#ignore my mobile formatting

[addawithbalmiki]

me wasting my time at my office produced this

(...)

sasuke was never the golden child.

ten year old sasuke would have thrown pens at itachi at that realization. eighteen year old sasuke would have run away and gotten another tattoo in a haze of drunkenness.

twenty-eight year old sasuke makes a face at his cup of cold tea and continues checking his papers. dressed in a proper button-up with no tattoos peeking out, itachi is struck each time by the reality that his little brother is no longer the screaming child, annoyed by the lack of attention.

now, he has graduated to not giving itachi attention.

"otou-san was grim throughout the entire meeting, but my understanding is that he was positively bored. i expected more outrage." itachi sips his third cup of tea. "okaa-san, on the other hand... "

sasuke scowls. he circles one line with his red pen. itachi tries not to take offense at his little brother's distraction.

"i'm beginning to think you're bored of my visit."

"i am." sasuke doesn't even look up as he writes Check the book for once beside his angry red circle. "you are wasting my time here."

"i suppose you'd want to spend more time correcting people's poor attempts at getting dates right." itachi peers at the horrible handwriting. "i don't recall the heian period starting from my childhood."

sasuke pulls back the answer sheet. "kitsune is an idiot." itachi doesn't correct the obviously wrong name. "but he did better this time. and otou-san is indifferent because your decisions in life are always questionable. kisame is atrocious, but it's better than running away from home and joining a gang."

"a society." itachi takes the bait like every single time. it's a comforting pattern. "not unlike your sojourn with your wild friends."

sasuke keeps the marked paper beside him. his scowl becomes more prominent. be it ten, eighteen, twenty-eight - sasuke will never not look like the world has personally wronged him for the decisions he made.

brat, itachi thinks fondly. his appreciation for his brother's rebelling streak never manages to dwindle. itachi might have been the one who left everything and became a lawyer, but he still stayed. he still chose to align himself with the uchiha enterprises. sasuke left and between years of doing odd jobs and trudging through his history degree, he never looked back. as ambitious as sasuke is, he settled to become a high school history teacher with a laughably small salary.

itachi doesn't envy, but it's hard not to. dating kisame might be the most rebelling he has ever done. unlike sasuke, he's not half as brave. or reckless, as he likes to say.

"kisame's face reconstruction surgery is horrible. " sasuke says, blunt in the way he always is. "who the fuck wants to be a shark? "

"you don't understand an artist's soul."

"i don't need to. your choice is horrible." and then: "i'm giving kisame a mask that'll last him 10 years."

translation: i support your choice even though you can do better.

sasuke's kindness is sudden and tinged with so much roughness, it's hard to spot. softness doesn't become him despite his younger years. what would it take for the scowl to go away?

itachi smiles. "i'll give him your warm regards. he'll be happy to know you keep him in your thoughts. "

sasuke opens his mouth - undoubtedly to tear into itachi for his attempt at civility - when there's a knock.

"oh! i didn't know you had a guest. i'll come back later. " a feminine voice interrupts.

sasuke drops his papers on the table. he doesn't smile, but he doesn't need to. he does the closest approximation to beaming - his scowl disappears and his eyes glint like a well-fed cat's.

itachi turns his chair. by the doorway. a pretty pink-haired woman stands, her face sheepish. she has a white coat on.

"hello," itachi greets.

"hello! nice to meet you, " she greets back. a normal person. maybe sasuke isn't as rebellious as itachi thought him to be.

sasuke stands up from his chair. itachi peeks at his expression. if he didn't know his brother well, he wouldn't be able to pin down the slight redness in sasuke's ears.

"sakura," ignoring itachi's widening eyes at the informality, sasuke shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to look cool, "i didn't know you were available. "

the woman in question beams, the softness in her eyes giving away nothing and everything. "i dealt with the students. i wanted something other than mountains of snot. i detest flu season."

"you look tired. sit. " sasuke gestures to itachi's seat.

sakura eyes itachi worriedly. "um, i wouldn't want to impose-"

"-he's going now," sasuke interrupts.

"i am?"

"his boyfriend must be less upset with him now."

itachi stands up and leans forward.

"rude, otouto," he mutters. he shoots a smile at the worried woman and whispers. "a nurse? "

sasuke sniffs with disdain and pride. "a doctor. "

itachi shakes his head and exchanging a genuine smile with the pretty doctor, he heads out. picking out his phone, he calls his boyfriend.

"hello? " kisame asks, confused over itachi calling so early.

"i need the akatsuki to go through the records of a sakura at tokyo metropolitan asuka high school."

[draculasweedsmokinggirlfriend]

Me 🤝 My Good Friend Jonathan Harker

Being in the toils

[merakiui]

please bless us with some eel mating season/breeding TwT

The moray eel doesn't have an exact mating season because they only mate when there is enough food and a suitable habitat. But most morays will mate in warmer waters because the temperatures are usually the best for mating. Morays will also open and close their mouths very widely at one another to show that they wish to mate!

Applying that to Jade and Floyd, they could essentially just choose to mate with you whenever they want, but I think they're both particular about the season. Floyd wants to mate with you in the summer because the waters are warm and comfortable, and it's the perfect time to give his shrimpy plenty of babies! Jade prefers the spring because that's when everything is in bloom (or is just starting to bloom) and it's a beautiful transition from winter to spring. But since they intend to mate with you at the same time, they'll settle for something in between both seasons. Perhaps the month where spring gives way to summer.

You probably won't know about the opening and closing of the mouth, which is how they'll trap you. Floyd does it quite noticeably, but Jade's a little covert with it. Perhaps you'll think Floyd's playing a game and so you'll do it back, and after a few times they're certain you want to mate (horny moray delusion...). Unlike Azul, the twins will want you to stay human when they fuck you. Your small size is so cute to them, and they want to see you cry when they stuff you full. The mating process will last for hours, so enjoy being sandwiched between both of them in the water, their long bodies curled snugly around you. <3

[trashlie]

ILY 231 Shinae, a summary:

Golly gee, why does Yeonggi get so upset when I insist there was nothing romantic about what happened between us why does he seem so annoyed that I'm insisting it's all friendship of course I'm going to treat him differently I just don't understand why is he so mad

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My dense, sleep deprived, inexperienced, desperate Shinae lmaoooooooo plsssssssssss she has all the figures but she just can't compute it lmaoooooooo she's trying to cram the last piece of a puzzle in its spot but she's using a friend-shaped piece and doesn't understand why it doesn't fit this last space 💀😭😭😭

She is desperate to not lose him (AGAIN)

Desperate to not throw away all of this

all of this literally equals their every shared experience and all of the comfort he's brought her, all the ways he's helped shaped her into this person she's become

Dieter is hurt

"we're friends." "No."

She CARES that he's creating boundaries and pushing her away. She doesn't want boundaries, she wants to stay close to him

She wants to see him. All of him, the real him.

GIRL!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE DANCING AROUND THE TRUTH

[megamindsupremacy]

Do you have any Spiderman fic recs? (Preferably not MCU but. I'm not picky)

YES ofc. Let me dig through my bookmarks for some. Warning- most of them will be Team Red fics because that’s where I interacted most with the Marvel fandom back in the day. Also, coming back after making this, unfortunately most are at least a little bit MCU influenced but I tried to stay away from the tropier/irondad/ooc fics

-

Inimitable by deniigiq

“Peter, is it supposed to be doing that?” One of his students asked him. He looked up to see the industrial-strength magnets he’d collected for this lab trying to crack through the glass between them to be reunited. The glass splintered.

“Yeah, no. That’s totally fine,” he lied. Then he inconspicuously chased everyone to the corner of the lab, donned a glove, and smashed the glass so that it wouldn’t splinter and stab someone in the eye in its explosion.

His students cheered.

He needed a drink.

(Peter gets called back to the city at the age of 25 to help mitigate the rapidly increasing crime rate. He's in way over his head, so he sets out to re-establish Team Red.)

(Classic Team Red fic, this author got me into the fandom years ago and I’ve been stuck since)

-

Say You Will, Say You Won’t by Traincat

Johnny Storm found him on a Friday afternoon, wearing the kind of beseeching look that filled Peter with dread.

“I need to ask you a favor,” he said.

“No,” Peter said, swinging away.

__

Peter and Johnny get married, really-not-really.

(A classic Spidertorch fic, absolutely hilarious and not even a little bit MCU-touched)

-

Peter Parker: Legend of Empire State by Popjeckdoom

There was a dorm room, at the end of the third floor hallway on the male side of student housing, that was a mystery to all the students of Empire State. #339, Peter Parker.

The dorm itself wasn’t strange. It wasn’t haunted or cursed in any way, or as far as anyone knew. The door looked like everyone else’s; a doodle of Spidey on the whiteboard, a random scratch at the bottom left corner of the door, likely from someone moving in, etc. What made this ordinary room into a legend was it’s mysterious inhabitant, whom many believed did not even exist.

Peter Parker. The Criptid of Empire State.

(Technically incomplete, but it’s a series of oneshots so do with that what you will)

-

Dumpster Fires Verse by deniigiq

Peter and May receive a notice to vacate.

The other guys on Team Red have been there before, they offer a bit of advice.

(Another deniigiq classic, it’s a series of interconnected fics that don’t need to be read together to make sense)

-

Can you hear the drumming? (there’s a revolution coming) by Crescent_Blues

"You know how to throw a punch?"

Peter stops fidgeting and his heartbeat slows as he breathes deep and forces it to calm. The endorphins aren't quite there yet but he can almost taste the excitement, the hopefulness. Like carmel, like yellow, like tacky sweetness.

"Don't tuck your thumb into your hand and keep your wrist and arm straight?"

He has the basics.

That's a good start.

Right?

(Matt accidentally acquires one Peter Parker at the ripe old age of eleven and becomes the mentor he never wanted to be)

(This one comes courtesy of my friend Moon, who will kill me if he knew I was reccing his fic, but the writing style and quality is top notch so I refuse to stop. Also incomplete, but there’s 160k words before you get to the end so there’s a lot to read)

-

Peter Parker’s Home for the Wayward Villain by BeanieBaby

A really long redemption story.

(Another classic, Peter buys a house and adopts+reforms like 90% of the Marvel villains)

-

Roundabout by Gruoch

“Are you being killed right now?” Tony asks. “Am I listening to your final moments?”

“Maybe,” Peter chokes out, weakly pedaling his legs in the air while he futilely scrambles to pry the hand away from his throat.

Tony releases a sharp huff, irritated. “You are absolutely not allowed to die right now. Your graduation is a month away. Pepper’s moved around all her meetings to be free that day, and I’ve already given the deposit to the catering company for your party. I can’t get it back if I have to cancel now because of your untimely demise.”

***

In which Peter attempts to survive long enough to graduate, Tony moonlights as a semi-professional party planner, and absolutely nothing goes according to plan.

(This one is just. Peter Parker’s terrible horrible no good very bad day but in the best way)

-

Spider Season by selador

Peter Parker is Ben Urich's intern at the Bulletin. He's alright, as far as interns go. Bad coffee, but he fights crime bosses who want Ben dead. That wins a lot of points with Ben, that's for sure.

(Mostly follows the plot of DD s1 but still a great fic)

-

WHAT sugar daddy(s)??? By o1nm

"I've never really thought about it," Peter sniffs, gazing sadly into his mostly empty cup. "Maybe uh... maybe somebody who buys me milkshakes whenever I want? I don't know."

MJ's eyebrows twitch minutely. "Really?"

"Yup," Peter says lightly, "really," despite the fact that he feels like he just signed some sort of demonic treaty. "Hey, do you think we could circle back and -"

"I'll go get you another," MJ tells him as she snatches his previous milkshake, dropping it in a trashcan on her way as she sashays back to the ice-cream store.

...Weird.

(*slaps roof of Peter* this boi can fit so much autism in him. But honestly he’s so oblivious throughout, it’s amazing)

-

Always Glad You Came by aloneintherain

Spider-Man is a relatively new, controversial vigilante, and Johnny has a crush the size of the Empire Building. The Four - operating under the assumption that Spidey is an adult - do not approve.

“I just happen to think Spider-Man's cool,” Johnny says, matter-of-factly. “A hero can think another hero is cool without making it weird. I admire his aloofness. And his badass-ness.”

“His aloofness,” Ben repeats, chuckling into his mug of beer. It’s roughly the size of Johnny’s head. “Yeah, sure, I bet that’s all your admire, right?”

(Another Spideytorch classic, with So Many Misunderstandings it’s amazing they can walk straight)

[dreamlit-wanderer]

To me u r lilac tiger mint :3

Lilac -- Love to see you on my dashboard

Tiger -- Funny in a very dumb but gracious way

Mint -- You deserve all the rights

Yayayaay yippeee :DD Thank you for the ask and the nice things :]

[[Ask game in question]]

[utter-disgrace]

I am Not She

Well.

Okay.

Technically I am?

When I say “they/any pronouns”

She counts

(She counts

He counts

They counts — that one’s the best)

Any is good

The whole point of any

Is that I don’t really have to

give a shit?

Pronouns suck,

because they/them isn’t enough

and any is too much so we

Compromise.

Any is good.

But like.

She? Really?

That’s all you’re gonna use?

I tell you the sky’s the limit

I tell you that I prefer they

(That’s why it’s there)

I tell you I am

Not. A fucking. Girl.

And yet

(And yet and yet and yet)

She is literally all you use?

Sometimes when I tell people I’m nonbinary

They get this look

It’s like pity? Kind of?

Mixed with disbelief

Like I couldn’t possibly be anything but

a girl?

Like I’m deluding myself?

Or maybe like I’m just doing all this

For attention?

I’m just so tired

I’m tired of presenting how I want

And getting misgendered anyway

I’m tired of presenting how I DON’T want

But getting misgendered anyway

I’m tired of screaming loud enough

To rip my fucking vocal chords

And getting ignored anyway

Because the moment I tell you

That it’s okay to use she

The moment you don’t have to consider

That I don’t fit in any box

The moment you don’t have to break

Your stupid binary worldview

Or to “inconvenience yourself”

You stop listening

Okay.

Fine.

That tells me everything I need to know

I am Not She.

It’s a word I use, sure.

But it’s not who I am

I’m just me

But whatever’s easiest for you, I guess

[keeps-ache]

hi i'm alive!! [throws traditional doodles at you]

[Aster and Mycal belong to @3-feydragons-in-a-trenchcoat !]

[shrikehq]

❝ every store at shrike mall prides themselves on their customer service. if a customer hasn’t left the mall with a smile - you haven’t done your job ! hope that’s not too much pressure for you. now, don’t forget to check out your to-do list ! welcome to the showtime + stitch by stitch teams !! ❞

riley keough, bisexual, woman + she/her ― hey look, it’s reagan tucker! they’re thirty four years old, they’ve lived in shrike heights for five years, and they’re currently working at showtime and stitch by stitch in shrike mall. i heard they’re pretty reckless, but i think they’re so fun at the same time. can they make it out alive? || ariluz, 28, they/them

[watatsumiis]

Wait General, aren't there still requests in your inbox? 🫢

...yes. but I will get onto them! Some of them are at least partially written up or even fully formed ideas and such that just have yet to be written out!!

[lekopoofball]

Me killing Poniko the first time: Me killing her 22 minutes later:

[mjdrawsalot]

I haven't been very good about posting about it but the webcomic has been getting updated every Wednesday since March and we're about half-way through issue 1!

There won't be a new page next week, since yesterday's was a double page spread, so now would be a great time to binge read (wink wink nudge nudge) before the next scene starts in July

[rigelmejo]

my guy your text blocks are insane every time i see your posts about resources i want to read it bjt one paragraph takes up more than my entire tablet acreen!!!! theyre so long!!!! and so few paragraphs!!!!! so few section headers!!!!!!! help condense for people who keep getting confused!!!!!!!!!!

Tldr: I'm really bad at shutting up and summarizing, I'm probably not ur cup of tea tbh, there's a lot of awesome blogs and sites (and books) that do much better jobs of summarizing and explaining. I am not very good at it.

Hi anon. I get what you're saying. My posts are probably not your cup of tea. There's other people saying similar tips who, unlike me, know how to summarize extremely well and plan out their posts in advance. The stuff i note down in this blog for the most part can be found in other places, shorter. And the stuff not on other blogs is mostly just my personal experience notes for me to reference later to track prprogress, or for someone like me who might wanna check someone's experiences and note if it's giving them any ideas for personal study/to compare to other ppls experiences they've seen etc. So tldr my posts are totally skippable. Unless ur super into personal experiences sharing, in which case language learning forums like those below may have some ppl who can summarize better than me (and some who ramble too):

https://www.chinese-forums.com/forums/forum/2-learning-chinese/

I'm gonna be real with you, I'm suck at summarizing concisely, it's why I was never on twitter. And this blog is primarily my study notes blog so I just ramble trail of thoughts I'd like to be able to find later. The goal is to post fast before I forget, not necessarily to clean it up as a nice guide on a personal site (though I can find and link a few if you're looking for particular learning style site guides, since I like to read those and find those online ToT).

I do need to put more readmore's in future posts though so unsuspecting browsers don't run into a 10 page post ToT. I can do that quickly, will be doing that in future so ppl don't run into walls of text.

[decembermoonskz]

.

[thischarmingmandalorian]

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

Couple, Bar Chapter 1

Summary: After you help Joel with a work project, he takes you out for drinks. When the bartender mistakes you for a couple, his brain short circuits.

Pairing: Single Dad Neighbor!Joel Miller X Reader

Warnings: Joel thinking being mean is flirting, alcohol, grinding on strangers, getting groped in public, no-no words. In my mind there's an age gap (10 years max) and I envision a mid-40s Joel, but I don't think it'll ever become apparent.

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: Formatting on mobile is not for the weak, y'all, so if this looks like ass I'm sorry. I don't know what a contractor does. Song mentioned is Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) by Studio Killers. Full playlist is linked on the master post for this series (which I'll learn to link all together soon I promise I'M OLD, OK?!) Also I promise I have an English degree but if I read this one more time I'll lose the nerve to post it so ignore any mistakes I missed. Anyway love you bye.

While you weren't on your neighbor Joel's payroll, every now and then he'd knock on your door and sheepishly ask to borrow your "eye for design," which was Joel talk for "I need help knowing what handles look good on these cabinets I'm building and every other person in my life is busy."  

You and Joel had been neighbors for the better part of 5 years and had become relatively close in that time. If you were being honest with yourself, the first day you met you might have fallen in love, but since immediately jumping into a relationship with a newly-divorced single father wasn't on your five-year plan, those feelings were buried, albeit not always successfully.

Joel was charming, kind, and... Southern.  And while these were all things that made you head over heels for him, they were exactly what made it difficult to interpret his feelings for you. Were he and Sarah baking you Christmas cookies and hand delivering them to your door because he too had a crush, or was he just being neighborly? Was he grinning every time he said hello to you because he was a nice guy? What were you supposed to make of that one time, on his couch for movie night, when his hand lingered a little longer than normal on your thigh? You had no idea, and for the sake of your friendship, you were content not knowing.

On this particular day, Joel needed help matching paint colors to flooring samples and might as well have been color blind. He was building a house for a newlywed couple and their wishes for, as Joel put it, "some 1960s Brady Bunch bullshit" aesthetic meant nothing to him. You had spent the better part of an hour helping Joel match swatches of green and orange in ways that he had previously thought impossible, and as a thank you, he offered to buy you a drink at the first bar you spotted on the way home.

The first bar you spotted happened to be an almost-literal hole in the wall, but the packed parking lot indicated it was a place worth visiting.  Joel opened the door, beckoning you through the threshold ahead of him, and you're hit with a wall of smoke and the bump of a local dj working through his set. 

Luckily most of the people at the bar had already started drinking and were congregated in the middle of the tiny dance floor, making it easy to find two seats. Joel flagged the bartender over and ordered for the both of you, handing his card over to start a tab.

"Got you a beer, this place doesn't look like they'd make a good margarita," Joel shouts over the music. 

You smile, leaning in close to thank Joel. "I appreciate the forethought! Send me a Venmo request for what I end up owing you," you gesture to the frosty bottles that get put in front of you.

Joel tuts and waves his hand between you two in a noncommittal gesture. He leans in close to your ear instead of shouting this time, "consider it payment for your help today. When that couple told me they wanted their house to be 'midcentury Palm Springs chic' I knew you'd know what they meant. The wife kept sending me links to her Pinterest board, whatever the fuck that is. I was too scared to click them because..."

"Because you're fucking old," you finish, barking out a laugh at the frown that Joel gives you.

After one beer turned into three, Joel starts to open up. Despite his gruff exterior, you know he cares and is interested in your life, even if it takes some alcohol to get him asking about it.

"Have you started dating yet?" The question catches you off guard, your eyes growing wide. "What? You've been in town for five years now, it's high time you start putting yourself out there. A pretty girl like you should have no trouble finding a man."

There it is again. Is Joel just being nice calling you pretty? Or is he fishing for something more?

"Have you started dating?" you counter, raising an eyebrow, nodding when Joel shakes his head. "I'm too busy, Joel. I'm…"

"'Focusing on my career,'" Joel finishes for you, having heard it all before.

You roll your eyes. "Why are we talking about this?"

Joel smirks and cocks his head to your beer, the label in the process of being peeled completely off. "You've peeled the label off every drink you've had tonight."

"Oh…kay?"

Joel shrugs, "if Tommy were here he'd say you're pulling the labels off because you're sexually frustrated." He makes a face as if to say 'but what do I know?'

You raised an eyebrow at Joel. "You of all people should know not to take what Tommy says as fact. And you're one to talk; you live across the street, I'd notice if women were coming over. And they're not. You're going through a dry spell, Miller, same as me." You empty your bottle, stuffing the label down the neck and waving the bartender over for you and Joel to order one more round.  Joel tries to think of a witty comeback, but he knows you're right. 

You watch the bartender open your tab on the till behind the bar and chuckle when you notice what she's titled it: at the top of the screen, in bold letters, "COUPLE BAR."

You tap Joel's bicep, pointing to the screen, "look at that, Miller," you shout over the music, "she thinks you and I are a couple."

Joel looks at the screen himself, eyes suddenly going wide. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused as to why he isn't just chuckling at the bartender's misunderstanding, but your expression turns to one of anger once Joel regains use of his brain and the only thing he can think to say is, "... ew?"

You hope you just misheard him over the loud music, but as Joel started to sputter out an apology, looking horrified at what he had said, you realize - a stranger thought you two were dating, and Joel thinks that's gross. You weren't interested in hearing him trip over his words while he tried to backtrack, and you desperately needed a distraction so you didn't start to cry.  You wave your hand in front of Joel's face, telling him to save it as you grab your beer and push past him to the dance floor.

This is definitely not your scene, the middle of a smoke-filled bar on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, but you make the most of it, taking a swig from your bottle as you push through the crowd. Once you've made your way to the center of the crowd, you assume the position - eyes closed, bottle raised above your head, swinging your hips to whatever top 40 hit the dj decides to bleed into the last one he played.  You don't have to wait long before you feel a body push up behind you and you welcome the distraction. You don't open your eyes or lower your hand except to drink from your near empty bottle, but you do back your ass up against the stranger behind you. It's definitely not Joel. This person behind you is way too lanky; when his arms encircle your waist they lack definition, his thighs aren't nearly as beefy as Joel's, and… you get frustrated with yourself.  Joel just insinuated dating you would be gross and all you can do is think about how hot he is? 

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts and enjoy the moment. The guy behind you is getting handsy, and normally that would bother you, but Joel was right about that dry spell. One song bleeds into another as you gyrate against this stranger who now has his hand splayed across your stomach under your shirt.

You're ripped unceremoniously from your mindless grinding by a large hand on your shoulder. You wink one eye open though you knew it was Joel. You're not interested in hearing him out, especially not with this stranger's hand gliding slowly up your torso, boldly inching closer to your chest.

"Darlin'" you hear Joel shout over the music, "'m sorry. I didn't mean…"

You put your palm in front of Joel's face before moving your hand on top of the stranger's, whose fingers are teasing the hem of your bra. Joel can be sorry, but he's also going to see how decidedly not-ew the thought of being with you is.

"Whatever, Joel. You can think being my boyfriend is gross. This is fine!" You open your eyes and the look on Joel's face is one you've never seen before. At this point he isn't looking at you, he's staring daggers at the man behind you. Whoever he is seems blissfully unaware.

"Honey, I'm out of touch. I'm fucking old, you said it yourself! I don't know how to - hey, buddy, do you fucking mind?" The hand under your shirt loses its grip on you as Joel shoves the shoulder of the guy behind you. Suddenly his body unglues itself from your back.

"My bad, man. Didn't know she had a boyfriend," he shouts over the music as he disappears back into the crowd. You groan and roll your eyes.

"So sorry, Joel! Turns out when you look and act like my boyfriend, people think you really are! How embarrassing for you," you ramble into Joel's ear. You turn to walk off the dance floor, embarrassed, but before you're out of his reach Joel grabs your forearm, pulling gently until you're flush with his body. He towers over you, his eyes bore into yours.

"Please listen," he bends to speak quietly into your ear, "I'm sorry, and I mean it. We're friends, and I value that. I thought I was bantering, bein' funny. I know you don't want to be a couple at this bar. I know you want to be friends, nothing more, with me. But…" he trails off, pulling away to look at your face.

The atmosphere changes in a way that you swear is straight out of a movie. The lights pulsing and flashing are hitting Joel's face in a way that makes him even more handsome, which you'd thought previously impossible. While your beer bottle is empty, clutched into your hand that hangs limply at your side, Joel's drink is nearly full, still frosty, and dripping condensation through your shirt, soaking your lower back. Joel's eyebrows are raised, waiting for you to do or say anything. 

And then the dj changes the song. You are… intimately familiar with what begins to play and you shake your head, chuckling. What divine intervention drove the dj to start playing a song about ruining a friendship at this very moment? You have no idea, but you make a mental note to thank the universe as you smile at Joel. You push away from him for just a second, long enough to rip the label off your empty beer bottle. Joel looks confused watching you ball up the damp paper. 

You chuckle as you toss the label at Joel, it pinging off his temple before you spin your body so your back is plastered against Joel's front. 

You'll show him sexually frustrated.

Joel seems to take a second to read the situation because his body doesn't move. In fact, it goes rigid. Your hips sway against him anyway. Joel only breaks out of his spell when your arm snakes around his neck and you bury your fingers in his hair. Tugging gently on his curls seems to awaken something in him and his hands are on you in seconds. The hand clutching his beer comes to rest on your hip as the other picks up where your previous dance partner left off, creeping under your shirt and splaying across your stomach. 

"What are we doin' here, baby?" Joel rasps into your ear, his voice deeper and more strained than you're used to. "I guess I deserve you teasin' me, but two can play this game." Joel's nose prods at a spot behind your ear as he peels one cup of your bra away from your body, replacing it with his hand. Your eyes fly open to ensure no one notices, but everyone on the dance floor is busy paying attention to their own partners. Joel rolls your nipple between two fingers before giving it a flick; you try and suppress a moan.

Not to be outdone, you reach for the beer bottle in Joel's hand. You make sure Joel's eyes are locked on you as you lick a stripe up the neck of the bottle, taking a generous sip before handing it back. Joel's eyes widen and he smirks, bringing his mouth back to your ear.

"Think it goes without sayin' now, but I really don't hate the idea of people thinking you're mine," Joel accentuates his last word with a gentle nip at your earlobe that makes your head loll back onto his shoulder. 

"Are you listening to the song, Joel?" You reach up to place your hand on Joel's cheek, turning his face gently so your eyes meet.  He looks confused, but you can tell he's training his ear onto the chorus of what's playing.

I wanna ruin our friendship

We should be lovers instead

I don't know how to say this

'Cause you're really my dearest friend

Joel lowers his eyes back down to meet yours and smirks. "You an' me both, darlin'." His hand around your waist pulls you impossibly closer and you feel him grow hard against your ass. 

"Know where I last heard this song?" The final notes start to dissipate, melding seamlessly with the next song. Joel shakes his head and asks where. You smirk, nuzzling into Joel's neck before you lick a stripe up to his ear. "It's on my sex playlist."

Joel stills. You grin, giggling as he pushes you away gently. "I've gotta close out the tab," he says once he remembers how to form thoughts into words. "Meet me at the truck. And think about what song you're gonna put on once I get you home."

[httpsserene]

Gosh please please please can you write something daniel x reader maybe inspired by too sweet by hozier when he thinks(some internal turmoil cuz he can't stay away from her) she's too sweet/innocent for him or something like but it turns out to be further from the truth?? I love love love your writing, i think about please's and thank you's at least three times a day since i read it. You're so immensely talented!!!

I'd really really appreciate it.

(i don't mind age gap(like up to 10years), some kinky smut or even a bit of morally grey characters as long as there are no explicit mentions of past relationships or cheating and etc., happy ending plss, and I won't mind if you add a pinch of "who did this to you")

Ly ly ly

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐒𝐀

Summary: She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes you never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows that the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of a relationship) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of. Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. implied sexual content. mild!yandere!reader. stalking. sabotage. angst with a happy ending. lando and max are here. not edited at all. mentioned alcoholism. pov switch. fights? idk danny gets his ass beat. possessive!reader. can you find the hozier inspo in here? probably. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader (black-coded? but not mentioned in the fic, i think) Word Count: 2.7k words.

Author’s Notes: okay! this is past me (6/11) hoping that the tumblr queue doesn’t do me dirty! this should be posted on thursday, because i won’t be able to manually post it on my own as i’ll be hiking in san diego the whole day :p

this was formatted on mobile so please ignore how ugly it looks :( and also ignore the ugly writing i’ve never written dark/morally gray characters so i’m pretty sure i did your request like terribly LMAO. um also i couldn’t find a way to write smut into it? so again i apologize for that :/

anyways, please bare with me. i’ll make it pretty when i get back to my computer…on sunday 🥴

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Daniel meets you in the elevator. At first, he thought you were a Formula One fan who snuck into the condo trying to get a glimpse of your favorite driver (himself, obviously) but, he learned that you’re his new next-door neighbor. It was awkward; he accused you of following him to his room and felt like the world’s worst person when you—dressed in the cutest pink dress and matching flowy bow tied in your hair—stared at him terrified, before you unlocked the door to your flat and slammed the door behind you quickly without a word.

He sent you a bouquet of pink orchids the next morning, along with a hand written card apologizing for his rude behavior and that he hoped the two of you could become good neighbors and friends. It seemed all was fixed, as the next time he ran into you, you greeted him softly, like nothing had happened. It was 5 A.M: you were starting your day and Daniel was ending his night.

Daniel was on his third drunken attempt of shoving his key vaguely in the direction of his lock on the door, when you exited your flat with a yoga mat over your shoulder and a water bottle that was comically large. With a hushed ‘good morning,’ you kindly helped Daniel into his apartment, telling him to drink a big glass of water and have pain killers ready when he wakes up; there was no judgment in your wide brown eyes, only tenderness, and a slight hint of worry. He woke up after twelve at the sound of a knock, his head pulsing with pressure and his sight slightly blurry from not quite sleeping all the drunk away.

He eventually made it to his front door and found that you ordered him lunch: a chicken wrap and sweet potato chips, from one of his favorite brunch cafés—Daniel figured you have good taste, as he doesn’t recall ever telling you about this meal in either of the two interactions you’ve had. So, he ate, drank plenty of water, freshened up, and debated if he should go over and express his gratitude, or whatever. He decided he will, and found himself putting on a nice watch and a few too many sprays of his expensive smelling cologne. Daniel didn’t let any thoughts of why he was prettying himself up cross his mind; he’s simply thanking you; a girl far too young, and probably far too sweet for his tastes.

You brushed off his thanks shyly, hidden behind your door with a blush strong enough Daniel saw it paint your dimpled cheeks and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. Thinking quick enough to rival his reflexes, he offered to exchange phone numbers so the two of you could meet up and he could buy you a coffee. You entered your name in his phone with a yellow heart next to it.

The coffee meet-up had to wait due to Daniel’s hectic schedule, yet the texting flourished. He initiated the beginning of your text thread the next day, mindlessly texting you about how he overheard Emilio (another neighbor) arguing with his wife on the phone; Daniel said she’s probably going to mail him divorce papers within the next week. You replied that it was mean to eavesdrop and gossip. Daniel followed up saying it’s not eavesdropping if said person was screaming into his phone in the hallway, and he wasn’t gossiping, he’s merely keeping you informed.

Daniel laughed in the middle of his motorhome listening to the voice message you sent four days later, eagerly telling him about how you saw Emilio in the lobby with a couple boxes and without a wedding ring on his finger.

It was a warm morning, when you and Daniel finally managed to meet for coffee. You scrunched your nose in distaste when he ordered plain black coffee; Daniel did the same when you ordered a drink that was mainly milk and sugar. Daniel chuckled when you claimed the amount of coffee in your drink had you wired for the rest of the day. He decided to let you believe that, and not inform you that it was most likely the sugar content that had you crashing hours later.

Daniel invited you over for burgers one night and you comment that his home looks like a mix of a “mojo dojo casa house” and a “minimalistic hell.” You gifted him a throw blanket and a potted plant the next day, and continued to text him reminders about watering it.

Around 10 P.M. on another night, he’s yelling at Max for cheating at fifa. Max laughed around the lip of his beer bottle before the two of them paused at the sound of a knock. Daniel checked the door and opened it to see you: fuzzy slippers, eye-mask on your forehead, bonnet, matching pajama set, and pout on your lips with a sleepy tilt to your eyebrows. He apologized for the noise and promised to quiet down. Daniel threatened to kick the Dutchman out when he teased him for having a “crush.” He doesn’t get crushes, he’s a grown man.

Daniel spends less time in night clubs and more time with you. You took him to sip and paint nights, pottery classes, hiking, even bookstores. You order him to not open any of the books he’s holding for you; Daniel tries to take a peek when you scan through one and you slam the book shut, saying it’s too dark for your liking. He doesn’t comment when you end up getting it (Daniel paid).

He kissed you in your apartment, halfway through Howl’s Moving Castle. He proceeded to tell you it was a mistake. You teared up when he said you were too pure for him, arguing back that you weren’t a child. The tears fell when Daniel claimed he’s too old for you, that he’d only hurt you. He returned to his apartment, figurative tail tucked between his legs, and heard you crying through the wall. He fell asleep hating himself.

Daniel distanced himself from you; he misses your shared adventures and condo gossip, but he never forgets to water your potted plant, even without your texts. He fell back into the clubs, bringing home various women but never manages to get them in bed due to various things going wrong. He gets stuck in the elevator with Stephanie who happened to claustrophobic for hours, locked in the stairwell with Sofia who sprains her ankle in five-inch heels, the fire-alarm interrupts him and Kiana just as he unlocks the door, and his kitchen sink burst when he lifted Laura on the counter.

He tries to console Laura, who runs from his flat in drenched clothes, and sees you staring at her in confusion from your doorway as she rushes past. Daniel apologizes for waking you again, and you shrug, ignoring his words, murmuring that he should call maintenance before he floods the entire floor and shutting your door in his face.

Your potted plant starts to wilt, no matter if Daniel moves it in or out of direct sunlight, if he waters it less or more, or if he changes the soil, or adds fertilizer. The universe has it out for Daniel.

He finds himself in an ultra-private lounge, dim-lighting, sultry piano, and dark decor enhancing his dramatics as he reveals how he ruined his life to Max, Lando, and the bartender who will be tipped handsomely for pretending to care. The piano fades to the end of the piece just as Daniel wraps up his lament.

“It sounds like you deserve it, honestly,” Max stated bluntly, Lando nodding agreeably at his side.

Daniel groans into his hands, lifting his head to say that he’s already aware of that, but freezes when he sees you rise from the seat of the piano. Your figure is snug within a floor length, backless, black dress, complemented with gold jewelry, and makeup that opposes your angelic nature. You bow your head slightly in the direction of the tables clapping at your performance, stumbling briefly when your eyes meet Daniel’s. You smile softly and begin to make your way over to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Daniel shrinks into his seat, as the other two drivers stare at him in confusion.

“Hi, neighbor,” you start airily, before turning to smile at Lando and Max, “Hello.”

“You didn’t tell me you worked here,” Daniel mentions.

“You never asked,” you narrow your eyes at him, before relaxing, “I also don’t work here—this is my brother’s bar. The pianist suddenly fell sick and I offered to fill in.”

“Oh,” Daniel hums, “This doesn’t seem like your type of scene.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You should know better than to tell me where, what, or who I do or do not belong with.”

“Okay!” Lando claps, kicking Daniel’s shin under the table, everyone ignores his muffled groan of pain, “Sit with us for a minute, if you can take a break. Danny is seriously obsessed with you.”

You take the offered chair next to Max and sigh, “Really? I couldn’t tell,” all three men wince at your dig, but you continue, “Did he tell you that he almost flooded the entire floor last week?”

Daniel watches as you charm his friends, the three of you chattering happily over his demise, and ignoring him as you do so. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, only thankful, as this is the first time in weeks that you’ve been in his presence for more than five minutes. You smell so good. Is that weird of Daniel to think?

Unfortunately, the four of you are interrupted far too soon. Your brother calls you over from behind the bar; his expression is less than pleased, jaw tensed with irritation, and Daniel thinks the look in his eyes has a hint of crazy. He wonders if you told your brother about him. Hopefully not—the man looks like he could fold Daniel like a lawn chair without breaking a sweat. The three men watch as you argue with your brother; it doesn’t seem like it’s going in your favor.

Lando calls Daniel’s name, “Mate—she’s good for you.”

“Nah, mate. I’ll only ruin her.”

“Daniel,” Max scolds, “The few months you were ditching us for her were the happiest I’ve seen you. I wasn’t worried that you would be passed out in a random club or yacht after giving yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“She’s sweet, Danny. I think she’s exactly what you need,” Lando adds, “You've convinced yourself that you don’t deserve anything good. She’s trying to prove you wrong and you need to let her.”

He doesn’t answer verbally, he chooses to shake his head and remain silent. You make your way over to the table again and stand in front of them with a pout.

“It’s past my bedtime, apparently,” you huff, turning your head to glare at your brother, “Don’t worry about paying tonight, it’s on the house.” You exchange polite goodbyes with Lando and Max, Daniel gets a soft smile. He watches you leave the bar with a sad tilt to his lips, then orders a shot of whiskey.

You’re sat on your couch, freshly showered and ready for bed. It’s 1 A.M. and Daniel usually doesn’t end his nights out for another hour. So, it makes sense for you to be worried when you see his location nearing your shared condo building an hour early. Did you sneakily (his phone password is his birthday, it wasn’t that hard) use his phone and share his own location with you? Yes. But, you did it with good intentions. You worry about him when he’s not with you.

You decide to go down to the lobby and pretend to ask if you received any packages in hopes of intercepting Daniel when he walks in. You don’t manage to step out of the elevator when you suddenly have an armful of a bruised-up Australian. His lip is busted and you can see a bruise blooming high on his right cheekbone. You start to shake with anger.

Furiously pressing the button of your floor and slamming the ‘close door’ button, you frantically question Daniel, “What the hell? I left you not even two hours ago, and you look like a mess. Did you get into a fight, did you get mugged, did you—“

“Did your brother beat my ass for hurting you?” Daniel groans, not fighting your motions as you tug him out of the elevator and into your flat, “Yes, he did.”

You pause and grumble angrily, forcing Daniel to take a seat on your couch. You rush into your kitchen for ice, then to the bathroom for a first aid kit. He doesn’t fight when you order him to ice his cheek, and lets you hold his face to tilt his head at every angle possible, as if it’ll expose any more damage. Eventually, you end up looking into his eyes, pretending that you have the knowledge to know what a possible concussion looks like, even though you really just wanted an excuse to look at him.

Unconsciously, your thumb rubs soothingly along his temple, Daniel leans further into your hand. His tongue flicks out for a brief second, and he flinches when it disturbs the cut on his bottom lip. Blinking rapidly, you clear the haze from your eyes and frown as you turn to rifle through the first aid kit.

“I can’t believe he put his hands on you,” you bite out angrily, finding a disinfectant cloth to clean his lip, “I don’t know why I tell him anything anymore.”

Daniel winces at the sting of alcohol, remaining quiet as he watches the focus that covers your expression.

“I apologize for him,” you mumble, “He doesn’t think clearly when it comes to me, he thinks he’s like my guard dog or something,” you dispose of the wipe and grab an ointment, “I promise you I told him that the only thing you did was waste my time and hurt my feelings,” Daniel deflates under your hands, “It’s not like you physically hurt me…or anything. He’s just an idiot. I’ll kill him.”

At that, Daniel laughs quietly, dropping the ice from his cheek so you can clean that too, “Don’t say that. You’re such a sweetheart, you couldn’t hurt your own brother. Also—I’m not sure if he hoped this would make me stay away from you, because if you keep rubbing my face like that, I might fall in love.”

You hum, pleased you have him eating out of the palm of your hand, “Have some decorum, Daniel. You sound desperate. Also, he knows that I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

“Oh? You’re possessive,” Daniel teases, “Is it bad if I kinda like that?”

Your heart flutters, he’s really the best for you. He doesn’t need to know about the lengths you went to ensure any of the girls he tried to bring home didn't make it into his bed. It's a shame Sofia sprained her ankle; that was not intentional on your part.

You shrug lightly, “No, it’s not bad. I think it makes you perfect for me. As long as you don’t mind a little crazy. And—don’t think you’re off the hook. You still have to apologize for making me cry.”

Daniel nods seriously, “I’ll fall to my knees and beg right now, if that’s what it takes.”

Sticking a plaster over his cheek, you stand and gesture for him to do so too, “Okay. Kneel.”

“Huh,” he chokes, eyes wide with disbelief, “You’re serious?”

“If you beg well enough, I’ll let you eat me out.”

The sound of his knees hitting the floor echoes.

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