnessing a date.

You took a step back and accidentally bumped into Lydia who dropped the empty plates that she had been carrying. Immediately the whole restaurant turned to look at the two of you, including Larissa and her companion.

You kneeled at the same time as Lydia did to pick up the broken pieces of glass, your back turned to Larissa.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Lydia whispered, glancing at the tall woman still sitting down in her booth. “I tried to tell you, I…I’ll spit in their food if that makes you feel better.”

You looked at your friend, eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill, and shook your head.

“That won’t be necessary.” You managed to say, “We’re not together. She’s free to see whoever she wishes to see.”

With that you got back on your feet and took a deep breath, turning around to look at Larissa who immediately pulled her hand away from the redhead’s. She opened her mouth to speak but you didn’t care enough to listen, instead choosing to get out of the restaurant as quickly as you could.

As soon as the building was out of sight you burst into loud sobs, letting the tears run freely down your cheeks. And it was silly, you knew that. Larissa didn’t owe you anything, she wasn’t yours and you weren’t hers. You weren’t even mad at her, you were mad at yourself for allowing this to happen.

Of course, she would want to date someone more like her. Someone her age, someone who did more in life than owning a flower shop. You knew that you were different from Larissa in almost every aspect but somehow you had hoped that maybe…

Fuck, it hurt. Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as you realised that you had fallen in love with a woman who probably saw you as a mere distraction. And you could never be mad at her, because it was all your fault.

——————

The next few days were hell. Every time you closed your eyes you’d see images of Larissa and that redhead woman and it made you sick to your stomach. So much so that you skipped dining at Ellen’s that Friday.

You resented every single person that came into your shop to buy flowers for their partner, your teeth grinding each time someone mentioned their loved one.

“Your partner is lucky, I bet they get showered in flowers a lot.” The tall man standing on the other side of your counter said.

You looked up at him and his beige coat, and then back down at the bouquet of stargazer lilies he had bought. He had been here twice this week already. Yesterday he had gotten a dozen of white tulips and you couldn’t help but wonder if the man knew what these flowers meant.

I’m sorry, the tulips said. I miss you, the lilies added.

“I don’t have a partner.” You simply answered as politely as you could. “I’ll be back in a second, I need to get some organza.”

You walked to the back of your shop, shuffling through your organza rolls to find one that would match the bouquet.

“Ha!” You smiled victoriously and made your way back to the front of the shop, stopping dead in your tracks when you saw Larissa standing where the man had been just a couple of minutes earlier.

Your eyes quickly scanned around the shop, the man was gone. It made no sense, because if he had left and Larissa had walked in, the bell over the door would have rung twice, and it didn’t ring at all.

“I waited for you on Friday night,” Larissa’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, “But you never came.”

You bit back a snarky remark and walked to the counter where the lilies were still waiting to be wrapped.

“I didn’t feel like going to Ellen’s.” You answered, keeping your eyes down as you cut the organza.

“You haven’t called, or texted.” She said, making you shake your head a little.

“Yes, well, I know you’re a busy woman. Didn’t want to bother you.” You shrugged, still not looking at her.

“You’re right, I am a busy woman. But I would have made time for you.” Larissa took a step closer and you put the scissors down, taking a deep breath before looking up at her face.

“I don’t think we should see each other again.” You said as straightforwardly as you could, watching how Larissa’s mouth dropped slightly open as she processed your words.

“Why?” It came out of the older woman’s mouth as a whisper.

Because I’m in love with you but you aren’t in love with me, you wanted to say.

“Because it wouldn’t be right to that redhead woman I saw you with last week.” You shrugged and went back to wrapping the bouquet.

There was a moment of silence before Larissa suddenly started laughing, and it made the anger bubble in your body.

“Yeah, it’s so funny, isn’t it? So, so funny.” You said through gritted teeth. “I really hope it made you feel good about yourself, me fucking you and you fucking me. I know I’m not good enough to be with someone like you, hell you probably wouldn’t even look at me if I walked past you down the street. But, fuck, it hurts. It hurts to know that if I had been a little more like that redhead, maybe you would have wanted me. Really wanted me, like I want you.”

Larissa had stopped laughing then, her blue eyes wide as she listened to your rant. She frowned because she thought she’d understood what you were implying but it couldn’t be. You couldn’t possibly be in love with her.

“Marilyn, the redhead, is my employee.” She eventually said after a few seconds. “And she is the closest thing I have to a friend. I don’t know what you think you saw that night at Ellen’s, but it wasn’t a date. We do like and respect each other, but it’s nothing like that.”

You just stood there quietly, realising you had been even more stupid than you’d thought. You wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“You fell in love with me…” Larissa said barely audibly and you shrugged, fidgeting with the lilies in your hands.

The cat was out of the bag now, it would be useless to deny your feelings after your clear display of jealousy.

“Yes, I did. Can you really blame me though? You’re everything anyone could wish for.” You eventually said, daring to look up at the tall woman.

Larissa leaned on the counter, her face stopping only a few inches from yours.

“Tell me again how we shouldn’t be seeing each other.” She whispered, her eyes dropping to your lips.

What happened next happened so quickly, you barely had time to register it. You closed the gap between Larissa’s lips and yours, her hand immediately grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer.

She walked around the counter and lifted you as if you weighed no more than a feather, only to take you to the back of the shop and lay you down on the workbench where you prepped the flowers each morning.

You could smell the roses and carnations that surrounded you when Larissa kneeled between your now naked legs, a couple of thorns dug into your back but you could not have cared less.

“Have me, please!” You begged, aching to feel the woman’s touch on your skin again.

How special it was, you thought as you looked down into Larissa’s eyes and she looked up into yours, to have a goddess kneeled between her worshiper’s thighs, her mouth and chin slicked with their arousal.

You knew you wouldn’t last long when the coil in your tummy tightened dangerously, threatening to snap at any second.

When you came moaning Larissa’s name, the woman’s heart swelled in her chest. You loved her. Someone loved her. She was loved, finally.

“I love you too.” Larissa whispered in your ear as you came down from your high, placing a soft kiss on your panting lips.

She loved you.

Thank god. Thank god for the imbecile who had stood her up.

[eddiemunson-mylove]

BestFriend!Eddie being the ultimate comfort

Fluff | 0.7K

Eddie knew from the shift in his atmosphere what kind of day you had been through. He was sat on his couch one Thursday evening with a beer in hand when he was unexpectedly graced with your presence, barely a foot onto the threshold before he’s up and wrapping his arms around your middle as you defeatedly slump into him.

One hand came to rest on your lower back, drawing you into him, as the other cradled the back of your head into his shoulder. It was only a matter of seconds before your shoulders began to lightly shake, accompanied by intermittent sniffles.

“Oh sweetheart…” he coos gently and sways your bodies in synchrony as his thumb begins to rub against the back of your head. The pair of you carried on like this for what felt like an eternity. Eddie wished this could be true. Except this was only a fantasy of his; always just out of reach.

It had only been 5 months since you had moved into Forest Hills Trailer Park, moving to Hawkins in order to take control of your individuality. In a sleepy town where nothing ever happens and no one ever leaves, the calm was a welcome contrast to your previous life.

Wayne Munson was wistfully smoking on his porch when you had arrived with an abundance of boxes balancing in your car. He was quick to trot on over before you could even start, offering his strength that was very much appreciated after the long drive.

And that was how you met Eddie. He came bounding over moaning and groaning to Wayne about needing his spark plug replaced on his van before wordlessly joining in the effort of carrying box after box into your new home.

The two men then became your rock. Car troubles? Consider it fixed. Need a job? they know somebody who's looking. Need some food? Wayne always makes leftovers. And when the pressure of trying to be fully self-sufficient began to take its toll, Eddie was only a stones throw away to talk to. His advise may not always be useful or experienced, but listening was his forte.

So here he was, 5 months later, with his nose buried in your hair and taking all the affection you were willing to offer. He selfishly hoped that this would be the day. He hoped that every day was the day. The day when you finally realise that you are head over heels for him; just as he was for you. But his priority right now was that you needed him.

He finally leaned his torso back in order to get a better look at you, assessing your tear stricken cheeks and the slight drip from your nose. His biggest heartache was the forlorn expression in your eyes, wide and wet and straight up pitiful.

"What happened doll?" he asks gently, his eyes soft and sparkling. You simply bury your head into his chest and let out a dramatic sigh.

“Today can suck a bag of dicks” is all you say, the sound muffling in his chest but he caught every word and let out a deep chuckle.

“That bad huh?” he replies, met with your head trying to frantically nod into him, the friction from your forehead against his chest made him feel warm, and not from the heat that it caused. 

“I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be to cheer me up. I’m sorry if you have plans… I can go if-” you start. Eddie brings one hand up to cup the back of your head again, keeping you in his chest as he cuts you off.

“I’m not doing anything sweetheart. Especially not now. I’m happy that you chose here.” he lulls as he begins to sway once more, the motion calming you to your core. This was exactly what you needed. Just Eddie as he was. No questions needed. Just his aura was enough to soothe your distress.

As the two of you sway together in his living room, it dawns on him that he needs these moments with you just as much as you needed him in this moment. His feelings for you were on the brink of erupting and he knew then that he needed so much more with you. He had so much more love and intimacy to give.

He placed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and you weakly returned one on his chest before nuzzling your face back into him. He swore that his heart doubled in size.

He’d tell you one day. Maybe sooner than he planned after today…

[honeybeefae]

Eris Week 2023 Official Masterlist

Hey everyone! I am SO excited to participate in Eris Week and to get ahead of the game, I will post the names and summaries of the fics I'll be writing so that everyone can find them easily! (All things labeled with a * are smut!)

The things that are bolded and underlined in the picture above are the prompts I will be using that day and yes, some days there will be two fics because I couldn't just pick one! I hope you guys are as excited about this as I am <3

As always, thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, talking, and just anything that you all do to support my fics. This community is amazing and I love all of you.

(Also tagging @erisweek2023! I encourage all of you to participate in it!)

Sunday | Family

As you go into labor Eris is taken back to when his mother went into labor with Lucien, especially as the same problem seems to arise. When you reach out your hand for him to stay, will he take it or will he be just like his father?

(Eris x Reader fic) (POSTED)

Monday | High Lord

The day of Eris's coronation is finally here and as you go to position, you realize he is missing. After calming everyone's panic you go off in search of him and realize just how nervous your soon-to-be High Lord truly is.

(Eris x Reader fic) (POSTED)

Monday (pt. 2) | Heir*

A recent concoction has hit the fae market that is said to bring about your primal instincts in order to help fertility. When Eris first suggests it you laugh, thinking it is just another herb or supplement, until you both drink it and realize just how primal it reverts you to.

(Smut, Aphrodisiac, Knot, Primal Play, Alpha/Omega vibes)

(Eris x Reader fic) (POSTED)

Tuesday | Secrets*

Eris is visiting the Court of Nightmares to keep in touch with things now that he is officially High Lord of Autumn. As he mingles he is introduced to a lovely vixen who, despite Eris's resistance, takes no hints to his distaste. While Eris tries to search for a way out he catches the eye of a Shadowsinger who is none too pleased about the wandering hands touching what is his, even if in secret.

(Smut, Secret Relationship, Dom/Sub dynamic)

(Eris x Azriel) (POSTED)

Wednesday | Autumn Equinox

On the dawn of your mating ceremony to Eris, the same day as the Autumn Equinox, you are in a daze as you remember everything that has led you to this moment. And when you see Eris waiting for you at the end of the aisle, crown of leaves and thorns atop his head, you realize there is no one else for you.

(Eris x Reader fic)

Thursday | Dancing

It is the day you are meant to be introduced to court, to show yourself off to the countless suitors of the Autumn Court, but there is one problem. You cannot dance. Lucky for you, however, that a certain red-headed heir is willing to teach you despite his disdain for you. Or is it something else?

(Eris x Reader fic)

Friday | Arranged Marriage*

Against all odds of this arranged marriage between you and the future High Lord of Autumn, you had hoped that something could blossom between the two of you. You wanted that fairytale you had been sold on so when he refuses to meet your gaze, talk with you, and even go as far as flirting with other women in court, you are left with no other option but to engage your attention to other men. As it turns out, your husband can dish it but cannot take it when you enjoy the company of three mortal men.

(Smut, Arranged Marriage, Outdoor Sex, Jealousy)

(Eris x Reader Fic)

Friday (pt. 2) | Modern AU*

Despite being at the top of your class, popular, and having everything you ever wanted, there was a thorn in your side that you just couldn't get rid of named Eris Vanserra. You were academic rivals and although he seemed like a golden boy with his perfect hair and pressed clothes, you were about to see a whole different side as the two of you are paired up for a project that required meeting outside of school hours.

(Smut, Academic Rivals, Dom/Sub, College!AU, Spitting, Spanking, Daddy Kink)

(Eris x Reader fic)

Saturday | Free Day*

Eris had been uptight since you were children and finally, as you were now both adults, you decided to put your foot down and have him relax. And although your methods are unconventional, the two of you soon find yourselves basking in a room of hazy smoke and unspoken feelings that are about to come to light.

(Smut, Stoned Sex, Drugs, Intense, High Sex)

(Eris x Reader fic)