#Midsummer Sparks

[mlqc-gavinslove]

SHAW: Midsummer Sparks (SR 2021 Birthday KARMA, evolved)

Shaw's Phone Call ~Unanswered~

[sparknoteslitmemes]

[nei-ning]

Anyone having any idea who this character is!? He accidentally caught my eye when I was searching pics of all those characters who have spiky hair (and who I like because of that spiky hair).

I tried Google's Image Search already by dragging this image there but the results were useless. If you know the character or where he is from or artist, PLEASE, let me know!

EDIT: After HECK lot of Japanese->English translations and Googling, I FINALLY found who he is! He is Subaru from Sparks of Love Blooming in Midsummer. This is his Sun Form.

[princessbrunette]

could you do stepbro!rafe with a breeding kink?

LOCKED IN ♡

cw: stepcest, smut, breeding, pregnancy mention, rafe calls you ‘little sis’ once.

It was totally, utterly unfair.

You were picky, picky when it came to food— separating the dry from the wet on your plate with your fork, picky with your clothes — needing the pinks to be the perfect cool tone. Picky with the way you organised your bed, needing the decorative cushions and copious amounts of stuffed animals to be organised in a specific manner in order to feel satisfied. Most importantly, you were picky with your men. It took a lot for you to feel a spark, most of the men you encountered just not even breaching your impossibly high standards.

So why, oh why — did you have to pick your step-brother?

He wasn’t even perfect, not by a long mile. He was aggressive, rude, stuck up, all things you pride yourself on not being. He had a reputation of causing problems, fighting pogues, engaging in scream-offs with his father. But, Rafe Cameron was gorgeous. An innocent smile despite it all, broad, tall and built, grab-able hair.

You hadn’t even realised you’d had a handful of it between your tense fingers until he groaned against your mouth, cock resting against your sodden cunt, sliding against your folds with each buck of his hips. The two of you had snuck upstairs during the infamous Midsummers party, white sundress bunched up around your waist, thin wiry flowercrown fallen, laying beside a teddy bear wearing a sweater at the head of your bed.

He’d been making eyes at you all night, much to your dismay after you’d told him to pinky promise you that he’d try and refrain from engaging in any stepcestual shenanigans at such a family affair. You recall the way he sighed when you’d asked, stepping up to you as if to impose his height on you, plastering a purposely fake smile on his face, eyes crinkling at the corners and holding up the requested finger.

“Pinky swear.” He rasps in that low, intimate tone. Everything was a seduction technique with him, god — whatever, it was working. You hooked your finger happily enough around his anyway probably sporting a big goofy smile. Any excuse to touch him you’d take.

He grinds his shaft against your heat as he practically has you pinned to your bed, legs helpless around his waist. You shudder and whine when his tip catches your clit. “Do pinky promises mean nothing to you?” You shiver, infinitely hypocritical and careless as you buck your hips for more. He chuckles at this, leaning back so he can line himself up with your entrance.

“Doesn’t look like you’re complaining.” He retorts, giving your hip a comforting squeeze before sliding himself in. You go to let out a moan but he warns you with his fingers softly brushing your lips. “Uh-uh.” He whispers. He’s right, can’t get caught.

Soon enough you have tears pooling at the corners of your eyes from your restraint, eyes all big and desperate as he works his rhythm against you, hips grinding and slamming until you’re seeing stars. He gets so concentrated, like he’s working out whilst he fucks you, his mouth hung a little open, eyes focused on your body and what he’s doing. Forget the short pathetic whimpers leaving you, with each thrust the bed creaks loud and fast in an unmistakable rhythm that one who passed your room could only know exactly what’s going down.

It doesn’t take long before you’re cumming, hard. You’re not sure what it is, aside from him whispering “Good girl, keep taking it.” In your ear with his lips brushing your jawline. You’d decided the shape of his cock must be designed perfectly for your insides, and hits the perfect spot— because it’s not like he did that much to get you to cum that hard.

You get all silly and brain dead whenever you cum, and this time it was awful. It must have been the summer heat getting to your head or the glass of wine you’d downed when you’d seen the way Rafe was openly ogling you at a family event, because you lock your feet around his back, not letting him leave you. You’d been clenching so hard when you came that he’d had to take a breather, his weight falling on top of you a bit more as he groaned something along the lines of “Shit, g’nna make me cum too.” into your temple. Completely fuck drunk, you whine out—

“Want it inside please. Cum inside.” Desperate and pleadingly, arms wrapped around his neck and feet still locked to keep him inside you. He pauses for a moment, so that he doesn’t blow his load there and then before pulling back. He’s stronger than you by a long shot, so he’s got your arms off him in no time, pinning you so hard to the bed, putting his weight on you to the point you think you might fall through it. He looks angry at first, and you think maybe you’ve messed up, staring up at him through hazy, tearful doe eyes. His expression twists to something more amused, a malicious smile twitching at his lips as he stares at you almost pityingly. Then he starts to slowly grind inside.

“Thats real sick, baby. You know that right? Wanting me t’cum inside you?” He huffs out a snicker, shaking his head as he adjusts his grip on your hips. “I mean can you imagine?” He presses inside, deep as he can go, his tip kissing your cervix with force and just staying there, throbbing against it. You whine, too sensitive, too much. “Knocking up my sweet little sis? The look on everyone’s face when they realise that big bad scary Rafe has been ploughing this pretty little pussy behind closed doors?” He starts moving again, pushing your knees up to your chest once he’d broken free from your locked in position. “How would it look if you showed up to the next family function with a swollen tummy, baby?” He babies you, talking to you like you’re stupid and rubbing a big hand over your stomach soothingly. You flutter around him, worsening things. “Better yet, leaving this room and going back to the party with my cum all in your panties.” He squints one eye in fake disgust before shaking his head in fake disapproval, lips pouted as he tuts three times. “Gonna get me in trouble, beautiful.”

He presses his body to yours again, thrusts speeding up and the sound of the creaking bed smacking the wall returns, as to your sensitive mewls. “But if that’s really what you want...” He finishes sinisterly, holding you down when you squirm and fucking you until he’s groaning, pumping his load inside.

[marsprincess889]

Basic themes of nakshatras

May edit this later, this is as far as I understand and have observed them, and I think it's pretty nice to see them simply.

Ashwini:

Newness, freshness, the unmanifest, speed, energy, vitality, instinct, healing, fast healing, unlimited energy, self-expression, selfishness, blocking outside noise, trusting yourself, self-empowerment, unfiltered actions.

Things that remind me of Ashwini: bees, the sun, horses, two white horses, golden deserts, horses gallopping, honey, long hair flying in the wind, apples.

Bharani:

Love, death, sex, the female, the feminine, limitations, the material, fate, destiny, coming into the body, struggling against limitations, struggling against fate, mind trapped in its own hell because of the inevitable, dealing with the harshness of life, harshness of mothers and mother nature, the hierarchy, privileges and deprivations, desire, going after your true desire, the immortality of the soul, adapting to changes, passion, tragic love, bravery, facing the truth, choicelessness, nessecity, revenge, violence, gatekeeping, reduction, denial of access, conquering your fate, everlasting beauty, immortality, eternal love.

Things that remind me of Bharani: hot pink and black, darkness, roses, the yoni, gateways, keyholes, caverns, boats, rivers, the damsel in distress, fantasy, high fantasy.

Krittika:

Adam, the main character, naming things, language, rationality, precision, sharpness, criticism, the poet, the "it" person, simplicity, cleanliness, expressing oneself, selectivity, the heat, the knowledge, the light, masculine ideals, stoicism.

Things that remind me of Krittika: knives, razors, lighers, sparks, fire, hearth, cooking.

Rohini:

Eve, sugar babies, growth, receptivity, enjoyment, pleasure, unrefined, doted on, subconcious, absorbtion, sharing, union, creation, the youngest daughter, naivete, feeling no shame.

Things that remind me of Rohini: sugar, stickiness, sweetness, heaviness, red, pink, flowers, the A.I(lol).

Mrigashira:

Distraction, realization, fickleness, adventure, running away, chasing, the hunt, excitement, softness, pleasure, altering conciousness, magic substances(iykwim), curiosity, fulfillment, insatiability, teasing.

Things that remind me of Mrigashira: silver threads, deer, green forests, green and blue, running in the woods, alcohol, the moon, Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

Ardra:

Disillusion, crying, lamenting, awareness of others, awarness of other's expectations, hyper-awarness of everything, intellect, the rational mind, pressures from society, rebelling against society, anxiety, hunting.

Things that remind me of Ardra: tears, water, storms, technology, teenage angst, emo culture, the rain, sad songs, dogs.

Punarvasu:

Mercy, forgiveness, permission, freedom, flying, expansion, gentleness, regrowing, realigning, returning, home, unconditional love and nurture, celebration, peace, peacefulness, centering oneself, sunlight, warmth, fostering, taking care, being taken care of, luck, unlimited fertile space, shelter, genuine kindness, believing in humanity again, cycles, patterns, seeing the cycles and the patterns, prophecies, the oracle, openness, second (and third, fouth...) chances, a comeback.

Things that remind me of Punarvasu: staying at home, pets, plants, cats, gentle rain, a bow and arrows, a target.

Pushya:

Asceticism, routines, self-restraint, servitude, control, self-control, working, working on yourself, patience, simplicity, striving for perfection, nurturing, nourishment, quiet ambition, symmetry.

Things that remind me of Pushya: milk, milkmaids, country life, milking, symmetry, goats, sheep, agriculture.

Ashlesha:

Manipulation, abuse, poison, emotional abuse, blackmail, resorting to everything for safety, protection, pent up energy, the nervous system, purity, water, sensitivity, cleanliness, energetic build-up, tension, restraint, preservation, self-preservation, virginity, feminine tactics, being "mean" for protection, lying for safety, sensuality, mother issues, agitation.

Things that remind me of Ashlesha: the color white, transparent things, cats, poisoning, snow white, Sofia Coppola films, teenage girlhood, ties, strings, knots, snakes.

Magha:

Royalty, power, ancestry, family trees, history, the past, regality, honoring the past, honoring the elders, honoring the authority, religion, tradition, customs, confidence, ego.

Things that remind me of Magha: crowns, thrones, churches, goth culture, smoke, big hair(like the lion's mane).

Purva Phalguni:

Pleasure, enjoyment, being spoiled as the feminine, loving to spoil as the masculine, procreation, sex, leisure, art, holidays, parties, exclusivity, pride, charisma, sexual dispersion, love as a method of self-expression, admiration, directness, active pursuit of your passions, indulgence.

Things that remind me of Purva Phalguni: fruits, eating fruits topless, rose gold color, the "rizz"(lol), the phallus, dramaticism.

Uttara Phalguni:

Favors from friends, family and partners, contracts, beneficial agreements, the perfect wife, likeability, popularity, friendliness, appearing cool, stoicism, beneficial arrangements, gain through partnerships, self-expression through relationships, wife/girlrfiend material, harvest, family associations, marriage associations.

Things that remind me of Uttara Phalguni: the "chads", simplicity, genuine friends, loyal companions, family business, the perfect male stereotype, the "rich heiress running away" trope, wheat, gold, power couples.

Hasta:

The earth, the veiled feminine, manipulation, denial of access, materialism, cheating, everyday matters, empowerment of women, deception, skill, seeking knowledge, wanting to be in control, activism, street-smarts, manipulation of masses.

Things that remind me of Hasta: the hand, Goddess Persephone, skilled hands, thieves, easy money, fairies, witches, scammers.

Chitra:

Crafting, building, perspective, truth, law, gems, sacrifice for your craft, vanity, stereotypes, aesthetics, the truth in stereotypes, building based on the law and the truth, the surface of things, the appearance of things, the substance reflected in the vessel, gossip, cliques, tricks.

Things that remind me of Chitra: the god Hephestos, martian gods in general, jewelry, fashion, make-up, drama, pettiness, the coquette aesthetic, pranksters, Olivia Rodrigo(ig).

Swati:

Space, the cosmos, shifting realities, love, rebellion, alternate realities, possibilities, seeing beauty in everything, inspiration, art, the cosmic egg, creation of the world, creation of worlds, microcosm and macrocosm, freedom through love.

Things that remind me of Swati: video games, the wind, plants beggining to sprout, the sword, technology, the Sims.

Vishakha:

The lightning, snapping, splitting, joining opposites, compromise, marriage, repressed anger, repressed aggression, alter egos, passion, enthusiasm, standing up for yourself and others, repression and then expression, energy, love and hate.

Things that remind me of Vishakha: lighning bolts, Zeus, Thor and other lighning gods, superhero "Shazam", celebrations.

Anuradha:

Friendship, devotion, depth, loyalty, unconditional loyalty, bonds, the occult, sex with love, numbers, gatherings, friend groups, groups, gentleness, humbleness, discipline, seriousness, organizing society, social groups.

Things that remind me of Anuradha: the color burgundy, dim lights, bunnies, "Sex Education" (tv show), sci-fi (for some reason), "The Vampire Diaries" (and very similar teen shows), frat boys, cheerleaders.

Jyeshta:

The battlefield, war, hunger, thirst, insatiability, conquering, the underdog, street-smarts, competition, strategy, extreme independence, mind games, the art of war, survival, ruling, rising above, self-reliance, wisdom, becoming the authority, the eldest, dryness, trust issues, enemies, destroying enemies, outsmarting all enemies.

Things that remind me of Jyeshta: grandmothers, owls, eagles, dry places, flags, marching, chess.

Mula:

Horror, the abnormal, the truth, the core, the center, the absorbing darkness, the black hole, the roots, violence against falsehoods, seeking the truth, seeking the cause, seeking roots, uprooting, chaos, from chaos to order, the unchanging truth, taming beasts, holding to your truth.

Things that remind me of Mula: "Phanton of the Opera", "Twilight", final girls, horror movies, dark murky green, the wilderness.

Purva Ashadha:

Art, beauty, alliances, artistry, ideals, fighting for the ideal, discrimination, exclusivity, philosophies about beauty and art, passion for love and art, attachments, secrecy, luxury, vitality, vigor, going for victory.

Things that remind me of Purva Ashadha: the sea, seafoam, goddess Aphrodite, seashells, mermaids, sirens, fans (the ones you hold in your hand lol), Arwen from LotR.

Uttara Ashadha:

Victory, loneliness, individuality, government, empowerment, independence, being looked up to, composed self-expression, ease, simplicity but regality, confidence, self-assuredness, melancholy and hardships of aloneness but contentment, stoicism, invincibility, unapologetic behavior.

Things that remind me of Uttara Ashadha: earnest people, goddess Nike, mint color for some reason.

Shravana:

Connecting everything, secret knowledge, interest in everything, reading between the lines, subconcious access, extreme sensitivity, holding the humanity together, secret agencies, percieving what others can't percieve, saving humanity, navigating, receptivity, mysticism.

Things that remind me of Shravana: Superman, Geralt of Rivia, Aragorn, King arthur, pathways, footprints, ear, color blue, spies, astrology, outcasts, fringe societies.

Dhanishta:

Celebration, celebrities, fame, visibility, aggression, agitation, action, bringing people together, idols, propaganda, wealth from fame, that which attracts attention, public image, benefits and downsides of fame, openness and flashiness, branding.

Things that remind me of Dhanishta: supermodels, Princess Diana, dancing, rhythmic drums.

Shatabhisha:

Complexities, seeing everything, lurking in shadows, holding the knowledge, secrets, secrecy, hiding, technology, innovation, being ahead of your time, advising but manipulating, society, the collective, trends, the conciousness of masses, propaganda.

Things that remind me of Shatabhisha: midnight sky, stars, the seas, water reservoirs, the circle, the all-seeing eye of Sauron(lol), Lord of the Rings, rings, the movie "Stardust" (the book too), the evil advisor/black cardinal trope.

Purva Bhadrapada:

Notoriety, expansion, uncontrolled expansion, persmissiveness, growth to ruin unless restrained, fighting for your soul, the scapegoat, going against society, getting tested, the point of no return.

Things that remind me of Purva Bhadrapada: gangs, famous criminals, laziness, femme fatales, the grotesque, deserts, werewolves, the black sheep.

Uttara Bhadrapada:

Finding grace, hardships, working, inner strength, steeliness, resilience, patience, restraint, contol, self-restraint and self-control, bravery, honesty, stubbornness, fighting for your truth, perfect control, freedom through limitations, seeking a permanent foundation built on truth, working for the foundation, long-term goals, innocence, purity of soul, stillness, refinement, honor and glory.

Things that remind me of Uttara Bhadrapada: butterflies, clouds, baby blue color, Cinderella, warriors, knights, knight orders, ice, coldness, queens, ice-queen, dragons, water dragons, deep waters, deep sea and its creatures, wings.

Revati:

Ultimate freedom, creativity, wisdom, gentleness, compassion, guiding, herding, fun, laughter, mischief, lightnness, ease, finding peace, reaching the end, enjoying what you have, contentment, nurturing, open-mindedness, conclusions, gratefulness, freedom and free will, having choices, diversity, finding the truth, true wealth, parenthood, the guide, guidance, individuation.

Things that remind me of Revati: shepherds, herding, everything easy and light, the tricksters, the fool, jokes, Loki, The Joker, fish, comedy, the movie "A Fish Called Wanda", caring for everyone and everything, light and soft shades of green and blue.

[tetragonia]

Midsummer's Heat

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

When your best friend, Rafe, takes you from the suffocating Midsummer party and leads you to a quiet tower just to ruin the friendship you two have.

warning: mmm nothing just slowburn smut bc i think i'll get my period in a few days lol. whatever they're having (kissing, fingering, penetrating) are consensual

words: 2.7k (i mean rafe literally talks you through it)

The hum of laughter and clinking glasses fades as you follow Rafe down a narrow path through the trees, away from the brightly lit Midsummer's party to a lounge tower. The crowd, the noise, and the pressure to act like the perfect Kook have been draining, and you’re grateful for the escape.

He turns to you with that familiar smirk, the one he always had back at the academy. You used to give him a hard time about that smirk. Now though, it brings back a flood of memories, and you can’t help but smile. He’s always been protective and gentle, all best friend material. Or maybe that could change tonight.

"All these years, you were never above all this Midsummer’s crap," Rafe says, crossing his arms as he leans back against the pillar, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that you feel in your bones.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "I am above it. I just thought it’d be nice to get dressed up and pretend, for once. But as soon as I got there, I regretted it."

He chuckles, reaching out to tug playfully at the hem of your dress.

“And this is how you protest Midsummers? By looking like... that?” His voice dips, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“Shut up,” you mutter, though you don’t pull away. “Like you’re one to talk. You look like you were made for these ridiculous parties.”

“Guess we’re both hypocrites, huh?” he says softly, his tone uncharacteristically serious. You’re close enough now that you can see the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of something in his eyes that isn’t just amusement.

It’s almost instinctual, the way you move closer to him. Suddenly, you’re not sure if it’s the night air, the thrill of sneaking away from everyone, or just the warmth of his body next to yours, but your heart is racing.

"Rafe, remember how you used to skip out on these things back in school?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’d hide away and talk about how we’d never end up like all of them."

He nods, his gaze locked on yours, and his expression softens. “Yeah. Guess we lied to ourselves a little, huh?”

“Maybe,” you murmur, stepping even closer. His hand moves to your waist, lingering there, and suddenly, the air between you thickens. It’s as if something you’ve both kept buried for so long has come rushing to the surface, and neither of you is willing to push it back down.

The next thing you know, his lips are on yours, tentative at first, almost as if he’s testing the waters. But when you respond, threading your fingers through his hair, he pulls you closer, his kiss deepening with a hunger that sends a spark racing through your body. The rough bark of the shed digs into your back as he presses you against it, his hands finding your waist and holding you as if he’s afraid to let go.

You break the kiss, gasping slightly, your forehead resting against his as you catch your breath. His hand slides up, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and ragged, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, breathless, barely able to think of anything other than the way he’s looking at you right now.

“Yeah, Rafe. I’m sure.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time, pulling you into another kiss, one that’s hungrier, needier. You can feel the heat building between you, the feeling of being utterly consumed by the moment. You don’t care about Midsummer, or the people waiting back at the party.

Rafe’s hands roam up and down your sides, drawing you even closer as he trails a line of slow, deliberate kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back, breath catching in your throat as he pulls you tighter against him. The world outside feels like a distant memory, the party, the people, and even the usual self-consciousness fades away under his touch.

Your eyes flicker open briefly, just enough to glance around the small space. It’s dark, and the shadows shield you both, but the thrill of sneaking away fills you with a sudden rush of uncertainty. You turn your head slightly, Rafe’s mouth never leaving your skin.

“Rafe,” you whisper, breathless, and he pauses, warm lips hovering against your collarbone. His eyes meet yours, a question lingering in their depths.

“This place… are you sure it’s safe?” you glance around again, your voice soft but with a hint of worry. “No one can see us up here, right?”

He leans in, his forehead brushing against yours as he gives you a reassuring nod, a small smile on his lips.

“Promise, this crib got those very thick mosquito nets,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, soothing rumble. “No one knows we’re here, and they wouldn’t dare come looking for me anyway.”

Satisfied, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and Rafe’s hands slide around to the small of your back, pulling you against him once more.

“Good,” you breathe, your heart racing as you feel the solid warmth of him against you.

He picks up where he left off, his mouth returning to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and this time, there’s a newfound urgency in his movements. His hands roam your body, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and he’s so close that you can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat matching yours. You can’t hold back anymore, your own hands tracing his shoulders, pressing him closer as if you could melt into him entirely.

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, and this time, the kiss is fierce, almost desperate, a shared longing you’ve both been holding back for too long. His fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you can feel the warmth of his breath, the roughness of his hands, the way he makes you feel completely and utterly alive.

His lips trail back to your neck, and as he presses you against the wooden wall of the shed. His hands glide down, hooking around your thighs to lift you up. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, his body pressing against yours with a delicious weight that leaves you dizzy. The world outside slips further away, nothing but shadows and whispers in the distance.

“Can’t believe it took us this long,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and breathless as he plants kisses along your collarbone, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress, his touch igniting every nerve.

Your fingers trace down his back, holding him close, letting the heat between you both build until you’re lost in the rhythm of his kisses, the warmth of his touch, the feeling of being completely and perfectly his, if only for this stolen moment.

He gives you a soft, reassuring smile as he leans down, gently guiding you to sit, his hands warm and steady as they hold yours. His touch is firm but gentle, every movement deliberate, as if he’s savoring each second with you.

“You comfortable?” he asks quietly, his voice low and soothing, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

You nod, breathless, your pulse quickening as he reaches out, his fingers tracing a slow path along your thigh. His touch is warm and delicate, a quiet promise of what’s to come. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand slipping lower, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, gliding his fingers down and tracing gentle circles that make you shiver, his movements slow and patient. You feel the warmth of his touch, the careful way he explores every inch, making you feel seen and cherished.

You close your eyes, letting yourself relax into the sensation, the softness of his touch and the comfort of his presence. You shiver, both from what he does and from the wind. Rafe still guides you through it, his hand steady and sure with eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers move in a circle, faster and curl deeper. They scratch you in the right place, stretching you open with blazing lust.

“Just breathe, alright?” he says softly, his left hand resting on your hip, holding you. “I’ve got you. It’s just us here.”

You feel his fingers move faster and he watches you, reading every response, adjusting his movements to make you feel completely at ease.

“Rafe, I—”

You couldn’t even continue, as Rafe plays faster. Your knees go weak, hands scratching the sofa. Your eyes flutter in an ecstasy.

“Yes, Sweetheart?” his voice soft, but also there’s a hint of a ragged breath. His desire starts to pool between his pants.

You feel the warmth of his breath as he leans closer, whispering words of reassurance, a steady presence guiding you through the intimacy of the moment.

“I—I’m about to—” you bite your lips, letting a soft moan into the night. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Don’t hold it, Sweetheart,” Rafe kisses your lips, leaving you shuddering as you finally collapse into his fingers. He smiles and looks proud.

“You’re doing so good,” he says, as he shifts and takes off his belt. You gulp, this is going to be the first time after everything. You’re ready to ruin your friendship with Rafe.

You watch as Rafe unzips his pants. His bowtie hangs loose, his suit lying somewhere. He moves on top of you, hands slowly tracing your inner thigh. You shudder.

Rafe bends down, spreading your legs even wider and kisses your right knee. And then the left one. And he gets closer to your inner thigh, kisses it tenderly.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” Rafe looks up, lips parting. “I’ve been wanting this for so long, and now that you’re here… I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you murmur, trailing your fingers on his hair, don’t even want to waste any second. “Show me just how much you’ve wanted this.”

“Yeah?” Rafe moves on top of you, pressing his lips on yours and letting you taste yourself. He groans softly against your lips, pausing for a moment to kick his pants and throw it somewhere. He stands tall in front of you.

You’re in awe. It’s so big, and hard. You’ve seen enough videos to know the perfect size, and this is more than perfect. Rafe walks closer, he helps you take off your dress, as you both need it no more. He throws it to the floor as you start to breath heavily, adrenaline taking you.

“It’s so big, Rafe,” you let out a shaky breathe when Rafe put himself between your thigh. He starts to caress your breasts with his fingers, bending down and kissing them slowly.

“I know you’d take it so well, Pretty Girl,” he takes his time to answer before sucking your nipples. His tongue moves in circle, biting it softly. You groaned and throw your head, feeling hot. And before you know, Rafe stands tall and closer, and starts to brush your fold with his tip.

“You’re so wet already, Baby,” Rafe groans softly, pushing it gently and starts to relax inside you.

“Rafe!” you moaned, in pleasure and pain. “I have never taken anyone before.”

Hearing your confession, you could feel it twitches. “I’d be gentle with you, Sweetheart. You’re taking me so well.”

Rafe starts to hump his hips towards yours, as both moaned in pleasure. Rafe kisses you, as your fingers digging his back and your legs squeezing his waist.

“Yes,” you gasp, starting to feel the rhythm. “Don’t stop. Please. Please.”

“You feel so good, you know that?” Rafe’s voice drops lower, a little rougher now, as his fingers trail down your breast. “I could do this all night.”

You fit around him like perfection, letting out whimpers when he hits the spot over and over until you’re worked up. As his touches grow rougher, his breathing becomes heavier, and he lets out a soft growl as he pulls you against him.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he whispers, his hands gripping your waist firmly. “I can’t control myself when I’m with you… you make me lose it.”

Rafe growls softly, telling you how good you feel, you give him a mischievous smile, trailing your fingers down his chest. You feel his lips trail down your collarbone, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

“Eyes on me, Pretty Girl,” Rafe groans, and you force your eyes to stay open. It’s so hard when the pleasure tries to drown you. “You’re so tight and you’re taking me so well. Don’t hold back, baby. Let me hear you.”

You don’t leave his gaze, intense and full of desire. Even when your eyes flutter, you try to look at his pretty face.

“Come on, I want to know that I’m the one making you feel this way,” Rafe’s voice is both commanding and tender.

“Yes, Baby,” you try to keep your eyes open. “Oh, Rafe—”

You let out a moan, louder than before when Rafe thrusts faster, rougher. His movement fills with an unrestrained hunger that’s impossible to ignore, picking up his pace.

“Very good, Sweetheart. You’re all mine, got it?” he kisses you hard, his grip firm on your hips. “No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.”

Your breaths come quicker, your hands grasping at him, needing more as the world around you fades into a blur. The only things you’re aware of are his touch, his breath against your skin, and the steady, overwhelming connection between you.

In the quiet of the shed, hidden away from the world, Rafe holds you close, moving with you as if you’re the only two people left on earth. His hands are firm yet tender, as if he’s savoring this as much as you are. You feel yourself slipping away, surrendering to the sensations, the heat, the rhythm between you both that seems to pull you deeper into a place where only the two of you exist.

“I don’t think I could ever let you go… not after this,” he kisses you again, softer this time, but his eyes still burn with that undeniable need. “You’re perfect. And I want every inch of you.”

“Good,” you murmur, your fingers running through his hair. “I like it when you lose control.”

As you move together, you can feel Rafe’s breathing grow heavier, each breath coming faster, more ragged. His grip tightens, his hands slipping down to hold you even closer, as if he’s grounding himself in you. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes half-closed, his gaze flickering between desire and a raw, unspoken need.

He whispers your name, his voice low and filled with a quiet desperation.

“Baby… I’m… I’m so close,” he murmurs, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck as his lips brush yours. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, something soft and real that he’s letting you see, and it makes your heart race even faster.

He leans into you, pressing you closer, his movements becoming a little more frantic, more intense, as if he’s no longer able to hold anything back.

“Rafe!” you cry in joy when he bends, sucking your nipple roughly. As he leaves more marks on you, he thrusts faster, deeper, and needier.

“Stay with me,” he breathes, his voice breaking slightly as he loses himself in the moment. “Please… Baby, I’m coming.”

You hold him tightly, feeling him tremble against you, and suddenly it feels warm. You catch your breath, he does the same. As he finally lets go, you feel the weight of everything he’s kept hidden lets down just for you. It leaves you both breathless, completely wrapped up in each other.

And as he looks at you, his eyes filled with something you’d never thought you’d see—something tender and raw—you know that this is a moment you’ll remember long after Midsummer fades into memory.

[nonebinary-leftbeef]

im so lonely in the midsummer night’s dream tag that every third post is a bot. come join me.

[dgrailwar]

Round 7, Day 2 - Pretender versus Gunner versus Avenger

A lone figure walked through the forest, idly looking around before his eyes fell on a figure-- the de-facto ruler of this part of the map. The Gunner smirked, hand resting on a hidden pocket, ready to draw weapons.

"And there he is, the Servant of the hour. How about we put on a show? You seem like the type that'll like that."

"Maybe-- but we're not alone."

A moment passed, as the Pretender jumped out of the way, narrowly dodging a flaming sword that ripped through one of the trees.

"Wow. would you look at that? Avenger finally shuffled out of his dusty little hole. Did you finally remember there was a Grail War going on?"

"Joke all you like, you cannot stall me. Now, behold the all-consuming flames of an Avenger!"

The Avenger swung his dark blade, black flames striking at the dense woods around them. Of course, when flame hits kindling, the sparks quickly lead to calamity. The quiet forest erupted into flames, the sparks backlighting the ghastly grin of the Avenger, and the amused smirk of the Gunner.

The Pretender frowned.

"Oho? Am I seeing a spark in your eyes, Pretender? We haven't spoken much, but you seemed rather unflappable before. And you, Gunner... let this serve as my formal introduction! Hahahaha!"

"Look at that! Ladies and gentlemen, keep your eyes peeled! It seems like this fight is going to be pretty interesting!"

"...Yeah, alright. Let's rumble!"

Pretender has 1 wound! 2 more and he'll be defeated!

Gunner has 1 wound! 2 more and he'll be defeated!

Due to Avenger's Defensive Play choices, Avenger gains a +1% bonus to Free-for-All's!

Due to the boost from Avenger's Defensive Play bonus, Gunner's 'Unconventional Child Prodigy' skill activates!

The boosts for this round are...

Oberon: +3%

Takasugi Shinsaku: +5%

The Count of Monte Cristo: +4%

Servant Skills:

Oberon (Pretender)

Evening Shroud (EX Rank) - In the cover of night, even the most unconfident warriors can at least feign greatness. When engaged in a Free-for-All, gain a +3% boost.

Morning Lark (EX Rank) - As morning comes, as does a boost in morale. Demerits against Oberon are reduced in effectiveness by 3%, and he gains a +3% boost in one-on-one battles.

A Midsummer Night's Dream (EX Rank): Rather than just reducing the effectiveness of Servant-imposed demerits, he is immune to them entirely.

PRETENDER-CLASS Servants possess an inherent trickster nature. If they fall in last place during a Free-for-All, if there is a gap of 3% within their final score and that of the Servant in 2nd place, they can evade taking a wound. Additionally, if they're victorious against other Servants, other teams cannot attempt to study the Pretender in order to gain a percentage bonus against them.

Takasugi Shinsaku (Gunner)

Unconventional Child Prodigy (A Rank): When fighting someone with a higher boost than Gunner, gain +2%.

Innovate - Armaments Reformation (B Rank): Defeating a Servant once will net special 'components' from them. When at least 4 of those 'components' are gathered, a secondary Noble Phantasm will be unlocked. If 6 are gathered, then the utility and power of 'Kiheitai' will be upgraded.

Current Components: N/A

(Winning first place in a Free-for-All will count for gathering 2 components- one for each Servant beneath you).

Retaining the Japanese Spirit (A Rank): When Gunner is about to take a fatal blow and the difference between scores is less than 5%, survive with one 'health' remaining. If this is triggered, gain a persistent +2% bonus that cannot be reduced or removed.

GUNNER-Class Servants are quick to action and yet methodical with their attacks. When engaged in combat, gain a +3% boost. Additionally, if in last place during a Free-for-All, inflict a -4% demerit on the 1st place Servant.

The Count of Monte Cristo (Avenger)

Determination of Steel (EX Rank): If Avenger is about to take a fatal wound, if there's at least a 3% difference in their score and the victor above him, he may avoid damage. When facing a single-target (1-on-1), he will gain a +3% boost.

Monte Cristo Mythologie: The King of the Cavern (C Rank): When battling enemies, his flames are like a poison. He reduces demerits against him by 3%, and when he is victorious against another, he inflicts a -2% demerit for their next round. This demerit increases by 2% by every 10% difference in scores.

Wisdom of Predicament (A Rank): When engaged in a Free-for-All, gain a +3% boost. Additionally, if Avenger earns last place, both the victor and the 2nd place Servant gain a -2% demerit, rather than simply the 2nd place Servant.

AVENGER-CLASS Servants are vengeful by nature. The first time they are defeated by a Servant, they gain an automatic +2% bonus against that specific Servant, without needing to study them (but can in order to increase the bonus). They gain a permanent +3% bonus per wound they attain that will remain if the wound remains, but will disappear if the wound is healed.

[mischiefandlies]

HC Loki and reader falling in love

Masterlist

Ok, we all know Loki has issues, right? Like, Odin screwed him up really bad.

So Loki comes to the Avengers tower and after all the horrible things in New York that he caused, he doesn’t think he deserves love.

And all the other Avengers treated him with such hostility

Working with them for years convinced him that he really was a monster

But eventually, you came along.

Maybe you were from a different country and didn’t hear much about the attack, or you were too young to remember it fully.

But you didn’t hate him as much as the team. You definitely didn’t trust him in the beginning, but you didn’t hate him.

And you actually felt really sorry for him

He tried so hard to help the team, and all he got in return was spite.

So, you tried to be nicer to him

At first, he thought you were being nice as a joke, and just ignored you

But you didn’t stop.

He tried to be mean to you, so that you’d stop being kind to him. He was so convinced that he didn’t deserve your kindness, he just wanted it to stop. He felt guilty, like he was wasting your time

But you didn’t stop

Eventually he just had to accept it

Even if he feels too awkward to reciprocate it in any way

But you don’t mind

All was well until he overheard a junior agent badmouthing you

Not only was that agent immediately fired due to an anonymous tip off to HR about him hiding vodka in his desk, he was also mysteriously prompted to move as far away from New York as was physically possible.

That was the day the penny dropped for Loki

Each mission after that, he would insist on being your mission partner, lest the worst happen. He couldn’t forgive himself if you were put in harms way.

The two of you make a good team so you get away with it pretty well

In fact, it takes months for the team to catch on that he has feelings for you because he hides it so well.

But by then, he’s all in

You don’t really notice, but still try your best to be nice to him

You gave him a birthday card and a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream for his birthday. You had seen him reading old literature, and thought a Shakespeare play about magic and sorcery suited him.

He still has the card tucked away in his pocket dimension. No-one had ever done that for him before.

He refuses to tell you he loves you because he thinks that the team will discourage the relationship and kick him out

At least, that’s what he tells himself

But really, he doesn’t want to burden you. He thinks that you deserve someone way better than him

The team eventually get sick of the pining after each other, will-they-won't-they bullshit you two have got going on

So they decide to try and convince you to tell Loki about your crush on him

You initially refuse, so they find a way around the problem- booze

After a couple of raunchy truth or dare rounds, you and Loki are dared to kiss each other

Sparks fly

But it ends too soon

Except

At the end of the night, you sneak into his room

Admittedly you had had a bit of Dutch courage

And finally confess your feelings. You couldn’t bare kissing him like that and just continuing as friends.

Of course, he agrees

And the moment the team hear the headboard banning against the wall, the whattsap group goes mad with “i told u so” and divvying up the bets on when the two of you would finally fuck.

From then on, you and Loki are inseparable. And although the team all make a show of protesting, they deep down are all happy for the two of you.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Hiii!! can i request a scenario where in a cold night, alucard pulls reader down on his lap just to cuddle into her/their warmthness, and acts all clingy and handsy towards her/them??? sorry if it sounds vague, is just a short scenario i have in mind, feel free to fill with anything else <3

──── 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘! ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: I've mostly been prioritising my commissions which is why my lineup from my 2k followers event but I've hit a bit of writer's block so I've decided to do a little request to try and feel more refreshed and get writing. But in the meantime, my 2k followers lineup is still paused for my midsummer sale 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 0.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none

You enter the drawing room, hair wet from the bath you've left not ten minutes ago. After a day of helping to repair the damaged castle, you found yourself covered with dirt and in need of a wash before settling down for the evening.

Trevor and Sypha are gone so it's just you and Alucard now and - as much as you miss the other two members of your little quartet - you're almost glad that they're gone because you finally have time alone with Alucard. Since you first started working together after you and Trevor defeated the cyclops, freeing Sypha and later awakening Alucard, you've felt something. Some spark between you that just didn't have the conditions to catch fire just yet. But you've got it now and you couldn't be more grateful for what's blossomed between the two of you in the meantime.

You giggle as Adrian pulls you down into his lap the moment you're in arms reach, limbs tangling as he lets himself topple over on the sofa with your added weight. He's careful though, attentive as he always is. The back of his hand cradles your head and his arm curls around your waist to pull you close to his strong body as you fall together, assuring that you won't get so much as the slightest bruise as you fall down in an embrace together.

Immediately, he's letting out a pleased hum and holding you as close to him as possible. He tucks your head beneath his chin and then tilts his head down, burying his face in your hair. He inhales deeply as he squeezes you a little tighter and his entire body then slackens in relaxation when you wrap your arms around him in return.

Since the two of you have finally had time alone together, he's been very clingy and you don't blame him at all. He's been so alone since his mother died, he's faced monsters and has been made to kill his own father. He hasn't really spoken about any of it yet but you're sure he will soon enough, once he's had ample time to gather his thoughts and begin to process his feelings. You can't imagine what it might have been like for him if you weren't here to keep him company. Then again, you're sure that Trevor and Sypha wouldn't have left him at all after knowing he's had to kill his father to save Wallachia.

You bury your face in his chest, finding it surprisingly pillowy for how toned he is. Shortly after, you can feel Adrian tangling your legs together and you openly embrace it as the two of you lay there together. His hands roam over your body and you let out a content little hum as they squeeze your hips and roam the plains of your sides. He takes to rubbing your back and you shift a little so that you can tuck your face into where his neck meets his shoulder. His hair tickles your face a little but it's soft and silky against your skin and the feeling of his hand rubbing your back while his other arm stays protectively and affectionately curled around you lulls you into a sleepy state.

Intimate touch like this has grown so common in the days since your quartet has split in half. The two of you finally have time alone for your relationship to grow and for you to be able to be so openly affectionate with one another like this.

You're not sure how long the two of you lay there, just chatting about your plans for repairing the castle and hold, the next day, but you find yourself veering off topic with one question:

"Adrian... can I sleep in your bed tonight?" You squeeze him gently, "You're so warm..." His hand stops rubbing your back in favour of reaching up to brush your hair away from your face.

"Of course." He says gently and there's a practised sincerity in his voice. He's trying to hide his excitement. He'd love nothing more than to hold you in his arms all night; to have you be the last thing he sees before sleeping and the first thing he sees upon waking up.

Tenderly, he tilts his head down just a little so that he can press a lingering kiss upon your forehead. You close your eyes and smile, filled with a warmth that will only grow as this night goes on.

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not : ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️ @involuntaryspasms @writing-noah @signyvenetia @brideofalucard @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @danielle-marie @yourfamilyfriendsatan @firagirl @darlingdoctor @lyn07 @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @batsyforyou @jofie-does-things

[mlqc-gavinslove]

SHAW: Midsummer Sparks (Birthday SR KARMA)

Shaw's SMS ~Blessing Notes~

Shaw's Moments ~Standard for Cakes

[hobeemin]

amygdala

genre: angst, fluff, smut, fantasy, romance, greek god au

pairing: hades!min yoongi x oc (persephone)

summary: while they met under the most unconventional circumstances, there seemed to be a spark bloom about which each was uncertain. what can the future hold for them?

rating: 18+

warning(s): swearing, mentions of an orgy, greek gods being over-excessive, jealousy, drinking, self-consciousness, mild depression

word count: 1.9k

credits: thank you to @okiedokrie for beta reading

banner resources found here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

a/n: this is for @k-vanity summer event "A Midsummer Night's Dream"

prompt(s): love affair; "I’ve been alive for seven hundred years, and you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met."; "Why are you falling for me?"

this is a prequel to dionysus and jamais vu, my own little hades and persephone universe. def more to come in the future 🌼

Why?

Why was he here?

He watched with bored scrutiny as his brothers mingled among the partygoers. Why had they talked him into this, he’d never know. 

He would have much preferred the solace of his home, his dogs by his side, and the comforting glow of the cooking channel. A faint frown creased his face as the raucous laughter filled the air. 

He needed alcohol. And tons of it.

Pushing himself off the wall, he made his way over to the bar. With some effort, he squeezed through, waving his hand to get the bartender’s attention. Just as he was about to order, someone slapped him on the back, making his knees buckle. Yoongi’s expression darkened as he turned to the culprit. The party host himself, Taehyung, stepped back with his boxy grin.

“Why the long face, Yoongs?”

“Trying to get a drink,” he mumbled.

“We gotta get you the good stuff,” his speech slightly slurred as he gestured to the vast array of drinks.

“I’m not trying to get fucked up like you,” Yoongi warned.

“I’m pretty sure no one can out-drink the God of Wine,” Taehyung teased.

Yoongi rolled his eyes as Taehyung ordered a bottle of Ambrosia, filling his cup to the brim. “Stop mopping around and go mingle. If your brothers can do it, so can you!”

“I wouldn’t call what they do mingling,” Yoongi muttered. 

Sure enough, Namjoon whispered to a giggling nymph–shocker–and Hoseok had two sprites in his lap. No doubt they’d be leaving soon, if not now. Figures the God of Thunder and the God of the Sea would abandon their brother in his time of need.

He glanced at his phone with a sigh. She wasn’t coming. He should have known he’d get stood up. It wasn’t like he and Minthe were “official”, but it would have been nice for her to attend the party with him. Secretly, he felt things were going downhill over the past year. She became distant, always having an excuse to reschedule a date.

Yoongi thanked Taehyung for the Ambrosia, sipping it slowly. It perked up his mood a bit as he walked around the party. People would attempt to bring him into a conversation, but he shied away, giving them a sheepish wave.

Instead, he walked into another part of the house, looking at the paintings and sculptures with interest. He had to give Taehyung credit for his collection. Of course, Athena and Apollo deserved their flowers, too. After all, he bought some of their pieces from them. Just as he entered another room, his eyes met bright ones…in a state of undress. She shrieked as he spun around, red blooming on his face.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry. I didn’t think anyone was in here!”

The voice that spoke almost put him in a daze. The melodic tone reminded him of wind chimes. She rambled on as she slipped on the white strapless dress.

“N-No, I should be apologizing! I spilled red wine on my dress…well, my friend's dress, and I couldn’t find the bathroom–gosh, why did I come here? I’m not supposed to be here! I can’t believe Artemis talked me into coming and her stupid brother, argh…my mother is gonna kill me!”

Tears began to form as she started to hiccup.

He turned to look at her, breathing a sigh of relief to see she was fully clothed. Her beauty enchanted him. Yoongi blinked as the haze dissipated, set his drink down, walked up to her, and pulled out a handkerchief.

“It’s going to be okay. The stain isn’t so bad.”

She took the handkerchief, mumbling out a thanks, and plopped down on the couch. “It’s a silly thing to cry over. I just…I don’t know, but I feel like I don’t belong here.”

He snorted, grabbed his drink, and sat beside her. “Don’t I know it?”

She glanced at him curiously. “What do you mean by that?”

Yoongi took a sip of his drink before answering. “I got dragged here by my brothers. Apparently, I've been sulking too much than normal.”

“It sounds like your brothers and my friend could be friends. I got dragged here by her, too. For her, it's because I don’t get out enough and only study.”

“What’s wrong with studying?”

“That’s what I said! I’d rather be in my garden or curled up on the couch,” she pouted.

Wow, she looked cute, pouting like that, he thought. Even the flowers in her hair seemed to move on their own. Fluttering their petals whenever she spoke, or her expression changed. He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m missing my dogs right now.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You have pets?”

“Uh-huh,” he pulled his phone out, searching for a picture to share, “Too many to count. They’re my babies.”

She scooted closer to look at his phone screen. She let out a squeal as he flipped through the pictures. “That’s Cerberus. Don’t let him fool you; he’s the sweetest. That’s Holly…the brown one. He’s spoiled…well, they all are. And that lil furball, the black cat, is Pluto.”

“They are the cutest! I love animals. Never got to have pets growing up–mom wouldn’t allow it, but I love them.”

Yoongi smiled, putting his phone away. “Whose your mom? Have I met her before?”

She bit her lip, looking away from him. “Well–”

“Persephone!!”

Panic crossed her face at the sound of her name. Just then, a muscular man stumbled in with an equally attractive woman in tow. His face was completely red from the ambrosia, and he pointed at her before looking at the woman.

“See sis, I found her!”

The woman sighed in exasperation, walking over to her. “Persephone! Is this where you’ve been hiding the whole time?!”

I’ve been alive for seven hundred years, and you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met, she thought to herself.

Persephone seemed to shrink away on the couch. “Hey, Artemis.”

“Don’t ‘hey Artemis’ me. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I’ve been babysitting this dweeb for the past two hours!”

The man’s face twisted in annoyance. “Listen, no one told you to watch me.”

“I told you not to try to drink with Dionysus, Apollo.”

He sucked his teeth before settling his attention on Yoongi. “Uncle Hades!”

Yoongi’s lip slightly twisted as the God of the Sun lifted him in a bear hug. “I didn’t think a sourpuss like you would come to one of these!”

Persephone watched in wonder as he was lifted like a ragdoll. She tried not to snort at the expression on his face. He was anything but amused.

“Hello, Apollo, Yoongi is just fine.”

Once he was set down, he brushed his jacket with a frown. “I see you’re starting to take after your father.”

“Not too much, but that’s what everyone else says.”

“Uh-huh,” he glanced at Persephone with a tiny smile. “Nice meeting you, I’m gonna go find Namjoon and Hoseok.”

Stay. 

The thought crossed Persephone’s mind as she watched him walk away. There seemed to be an ache deep down. But why? Why did she want him to stay? 

Artemis poked her friend with a frown. “Earth to Sep. You in there?”

She shook her head. “Y-Yeah.”

“Let’s get you a drink. A real one this time.”

She let Artemis and Apollo lead her back to the bar. By now, things had taken a wild turn. People’s inhibitions were loosening more. Persephone stayed close to Artemis as she ordered them drinks. She tried looking for Yoongi in the crowd but couldn’t find him. So that was Hades. The big evil God of the Underworld, at least that is what her mother had been known to say.

”Stay away from those Olympic Gods!”

Persephone held back the urge to roll her eyes. Sure, Zeus and Poseidon had a less than savory reputation, but Hades…Yoongi didn’t seem like that. Artemis handed her a champagne flute and turned to observe the rest of the party.

”Are you alright?”

”How do you mean?”

”Yoongi didn’t try anything, did he?”

Persephone blinked at her in disbelief. “Why would he?”

Artemis shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “He is one of the big three; they got a reputation.”

”He’s different. I don’t think he’s like them,” Persephone thought aloud.

”Whatever. They’re all the same,” the Goddess of the Moon grumbled.

Persephone loved her best friend, but she didn’t get it. Artemis made a vow of chastity long ago, as did her mother, Demeter. While it had been an option for her, there had to be more to life than vows and rituals. She felt she was destined for something greater. It didn’t take long for her to be shaken from her thoughts as the host returned to the crowd.

Taehyung appeared, jumping on the bar. “I hope everyone is enjoying themselves! It's that time of the night when it's about to get nasty!”

The cheers grew louder as the young Goddesses watched everyone remove their clothing. 

“What the hell–”

The lights darkened as the music took a sensual tempo. People began pairing up all around the room. Persephone tried not to gasp, seeing what a particular nymph and Zeus were doing in the corner. Moans grew louder, making her discomfort grow. Naked bodies writhed around her. She backed out of the room, reaching out for Artemis until she got pushed backward. She almost cried out until someone caught her. The warmth of their hands radiated on her skin. She could barely make out who it was until she was led outside to the backyard.

She blinked a few times as the torches surrounding played tricks in the night.

“Y-Yoongi?”

He nodded, still holding her hand. Persephone glanced down at it, and he dropped it, as red covered his cheeks.

“Sorry. Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine; just was not expecting all that.”

He chuckled nervously, pushing his hair back. “Yeah, I didn’t sign up for that.”

She returned a smile. “Same.”

He cleared his throat trying to grow the courage to ask her more questions, something about her. She wasn’t like her. Far from it. 

“So Persephone–”

“Sep!”

Fuck.

She turned away from him to see Artemis running towards her. She carried two coats and purses in her hand. “We’re leaving now! I’m gonna kill Taehyung for that! Wait until Athena and Hestia hear about it!”

She continued to fuss as Persephone gave Yoongi a look, making him snort. 

The Goddess of the Moon punched in a number angrily. “Damn, rideshare won’t be here for another ten minutes! I’m going up front. You coming?!”

“Y-Yeah, I’ll follow you out.”

“Better be. Bunch of horny, sweaty gods ruining a perfectly good party. Stupid orgies!”

As she stormed off, Persephone gave Yoongi a pout. “I guess I gotta go.”

“Oh, I understand. It’s crazy in there. Don’t want to get caught up in all that.”

“Agreed.”

The flowers in her hair closed slightly as her mood saddened. But why? Yoongi wished she could stay outside with him and talk all night, but it was selfish of him to think that. He didn’t deserve any happiness, and that wasn’t in his future.

“It was nice meeting you, Yoongi,” she whispered.

“You too, Persephone.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” she said, her eyes hopeful. 

Damn. What was happening to him? She seemed to have him under a spell.

Why are you falling for me? He wanted to ask.

“I–”

“Persephone! Hurry up!”

She winced, frowning at her friend’s voice. Glancing at Yoongi, she took a purplish flower from the ground and handed it to him. “It’s a pomelia. It kind of reminds me of you. It means kindness. You’re not like your brothers; you’re more than that.”

She squeezed his hand before running off in the direction Artemis called her in. Yoongi glanced down at the flower as a small smile appeared. 

[oftenderweapons]

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away. 

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away. 

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys. 

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright. 

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!” 

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting. 

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog. 

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing. 

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so. 

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist. 

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice. 

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat. 

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk. 

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living. 

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting. 

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold. 

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun. 

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it. 

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat. 

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio. 

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north. 

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls. 

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start. 

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala. 

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of. 

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him. 

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either. 

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English. 

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time. 

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer. 

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun. 

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career. 

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world. 

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi. 

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!” 

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar. 

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza. 

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been. 

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.” 

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer. 

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin. 

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific. 

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?” 

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.” 

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?” 

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.” 

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet. 

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.” 

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that. 

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice. 

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you. 

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar. 

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily. 

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly. 

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?” 

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite. 

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—” 

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.” 

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.” 

You breathed out the tiniest laugh. 

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more. 

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign. 

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough. 

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?” 

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked. 

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room. 

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.” 

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts. 

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.” 

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.” 

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?” 

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle. 

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so. 

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed. 

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” 

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.” 

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things. 

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you. 

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him. 

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband. 

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately. 

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.” 

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.” 

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face. 

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?” 

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?” 

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that. 

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side. 

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply. 

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new. 

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety. 

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life. 

He would remember tonight forever. 

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic. 

How wrong he was. 

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing. 

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving. 

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice. 

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less. 

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look. 

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him. 

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself. 

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit. 

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!” 

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh. 

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend. 

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning. 

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that? 

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun. 

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too. 

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold. 

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit. 

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs. 

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?” 

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.” 

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?” 

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him? 

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric. 

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds. 

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you. 

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation. 

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose. 

The storm was coming. 

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was. 

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight. 

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out. 

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it. 

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen. 

You were ruined. 

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain. 

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear. 

Part 2 will be out now!!

[monstrous-fusion]

I truly hope everyone has had a blessed Litha! To whoever celebrates, take care of yourselves and remember that no matter what you do--from sparking the smallest flame, to burning scant herbs from your garden--you're valid. This was going to be a doodle but, haha, just like midsummer itself it took!!! a lot longer than expected! but I'm happy with the results, so I can't fuss too much.

I would love to hear what folks did for midsummer, if they're okay with sharing. We made salmon with brussel sprouts, rice and pork egg rolls on the side. We prayed to Demeter, lit a few candles and got lots of work done!

[poppitron360]

Jason knelt by the memorial. He kept his face solemn and stony, the way he was taught by Lupa to hide his emotions. Never cry. Never show weakness. He laid the flowers across the base of the tombstone, the red and orange petals rustling ever so slightly in the breeze. He took a deep breath, and silently willed his body to stop shaking. He reached out, and traced the indentation of the name and date with his fingers, the tips slightly grazing the rough stone. The light from the candles shone in the bronze lettering, making it glow a fiery orange.

Leonidas Javier Valdez

July 7th 1998 - August 1st 2014

A true hero.

Jason felt the air shift around him as someone knelt next to him. He didn’t look at the person, instead he looked down at the concrete base of the memorial. On the floor by his knee, Piper’s hand crept closer across the stone. She was reaching out for comfort, Jason could see. But he couldn’t take it. If he let himself need her, then he’d break, and that would be weak. He looked back up at the gravestone.

“I-I can’t believe it’s been ten years…” He croaked, trying to string enough words to fill the trembling silence.

“I know,” Piper said, softly.

“He’d be twenty-six now.”

“I know.”

“Did- did you know his real name was Leonidas? before…” he gestured to the headstone.

Piper smiled weakly, “No, I didn’t. He kept that one from us.”

They turned back to the glowing bronze markings on the stone.

“Y’know…” Jason mused, “I think he’d really hate that epitaph. “A true hero” like what does that even mean?”

“It’s way too serious for him,” Piper agreed, “He’d want something funny, lighthearted. Maybe a bad pun, or a cheesy joke.”

“”Leonidas Javier Valdez- Inventor of the Valdezinator, Repair Boy, Taco-miser Extraordinaire!!”” Jason announced, waving his arm in an arc across the sky to deliver his point. Then he looked down, sadly. “He really was a hero, though… He saved so many lives that day. But… I don’t think that’s how he’d want to be remembered.”

“He’d think it was hilarious that they put that on there,” Piper said, “Painting him out to be this big martyr. He’d constantly tease us about it. Oh gods, we’d never hear the end of it.”

They laughed a little. Jason watched as Piper reached out a brushed a small clump of moss off of the stone.

“You’re getting a bit grubby there, bud,” She whispered, “Oh Leo, always covered in dirt and grime…”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

It was all Jason could do to keep breathing. Every day, for the last ten years, ever since Leo’s death, Jason hadn’t been living, he’d just been carrying on. He’d lost everything that day. But he had to keep going. He could not stop, could not break.

Leo was not here as a whole anymore, Jason knew that. But in the hush of the midsummer evening, Jason could see that parts of him were everywhere. He saw it in the candles. Their heat like the warmth of Leo’s skin. The dancing, restless flames like those busy eyes, constantly moving, scanning, making calculations. Jason listened to the crackle and pop of the burning wicks, and he could almost hear his shrill, raspy laugh. The shadows the candles cast were dark and inky, like motor oil and soot that covered Leo’s calloused skin. Around them, the flowers placed against the memorial rippled in the soft breeze, and Jason could see the bounce of a stray curl, the wind in his hair as Festus soared. The creak of the tree branches were the boards on the deck of the Argo, Leo atop the crow’s nest, looking out at the world. The beat of Jason’s heart was the thrum of the engine, Leo’s rhythmic tapping out in morse code to quiet the pistons. A bird chattered in the trees, and Jason could hear Leo cursing in rapid-fire Spanish, frustrated at another clogged toilet or broken mast. It was like the world was flashing Jason that infectious, cheshire-cat grin. All of these parts made up Leo. Jason could feel them. He was here. He was with them. The three of them were together again after all.

Jason watched the sparks from the candlelight dance into the sky, and he felt Leo’s spirit around them.

“Oh, Leo…” Jason spoke to the candles. He spoke to the flower petals. He spoke to the trees, “Stay with me… please.”

Piper put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Do you think he’s in Elysium?” She asked, “We never found a body, never got to do the proper burial rights…”

“We can hope,” Jason replied, “But wherever he is… I think he’s happy.”

Jason closed his eyes, and listened to Leo’s whispers in the air, “I wait for you…”

Held back by the barriers of life and death, Jason waited too. He kept carrying on, waiting for him to reach the end of the road. Waiting out his life, before he could re-unite with his best friend again. His everything.

But Leo had died so that Jason could keep living. Jason was gonna use that gift to do as much good as he can, be the person everyone needed him to be. But when it came to an end, Jason knew he’d be content.

“I will wait for you, Leo…” Jason whispered, almost inaudibly. He hoped Piper wouldn’t hear. “I will wait, I promise. I swear it on the Riven Styx. I will keep breathing, keep going, keep waiting. It won’t be long now.”

Warm summer winds grazed Jason’s cheek. It was like he could feel Leo’s hands cupping his face. “I wait, Jason.”

“Are you in Elysium?” Jason asked to the sky, “Are you happy?”

To Jason’s horror, the voice took on a bitter, more saddened tone. “I wait for you.”

He suppressed a sob. He had to keep it together. Ten years hadn’t made it easier, but Jason had to try. He couldn’t let himself break. He had to keep going. He had to keep breathing. He had to keep waiting. For Leo.

Piper put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. They both looked up at the night sky. Ten years ago today, a fiery explosion had flashed across that patch of the heavens. A boy atop a bronze dragon had given his life to save the world below.

He was only sixteen…

“Hey,” Came a voice behind them. Jason turned, and saw Hazel and Frank climbing up the small hill.

“Glad we could make it,” Frank said, a little breathless from the climb, “Percy and Annabeth are coming, they’re just parking the car.”

Hazel knelt the other side of Jason, Frank next to her. She lay her own flowers on the pile. Frank brought out a candle, and lit it, placing it carefully amongst the others.

“Hey, Leo…” Hazel greeted the headstone, fondly. She gave it a friendly wave.

Frank sat cross-legged. “Good to see you, bud,” He whispered.

The four of them sat around the place in silence. Soon, Percy and Annabeth came and joined them. Percy put his arms around Jason and Piper’s shoulders, and squeezed them, tight. Piper put hers around Annabeth, so they sat in a line, linked. Hazel wrapped her arm around Frank. Frank reached a meaty hand out and placed it on the top of the grave. He held it there, gripping the stone. Jason took the message, and linked arms with Hazel.

They bathed in the heat of the candles. They listened to rustle of the leaves and the creak of the branches and the chattering of the birds. Jason knew they felt, just as he did, the spirit of Leo all around them. The warmth. The laugh. The restless energy. They heard him whisper, and giggle, and tap out a message. They held him in their circle of arms, felt his soul join with them.

“I wait for you all… one day, we could be re-united for realsies. I will enjoy this moment until then.”

Jason let out one, strangled sob. “I will wait for that day, Leo.”

But for now, he was here. The seven of them, together again, for one night.

————————

Happy Leo’s death day, everyone!!!

Enjoy a “What if Leo had actually died” AU- ft. much Valgrace.

@lavenderfairiez @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @imnoturfriend-im-a-swiftie13 @euryvices @ottpopfic @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls

[steddiebang2024]

A Kind of Merry War  |  E |  48k

Author: @midsummer-semantics

Artist: Stevepapucho

Beta: emurph_24

[Link to fic] | [Link to art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham/Carol Perkins, Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Carol Perkins, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Eddie Munson

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Carol Perkins, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Argyle (Stranger Things), Jason Carver, Scott Clarke, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Wayne Munson, Joyce Byers, The Party (Stranger Things), Other background characters

Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Much Ado About Nothing Fusion, Enemies to Lovers, idiots to lovers, Shakespeare adaptation, Actor Steve Harrington, Stage Crafter Eddie Munson, Best Friends Steve Harrington and Carol Perkins, Best friends Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham, Banter, Jason Carver is His Own Warning, Eventual Smut, Guaranteed HEA, It's theatre everyone is queer, Dual POV, Tags will be updated when the entire fic is posted

Trigger Warnings: No Warnings Apply

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

While trying to put together a production of Much Ado About Nothing, the characters’ lives become intertwined with those of whom they are playing. Self-proclaimed perpetual bachelor Steve and his bff Carol audition for the fall production, with Steve being cast as the aptly assigned role of Benedick. Meanwhile, unsatisfied romantic Eddie and his sunshine Chrissy also audition because the only other options are some horrific minstrel show that is severely out-dated, or Cats in the Spring and there’s no way. Eddie receives the part of Beatrice, Benedick’s down-fall. Both have their own reasons for being hesitant about the production, but when Carol and Chrissy seem to spark an intense romantic interest in one another, their lives become significantly more complicated.

Or: A Much Ado AU that unfolds the way all Shakespearean comedies do.