#also thank you so much for the nice comments they have genuinely make my week <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[shortbreaddd]

Byler week stuff will come out I promise just maybe late ha ha ha

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WICKED LOVE WILL LEAVE ME BLIND

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dangerous games are played between you and dazai during one of the most important events of the year for the japanese underworld. you're never this risky, not when your reputation is on the line, but fuck being near him just seems draw out all of the worst in you.

(wordcount: 4.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia member!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, public sex, spitting, unprotected sex, gagging dazai w/your panties, switch!dazai, switch!reader. lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WOOWWWWWWW u all can thank tumblr user mioblobby for this one, she sent in an ask 3 days ago and this consumed me so badly that i dropped all of my wips to write this. anyway, enjoy dazai & pmreader being absolute FREAKS in public

His gaze hasn’t left you once all night. You can feel it dark and heavy from where he’s leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the room, black coat hanging around his shoulders and a cold, unapproachable expression on his face, looking every bit the wraith people claim him to be. 

Chuuya is off somewhere to your side, smooth talking two of Mishima’s daughters, surely planning to end the night in one of their beds to get those loose lips moving about the meeting that their father had with Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber two weeks ago, something he’s been unnervingly tight lipped about when Mori pried. 

You’re entertaining two of the younger members of Mishima’s upper echelon, Abe Kimifusa and Ibuse Masuji—they can’t be much older than you, early twenties max, and they’re delighted by the attention you’re giving them. Ibuse is half hanging off your shoulders, arm wrapped around you, too many drinks in as he leans in close and laughs at some comment Abe makes about one of their fellow executives. You smile idly as you listen, resting against him as you take in their words, trying to pretend to be engaged with the conversation to not give away how you’re hyper-focused on a certain black-haired executive in the distance. 

Usually, he would join you and Chuuya in your attempts to gather some easy intel on the Sun and Steel—that’s what he’s done the past year and a half, at least, targeting some of the older members of Mishima’s upper echelon who would sell half of their organs and their soul for a night with the untouchable Demon Prodigy. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now, knowing what he told you, but you still can’t help but be a little surprised that he’s not even trying to put up a facade of charm and wit, rather spending his time skulking in the shadows watching you, especially when his usual targets are so blatantly staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.

You think it’s hypocritical the way you’re so pleased over the fact that he’s not entertaining anyone tonight, because the thought of him letting any of those men drape themselves all over him like Ibuse currently is with you leaves a very sour taste in your mouth.

You also think that’s why you’re letting Ibuse take it as far as he has—to see Dazai get wound up about it. You don’t typically let people get touchy with you unless you plan on taking them to bed, and you have absolutely no intention of fucking Ibuse Masuji. He’s pretty enough with dark hair and a nice smile, but too stupid for your taste—maybe that’s a good thing though, if he’s already so loose-lipped now with only a few drinks in him, you can’t imagine how much he’d let slip in a post-orgasm induced haze.

You start to reconsider your decision on Ibuse, looking up at him contemplatively as he makes a snide comment about Kamatsu Sakyo—an older executive of the Sun and Steel, one of the ones you know have spent a night, or more, with Dazai, so your smile is a bit more genuine when you hear the way Ibuse drags him for being incompetent and useless.

“The older generation has to go,” Ibuse hisses, shaking his head as his arm tightens around you, leaning back against the wall. “They’re running us into the fucking ground. That fucker Kamatsu wants us to take that deal from the Red Chamber-”

“Masuji,” Abe warns, giving you a careful look, not as drunk as his companion. You raise your eyebrows at the comment from Ibuse, looking at him questioningly.

Ibuse waves off Abe haphazardly. “The Port Mafia did it right,” he says bluntly, taking another sip of his drink. “Wiped out the whole old regime after the previous boss died. That’s what the Boss should’ve done when he took over from his father. All of these old fucks need to drop dead.”

“The meeting with Xueqin went that poorly?” you ask casually, sure to keep the interest out of your tone as you look up at Ibuse.

“Don’t even get me started,” Ibuse scoffs. “That fucker wants-”

You’re careful to keep the irritation off your face when you hear the telltale sound of Mishima preparing to give his annual ‘thank you, fruitful alliances ahead!’ speech that always bores you to tears. Next to you, Ibuse sighs and pulls his arm off of you, pushing off the wall.

“We’ve gotta go up there with him. I’ll find you later?” he asks you, eyes a bit too hopeful, voice eager as he waits for your response.

“Definitely,” you say—the things you do for information.

With most of the attendees of the ball distracted by Mishima’s speech, you slip away to make your way over to the far corner where Dazai is waiting. Still, he tracks you—from the moment you make your subtle escape from the crowd until you’re standing right in front of him in the shadows where he’s lingering, his gaze remains trained on you, intense in a way that lets you know that he’s unhappy, if the way his jaw is tight didn’t.

“You’ve been having fun tonight,” he drawls, voice low as he looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.

“Is that what it seemed like?” you say lightly, taking a step closer, casting one last glance behind you to ensure that all eyes are pinned on Mishima before hooking your fingers into his belt loops to tug him closer to you. “At least I’m doing my job properly then.”

“It’s your job to let Mishima’s whore of an executive drape himself all over you?” Dazai tilts his head to the side, one hand sliding behind you to close the small distance between the two of you, leaving your chest pressed to his.

No, you let that drag on just because you could tell how irate Dazai was becoming over it, but Dazai doesn’t have to know that. So instead, you play coy.

“I have appearances to keep up,” you say, tilting your head up with a simpering smile, enjoying the way his gaze immediately darts down to your lips, lingering there before he has to forcibly drag it back up to your eyes. “You know that.”

“Yeah?” Dazai hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze drifts above you. “Maybe I should be making more of an effort with appearances then, Kamatsu has had his eye on me all night.”

Your eye doesn’t twitch at his words, but your grip on his belt loops tightens. “You don’t want to play that game with me, Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice deceptively mild.

“And why is that?” Dazai drawls, looking too smug for your liking as he looks down at you as if realizing how much his threat bothered you.

“Because I’ll win,” you say easily, fingers slipping from his belt loops to slide your hands up and down his sides before settling them on his slim hips, relishing in the way his lashes flutter at your touch. “You know that. It’s unlike you to pick losing battles.”

“I won’t lose,” Dazai says with a scoff, and you walk him backward until the back of his knees hit a chair, guiding him back to sit down in it as Mishima finally starts a long-winded speech that’s going to last at least twenty or thirty minutes.

You give Dazai another teasing smile as you stand in front of where he’s sitting, lifting your hand to his chin, tilting his face up toward you. You lean down, lips brushing his as you murmur, “You already have.”

“Have I?” Dazai asks, amused. He unconsciously leans forward to capture his lips with yours but you shift just out of reach before he can, raising your eyebrows pointedly at the annoyed look he gives you.

You make quick work of undoing his tie, slipping it from his neck before wrapping it loosely around your wrist, hyper aware of the way his gaze is trained sharply on your face, studying your every move. You bring your other hand back up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, and your breath catches as he leans into your touch, eye lidded as he looks up atwith you. He tilts his head to the side to press his lips against your palm, keeping eye contact as he lifts his hand to cover yours, shifting it so he can graze his lips against the pulse point on your wrist.

“You have,” you agree, grateful that your voice isn���t as breathless as you feel from the combined intensity of his gaze and his lips on your skin.

“How so?” Dazai looks entirely too smug, probably can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, and you itch to wipe the smugness right off of his face.

“I’m meeting Ibuse after this speech,” you tell him, now entirely too smug yourself as Dazai expression drops and goes icy, fingers stiffening from where his hand is still pressed over yours. “Need to get him to spill about the meeting with the Red Chamber, he already started getting into it before. If I get him alone, we’ll know everything we need.”

“Go ahead,” Dazai sounds deceptively calm, you’d almost believe he didn’t care if the look in his eye didn’t betray him, cold and promising bloodshed. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll start a war,” you say absently, the tips of your fingers brushing through his dark hair.

“I don’t care,” Dazai replies, and you know that he’s serious—it should worry you, he could throw all of your work with the Sun and Steel out the window in a split second, but instead you only find yourself giddy, tongue pressing behind your teeth and a smile curving at your lips as you look down at him.

“Careful, Dazai,” you breathe out, “almost sounds like you care.”

He does care, you know that and he knows that, but he refuses to admit it out loud. Refuses to put a label on anything between the two of you. You think it’s his way of maintaining some semblance of control over things; he thinks that if he actually admits what’s going on between the two of you, it’ll be a loss of control over himself that he can’t afford. 

As if threatening to start a gang war with the Mafia’s most important ally because you’re planning to sleep with someone for vital information isn’t a loss of control in itself. 

You also think it might have to do with the broken gasps he’d let out over the phone during the assassination plot on you a few weeks ago, when he thought that he’d miscalculated and they called his bluff, that they were going to get to you and no one was going to be able to get there in time to protect you. 

“Everything I never want to lose is always lost the moment I obtain it.”

You wonder, maybe, if he thinks that not making things official with you is his way of protecting both you and himself. 

But it’s fucking frustrating. It’s frustrating dealing with his hot and cold—days where he’s so clearly enamored with you, spending hours laid up with you admiring you while you do work, looking at you with eyes that should only be reserved for long time lovers, and then there are days where he can hardly bring himself to look at you, avoiding you at every given chance, cold and aloof. It’s frustrating, and it’s exhausting, you just want to be with him.

His eye darkens, jaw clicking at your words, but he doesn’t respond other than that.

You’re not sure what exactly compels you to take another step forward, you watch as his gaze tracks down to the low cut of your dress, as he shifts in his seat, legs spread, clearly withholding the urge to adjust himself in his pants. A dangerous thought crosses your mind, one that you know you should toss away because of where you are, how many people are just on the other side of the room, but you find your body moving before you can stop yourself.

You watch him inhale, gaze tracking down to where your hand has slipped into the high slit of your dress, casting one last look over your shoulder to make sure the two of you are at an angle that no one would be able to easily see you before pulling down your thin black panties—the ones you know he loves and wore just to see the way the pupil of his visible eye becomes blown wide at the sight of them, breath hitching.

You shift closer to him, balling them into your fist, one hand sliding behind the back of his head, fingers entwined with his dark hair as you tilt his head back, eyes tracing the exhilaration on his face as he looks up at you, realizing what you’re going to do, where you’re going to do it.

“You’re crazy,” he breathes out. The words are reverent, he speaks them in the same way you imagine he would tell you he loves you, it makes your breath catch. “Here? What're you gonna do if one of them looks over and sees you stuffed with my cock, hm? How're you gonna explain why you're full of cum when you go meet that clown?”

“You talk too much,” you note, stepping forward. “Open up.”

Dazai’s lips part instinctively, but before you stuff his mouth with your panties, you lean over him, fingers hooking around his bottom lip as you force his mouth a little wider, watching as his breath hitches and his lashes flutter when you spit right into his open mouth, swallowing it immediately. 

Your lips curl up as you lift the hand holding your panties, taking in an unsteady breath as he lets you push your panties between his lips; he lets out a muffled groan around them, eyes sliding shut as if savoring the taste of them. You shift your dress around slightly so you can comfortably straddle his thighs. His hands immediately fly to your waist, but you click your tongue lightly, pushing them off and sliding his tie around his wrists once you’ve got them behind his back.

He tilts his head to the side, giving you a heavy, judgmental look. He doesn’t even have to speak to know what he’s thinking: “You really think this is going to stop me?”

You give him a sweet smile, leaning in to graze your lips against his jaw, feeling the shaky breath he lets out around your panties. “If you free yourself from them,” you murmur, lips brushing his ear as you speak, “I’ll stop.”

You don’t wait for his reaction, directing your attention down toward his slacks, loosening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You ease his cock out of his briefs, weight heavy in your hand, tip flushed pink and leaky. You give it an experimental pump, using his own precum as lube, and watch as he tilts his head back, giving a full body shudder.

“You’re so easy to rile up,” you sigh softly, shifting forward so that his cock slides between your slick folds, you press your lips to the underside of his jaw to smother the moan you almost let out when his tip catches on your clit. “I love it.”

You know he’s trying to shoot you a withering look, but the effects of it are severely diminished with how his face is flushed pink and his eyes are unfocused. You give him another saccharine smile, and that’s the only warning he gets before you’re sinking down on his cock. 

You can feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you up until the tip of his cock is nudging right up against your cervix. It takes all of your self control to bite back the loud gasp that nearly rips from your lips, not wanting to have to bury your face in the crook of his neck just yet, watching as he lets out a choked noise that’s loud even with your panties stuffed in his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Careful,” you warn, leaning in to drag your lips up his neck to the corner of his lips. You lift one of your hands to hold the back of his head again, gripping his hair as you force him to look at you again, fingers tugging hard at his hair. His gaze is unfocused, lips parting as he heaves around your panties, throat spasming—he looks fucking divine, and for a moment, you regret doing this here because you might have to kill someone if they see him when he’s looking like this. “You don’t want them to see you like this, yeah?”

You can hear the whine that builds in the back of his throat, trying to rock his hips up into yours. The sloppy sound of his cock driving into your cunt is too loud—Mishima is still speaking loudly, drowning out any noise that could possibly be coming from your secluded corner, but it’s so risky, you almost don’t know what’s gotten into you. If anyone happens to wander over this way…

“God, what do you do to me?” you gasp, leaning in so you can graze your teeth against his neck, threatening to bite down. 

You’re never this reckless—not when it’s your reputation on the line, you’ve spent years honing it into the weapon it’s become, and here you are risking it all just because Dazai Osamu decided to give you bedroom eyes during one of the most important events the Port Mafia attends. Fuck, he drives you insane.

His head lolls forward, forehead resting against the side of yours, lips brushing your ear. You can feel his heavy pants, each one catching over a moan muffled by your panties. You rock your hips back and forth quickly, each drag of his cock against your walls making you hot and lightheaded. Whether it’s just from the sheer pleasure of it all—the way the tip of his cock pressees right into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the way he’s so quickly coming undone beneath you, body trembling and drool pooling at the corner of his lips around your panties—or if it’s because of the way anyone could wander over in this direction, catch you fucking Dazai so brazenly when there’s a crowd of one hundred and fifty, two hundred of the most important people in the Japanese underworld just on the far side of the room, you don’t know, but heat pools in your abdomen so quickly that it’s almost impossible to control. 

You can feel his breath ragged, his body tense, each roll of your hips against his has Dazai falling apart, and you can feel the telltale sign of his cock twitching inside of you, signaling that he’s about to finish. You tug his hair, pulling his head back from where it's fallen against you, and you lift your other hand quickly up to his lips, pushing them inside of his mouth to hook your fingers around your panties, pulling them out of his mouth.

Instantly, Dazai is pushing himself forward to press his lips against yours, freeing himself of his own tie so his hands can fly to your waist. You let out a low moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue into yours, one hand sliding from your waist to your back, keeping your body flush to his as he grinds you down on his cock hard.

“Fuck,” Dazai groans into your mouth, voice choked. You can see the way he can hardly keep his gaze steady, the way he’s gripping your dress to try to keep himself grounded. “I-ah, shit-I’m close. I’m-”

You lean in to swallow his moan, kissing him hard as his eyes roll to the back of his head, hips stuttering as he spills his cum deep inside of you. Your breath catches at the feeling of his cum filling you up, warm, heavy, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling out from where his cock is still stuffed deep inside of you; it’s the last thing you need to push you over the edge, mind blank and jaw falling slack as your body shudders in his arms.

Black dots spot your vision, your nails dragging down his black coat, your whole body consumed with pleasure—it hits you so hard that you think maybe you might’ve passed out for a split second. The feeling of your release sends a shockwave through Dazai, you can feel the way his body spasms and jerks when your walls suddenly tighten around his sensitive cock.

“God,” Dazai breathes out against your lips, eyes glazed over as the two of you come down from your high, an expression so adoring on his face that you think for a moment, you might be imagining it. “You’re so…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, leaves it to your imagination, and you want to press, but you don’t have the chance because you’re slapped hard with reality when you hear Mishima’s speech coming to an end, eyes widening. Your legs are shaky as you push off of him, hissing at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your cunt—you almost snort when you see how Dazai twitches and winces at the sudden movement, still sensitive.

“Clean yourself up,” you tell him sharply, straightening your dress and fixing your hair, trying to catch sight of yourself in the reflection of a nearby glass, watching from the corner of your eye as Dazai stuffs himself back in his pants, wiping your cum off of his expensive black slacks before sucking it right off of his fingers. He grabs his tie from where he’d let it fall to the ground, and then your panties, winking at you before he stuffs them in the pocket of his jacket. 

His gaze lifts to you as he rises to his feet, drifting lazily over your form, lingering on the way your skin glows with a soft sheen of sweat, the loose strands of hair that cling to your forehead—something you hope you can play off considering the air condition in the ballroom isn’t on. Then his gaze settles down on the lower half of your body, lips curling up into a slow smirk.

He takes a few steps closer to you, holding his tie out to you. “Re-tie it?” he hums, and you roll your eyes because you know he can do it himself and you know he has some sort of ulterior motive right now, but you take it from him regardless.

You quickly slide the tie around his neck, trying to tie it quickly before anyone catches sight of the two of you, but with you so focused on getting this done, you miss the way his hand sneaks forward until you feel it slip into the slit of your dress. 

“Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice low, but your breath catches when you feel him gather up all of the cum that had dribbled out of your cunt, head falling against his shoulder as you try to force yourself not to react when he uses two fingers to stuff it right back inside of you.

You can feel the wicked grin against your ear as he leans down to tug your earlobe gently. “Good luck explaining this to Ibuse.”

Then he steps away, dark eye glittering dangerously as he looks down at you.

��I’ll find you later,” he says before turning to walk away.

You’re not sure if it’s a threat or a promise and you don’t have time to make a snide comment asking, because you hear Ibuse approaching you from behind, giddy and excited until he catches sight of Dazai’s infamous black coat retreating, swallowing thickly and eyes flickering nervously between the two of you—a common reaction to the executive’s presence, knowing how dangerous and unpredictable he can be.

You wonder if Dazai would make Ibuse half as nervous and uncomfortable if he’d known he just spent the last fifteen minutes with your panties stuffed in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back, whining and whimpering, muffling all of his sounds so people didn’t overhear the two of you. But you dismiss that thought—that’s knowledge for you to keep to yourself, you don’t like sharing.

“Let’s get out of here?” you hum, drawing him out of his thoughts before he can spiral.

He lights back up again, but you can tell he’s still nervous from Dazai’s brief appearance. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Two hours later, you wander out of one of the back rooms in Mishima’s mansion, intent on getting back to headquarters. You don’t get more than two feet before you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you backward hard until your back meets a familiar chest.

Your heartbeat stills from the brief bout of erraticness when you felt someone grab you, relaxing back into Dazai, tilting your head back and to the side to look up at him as he holds your hips, keeping you flush to him.

“Did you fuck him?” Dazai asks, voice low and expression unreadable.

You have half a mind to say yes, just to see what Dazai plans to do if you did. He can’t kill Ibuse, not even he is reckless enough to start a war with the Sun and Steel right now, but you don’t think you want to risk it.

“Didn’t have to,” you say honestly. “He was babbling out everything I wanted to know before the doors even closed.”

Dazai searches your face for a moment as if trying to decide if you’re being truthful, when he does, one of his hands slips off your waist into his coat, and you hear the familiar sound of Dazai flipping the safety of his gun back on.

“Dazai,” you snap. “You can’t just-”

“I can do whatever I want,” Dazai interrupts you with the type of confidence that lets you know he had every intention of putting a bullet through Ibuse’s head if you fucked him, regardless of the consequences. The thought of that alone makes your blood run hot, pupils dilating as you look up at him; Dazai’s lips curve up slowly as if he knows just what’s going on in your head. He looks behind you curiously before focusing back down on you asking: “Is he passed out in there?”

“Mhm,” you agree, watching him curiously as you try to figure out what he might be thinking. “Drank too much.”

“Good,” Dazai murmurs, walking you right back into the room you’d come out of, a sharp smile on his face. He closes the door behind the two of you, gaze flickering over to where Ibuse is unconscious on the couch before he backs you up until your knees hit the corner of the bed, pushing you back onto it. “Let’s see if we can wake him up then.”

[skzdust]

Can I request a Han fic where the reader is an idol under JYP who also happens to be Chan's little sister?

I thought I wouldn't have much time to write recently but I LOVED this idea so I worked on it last night and today on my lunch break and I finished it!

This was such a fun one to work on, thanks for the request and I really hope you like it!

-----

Intimate

Summary: You went to your brother Chan's place crying, but you found his roommate Han Jisung instead.

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!idol!reader

Word count: 1k

Taglist: @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345

Includes: fluff, hurt/comfort, pie as a comfort food, cuddles, sharing a bed (sfw)

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

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You knocked on the door and stepped back, shuffling your feet on the hallway carpet.

You’d been hoping it’d be your brother Chan who opened the door, but you weren’t so lucky. It was Han Jisung, who’d always been mostly nice but teasing to you. You didn’t need teasing right now.

“Y/n! Are you looking for Chan—oh, what’s wrong?” His voice was colored with worry as he saw the tear tracks on your face.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, pushing past him and walking into the living room to flop face-first on the couch.

“I think he’s in the studio right now.”

“It’s four in the morning.” You mumbled. “Why is he in the studio?”

“Dunno.” You heard one of the chairs in the room squeak slightly as Jisung sat down. “He does that sometimes, especially when he can’t sleep. He goes and works on music.”

“Mph.” You groaned. You could understand that, you did the same, writing songs for your group in the dead of night. You’d been hoping to wake Chan up, though, not miss him entirely.

“Is there… do you want to talk about it?” Jisung asked hesitantly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You considered for a moment, worried Jisung might make fun of you if you told him the truth.

If he does tease me, I can just leave and text Chan. You reassured yourself.

You tilt your head sideways so you’re not talking into the pillow. “I totally messed up in practice for this music video last night and I’m worried I’ll be dropped or something. We’re about to debut, and we have to be, like… perfect.”

Jisung hummed thoughtfully. “And that was last night? Your debut is set for… less than a month, right?”

“Three weeks and four days.”

“Been thinking about it?”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

“I get it. It’s terrifying.”

You looked up at him over your shoulder. “Not going to poke fun at me?”

Jisung tilted his head, confused. “No? You’re crying. You know, I only do that when I’m joking around. I never mean it genuinely.”

“It still hurts sometimes.” You sat up, hugging the pillow.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung cleared his throat. “I guess… I go too far sometimes.”

You nodded, new tears forming in your eyes. “I appreciate that.”

“Oh, did I say something wrong?” He leaned towards you.

You sniffed. “No, I’m just… emotional, I guess.”

“Here, I have a solution.” Jisung stood up and walked into the kitchen. You watched him go, curious. You heard the fridge open and close, and he walked back in with a plate of pie and a fork.

“Oh, that’s my favorite kind.” You smiled.

“Yeah. I remembered you mentioning it a little bit ago and I thought I’d give it a try.” Jisung shrugged, holding the plate out to you. “It was pretty good, but I got a lot, and I had some extra.”

You took the pie and took a bite. It was delicious, comforting, and exactly what you needed. “Thank you.” You said, your mouth full.

He laughed, and you were suddenly struck by how cute he was when he was genuinely happy.

Although I’ve always kind of found him attractive…

“I’m glad you’re liking it.” He sat back down and held out his hand. “Here, let me have a bite.”

You held out the plate. “Should you… new fork?”

“I don’t care.” He took it. “Do you?”

“No.” You said, your face heating up.

“You’re all red!” Jisung grinned. “You do care!”

“Whatever.” You mumbled, unable to hold back your smile.

He took a bite, then gave the plate to you. You broke off a piece of the pie with the fork, hesitated for a moment, then took the bite. You handed it back to him, and he had another bite, too.

It felt intimate.

When the pie was finished, Jisung set the plate down on the coffee table. “Did that help?”

“Yeah.” You leaned back. “Why are you still up, anyway?”

He pointed to the TV, where a show was paused. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Is something up?”

He didn’t look at you. “No.”

“I told you mine.”

He sighed. “I guess I’m in a similar boat to you. I’m really struggling with some choreography, and I think Minho is annoyed with me at this point.”

“Yeah, I definitely understand that.” You nodded. “But if you want to get good at the choreo, you should probably get some sleep, you’re not gonna be able to dance tomorrow if you’re exhausted.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Says you.”

“I don’t want to go back to my place.” You said softly. “One of my roommates was mad at me about… tonight.”

“Sleep here, then.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You shook your head. “I don’t like couches, I’ll be brave and go home and lay in bed or something.”

Jisung thought for a moment. “I have an idea, if you’re up for it.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Shoot.”

“We could both sleep in my bed. Maybe having someone else close would help.”

The part of you that had a crush on Jisung went wild.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” You smiled.

“Nice.” He stood up. “C’mon.”

You followed him down the hall and to his room, which you’d never been in before. It was a little messy, but you could tell he was organized. His bed was mussed up, like he’d been tossing and turning. Given what he’d told you, he probably had been.

He pulled back the covers and motioned for you to get in. “Get comfy.”

You did so, getting into the bed and pulling the comforter over yourself. You were suddenly exhausted, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. The bed dipped when Jisung got in.

You got an idea. “Jisung?”

“Hm?”

“Can we, um, cuddle? I’m just feeling a bit lonely, and I think it’d be nice, and I… I dunno, we don’t have to.” You rambled.

“‘Course we can.” Jisung opened his arms, and you scooted into them.

He was warm, and solid, and comforting, and safe.

Intimate.

You felt content for the first time since your disastrous practice as you cuddled into his chest.

“Chan might kill me.” He muttered, his embrace tightening a bit.

“No, he won’t.” You closed your eyes. “Chan’ll be fine.”

“Even if he did, it would be worth it.” He said with a soft laugh.

That was the last thing you heard before you fell into sleep.

[sunaluv]

I love the "Come get your man" series could you make a pt4????[you do not have to]

I love your work sm!!!keep doing what your doing!!!

Drink water, take breaks when needed, take care of your health both mentally & physically!!and see you next ask♡

wooo we back at it again! thanks for checking in on me bae 🥲 take care of yourselves too!

also thanks for 1k followers 🥳

part 3

feat. kenma, tsukishima, iwaizumi

steamer!KENMA

kenma loves his job. as a professional streamer he’s his own boss, he doesn’t have to be around people too often and he’s become really fond of his little online community (not that he’d admit that out loud).

it’s been a week since your unplanned debut on his channel. you didn’t realize he was recording when you came to drop of his snacks, doing your daily check in. ever since, all the tags with his stream name were aggressively loving, basically demanding him to bring back their ‘mother’ to the screen.

you drop in every now and then to remind his viewers to look after themselves, jokingly scolding them for not looking after your man aswell but it’s all fun and games on both ends.

whilst watching his stream in the room next door, you can help but notice a user in particular.

@/kodzubae: LMAOOO i thought he would be dating someone much prettier😭 didn’t know kodzu did charity cases.

even though the chat was moving before you could read all the comments, your eyes always managed to find whatever the user said about you, and none of it was nice. you didn’t have to be told not to read the comments— it’s an unspoken fact but your eyes and brain always seem to betray you, feeding into your minor insecurities.

you haven’t even realized you were staring at a blank screen. kenmas’ stream had ended whilst you were too lost in your thoughts.

“…you alright?” he asked hesitantly.

though your eyes lit up and your lips quirked at the sight of your boyfriend, he knew something was up— call it a sixth sense of his.

you wordlessly tried to convince him that you were okay, talking and joking the rest of the night until you fell asleep in his embrace but none of it felt genuine. he didn’t want to pry, but it physically hurt him to see you hiding things from him.

totally disregarding the first rules of boyfriend 101: “don’t go through your partners phone!”, kenma unlocked your phone, instantly frowning at the screen before him.

it was her twitter page. kenma knew his lifelong fans, and the handle on your screen now was one of them, except it was full of fan behavior for him and blatant hatred for you.

he felt bad.

it wasn’t exactly his fault, but he still felt responsible for the digs at you that were happening on his live.

the next day, you had woken up hours after kenma. you tend to do that when you sleep with a heavy heart.

in the distance, you could hear him talking, probably streaming. so you opened his stream on your phone and tuned in right on time.

“hey guys,” he greeted. “before we start i want to say something…i’ve become aware that ever since ‘mother’,” he emphasized on the quote marks. “made her first appearance, some of you have not been the nicest to her online and i just want to say that that’s a boundary that absolutely cannot be crossed.”

@/user1: WHAT? WHO HURT MOTHER

@/user2: i hope she’s okay :( luv u mom

@/user3: we’re just going to skip over the fact that he acknowledges them as our parents? okay…

@/user4: cross ken >:( cross ken >:(

“so from here on out, any hate towards her will be an instant block. i’ve told my mods too so behave…” he firmly, yet gently scolded.

“now that’s out of the way, today we’ll be…”

you watched the rest of the stream with a smile on your face. though you were working on voicing your concerns and discomfort, it was nice to know that kenma is willing to work for you whilst he waited.

TSUKISHIMA (tall!reader)

“you look so much taller when you’re not welded into tsukkis’ side, ya know?”

startled, you angled your neck down to see one of your classmates.

you had been avoiding her, and she, you. but it seems she’s finally willing to break this ongoing silent tension fest between you two.

“what do you want.” you deadpanned.

she gasped. “you’re too mean! tsukishima doesn’t deserve to be with someone like you, he deserves someone who is more down to earth, you get me?”

she eyed you up and down to emphasize her point.

taking your silence as willingness to listen, she continued. “i mean your too tall! granted he is too but opposites attract, he needs someone who will look good with him, like me.”

you folded your lips inward to contain your laughter. you and basically everyone knew about this girls love for your boyfriend, but you never pegged her as the type to come at you like this.

“you can have him if you want,” you waved. “kei looooves short girls.”

her eyes lit up in victory, obviously not sensing your sarcasm. “cool, just make sure you break up with him today because-“

“nobody is breaking up with anyone.” a voice shot.

low and behold, your six foot something boyfriend shutting down any advances you were planning to set him up with. though he joined the conversation, he only appeared to be addressing you.

“kei! i-“

“tsukishima.”

“tsukki! i-”

“no.”

he made eye contact with your smirking face over the girls head. “you were just gonna throw me to the wolves like that?” he asked offended.

you chucked. “there’s no wolves kei, look at her” you pinched the cheek of the stunned girl stood in between you two. “she’s harmless, like a poodle.”

she stood, mouth open seemingly in shock.

looking back at him, his face did not let up. you sighed.

“i’m sorry kei,” you breathed through your nose. “i will never subject you to such a horrible, earth shattering, torturous-“

“that’s enough, my god” he groaned. grabbing your wrist, he dragged you by the wrist, only slowing down when you rounded the corner, out of the girls view.

“you know i was joking, right.” you poked his cheek, to which he swatted your hand away.

“i know you’re joking,” his signature smirk appeared. “after all you wouldn’t throw away the opportunity to date the guy you’ve been crushing on for as long as you’ve been here. if i recall, your confession went along the lines of ‘i-“

you slapped your hand over his mouth in embarrassment. leave it to the guy to turn your confession into a weapon against you.

you playfully bickered down the rest of the hall, forgetting all about the girl who had tried to take your place earlier.

IWAIZUMI

“are you sure you’re not only using him to like, get to oikawa or something?”

the first words this girl had spoken to you. you don’t know who she is, or where she came from but she has some nerve coming with such a ridiculous question considering you haven’t formally met before.

“excuse me?”

“you heard me,” her tone was now accusatory. “i’ve seen many girls do iwa dirty because they want oikawa so if that’s the case save yourself an ass beating and leave him alone!”

you don’t know if you have bad memory or what because you don’t know who this girl is and as far as your concerned, neither does your boyfriend.

“i’m sorry, are you a friend of his?” you were more confused than anything.

“i am his and he is mine.”

woah.

you didn’t want to accuse her, but every sign she was showing pointed to a major case of FDS (fan delusion syndrome), a case of the crazies found in fans of the oikawa toru founded by you, maki and mattsun, but you were unaware that this case was also present in your boyfriends own… supporters.

you don’t blame them though because your man is a total hunkkkk. anyways.

right on queue, the door slid open and both of your heads turned to meet hajime’s, and of course he has to show up with a sweaty face, shirt practically clinging to his defined body.

“hajime!” the girl called, running and stopping infront of him. “she’s using you do get to oikawa, break up with her!”

he followed the finger that was pointed to you— confused and lost in the middle of the gym.

“that’s my girlfriend, she doesn’t like him like that.”

the sound of a shattered heart pierced the sudden silence. “w-w-what do you mean girlfriend, she’s after toru i’m sure of it!”

a humorless chuckle sounded from his throat. “trust me, she doesn’t ”

being cautious not to set the girl off, he traversed around her, and straight to you who watched the whole interaction both concerned and amused.

“wowww,” you breathed. “i didn’t know you were also a cause for FDS.”

“what?”

“nothing,” you straightened. “i don’t blame her though. i would go crazy if you walked around looking like that too.”

his face flushed and he turned away. “stop saying things like that…”

you smiled, poking his cheek. “what, i can’t appreciate my boyfriend who’s built like he was carved from the greek gods himself?”

he walked away after pushing your face with his hand, drowning your chuckle.

“c’mon haji, don’t be like that,” you chased after him. “you have to be feeling yourself a little after seeing the affect you have of the seijoh population!”

the girl watched as you made her ‘man’ flush, comment after comment, feeling numb as she watched him get more and more out of his reach.

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Fics with 500 Kudos or Less!

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like we're the last people on earth by @pessimisticidealist | Lando/George | T | 17.6K

Lando joins Mercedes alongside George Russell for the 2026 season. George expects it to go poorly, incredibly so. And he's correct. The characterizations in this one are clear and feel very real, the tangled emotions and the potential catastrophes falling slowly into something terrible and wonderful and complex. Alex's involvement in the whole ordeal turns it into a wonderful exploration of the 2019 rookies.

Lewis was right, ultimately, George thinks; his only consolation is that it isn’t Alex who he’s going to destroy, who’s going to destroy him. Maybe Lando is a little more oblivious, but — no, no, he knows they will consume each other and themselves, if not this year then next, if not the next then not long after. Nico still floats around the paddock on race weekends like a lost moon, still interviews Lewis with longing heavy in his voice. Lewis speaks to him like he would any other reporter. George doesn’t want to do that to Lando, either. He doesn’t want Lando to do that to him. “Thrilled, of course, Lando’s a good mate,” he tells the press, with vacant eyes and a fixed smile. “No one deserves the Merc drive more than him.”

plant new seeds in the melody by @lellabella | Lando/Oscar | T | 20k

In this magical realism AU, Lando and Oscar are both still McLaren drivers, with one small twist: they both have powers. The worldbuilding in this fic was exceptional: vivid and so well developed, I could picture it all unfolding before my eyes. Both Lando and Oscar's powers fit them so well, and I love how the author carefully built the development of their relationship around them becoming more comfortable with each other's abilities. Despite all powers, though, they are still so very Lando and Oscar at the core of this fic, and I loved the characterisation and writing so much.

But now that Lando is the senior driver, he's supposed to be the one who handles his feelings with maturity, not hopelessly crushing on a younger rookie. This isn't ogling handsome Carlos from afar; he wants to wrap Oscar in a blanket and make him hot chocolate and know that he's okay. He wants to see Oscar smile not just because it's pretty but because he genuinely cares about his happiness. That part is new.

nsfw: live in five by @danifesting | Daniel/Max | E | 25k

Daniel discovers Max's Twitch stream and quickly becomes obsessed with them. This fic explores Max and Daniel getting to know each other and learn each other. I really liked the Max characterisation in this. Very direct but also very open to learn. One of my favourite parts is the mod group chat and how it serves as extra information for the reader, set's the tone nicely and helps you understand the overal context of Max and Daniel.

“I should probably explain my different set-up. This is not permanent. I will be back to my normal room at home in two weeks but for now, I am visiting my boyfriend.” electricsld: oh! a boyfriend! andpussycats: say more max dr3rd: yeah maxy, say more “Well, he is very sweet and he does not mind that I need to stream while I visit him. We live in different places, so we, of course, do not get to see each other very often, but it has been very nice to visit.” dr3rd: is he handsome? Max wants to roll their eyes at Daniel fishing for compliments but they contain themself. “Yes, very handsome. So handsome I cannot believe he picked me.”

I Know Your Name (But Not Who You Are) by @wanderingblindly | Charles/Max | T | 7.7k

Charles isn't in Monaco anymore, instead, now he's in Arizona. He's suffered loss at the hands of racing. Max turns up unexpectedly. Great fic if you want to cry and sob and scream into your pillow at 2 am! Amazing writing that just makes you want to lie in bed and contemplate life :) this is such an underrated fic!

There’s not another soul in the desert, just the brief rustle of an autumnal breeze ghosting along the loose earth. But behind Charles’s eyelids, in the space between him and the world above, it’s them. It hasn’t been them in a long time, he hasn’t let himself think of it. He isn’t running from anything, fluttering from city to city, crossing oceans he never touched as a boy. He’s searching, maybe, for a place where the wind can blow it all away. The sun feels warm as he raises his arm, fingers outstretched as he tries to hold that boundless blue in his palm.

nsfw: Everybody Wants to Rule the World by @kaytheologiearchive | Nico/Sebastian | E | 23k

It's 2022, Sebastian is driving for Aston Martin when their new team principal is announced – Nico Rosberg. The author said it best herself – this fic is all about "the absolute fantasy of being the villains favourite girl". And Nico makes a lovely villain, snarky and a bit pretentious but with the ability to back up his words and make his promises reality. I especially love Seb's character arc, starting with 2022!Seb, reluctantly forced to accept that his world champion days are over, to then finding his spark again under Nicos guidance and returning back to his charming, selfish, index-finger-in-the-air ways. Really they are both absolute assholes in this but thats what makes them perfect for each other.

“I’m here for the same reason you are,” he says, megawatt smile back on his face. “To win you a title.”Seb sits back in his seat, grinning bitterly. “Don’t let Stroll hear you say that. The only reason he bought this team is to try to get a title for his son. I’m just here to play mentor until they build us a car one of us can win with, and then he’ll turn me loose.” He doesn’t add, just like Ferrari did. He doesn’t have to.Nico scoffs. Seb’s met so few people who actually scoff in real life. “Lance Stroll,” he says, disdain dripping around every consonant, “is never winning a title. You still could, though, and you know it. You’d have retired if you didn’t think so.” Seb opens his mouth, prepared to contradict him, and Nico silences him with a wave of his hand. “Don’t give me your go-to line about the love of the sport. You’ve only ever been here for one reason. The media might forget, you might even want them to forget, but I know what you’re really like.”“And what’s that?” Seb asks. Against his better instincts, and even though he knows Nico can’t have a single good motive for being here, he’s intrigued by whatever Nico’s about to say. Nico’s always been an enigma to him, Nico’s opinion of him doubly so.“You’re ruthless,” Nico says, almost in a whisper. “You’re brutal, and ambitious, and you’ll do whatever you have to to take everything you want.”

Rabbit, Rabbit (it takes a village) by @481boxboxbaby | Lando/Oscar | M | 25k

Oscar wakes up to find four baby bunnies in his shower. In the world of this story, that's as good as peeing on a stick. This boy is knocked up, and there are six possible baby daddies. This is a sweet, funny and heartfelt fic that takes a cracky idea (magic bunnies means you're pregnant) and treats it seriously. Oscar is definitely a bit of a pillow princess and good time guy - that's why he has bunnies - and the fic follows his journey of self discovery, growing as a person along the way and learning that knowing himself is far more important than knowing who the daddy is. The guy who steps up, and who Oscar chooses in the end, is maybe a little unexpected but it absolutely worked for me.

“Oh,” Oscar blushes a fierce shade of red. “We’re not a throuple. They’re just friends. I mean, maybe one of them is the other father but - um - that’s sort of the thing.” The midwife raises an eyebrow and cocks her head to the side, waiting for him to go on. Oscar instead looks at Liam and Logan, desperate for one of them to bail him out. “You see, there’s a roster,” Logan says, his expression awfully serious like he’s trying to be as tactful as possible, even if he did just start off by outing Oscar as a hoe.

THREE SCENES IN A CITY by @loveisworry | Alex/Charles | T | 6.8k

Charles and Alex and a party. This is the kind of fic that you read, and then you remember for the rest of your life. This is a truly stunning urban fantasy, very immersive and atmospheric.

'Charles, the city’s chosen son, knows these streets better than the backs of his hands, which are often smeared with ink. There’s a scar where his left thumb joins the meat of his hand that he always forgets about. He’s had it since he was a child, and doesn’t remember it’s there because he doesn’t remember how he got it. Without a story to hang onto it disappears'

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 11: Collateral Damage

Words: 5.8k

Summary: It's been a month since your breakup with Carmy and Syd wouldn't ask for your help unless they were absolutely slammed.

a/n: 1 more chapter + epilogue to go and I don't know what to do with myselffff!!!!

Thank you for sticking around thus far and commenting is always appreciated!

Heartbreak is a funny little thing. You can walk a delicate line all your life to avoid feeling it, but one way or another it’ll find you. It’s the eternal debate: To avoid all and spare yourself from hurt, but live a life of emptiness and quiet; or to welcome the pain like an old friend, at peace and knowing you never stopped trying. Everyone chooses a side at some point, but you’re never really spared from it. 

You’ve always hated the part of you that feels too deeply. The one that created stories out of strangers, wonder struck by microseconds of eye contact, then shattered when they step off the train. The one that no matter how many times was dolefully blown into the ground, it still believes in good grace and  happy endings.

“So yeah… That’s basically it since the last time I saw you.” You say, twirling the small ring with the aquamarine stone that you had stopped wearing long ago. You look up to the woman sitting across from you and ask “What? You asked me how I was.”

“And I wasn’t expecting a two hour monologue.”

“Well what did you expect? Haven’t seen you in months, I needed to vent…” You fight back.

You can hear the soft scribbles of her pen for a couple minutes and you make yourself comfortable against the soft pillows that fill up most of her couch.

“So, how long has it been?” She speaks again.

“Bout a month…” You sigh.

“And have either of you tried reaching out?”

“No, I-” You take a breath and ponder over the question, the single unanswered text weighing heavy on your phone. “I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, I’ve been too busy with my paintings and helping out with the auction. I don’t really have time for… anything else. I-I guess he’s been busy too.” 

“But you still know what he’s up to?” She asks with raised brows.

You shrug with a single shoulder and chew at your thumbnail with slight nerves. “Syd talks about work sometimes, when we go out. But I think she kinda feels guilty for bringing him up. I told her it’s fine.” The woman looks at you skeptically through the small circular glasses. “I’m fine.” You half lie. “I am, it's just… The auction is this weekend and they’re catering so… I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel…”

“Because you’ll see him again?”

“...Yeah.”

The woman calls your name again and you rip your eyes from the ring on your finger, heavy inside your own head to hear her question.

“So, is your set finished?” She asks to change the conversation.

“Mhm. It only took me a couple weeks to finish but -” Your smile curls slowly at the edge of your lips. “I'm really proud of them.”

“That’s great to hear.” She whispers with a genuine smile. “You know, heartbreak can also be a beautiful thing. It’s painful, yes, but it also gives a vulnerability we don’t regularly allow ourselves. It lets us create wonderful things. It’s all part of the human experience. It truly is nice to know you’re doing better, even after going MIA for months.” She says with a practiced tone mothers use to scold you.

She schedules you in for the next month and you promise to not bail this time, then walking out the office with your bag over your shoulder and a lightweight heart. The prospect of seeing him at the auction is still heavy on your mind as you make your way to the train station and the simple thought fills your chest like a crisp breath of air. ‘He could just send Syd’ you think and you try to not engage too much with the idea in fear that it may sour your good mood.  Instead you focus on your steady steps and people watching, ‘whatever happens, happens.’ you mumble under your breath.

**********

Syd’s call had pulled you from the comfort of your home before the sun was even visible over the horizon. Her worried tone had you waking up instantly and darting frantically around your darkened room in search of anything that could shield you from the increasing cold, then out the door and in the dreaded direction of The Beef. 

It’s been a month since you last spoke with Carmy and even though in the grand scheme of time, it’s only a mere speck of dust, to you it had felt eternal. Small snippets blur together into one long strenuous day, piggy-backing off your grief and pushing your shoulders deeper into the ground. You had called him a few days after in hopes that you could talk things over, but it went straight to voicemail. So you left a text that you anxiously waited an answer for the following days. All of a sudden, one week turned into two, then three and before you knew it, a month had gone by without a response. You kept busy picking up most of the planning to avoid any crossing thought of him, only allowing yourself to break with your canvas in front and acrylics to spear. 

You had done enough to convince yourself you were fine, that even if he were to show up tomorrow and not send Syd on his behalf, you'd be fine. 

Fine. Fine. Fucking fine. 

Everything was fucking fine until this morning when Syd had called to ask for help at the restaurant. Richie had been arrested, the place was a mess and they were behind on prep for the event tomorrow because they were lacking hands. Protesting would only lose you time that they did not have, so in place of that you settle to ignore the treacherous wormhole vacuuming out the few remains of confidence you had saved for tomorrow as you wait for the train that’ll leave you on River North Station.

Twenty three minutes later, you're walking at a brisk pace through the streets with a thick knot for a stomach and a growing unease. You push through the door and stop in your tracks at the shock and disarray of the place.

“What the fuck? Ugh-” 

The potent smell of alcohol is the first thing that invades your nose, along with the stickiness of the floor the deeper you walk into the room. There’s solo cups scattered everywhere and half working Christmas lights hanging loosely over the walls. Some frames from the front wall lay broken, spewing shards of glass all around the tiles.

“Mi amor, qué sorpresa!” You hear Tina’s voice from behind the counter and you slowly walk towards her, the small pieces shattering under the weight of your boots.

She hugs you tight and kisses your cheek. “Tina, what the hell happened in here?! It smells like the fuckin’ Hangover…”

“Ay baby, don’t even get me started with these knuckleheads-”

You take another woeful look around, then follow her inside as she recounts the little information Sydney gave them from the frantic phone call she had with Carmen. How they rented out The Beef for a bachelor’s and Richie had knocked out some drunk while defending Carmen’s ass. It’s strange to you, the pair’s relationship. How they were always ready to rip each other to pieces, but would jump to save the other without a second thought. They said they couldn’t stand one another, but you’re sure they’re something either can’t live without.

“So what, he’s in for aggravated assault?” You ask.

“Only if the guy wakes up.” Marcus answers with a broom in hand, sweeping away remnants of glitter and tinsel.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Could be 5 to 25 for accidental manslaughter…” Sweeps chimes in while carrying a full trash bag to the back.

Your throat closes up and behind your concern, you hear Marcus ask Sweeps how he knows so much about the matter. ‘Bro, I told you. I went to Harvard Law…’ ‘Oh yeah…’

You breathe in  deep while maintaining the possibility of his release still in your mind and you head to Syd’s side, pulling your hair up into a ponytail automatically. 

“Alright, brigade’s here. What d’you need?” You say after a quick hug hello.

“Guess you know more about it than I do…”

She’s flipping through the binder with all the recipes and images of the canapes they’d be serving, the one you helped Carmy assemble all those months back. Despite a few scribbles and notes at the foot of some recipes, it’s practically the same. You bend the corner lightly on the last page to find the miniature ‘C’ surrounded by purile hearts and your morning coffee grows knotty in your gut.

“Is he…” You try asking, but the sentence loses power half way through.

Syd seems to catch your drift. “No, no. He’s been down at the station since dawn.”

You nod absentmindedly with your eyes glued to the page. 

“Okay, um. Marcus left the sourdough for the tapas rising all night yesterday, so we have a good start on that-” Syd began and you pull all your attention to the task at hand. “Beef’s already bracing in the oven but it’ll take a couple more hours. You can start with the ginger- tangerine compote. That’ll go on the brie.” She says, handing you one of the blue aprons. 

“Alright, heard.” The words feel unnatural rolling off your tongue after being away from a kitchen for so long.

She leaves you in search of Fak, urging him to finish fixing the backed up sink in the Steward section. You drown out the bicker and hastily make your way into the walk-in, throwing the apron over your head and tying the back securely around your waist. It’s almost as if the familiar pressure unveils a dormant sensation and you soon find yourself navigating with ease through the skills you thought forgotten. The knife feels at home under your palm -heftier than a paint brush but still requires the same level of  concentration- as you separate the tangerine supremes and add them to the pot holding clarified butter, sugar and rosemary leaves. Everyone works in a rhythmic but comfortable silence, a stark difference from the frantic, unmeasured mess they seemed to thrive in when you still worked here. 

“Yo chef?” Marcus calls from your left. 

You lift your head to him while you finish peeling the ginger. “What's up?”

“Mind tasting this for me? It’s for the gig but somethin’ bout the filling don’t feel right…”

You nod and wipe your hands on your rag, then take a bite into the miniature stuffed doughnut that doesn’t seem bigger than an Oreo. The flavors are too thick to tell them apart but  the softness of the dough allows it to almost melt in your mouth. 

“The dough’s perfect-“ You say between bites, the compliment blooming over his face into a grin. “How bout a different filling though, there’s a lot going on and you can’t really enjoy the texture.”

“Right!? See, that’s what I was thinkin’. Got anything in mind?”

“Mmm, you could try a chai cream filling.”

“Just milk and cinnamon, then?”

“Yes and also no” You answer with a smile. “Try to steep some black tea in milk with cinnamon and ginger. Then instead of sugar, add honey to your crème and the chai milk. It should be a little bit more runny so when it cools it doesn’t get that jelly-like consistency from the egg.” You finish then turn back to peeling off the skin of the ginger with your spoon. 

Marcus is still standing beside you with a pleased smile. “You really know your stuff, huh? Thought you was burnt out.” and you lightly hit him over the arm with the back of your spoon. 

“Oh, I can totally smoke your ass baker boy..” You grin.

Before he can fight back, a sudden commotion by the entrance has you lifting your head above the second level of the table and searching for the noise. The slick handle of the spoon  almost slips past your hand when your eyes capture the image of two very sleep deprived Carmen and Richie walking through the staff door. You can see everyone showering them with attention, how Tina hugs Richie tight then smacks him hard over the head, but the loud ringing in your ears and the sudden rush of cold blood prevent you from moving any closer. Not that you’d want to anyway. You try to pull yourself together, wiping your clammy hands for the tenth time and watching them advance deeper into the room. Richie’s the first to spot you and true to his nature, he lets the whole room know that he’s seen you, with outstretched palms in your direction.

“Oh, shit! This a fuckin’ family reunion?!” His hand falls heavily over the crown of your head and you swat it away with a smack.

“How’s prison?” 

“Oh, y'know…free food, can’t complain.”

“D’you get yourself a bitch?” You tease.

“Yeah, brought ‘em home, actually-” He says pointing back to Carmy, causing the forming grin on your face to fall when you see he’s been watching you. You pull your eyes from him and back to your cutting board. “Oh right, my bad…”

You shake your head, mumbling a sharp ‘asshole’ through gritted teeth. Richie takes off to the back and you’re finally left at peace.

You fall into a pronounced balance of chopping and continuously stirring the compote, until it reaches the needed consistency and you pull it off the fire to cool. You check it off Syd’s thoroughly organized list and scroll down to find the next task, then make your way back into the walk-in. With a bowl resting on your hip, you pick out a few pears you’ll need, then hear the creak of the metal door open and you assume it’s Syd coming in to take a breather from the frenetic kitchen.

“Yo, I’m gonna start poaching the pears. You’re out of red wine but I can run to the corner store and try to flirt with the clerk to knock a few bucks off a bottle-”

The slick bowl almost slips from your grip when your eyes catch his. A chill slithers from your neck, down your spine and wraps around your knees, rendering them uselessly immobile as Carmy just stares you down through tired lids. The room grows uncomfortably smaller with the two of you locked inside and you're afraid that he can hear the irregular tempo in your quickening pulse. You wonder if the slight shock in his brows is due to not knowing you were in there. It only flashes for a second, then his features conceal behind a curtain of indifference, making your stand straighter.

“H-hey.” He says with a feign coolness as he wraps his own apron around his waist and moves deeper into the room, as if it’s the most natural thing to find you between the inventory of his restaurant.

You turn back to the shelf so he doesn’t notice the multiple quivery inhales it takes for your voice to sound somewhat even. “Syd asked me for help, that’s why I’m here I-”

“No- yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-” He cuts himself off and takes a breath that has your wavering stare slowly inching towards him. “Thank you…”

You finally turn to him, only holding his stare for a second, then give him a tight smile and wrap both arms securely around the bowl that wants to slip from your clammy palms. His lips part and you wait for anything else to leave his mouth, maybe a ‘How’ve you been?’ or a ‘Can we talk?’. But nothing does and you try to not let it sting as much as it normally does when you get your hopes up. You take a reluctant step towards the door, then another and another, only stopping when your name vibrates in the concealed room.

“Yeah…?” You turn with a full chest.

He holds an unopened bottle of wine in your direction, face blank. “Bottom left shelf.” He says, shrugging.

“Oh. Right.” You take it without meeting his stare so he doesn’t see the grief slapped across it and quickly push yourself out the space.

You spend the better part of half an hour peeling the thin skin off the pears and letting the simmering wine and spices fill the kitchen with a strong sweetness. Carmy’s presence looms around the room as he checks in with every station on their progress, but doesn’t stop with you. All you get is a soft ‘Behind’ and the tingling sensation of his touch on your lower back as he passes by. You don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, although it doesn't really matter to the breath that stops in your throat when he does it. ‘Just finish this and you can leave.’ you repeat to yourself. Though you know you won’t, at least not until they’re up to schedule, even if every second sharing the same space withers at your soul.

You do your best to focus on your task, only talking to Tina when she gently squeezes your forearm to ask if you're okay, because your brows are glued into that permanent scowl that only displays your irritation outward.

“Yeah I, um- just got a lot on my plate.” You tell her and try to not let it trigger the tears you’ve hoarded in the back of your throat.

“No te hará sentir mejor-” She whispers to your side. 

“-Probably not-”

“-pero él está igual de miserable que tú. Really baby, you should have a talk with him, y’know, straighten things out.”

“T, ni siquiera me ve a la cara…” You whisper back. “How am I supposed to straighten anything out if he won’t even look at me?”

“Ay, baby I know. But I’ve known that stubborn boy all his life and let me tell you, since he came back from Madison Square Park -or wherever the fuck-, he was all different and… bitchy. And it wasn’t ‘till you came along that he finally felt like the Carmy we all knew before… pues ya tu sabes.” She says in reference to his brother.

“You two are good for each other, but you’re both stubborn as hell… talk it out, okay? Don’t lose somethin’ good ‘cause you're stubborn.” Tina rubs your shoulder reassuringly then with a final smile. she turns yelling ‘Corner!’ and disappears behind the tall stands.

You swallow down the aching knot and distract yourself with the slippery fruit in your hands.

“Can I..?” You see his hands before hearing his voice, as he lightly places a white cutting board a few feet away from you. You eye the curves of discoloring letters above his knuckles, then force your stare back to your own working hands and shrug.

“Sure… your kitchen.”

He only nods, from your side view you see how his eyes linger on you for a few moments then fall back down. The air between you feels thick despite the music playing from the hoarse stereo and a light layer of conversation from the staff. There’s a heavy pressure over your chest that only seems to expand with every silent minute passing between you. 

Then Carmy clears his throat. “How’s-uhm- your set.. for the auction?” 

Confusion and irritation brew in synchronicity with your wine and you try to hide the annoyance his question brings you. He acts as if he’s just seen you the day before, as if things had ended with a friendly handshake and a mutual agreement, not with him breaking up with you and completely vanishing from your life.

“It’s fine.” You turn to the burners and stir the pot slowly to keep it from burning and also to avoid his heavy gaze.

You taste it to make sure the flavors are correct then turn back to finally finish peeling the last of your pears. Carmy stares at you like he wants to say something else, but just contemplates the seriousness of your features and the flow of your hands as you move the peeler in a frenzy. Each stroke grows closer to your skin and he just feels the need to warn you.

“Careful you’re gonna-”

“Mierda!” You hiss, dropping the handle immediately and cradling your palm under the injured one. “Hijo de puta!”

He’s by your side in a second, with his clean towel hovering under your hands and taking the fruit that you crushed involuntarily when the pain closed your fist. 

“It’s fine- I’m fine.” 

“No you’re not, you’re bleeding-”

“I said I’m fine!” You pry your hand hard enough to hear a slight pop from your wrist.

Carmy’s hands fall to his sides and you divert your gaze to the floor walking to the nearest sink to clean your wound. You hiss again when the warm water hits your palm and a gash at the bottom of it is finally visible. Fucking perfect. You scrub remnants of puree and blood off, until the water runs a light pink and you're relieved to see it won’t need stitches. A gauze and some tape will suffice, so you wrap it in some paper towels to avoid dripping and march to the small office where you find the kit. The quicker you move, the faster you’ll be out of the confined space that makes you feel like a vulnerable prey. But your fingers tremble from the light sting and the edge of the wrapper isn’t cooperating with your dull nails. Tiny droplets of blood pool in the center of your palm, the frustration grows too quickly and you slam the unopened gauze flat on the desk.

“Fuck!”

‘It’s fine, you’re fine.’ The voice in your head circles through the same phrase, pretending that the sudden proximity of him didn’t unearth something you have tried so hard to bury down for the last month. You thought you could be mature enough to ignore the crushing weight settling over you with every stare, but the wisps of frigid indifference that radiated off him wrapped a tightening noose around your neck and you weren’t sure how long you had until it finally killed you. 

A soft click pulls your attention from the crimson in your hand. Carmy stands with raised palms, inching slowly towards your intense glare, then reaches out a hand as if trying to help a wounded animal. Which in a way, you are and the joke forming in your mind about the bear helping a fox would be rather funny if you weren’t so immensely upset with him.

With a ragged sigh, you turn in the small space and stretch out your hand to him, eyes locking on a painting on the wall to evade his stare. You ignore the furor of goosebumps that invade your skin the second his touch is on you. Carmen’s hand holds you in the cocoon of his fist, thumb rubbing delicate circles beside the battered spot while he uses the paper towel to soak up all the blood. You reprimand your wayward beats for their reaction to his innocent touch and you have to constantly pull your wandering gaze from reaching the dangerous borders of his tightened jaw. His deep exhales fan the baby hairs resting at the bottom of your neck, his attention fixed on the small imperfection. His movements are slow, asking each muscle for permission to move the next, because having you this close after so long is a luxury he does not want to rush through, not if he’s never getting it again. 

Carmy understood your anger. He could feel it radiating off you in waves that bounced in the small space, but he also understood that he’s never had enough words to properly express the turmoil of everythingness swirling constantly inside his head. He wanted to let you know how hard it had been for him too. Confess the unhealthy amount of time he was spending at the restaurant- only going home to shower then leaving again- because he was afraid of the scent of your perfume and how it lingered on every breathable space in his home… apartment- not home- at least not since you had gone.

He focuses on swabbing the sanitizing wipe tenderly in hopes that his actions can transmit what he can’t say. The alcohol makes you hiss again and his eyes flicker to your frowned brows, mumbling a soft ‘sorry’.

He only lets go to tear open the gauze and some tape, then takes you in his grasp again to wrap your palm up safely. You expect him to let go once he’s done. To create as much needed space to fit the betrayal he portrayed the last time you saw him, this would only explain why he never called back. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t look up at you either. Your stares meet on the flesh where his thumb still brushes over the blood-stained pit, your chest raises in slow puffs and the uninjured hand grips tightly over the edge hitting behind you. This is all too familiar again, right down to the brewing anxiety trickling heat into your overworked veins. You can't help but to foolishly crawl your pupils over the navy blue of his apron, past the strained tendons of his neck, the sharpness of his nose and to the beautiful blue you had missed so much.

Neither of you notice how the space has reduced to mere inches between you until his eyes flicker to yours and every single speck is bright and visible for your admiration. He swallows down hard, the Adam's apple bouncing in his throat portrays his nerves openly to you. The last reasonable, minute voice in his head tells him to pull away, but the way you’re staring up at him has his body tilting in your direction instead. Eyes wide and glossy dance around the freckles dusting his cheeks, causing his hand to float from your wrist to the dip of your waist and his forehead finally falls against yours.

You gasp in softly when his fingers dig into the center of your spine while his nose brushes along yours longingly. You can feel his sultry exhales ghost over the curve of your parted lips with doubt still present in his movements.

“Carmy…” The voice is above a whisper and you’re not sure you even have the strength to utter the sentence that’s formed in your head.

Your voice seems to trigger something in him. His jaw hardens, his fingers bunch up your shirt in a light fist and just as quickly, his grip on you loses strength and his hand falls to rest beside your fisted one. Then a grave sigh parts his chest and he takes a painful step back, unwilling to lift his eyes from the ground.

It takes a minute for you to react, then the butterflies in your stomach turn to wasps swarming in dangerous circles, unable to fly out due to the knot blocking your throat. He’s eerily silent, eyes glued to the floor to ignore your fiery glare.

“Sorry, I…” 

You scoff and shake your head, blinking rapidly to pull back the tears threatening to spill with your anger.

“Screw you, Carmen.” You untie the apron as quickly as you can with your injured hand and throw it at his desk before walking out of the small room.

With strong footsteps, you take your bag from above the lockers and escape out the back. The door slams hard as you push yourself out, Carmen following behind but by the time he calls your name you’re already a couple steps ahead.

“Fox!” He yells and you spin in his direction with nothing but anger over your face.

“Listen, I’m sor-”

“No-fuck you- you don’t get to talk, alright?! It’s my turn.” He takes a step back before crashing into you, jaw locked tight and regardless of the deafening ring in your ears, you refuse to bite your tongue again.

“Look Carmy, I am truly sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m so sorry that I’m here instead of your brother- but that does not mean you get a fuck-it-all free card and get to pull shit like that!” Tears of anger trickle down your heated skin and tickle the curve of your trembling lips.

“I called you Carmy…” The words burn as they force themselves to spill out. “I called you, and I texted you and I waited cause I knew you were pissed - and you have every fuckin’ right to be- but it doesn’t give you the right to kick me out of your life one second, then act as if everything’s fine the next, cause it’s not!”

The sounds of the city have grown mute between your heavy breaths and the erratic beating in your skull. You don’t expect him to answer and he doesn’t seem to have anything to say. He simply stands before you, eyes glossy and brows knitted as you bare all that you kept since the last time you saw him.

“I know you’re scared. And I know you’re angry and whatever this is-was-” You say pointing between you. “I know it didn’t come at a right time. But I meant what I said, Bear, I do love you. So fucking much. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair of you to take it out on me cause you’re angry at him… I refuse to be collateral damage for whatever the fuck you got going on.”

The weight over your chest might have shrunk, but it didn’t make you feel any less better than before, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. You want nothing more than to run to his side and kiss away the few stray drops that nest in the corner of his red rimmed eyes. You want to hug him tight until the loose pieces of his brokenness stick back together into one whole man, but the last of logic inside you knows that it would only serve as a temporary band-aid. So instead you offer a speck of a smile, just a soft curve that doesn’t reach your teary eyes.

“I love you, Carmy. So I dunno, give me a call when you sort it out- I know it’s more of a ‘when’ than an ‘if’ situation-… I think I’m stupid enough to answer.”

Carmen watches from his frozen position as you rub the tears away with the back of your hand, then the gravel crunches under your boots and in a few seconds you disappear around the corner. 

He has enough energy to slump over the crates by the wall and pull the crushed package of smokes from his back pocket. While the wisp of smoke swirls in the wind around him, he rubs his eyes until the image of your tear-soaked face blurs away behind the darkness. The gravel creeks again, heavy steps move from his left then settle with a groan beside him.

“I’m not in the mood, alright?” He says, eyes focused on the street at the end of the alley.

Richie doesn’t say anything, only takes out his own cigarette and joins his cousin in silence.

“Is there, um-” His voice is thick and wavering, barely holding on to controlled breaths. “Is there a name for… when you’re afraid of somethin’ good happening cause you think somethin’ bad’s gonna happen? ”

His thumb rubs anxiously over the same spot on his palm as he waits for Richie’s response.

“Fuck it, I dunno… life?” He takes a long drag, letting the exhale occupy the empty space in front of them. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah…” Then the silence falls over them again.

When his cigarette burns out, Carmy reaches for another, but before he can settle the lighter back down, Richie pulls out a small envelope from the pocket of his jacket and hands it to him. Carmy’s reluctant to take it, his eyes flicker between his cousin and the piece of paper, then he slowly reaches out.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from your asshole brother… R.I.P and whatnot.” Is all he says.

His hand trembles again, his breath short circuits and a new wave of dread nips at the back of his neck. He swallows hard and breathes in deep, bracing himself, before turning it over. ‘This day just keeps getting better…’

Chapter 12.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

[dorotheataylor]

Begin Again

Pairing- Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary- Based on Begin Again (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift <3

Warnings- Slight angst, kissing, a lot of Fluff and as always my poor english :)

Word count- 1.6k

A/N- Long time no see people. So here I am with a Fred Weasley fic coz I love this dork sm. Also this happens after the war and yes Fred is alive coz he never died (im delusional)

It was Wednesday, probably your least favourite day of the week. You were getting ready for work, deciding to wear heels for today.

“Don’t wear them, they don’t look good on you.” Your ex-boyfriend would have said if he were here. You sighed and looked into the mirror.

“But I look good in them.” You smiled at yourself before leaving. You decided to walk to the ministry for today rather than apparating, stopping by a cafe to grab a quick morning coffee for a head start for the day. Your headphones played a song you loved.

“I don’t get this song.” Your ex-boyfriend would’ve commented if he were here. You shook your head and smiled through the song.

“But I do.”

As you walked towards the cafe, you suddenly bumped into someone who was much taller than you. The things they were carrying dropped on the floor as you quickly bent down to pick them up, removing your headphones from ears to your neck, apologies never stopping to leave from your mouth.

“I’m really sorry for not paying attention, hope I didn’t break anything.” You said, finally looking at the stranger’s face as you gave them the last thing you picked.

It was a man. A really good looking and tall man. He had red hair, which were perfectly messed up, his smile looking genuine as he smiled at you.

“It’s alright.” The handsome stranger said, “I hadn’t been paying attention as well. Reckon its partly my fault too.”

Damn, you could listen to his voice forever if you could. It was as clear as crystal water, as smooth as silk.

If it had been your ex-boyfriend, he would’ve gotten mad. Mad that because of you he dropped his things. He would’ve cursed at you, maybe even yell. You shook your head and quickly came out of your thoughts.

“Guess we’re both sorry then.” You said, trying not get awkward. He chuckled and extended his free hand.

“I’m Fred, Fred Weasley.”

-

Three weeks later on a Wednesday, you walked inside the same cafe, half expecting that Fred wouldn’t arrive. But you were immediately proven wrong when you saw him, already standing near a table, waiting for you.

He waved at you when he saw you and gestured for you to sit across from him. You walked towards him, sitting down as he pulled out the chair for you. He didn’t know how nice this gesture was but you did.

You small talked about everything. You attempted to make jokes about things to which he responded with throwing his head back laughing like a little kid. “That was the funniest thing someone has ever said to me.” He said.

You were surprised at his response. “It wasn’t even funny, why do you even try to be funny when you’re not?” Your ex-boyfriend would’ve said if it were him instead of Fred.

As your conversation went on, you thought that maybe not all relationships are the way your previous ones were. Maybe some included this. Happiness. Because today, on Wednesday, in this cafe, you watched your feelings begin again.

-

“I’ve never met someone who has the collection of all the chocolate frog cards.” He had said laughing a little when you showed him your card collection. “Well except my brother Ron of course. This is impressive.”

You had smiled and responded, “thanks. I’ve liked chocolate frogs since I first ate them on my way to Hogwarts, back in first year.”

“I kind of figured, it’s cute if you ask me.” He had smiled, making you blush.

He had been telling you about himself and his family. You had been listening intently and laughing every time he told you about the pranks he had played on other students along with his brother George, back when he was in Hogwarts.

You told him about yourself, getting shy occasionally which he couldn’t comprehend why, but you did. He was the sweetest man you had ever talked to.

He eventually took you to meet his family. You were a nervous wreck, to which he had assured you that there was nothing to worry about and his family especially his mother were going to love you.

And he was right. His mother, Molly Weasley who was also a redhead welcomed you as if you were her own. His father, Arthur Weasley was also genuinely interested in knowing about your work. He had asked you many questions related to your work field, making you smile a little as you didn’t really have anyone who was interested in what you did.

His siblings were all friendly towards you. You had immediately gotten along with George, which made Fred smile to himself. You had even given some advices on how they can improve their shop works. Ron showed you his chocolate frog card collection and told you how he still had some missing. You offered yours to him to which he smiled and agreed happily. Ginny treated you as her sister, very much interested in getting to know you more.

You liked the Weasleys, and the fact they accepted you made both you and Fred happy. He had kissed your forehead once you reached your doorstep, after he had insisted on walking you home. That night neither you nor Fred slept, replaying the moment you spent together.

-

Christmas was around the corner and snow had started to gather everywhere. Everyone you could see were busy shopping for holidays.

You were in a shop, buying gifts for Fred and his family. You smiled when you saw the things that Fred had talked about many times and how much he would love it if got it. You made your way to pay, the cashier surprised to see you buying gifts.

“You’re buying gifts for yourself?” he asked. You and the cashier had been friends for many years as you were a frequent customer in his store.

“No, they’re for my- friend and his family.” you had hesitated because you two hadn’t made anything official. Hell was there anything even to make it official? You thought.

The cashier smiled, “explains why you look better than before since last few weeks. Finally got someone right?”

You smiled and nodded back at him and said, “I’m giving love a chance to begin again.”

-

You and Fred were walking back to your house, hand in hand as he small talked about everything. You hadn’t been paying attention, your mind going back to your ex-boyfriend.

You didn’t remember anytime when you and him were like this, peaceful and most of all- happy.

You decided to tell Fred about him so you said, “I wanted to-”

“I wanted to-” he said at same time as you, making both of you laugh.

“You first.” You said.

“I wanted to tell you that my mother wants me to invite you home for the Christmas dinner.” He said sheepishly rubbing his neck.

“I don’t know, Fred. Christmas dinner is for families and-”

He interrupted, “But you’re a part of the family now. Please come, Y/N. I’ll feel better if you did. Plus we’ll get a jumper knitted by my mother herself with our initials on it. It's a family tradition for every Christmas."

"Okay, I'll be there." You said with a smile. Fred grinned widely and kissed your cheek in excitement making you a flustered mess and you thanked Merlin for the cold.

You forgot all about your ex-boyfriend as Fred went on to tell you stories of pranks he played on Ron with George. You had a small smile on your face as you listened to him, and for the first time you thought 'what happened in the past stays in the past'.

-

It was New Year's Eve and you and Fred were decorating your house for the party later tonight. He watched you as you were focused on shaping the cookie dough to bake. Your tongue was grazing your upper lip, ounces of flour around your forehead.

He blushed and looked away when you caught him staring and resumed his work, smiling to himself.

Night came on and the party was in full swing. Fred and George were entertaining the guests with the products from their joke shop. Ginny and Hermione helped you serve the drinks as Ron and Harry small talked, drinks in their hands.

And the time came for which everyone was waiting. The new year countdown. Everyone gathered around near the clock as it ticked. Suddenly, Fred took you by your hand and led you to the balcony.

People started counting backwards as Fred took your hands in his. He looked nervous and your heart couldn't help but pick up its pace.

"10!"

"Y/N, I've known you for almost an year now and I don't think I can deny it any longer."

"7"

"You have always been so kind to others but never to yourself. So I want to be the one to take care of you. You have showed me many times what I'm worth of. You showed me a new way to view life."

"5!"

"Fred, what are you saying?" You asked, quietly.

"3!

"I'm saying that I love you, Y/N. All of you. And I'll never get tired of admitting it. Be my girlfriend, Y/N."

"1!"

You didn't say anything as tears fell down your cheeks. You grabbed him by his collars and attached your lips with his. He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer when you heard everyone screaming.

"Happy New Year!"

Fred and you smiled into the kiss as he sealed the promise of never hurting you by deepening the kiss. Surely you have had some bad relationships but it was all worth it if it had brought you to Fred Weasley, the redhead which made your belief in love begin again.

______________________________________________________________

Ah I loved writing this. Thank you for reading!

[winterrrnight]

go on without me - #28 w/ drew 💐

thank you for such a sweet req anna! 🫶🏼 and thank you to my 🦚 anon who's request I combined w this one! I hope you like this <3

🌼🌼🌼

PAIRING: drew starkey x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you surprise drew with a daisy bouquet.

WARNINGS: fluff!

EDITH SPEAKS: I'm writing for drew after so long omg, I need this man I can't even put into words UGHHHH he's so cute 🫶🏼🥹 please comment and reblog!! 💐

PROMPT REQUESTED: “I don’t need a reason to bring you flowers, I just wanted to.”

600 followers celebration (now closed!) || navigation

It’s a nice beautiful spring afternoon, the sun quite bright and warm as its hazy rays fall down on you. You continue to walk with a certain prep in your step, and a huge daisy bouquet in your hand.

You’re on your way to your boyfriend’s apartment, deciding to take a walk instead of your car because of the warming weather and the soft chirping of the birds surrounding you. It’s just about the most perfect weather you can have; not too hot or too cold, the breeze whipping past you is fresh and sweet, accompanied with the warm aroma of the breads being baked at the bakeries you pass by, and little butterflies flying all around you.

It’s been around two weeks since you last saw him because he got busy with some movie shootings locally. If he was at home, he was either home extremely late at night or extremely early in the morning, and that time too was also spent in sleeping or practicing his scripts over and over again, which led to a lack of time being spent between the two of you.

However, he finally gets the time to call you up and tell you that he has a free day, and he doesn’t wish to spend it with anyone except you. You were beyond ecstatic to receive the phone call, practically already out the door before you can even hang up.

You reach his apartment and just as you ring the bell, the door is opened as if he was waiting at the door for you, and you are quickly engulfed in the most warm hug you’ve ever known. You sigh against his shoulder, closing your eyes as your arms wrap around his torso firmly, letting out a sigh as you let his scent encase you completely.

“Hi baby,” you mumble against his shoulder, the bouquet you’re holding in your hands behind his back.

“Hi bubs,” he mutters as he presses a kiss to your forehead, before gently cradling your face in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Your grip only tightens around his torso as you gladly oblige to the kiss, exhaling deeply when he parts from you. A small smile rests on your face as you unwrap your arms from around his torso and show him the bouquet.

“I got you a little something,” you grin, showing him the fresh bouquet of daisies. He softly gasps at the sight and takes the bouquet from you.

“You got me flowers?” He asks, his eyes wide and a certain glint in them as he looks from you to the flowers.

“Yeah,” you smile, “do you like them?”

“I love them,” he whispers, moving the bouquet closer to him as he takes a sniff, the fresh herbal and grassy aroma of them filling up his nose. “But you didn’t have to, you know?” He says, smiling softly as he steps aside from the open door to make space for you to enter inside, following you.

“Why not?” You ask as you watch him walk to the kitchen as he gets a glass vase and starts to fill it with some water. “I don’t need a reason to bring you flowers, I just wanted to.”

He looks up from the daisies with a smile on his face, one which is genuine, one which is laced with happiness, one which is reserved only to show you how much he adores you.

“You’re the cutest you know that?” He says softly as he puts the flowers in the vase and makes his way to you, wrapping his arms firmly around your waist. “Thank you, they are absolutely wonderful,”

You smile at him and press a soft kiss on his lips. “You are welcome baby,”

It’s safe to say that you surprised him with flowers a lot more often than just this one time, a different kind of flower each time, and his apartment always lights up with the clean aroma of flowers all the time, wafting around with the sweet memories of you.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @shores-kayla @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment

[seramilla]

So fluffy idea Carmilla after a bad divorce decides she needs some time away so she books a long vacation for herself and the girls at a beach resort. While there she meets the manager of the resort Sera and they hit it off.

Carmilla had never wanted to put her girls through this. At one point in time, she had genuinely loved their father. But after years of neglect of his family, and finding solace at the bottom of a bottle, instead of the women in his life who loved him most, Carmilla had ultimately decided to divorce her husband.

It was long, and dirty, and brutal, and at the end of the process, Carmilla had given up more than she'd intended when all was said and done. She had kept the house, but half of her self-made fortune had gone to her husband; it had been the only way to get him to agree to give her full custody of Odette and Clara.

He'd made it clear he didn't want to have anything to do with them anymore. It was worth it to get him out of their hair. And after all that, she thinks she and the girls deserve a vacation.

Much to her surprise and delight, the first person to greet the Carmines at the beachside resort they'll be staying at, is a beautiful woman with hair like clouds and eyes like twin stars. She's...almost ethereal, in the way she looks at Carmilla. The woman is breathtaking.

She's also the owner of the resort, and is probably only being nice to Carmilla because she has to. Still...god-damn. Carmilla is patting herself on the back for making this absolutely correct choice of hotels for their vacation.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," the owner says, typing away at her computer all the while. "My name is Sera. I'll be your host during your stay. How can I help you today?"

"Umm...Carmine. Carmilla Carmine. I have a reservation for three."

Sera looks past Carmilla, seemingly noticing the two younger women behind her on their phones. Sera smiles, beaming at the oblivious teenagers as she pulls up Carmilla's reservation to confirm.

"Those are some lovely girls you have there. I have a younger sister about that age. Children are so wonderful. It's simply amazing to watch them grow!"

A pang of something soft and mushy pulls at Carmilla's heart at Sera's words. There's nothing that Carmilla loves more than her daughters...they are her prides and joy. The only good thing to come out of a marriage that was frankly doomed from the start. To hear this woman speak so highly of her sister...it tugs at Carmilla's maternal side like nothing ever has before.

"Yes," Carmilla says, a great deal of admiration coming through in her voice. "My girls mean everything to me. Even if they can be grumpy now and then."

Odette and Clara groan behind their mother, clearly done with her little comments about their demeanor. Carmilla and Sera laugh in unison. It's a little fun to get the girls riled up, now and then. It's only in good fun as their mother.

Sera takes the credit card from Carmilla that she'd used to make her reservation, and activates the little key cards they need to enter their suite for the next week of their stay. As she's giving the little envelope with the key cards to Carmilla, Sera's hand lingers against the other woman's for just a moment. It's a soft, barely-there touch, but there is a sense of intent and sincerity behind it.

Carmilla looks up at Sera, and the woman is blushing slightly. Carmilla is, too, if she's honest. Both women clear their throats awkwardly, and Sera smiles at her again, beaming.

Sera writes something on a piece of hotel stationary, and hands it to Carmilla directly. Carmilla looks down at the paper. It's a phone number.

"If there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, please do not hesitate to let me know," Sera says. "That's my direct number. I will take care of anything you need personally."

Carmilla stares, maybe a bit too long...this woman had just given her a personal phone number. Not the one for the front desk. But her cell phone.

"Um...thank you, Sera! I most certainly will."

Carmilla hadn't exactly signed up for meeting a gorgeous, self-made woman who is so transparently into her while on this vacation. But it is not an unwelcome turn of events. Not in the least. She walks with the girls to the elevator in the lobby, with just a subtle skip to her step the entire way.

"That was so gross, Mom," Clara says, making a gagging motion with her finger in her mouth.

"Shut up, Clara," Odette says, coming to her mother's defense. "I think it's sweet! Mom was actually twitterpated!"

As the elevator dings upon the arrival to their floor, Carmilla ruffles both of her daughters' hair with her hands before stepping out. Once again, their ensuing double groan is adorable.

"I love you girls," Carmilla says. "But if either one of you ruins this for me, I will make the next week of your lives absolutely miserable."

[conkers-thecosy]

Hullo! Just wanted to say a couple of things! First of all, thank you so, so much for all the lovely feedback on BTTW chapter 29! I don't think I ever had such a massive response to a chapter before, and while I expected a Reaction, this is far and away exceeding even my wildest dreams!

It's been so nice reading everyone's thoughts and excitement and various threats towards certain characters for their actions, and more than that, it's been wonderful to see folks talking to one another in the comments, too! That's such a rare thing, at least in my own experience, and honestly I just love feeling like the community of readers for this fic have all come together in such a way, it's just lovely!

I have a few asks here on tumblr regarding the new chapter, and I wanted to just say that I've truly enjoyed receiving those! I plan to sit and answer you guys tomorrow when I finish work for the day, so please bear with me! And thank you so much for all your kind words!

I'm also doing my very best to answer comments on ao3 in a timely manner, and I'm not too far behind right now, I don't think! I have a clear afternoon and I've just finished my writing session for the day, so I'm going to make a cup of tea and try and get most of you responded to! You should all know how very much your kindness and enthusiasm has meant to me - I've been struggling with motivation to write for a few weeks now and it's genuinely thrilled me to see how excited you guys have been!

Just as an aside, and as some general housekeeping, while the response to the new chapter has been largely positive, some folks are less pleased. To those people I would like to ask you to keep your comments respectful, please don't swear at me or call me names, and remember this is fanfiction, something I do for fun. You don't have to like it, and I'm frankly surprised anyone does at all, in fact, but please keep your tone polite.

I will also say that for the above mentioned reasons (I write fanfiction for fun, as a hobby) I will not be accepting criticism at this time. Not on my writing, not on the style, or the tropes, or anything. If you're not enjoying what I write, please do just leave. There's no part of me that wants to know what you don't like about it, honestly. I'm not a professional, and you shouldn't expect me to write or behave like one.

Anyway! That's everything, I think! Sorry for the grouch there, but it was important to say it, really!

Now it's time for tea, maybe a nap, and then answering the lovely, fun comments people have so kindly left! Did you know it's World Ice Cream Day?? Go get yourself some ice cream! Love you! 💛💛

[ofstardustanddreaming]

never too much

oneshot summary: (the request) Throughout their first few weeks of being in a romantic relationship together, Nanami finds out that reader is still pretty shy and insecure of herself. She wants to hold his hand, hug him, kiss his cheeks, talk to him and rant about anything— his heart melts. Yet reader gets insecure, being told in the past that she was clingy and talkative, not wanting to make Nanami uncomfortable, she keeps it to herself instead of showing affection. Nanami makes the first moves of the mentioned gestures of affection, so she can feel comfortable around him, hopefully.

content warnings: heavy talk on insecurities, mention of shitty exes, and nanami being super comforting

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

character: kento nanami x reader

gender neutral reader

anon request

a.n. - oh anon, this tugged at my heartstrings. i always love fics like this, and i feel like nanami would be so sweet lol. i enjoyed writing it, i hope y'all enjoy reading it!

Two months is how long you have been dating Kento Nanami and every day has felt like a dream. He's the perfect boyfriend that you always dreamed of, feeling like you were in a fairytale. And today was no different really. Today marked the first weekend you'd be spending at his place, the first time either of you step in the direction of spending the night. He was the one to ask if you'd like too, and you of course have to jump on the chance.

You decide to plant yourself outside of his work with his favorite snack (and one you grabbed for yourself, obviously) from the bakery, knowing he was working some overtime and probably needed a little pick me up. You also figure seeing him after work could be a good surprise, you only hope he might want to see you after work. You had gotten out of work early, so it made sense to you, while you made the plan on the train, to be able to make a quick pitstop.

You look around anxiously for Nanami, hoping you hadn't missed him, or he had gotten out early as well. But you had nothing to fear as you see him walk out, his face brightening when he saw you, a soft smile gracing his features.

"Hey sweetheart, what a nice surprise seeing you here." He says to you, and his first plan of attack when seeing you was to shoulder the overnight bag you had brought with you to Jujutsu High, that contained what you needed for the weekend visit. It made your heart flutter when he so mindlessly did the most gentlemen of things. The next thing he did was with the opposite hand than that of the arm shouldering the bag, was to offer it to you as you both walk to his place. He doesn't live too far from Jujutsu High and it was a nice day outside. A perfect day for a walk, as he told you, making sure you knew that he doesn't live to far.

"Of course Ken, I hope you don't mind me stopping at your work so soon in our relationship. You also didn't have to grab my bag, but thank you for doing it. Oh! And before I forget, I got another surprise. I picked up some treats for us this weekend, some of our favorites." You tell him, cringing a little. You weren't sure if you had been talking too much, or jumping around in your statements. Previous relationships had always made some comment regarding your talking levels, always being roped in with being clingy. You glance over at Nanami, who is smiling down at you, eyes darting between your face and the route in front of you, making you relax a tiny bit.

"These treats sound lovely for this weekend. I also don't mind you stopping by at work, you always brighten my day. And in no way is it a problem for me to hold the bag for you." He says, noting your jumpiness around him still. He genuine about enjoying seeing you after work, even if the relationship was still relatively new. He could feel his heart blossom anytime he saw you, something he hasn't really felt with anyone else. He was hoping that he wasn't pushy at all with you though, concerned he would seem to forward and make you uncomfortable with any words or advances he has made.

He did notice that you weren't one to initiate any sort of first contact, not that he expected that at the initial part of the relationship, but he was a bit nervous if him grabbing your hand earlier seemed too forward. But he holds the observation inside, wanting to enjoy the weekend and not focus on something that could be nothing. Surely you'd say something if you were uncomfortable he truly hoped. (Although if he felt you were uncomfortable he'd sit you both down to talk about it.) But he figures you just didn't enjoy initiating contact first in such a new relationship, and besides, he loves initiating contact anyway.

"Any plans for the weekend?" You ask, changing the subject as the both of you come up to his house. He messes around with the lock, trying to find the right key, as he talks a lot about relaxing for the evening at least, leaving the rest of the weekend up to fate.

You're curious about his house, really soaking up the outside while he swings open the door. Two stories, plain looking outside. Knowing Nanami, he was a very minimalist person, and you were right in that guess. Inside the house, it was very minimalistic. As you walk through the entrance way and into the main area, you pause in the living area to really take it in while he takes your bag to the guest room.

He has a couple of hanging plants next to the long sliding doors. The light filtering through the blinds, his TV stand pushed up against the wall so it wasn't blinded by the sunlight. The couch placed in the nice sunlight of the window and a blanket hanging off it, and you could only imagine how warm it felt there. You're brought out of your thoughts when Nanami walks back into the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps causing you to sharply turn to him.

He's out of his work clothes and into more lounge wear, and it sparks you into moving into the guest room to do the same for yourself, shedding yourself from the workday. You come back out to see him making dinner, your eyebrows raising in shock.

"We could have ordered take out, you didn't have to go to the trouble of making anything." You say, grabbing his attention.

"I do enjoy cooking, you know. This is no trouble at all, really." He says, continuing his thought. "It's simple and easy, to kick off the evening."

You smile, relief at the thought it wasn't too much trouble. You sit at the table near the kitchen, still visible to each other and close enough to hear each other talk if you wanted too. It was kept minimal though as he was hyper-focused. He soon finishes the dinner though, as he promised a quick and easy make, bringing your plate over to you, and you continue what small conversation you had. And to your appreciation, it flowed. It isn't forced and awkward. This is the first time in a long string of awful exes that you've felt truly listened too by someone, without them wanting to get something in return for it.

He asks you questions, sincerity behind the tone, really listening to your answers. He looks you in your eyes as you respond, causing your face to warm up anytime he looks at you for longer than 10 seconds. You're starting to worry you're rambling too much.

"But yeah, I think that's the new idea I came up with would work, I'm just unsure how to bring it up. I'm sure they'd choose someone else's idea first though, I don't know if mine is the best." You catch yourself rambling, your breath hitching. "Sorry, not to hog the conversation. Has Gojo done anything to bother you lately?" And your eyes shift. What if he thought you were trying to find out about another man.

"Your idea is good, but that's the second time you've done that, you know. Stopping yourself from talking, that is." He says instead, and your eyes snap up to his. His eyes are ones of concern, and you aren't sure how to respond.

"Sorry. I don't notice I do it." You finally stammer out, and Nanami looks understanding.

"Hey, it's okay. Just a small observation. Sorry to put you on the spot, truly. Gojo was relatively fine today, but then again, I wasn't around him very often." Nanami continues, noting how nervous you were about the observation. He didn't mean to say it so bluntly and take you off guard, very willing to switch the topic for your sake.

You both finish up eating, where you both playfully fought over you helping with the dishes. You eventually won when you flicked some of the water in his face. (Although he didn't miss you you tense, worried you took it a step too far.) But he gently laughs at it, pulling you in close to stand next to him at the sink to wash and dry. The hand on the waist when he pulled you in made your body ghost shiver, and you hope he doesn't feel that. You swear he lets his hand linger though, for a second longer than necessary, sure that he might have felt your shiver anyway.

You fall into a peaceful silence while you wash and you so badly want to rest your head on his chest, but you refrain. As you finish up, you both head over to the couch to relax for the rest of the night. He brings over the snacks you bought as well, intending to eat them over whatever it is you both choose to do.

"Any ideas for a movie?" He asks, deciding to take a small lead. He sees how nervous you are in suggesting something new, as if he wouldn't want to do what you suggest, and he wants to help with that. He did notice in previous situations that you tend to get bashful at suggesting anything, opting to let him have the choice in what to do. He didn't want to always make the decision, always wanting to hear your input as well. At the very least here, he could start with nudge you into voicing what ideas you have about a movie.

"Something in the romantic genre?" You question, wanting to see if that's a good idea with him, and he nods. You're excited, previous relationships not really wanting much to do with romance, thinking it was one of your "tactics" to push them into doing more romantic activities. Nanami's considerations for what you want to do always took you by surprise, in a good way. He looks fine with the decision too, scrolling through the lists on the variety of streaming services. You both settle on a movie that sounds promising that neither of you have seen before.

You both lean back into the couch, and you nervously bite at your nails. You curl your legs under you as you glance over at Nanami, craving the touch of cuddling, unsure of how to ask for it without it being awkward. He's coming back from dimming the lights and closing the blinds as he sits next to you, and thankfully you don't have to worry about asking. He grabs the blanket off the couch as he also hits play on the movie. He wraps the blanket around the both of you, as the blanket was big enough to wrap around two people, and you couldn't be more happy at the invitation.

He pulls you into his chest and you feel warm as you bury yourself into his chest. His frame makes you feel secure as he strokes your arm and side. His heartbeat was soothing as you burrow into him. Your arms strengthen their grip on him as he pulls you even closer. You turn your focus to the movie, enjoying the warmth for a majority of it.

But the movie then pulls you out of the comforting trance right around the climax though, where the fight between the love characters are at a high. It reminds you of what used to be. The guy uses the woman's exes against her, saying that maybe they were right about her personality. Maybe that he should've listened to them and should have never went out with her.

What if Nanami finds about about your insecurities or clinginess, and decides to use it against you? Is your thought, and it causes you to stiffen. It's enough to get Nanami looking down at you with his brows furrowed in curiosity. He pauses the movie and you look up at him, worry at ruining movie night.

His heart hurts when he sees the gloss of tears in your eyes. He shifts you both around, the dim lighting allowing him to still see you clearly when he sits you to face him.

"Hey, it's okay. I know we've been going slow for two months, and we haven't known each other for very long, but you can talk to me." He speaks with a soft tone in his voice, eyes shifting around your face for any sudden changes in your demeanor.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." You whisper out at first, tears falling quick. He wipes them away, the pads of his fingers cool and welcome against your warming skin, letting you take your time.

"It just made me worry about previous exes talking to you. You would've found out eventually about my personality, but maybe they would've told you sooner and you would leave me sooner." You say, looking at him with your lip trembling a little. He senses your heightened anxiety, but he can't imagine what they'd have to say to him. Anything an ex had to say about you, he'd assume was a lie until you told him otherwise. He lets you collect your thoughts before you continue.

"I suppose it's better you hear it from me anyway. I'm too clingy. I'm too talkative. That's what they all said anyway when they broke up with me. It's the reason they did. And even though you might be the best relationship I've had where I was starting to not have to worry about that, it'll be the reason you break up with me too, eventually. Even though I'm trying to control myself and not be too touchy or talkative, it'll still be too much for you. One day I'll talk too much or want one to many kisses and it'll cause you to break up with me." You tell him, trying to easy your way out of his touch, worried that would even be too much for him.

You're full on sobbing now, standing up from the couch and pacing in front of him. He stands up next to you and pulls you by the wrist to try and stop you.

"That's why you primarily want me to initiate anything, huh. Darling, look at me." He wraps his other arm around your waist, the one on your wrist coming up to gently trace your face. "Hey, it's okay. I haven't minded initiating contact at all these past couple of months. I know I may not have touched you often, I can't imagine how hard that must have been for someone who loves touch. I just didn't want to cross your boundaries, I always wondered why you seemed hesitant to reach out to me or kiss me. I even wondered why you always seemed cautious with your words, as if I wouldn't give the chance to hear your beautiful words."

He sets you both down on the couch again, your breath still hitching, still also feeling bad about stopping the movie night. It's as if Nanami can sense that too, quick to get on more with his speech.

"I need you to know that they're all wrong. I want nothing more than for you to feel comfortable around me. I don't mind you touching me, I don't mind you talking to me about any and every thought you have. It's you being a regular human. And so what if you need a little more contact than what's considered a norm? That's what's normal to you, alright? I'd let you know if I need space, but that's so rare. I want you to feel comfortable enough that you don't hesitate to kiss me because that's just what you feel you need. Much like I'd pull you in for a hug because it's what I need. If anything, you should be telling me off if I'm not providing you the support you need. From now on, don't hold your breath and deny me the chance to hear your gorgeous voice. I can't imagine how starved you've been for contact you've been denying yourself and craving, and I can't believe I haven't been giving enough of that contact, especially since I've been catching on lately. How stupid I've been to not ask you outright." He cups his hands around your face and you sigh, leaning into his touch.

Your tears are stopping, he plants many kisses alongside your nose, forehead, anywhere on your face. He kisses you once, twice, three times on the lips, deepening the third one. You really lean into that one, hands balling the fabric of his shirt up. You start to let go, and he's quick to remind you that it's okay. As long as you feel comfortable to touch him.

"You may not be okay with it right away, and we'll have our boundary talks as situations arise, but I'm willing to stand with you side by side." He says, a finger tracing the outline of your face.

"Thank you Ken. I don't even know how to begin to thank you."

"You don't have too. It's what relationships are, it's about finding that middle ground." You bite your lip and threw caution to the wind for once in the relationship. You take charge and you slide your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close as you could for the skinship, shaking in his embrace. He wraps his arms as tight as they could go without hurting you, burying his face in your neck. He maneuvers you both in the lying position on the couch, wrapping the blanket around you both, the movie you both had put on now long forgotten. As you both now take in the warm embrace, you're glad to have shared in the vulnerability. Even if it's a two month relationship, it was good to take a step forward in a new relationship, as you both drift to sleep.

[e-dubbc11]

If you'd like to here's a wee request for your winter sleepover! ☃️

F!Reader, Frank, and Billy are friends but Bill knows damn well that you and Frank have been eyeing each other up for ages but neither has been bold enough to make a move. Maybe he intervenes and stages something cute or where they're forced to be together alone, and things get fluffy and sweet between them ☺���🥰

Stef! Thank you for sending in this ask! I’ve never really written for Frank as the object of the reader’s affection before but this was fun! I hope you like it!

Bullseye

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F! Reader; supporting character Billy Russo

Warnings: Swear words, mentions of a divorce and a miscarriage, mention of the death of Frank’s family (Billy was no part of it in this little au, I can’t write that, I just can’t), and fluff

Word Count: 1.5K-ish

Summary: You join your friends dart league. She thinks it will be good for you to get out of the house and also thinks someone new might catch your eye.

A/N: I guess you could say this is my first Frank fic. Just a little meet cute. I wasn’t sure who to tag for this one, I hope it’s ok I just put everyone from my Billy tag list on this one

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“What do I know about throwin’ darts?!” You asked with narrowed eyes and a slight scowl on your face, planting another dart near the bullseye.

“You know a lot more than you think you do, that’s for sure, y/n!” Jamie said. “I’ve never seen anyone that has picked it up like you have.”

Taking a sip of your beer, you replied, “Jamie, I’m just messin’ around, I don’t know shit about throwin’ them, let alone enough to be in the league with you.”

She took a sip from her glass.

“Come on! It’s just for fun anyway! I get a break from my husband and the kids for a few hours a week and you…” she paused, “You get a break from your couch.”

“HEY!” You said, slightly perturbed at her statement. Although she wasn’t wrong. You haven’t really been out much since your divorce.

After a couple of beers and a few casual rounds of darts, you agreed to join Jamie’s league. She had been wanting you to join and be on her team for awhile now. She also thought it would be the perfect way to get you out of the house and among the land of the living again.

The divorce was hard on you. After your miscarriage, your ex-husband withdrew from you and there was no coming back from it. The distance was too far and he thought it would be best if you just separated. HE thought it would be best…he didn’t care what you wanted.

But if he didn’t want to try and work through the pain and the hurt of it all, then you didn’t want to either. He found someone new right away and his new wife was ready to give birth any day now which is why you were out with Jamie, trying to drink your problems away…even if it was just for a little while.

“Ok, that was a little harsh. Your ex is a dickhead who abandoned you at your lowest point and I would do anything to see you genuinely happy again.” Said Jamie.

With a shy smile, you said, “I’d really like to be happy again too.”

**********

Your weekly outing of throwing darts was a lot more fun than you thought it would be. Plus, the scenery was great…Frank Castle and Billy Russo. Billy was traditionally handsome, deep brown eyes, well-groomed beard, nice clothes, and a sexy voice. But Frank…there was just something about him that drew you in.

He wasn’t traditionally handsome like Billy but Frank just had something that had you stealing glances when he wasn’t looking. The deep gruff tone to his voice was incredibly sexy; you could tell his nose had been broken on more than one occasion but that just made him more attractive to you.

Jamie let him teach you the rules and regulations of the game. She knew he would have to get close, possibly put his hands on you to show you some things. She kind of had a feeling you might be into Frank.

“Is THIS why you wanted me to join?!” You whispered yelled into her ear.

Jamie’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Whaaaat? Nothing wrong with a little handsome scenery. If I wasn’t married, I’d ride Billy like a rented mule but I thought Frank seemed more like your type.” She said.

Looking over at Frank and Billy talking, you bit back a smile and turned back to talk to Jamie. “Frank is very handsome and he’s very sweet. He has sadness in his eyes though.”

After you said that, Jamie went on to tell you that Frank had a family. He had a wife and two kids. Billy had told her what happened to them, helped Frank get even for what those assholes did but it’s not like it brings them back.

That story broke you. To have your whole family taken from you and there was nothing you could do to stop it sounded excruciating. You had lost a baby but nothing like what Frank had been through.

Billy and Frank were still talking.

“Frankie…” Said Billy.

Frank, continuing to practice, replied, “Yeah…what is it, Bill?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that y/n has a little bit of a crush on you.” Billy said with a wide Cheshire cat smile.

Frank took a glance over his shoulder at you.

“Ya think so huh? Well you would notice that, right Bill?” Said Frank. “She is beautiful but her eyes are sad. Wonder what happened to her?”

Your first week of playing darts, you had a little too much beer and told Billy about your divorce, your miscarriage, and how your ex walked out on you. It probably wasn’t one of your finer moments but it was out there now and you couldn’t take it back.

Anger stretched across Frank’s face. “Fuckin’ scumbag.” He growled.

Billy had a serious tone to his voice. “Look Frankie, she's experienced loss too albeit a little different from yours…you should talk to her. Plus, she blushes every time you look at her.”

Frank stopped throwing darts, looked at Billy and replied, “A loss is a loss Bill, it hurts no matter what. Yeah, maybe I will talk to her.”

**********

You and Frank continued to dance around each other for another few weeks. They were filled with stolen glances and smiles. Frank did give you a few lessons on how to throw a little better.

You could feel his warm breath against the top of your ear, the way his shoulder touched yours when he would stand behind you, and the gravelly tone to his voice gave you goosebumps as he was giving you pointers.

“Good…line it up now, yeah? That’s it. Now remember, a short hard flick of the wrist and…let it go, sweetheart. That’s better, stable grip and not too tight. Attagirl.” He said with a smirk.

It wasn’t easy to get a smile out of Frank but it looked good on him. You, on the other hand, were elated after hitting three bullseyes in a row.

After taking a sip of beer, Frank asked, “You been divorced long? Sorry, I’m not exactly subtle. Bill mentioned it to me.”

“Yeah, I told Billy a lot that night, didn’t I.” You said, slightly embarrassed.

“Bill has a big mouth sometimes but he’s trying to help.” He said. “He’s tryin’ to play matchmaker is what he’s doin’.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and warmth stretched across your chest. You tried to cover your face a little so Frank couldn��t see you blushing.

Frank brought up your divorce but you decided against talking about his family; maybe you would just let him bring it up if he ever felt comfortable enough to.

Noticing it was a little too quiet in the bar, you took a sip from your glass and looked around. No one from your team was in sight, not Jamie, not Billy…nobody. You only saw members of the team you were supposed to be playing in a few minutes.

“Frank?” You asked.

“Yeah sweetheart?” Asked Frank, holding the dark and aiming it at the target.

“Where…where did everyone go?” You asked.

With narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, Frank took a quick look around the bar, then took a look outside. Billy’s car was gone and so was Jamie’s. Frank stormed back inside and took out his phone as you tried to stifle a smile.

“I’ll kill him; he’s my ride home.” Said Frank.

Frank stepped away so you couldn’t really hear his conversation with Billy.

As Frank walked back to where you were standing, you asked, “What did he say? Where are they?”

Frank smirked, putting his phone back in his pocket, he replied, “Well, he said he’s not telling us where they went, that they forfeited the match, and we should relax, have a drink and get to know each other a little better. He’ll be back later to get me.”

“They forfeited!? I HATE losing! Jamie knows that I HATE to lose!” You said with clenched fists and through gnashed teeth.

“I hate to lose; Bill does too but he always said if it was for the greater good then it was ok.” Frank said in a low voice with a slight smile.

You smiled warmly at him. “You must be the greater good for him then.”

Frank inched closer, you could feel his warm breath against your eyelashes as he replied, “I guess I am. He’s a good friend.” Pointing at your glass and walking away from you, toward the bar, he asked, “You ready for a refill, sweetheart?”

For the first time in a long time, you had gone through a stretch of time without thinking about your ex-husband or feeling sorry for yourself.

Maybe you were finally ready to move on with your life and enjoy the little things in it like darts with friends and drinks with a handsome man with kind brown eyes.

“Oh…yes please. I am…very ready.” You said softly.

You were definitely excited for more nights like this.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @ittybxttykxttytxtty

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[differenteagletragedy]

would you be ever so kind as to spare some OL2 headcanons or crumbs 🤲🤲

If you don’t wanna write for OL2 then OLBA is just as amazing!!!!!!

Hi! I will eventually write for OL2 I'm sure, but I haven't gotten through the demo yet! Right now I'm at the beginning of the first day of school -- I keep getting pulled back into the first one because it has such a chokehold on me lol.

But I was writing these for OLBA so I'll put them here! Thank you!!!

-- Do you like trashy reality shows? Good for you. Cove's not really into it, but he'll watch with you if you want him to. Derek can definitely have some fun with it. But Baxter turns into a monster.

MC answering their phone: Hey, what's up?

Baxter: DID YOU SEE, *this person* from *this show* got arrested.

MC: Aren't you supposed to be working?

Baxter: I saved the mug shot to my photos, I am sending it to you via text right now.

(Client in the background complaining)

Baxter: I do have to get off the phone now, but if you hear anything else call the office and tell them it's an emergency, they'll put you through to me.

-- If you go the Derek romance route, I think you make out once in high school. Because hormones, you've crushed on each other for years, and like it just happens. And then after he's very unwell, he keeps apologizing, and either your really shy and nervous about it or like "no it's ok, that was nice," but either way he's like "HAVE TO GO, TTYL." He doesn't talk to you for a little bit but then feels bad.

MC: Derek, I like you in a romantic way. I want you to be my boyfriend. I liked kissing you and I want to kiss you again.

Derek: Haha that was crazy, so how's school going?

-- Derek is good with cars. Big muscles make car go vroom.

Like there would have been a time when you got a flat tire and you either didn't know how to change it or blanked on what Cliff told you (Cliff taught you how to change a tire, no questions) and called him like "help" and he dropped everything and drove to wherever you were to change it for you.

-- He's also good with mechanical fixes, and just with his hands in general. Is your sink messed up? Call Derek. Some issue with your stove? Call Derek. Creaky door? You already know. (You have to do stuff for him too though, that's the rules).

-- Back to Cliff though, you know those videos of men like "I'm going to teach you some dad stuff" for people who grew up without dads? That's Cliff. Obviously your moms are amazing, but Daddy Cliff is going to step in too sometimes.

-- Cliff teaching MC how to tie a tie, just imagine.

-- Baxter goes home alone after Miranda's birthday party/the second party for him and finishes off that bottle of champagne because he knows that summer's almost over and he's going to do A Bad Thing and he hates himself.

-- Honestly it hurt my feelings so much at the end of Step 3 lol, like I was genuinely taken aback by his goodbye scene. Asking MC why they'd keep talking when he couldn't give them rides anymore like that's all they were interested in, the audacity.

-- Cove has the whole game, he's gonna be ok, we're talking about other people this time.

-- In adulthood, MC looks back at that time they learned their birth parents died when they were a baby, had a quick breakdown then went back home and did a musical performance for their family as one of the cringiest moments of their life (I'm not using second person this time because I don't want to sound judgey but LOL come on). They'll tell Derek about it later on when they're together and he'll be like "aww, that sounds sweet," and Baxter will be nice about it too, but he'll also have some comments to make.

Baxter: Darling, my plant at the office seems to be dying, could you perhaps do a song and dance number to ease my pain?

MC: Shut uuuuuup.

-- Last week gb patch made a post on Patreon with a new sketch for OLNF with wedding planner Baxter, so like the oldest Baxter we'll see in cannon, and he was wearing a cream turtleneck, a purple overcoat, and what looked to me to be a peach colored gingham suit. So by the time he gets to be like 40, his fashion sense is going to be off the rails. He's going to call you and be like "I just went shopping, I hope you like my new look," and come home like:

[katareyoudrilling]

Construction Corner (AU Joel Miller x Female Reader)

Episode 1: The Gutierrez Family

Fandom: The Last of Us/Pedro Pascal

Pairing: TV Host Joel Miller x divorced Female Reader

Summary: AU where nothing bad happened in 2003. It is now 2007 and Joel is now the host of a popular home renovation show.

Word count: ~1.8k

Rating: Teen, but series will be Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Alternate Universe, inaccuracies about tv show production, filming, and construction

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this!  If I’m going to do an AU, I’m going to go all the way.  I hope you enjoy it!  Reader is divorced and in her late 30s, but is otherwise a blank slate.  Big thank you to @wheresarizona for her help with this idea and for beta reading!

Comments and reblogs very much appreciated!

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The first day of shooting always feels a bit like the first day of school – all nervous energy and possibilities.  You loved school.  You also really love your job as the producer of “Construction Corner with Joel Miller.”

The show started out on the local Austin, TX PBS channel, KLRU, a few years ago, but quickly got picked up by HGTV, which meant bigger projects and more episodes.  Also, more work for you, but that was just fine.

There’s a bounce in your step and a latte in your hand as you walk onto the homeowners’ property for the first episode.  Production always breaks over the hottest summer months, but now it’s October, and while the air is still warm, at least it’s not stifling.

You’ve spent the last few months interviewing potential homeowners, coordinating materials for their projects, and setting the filming schedule.  The prep is finished.  Now it’s time to put it all together.

This week’s episode is shooting in San Antonio.  You opted to commute since the drive isn’t too far from your home in Austin, but it did mean an early morning, thus the latte.

You make your way over to the homeowners who have just finished in the hair and make-up trailer.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gutierrez!  How nice to see you again!” you greet them with a warm smile and a handshake.

“Please, call us Javi and Gabriela,” Mr. Gutierrez, Javi rather, corrects you in his melodic accent, placing his arm around his very pregnant wife.

“Of course, Javi.  Are you ready for today?”  The homeowners are often nervous at the thought of revealing their DIY disasters to stern-faced Joel, so you like to check in.

“We are so excited!” Javi bounces on the balls of his feet, brown eyes sparkling.

“We definitely are,” Gabriela continues, looking fondly at her excitable husband.  “This is happening just in time.  Our baby girl is due next month.”

“How wonderful!  I’m so glad we can help you before the baby arrives.���  You walk with them back towards their house.  “I just wanted to remind you of a few things before filming starts today.  You will be meeting Joel in a few minutes, but will have to pretend you are meeting him for the first time at your front door for the cameras.  You’ll take him inside and show him the project.  I’ll be honest with you… he is going to sigh a lot.  Don’t take it personally.  It may feel like he’s disappointed in you, but he’s not.  He wants to help.”

Javi and Gabriella nod seriously as they take in the information.  It’s a vulnerable thing showing an expert like Joel the mess you’ve made of your house.  But anyone who had watched the show knew that Joel was actually a big softy and was genuinely happy to teach homeowners the right way to do things, and proud of them when they learned.

As if on cue, Joel emerges from his trailer.  He is wearing a dark green t-shirt that pulls tight across his broad chest and shoulders, the sleeves hugging his muscular arms.  His worn leather toolbelt is slung low across his hips over dark-wash jeans.  Sturdy leather boots complete the look.

With each passing year, his wavy hair features more gray at the temples and in his scruffy beard.  He was concerned about the grays when they started coming in and even considered dying his hair, but you and the show’s director had convinced him that they only added to his gruff charm.  Salt and pepper suits him perfectly.

He makes his way over to you and the Gutierrezes in long, sure strides.

“Good morning, Joel.  I’d like you to meet Javi and Gabriela.”  You introduce the couple.

“Good mornin’,” Joel greets them with a kind smile, “I’m lookin’ forward to workin’ with you the next few days.”  He shakes their hands firmly and you watch as they beam at him.  It’s clear that Javi in particular is already under his spell.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted.”  You back away from the group and make your way to the construction crew to confirm that they have all the supplies they need.

Filming begins shortly with Javi and Gabriela meeting Joel at the front door just as you had explained to them.  You watch on a monitor as they show Joel their DIY disaster.  He drags his hand down his face and sighs as he takes in the sight in front of him.

Javi had attempted to resurface his fireplace and build shelves on either side.  The faux stone he tried to affix to the fireplace was now falling off in places, leaving behind splodges of adhesive.  The shelves on either side of the fireplace droop and sag and behind them, wires stick through ragged holes in the wall.

Poor Javi grimaces as Joel takes it all in.

“We have our work cut out for us, but we’re gonna get it done.” Joel pronounces as he places a firm hand on Javi’s shoulder.  Javi positively swoons.

For the next few hours, the crew, Joel, and Javi, demo the area.  The camera operators are sure to get close up shots of Joel’s arms as he pulls down the sagging shelves and his backside as he bends down to pull off the faux stone.  It’s not their first rodeo.  Joel shakes his head good-naturedly when they ask him to bend down once more to get the perfect shot.  If it gets people interested in learning proper building techniques, then he is willing to provide a little eye-candy even if he doesn’t really believe he’s that exciting to look at.

By late afternoon, the room is clear and Joel sits down with Javi and Gabriela to show them his design plan.

“What we’re gonna do is build a new fireplace surround to go over y’all’s existin’ one.  We’ll tile the hearth and around the fireplace openin’ with these tiles here.” He shows them the samples.  “On either side, we’ll build shelves.  We’re gonna put cabinet doors on the bottom where we’ll put your electronics.  What you won’t see are the hidden channels for all your cables to run from your TV over the fireplace down into the cabinet, where we will have it wired for power and cable.  The doors will keep all your electronics out of sight and safe from your little one.”

Javi and Gabriela nod enthusiastically and smile.  Gabriela pats her round belly fondly.

Once the crew is satisfied that they got all their shots, production breaks for the day.  You do a final round of check-ins with all the departments and head to your car as the sun begins to set.  You buckle your seatbelt with a contented sigh and make your way home.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The midday sun beats down on you as you look around for a spot of shade to eat your lunch.  It’s the fourth day of filming and after lunch will be the finished project reveal.

Everything has gone smoothly and you’re sure it’s going to make a great episode.  Every time Joel pats Javi on the shoulder and tells him that he did a good job, Javi beams at him with glistening eyes.

You see Joel sitting under a tree, squinting at his phone, and make your way over to him.  “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” he answers, still looking at his phone.

“Everything ok?”

He sighs.  “Sarah texted me.  She says it’s faster.  It’s not.”

You chuckle as he slowly presses the numbers on his keypad.

“How is she liking college?”

Joel finishes sending his message and sets his phone down on the grass beside him.  “She loves it.  I just don’t know why I let her go so far away.”

“Because you’re a good dad.  You’re encouraging her to follow her dreams.”

“Why’d they have to be in Virginia, though?”

You chuckle and pat him on his jean-clad knee.  “I’m sure she misses you too.  Does she call you?”

“Yeah, we talk every couple days, and then the damned texting in between,” he finishes with a grumble.

“You’ll get faster at it.  You could get one of those new iPhones everyone is talking about.”

Joel gives you a withering look and you laugh.

“She’s happy, though? Making new friends?” you ask, hopefully.

“It’s all she talks about.  Her friends, her roommate, her classes.  Can’t keep it all straight.”

“That’s great.  How are you doing?”

Joel takes a bite of his sandwich and tips his head from side to side as he considers.  “I’m ok.  The house sure feels empty, though.”

“I know what you mean.”

He looks at you questioningly.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?  I got divorced.”  You wiggle your bare left-hand fingers at him.  He stares at you for a long moment, then finally blinks and clears his throat.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m great, actually.  It was a long time coming.”  You take a bite of your lunch before continuing.  Joel doesn’t rush you.  “We were so young when we got together, and we grew apart.  It happens.  It’s nobody’s fault.”  You shrug and look over at Joel.  He nods and holds your gaze for a long moment before returning to his lunch.

You eat in companionable silence until the director calls you all back to set.  Joel gets to his feet and offers you a hand up.  His warm, dry palm engulfs yours as he pulls you up.

“Thanks, and thanks for lunch.  It was good catching up.” You smile at him.

“Yeah,” he pulls at the back of his neck and looks away, then back at you.

“Well, I’ll see you around.”  You squeeze his shoulder and walk away.  When you reach the production trailer, you turn back and find him still standing by the tree looking at you.  You smile and wave and he jolts, then turns and walks quickly away.  Strange.

You get yourself set up with a headset and monitor as the film crew takes their places inside with Joel, Javi, and Gabriela.

Watching the reveal is your favorite part.  The homeowners have been kept away while the final touches were completed.  The joy on their faces at seeing their new space warms your heart, but the best part is the pride in their eyes at having helped Joel accomplish it.

Next week will be new homeowners and a new project, but that same sense of pride and accomplishment.  Yeah, you love your job.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

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A/N: for anyone not familiar, this episode’s cameo was from The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

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[maibluemen]

it's been a hair over a year since i last posted any fic/updated last light (look. i know the exact date bc it's also my sister's birthday i swear i have not actually been obsessing over this lol). i'll probably? be able to update this month, the next chapter is mostly done and then needs to be edited. mostly i need to sit down and just write it lol

it's felt a lot like the past couple of years, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong, and it sucks to add all of that to a laundry list of pre-existing mental health Issues (the combo of adhd/depression/ocd deserves a special place in hell). social media has been....really rough, especially with the ocd. i simply don't have spoons to deal with it much and it doesn't take a lot to make me spiral in such a way i've nearly called 911 on myself a few times. i've unfollowed and blocked people over genuine grievances but also because i simply can't deal with it. and i'm going to keep doing that, and likely cycling between using socmed a fair amount and avoiding it for long stretches of time. i'm going to keep running the horror week, tho i think i'm going to have to put a pin in rusliet week for the time being, btwn my mental health and feeling really pessimistic about participation for numerous reasons (mostly the mental health tho, and also not knowing what my schedule is actually going to look like any more than a week out at a time atm). and all of this isn't getting into everything that's been going on offline either lol

but i did want to say that i appreciate everyone who has stuck with me, and stuck with my fics. and especially thanks to the people who comment, seeing ao3 emails about getting a comment have made me tear up lol and there's some of you i need to still reply to on ao3 proper but for now please take my thanks here

i also wanted to say that although i haven't posted in (just over) a year doesn't mean i haven't written, either, because i write things out of order and also write snippets of other things....if i can find my outline for the fra/pol/pru murder mystery fic, i'd like to start working on that for real and have it up by halloween, and then also get back to working on oneshots, too. and rework the LL outline...i was going to do that in scriv but i'm a bit hesitant to pay for scriv rn so i might be messing around with pen and paper a bit before typing it up nicely in word lol....anyway. i haven't actually lost interest in writing fic, though there are definitely patches there....but these story ideas and characters live in my head rent free and what can i say i like to write! so it will be exorcised from me eventually lol

[andiwriteordie]

andi !! for my valentine’s day gift this year i am humbly requesting will helping teacher! mike decorate his classroom for valentine’s day <3 (+ bonus points if this is pre-relationship and they spend the whole time flirting before one of them works up the nerve to ask the other if they have any plans,,, slides this slowly across the table)

suni suni suni teacher!mike is so personal to me so thank you SO much for this. also will being flirty and mike getting flustered is also everything to me, so have some of that too.

—

3: abc, 123 (baby, you and me).

Mike Wheeler’s a pretty damn good teacher.

Alright, look. Here’s the thing: Mike knows he’s a damn good teacher. There’s a reason why he’s one of Principal Tennyson’s favorite teachers, despite the fact that he’s only been at Hawkins Elementary for about four years now. Being a kindergarten teacher is not for the faint of heart, especially when Mike teaches in a school district full of rich, snooty parents who think their kids deserve special treatment on a constant basis. 

But hey, somehow, Mike has managed to get through the last few years with very minimal complaints from said rich, snooty parents, and even better, he’s also managed to make genuine connections with his kids.

So, yeah. Mike’s a damn good teacher, and he’s not afraid to remind his boss of that when it comes time for his annual comp review.

But there is one thing that Mike absolutely sucks at in the realm of teaching.

Decorating his fucking classroom.

Ugh. Okay, so when you’re in college and preparing to be an elementary school teacher, they literally teach you how to make the cute bulletin boards and decorations and stuff, right? Yeah, well, Mike hated every single one of those presentations. Absolutely hated them. His worst grades in college were the stupid bulletin boards he had to make. 

The content was fine. The aesthetic? Yeah, not so much.

And unfortunately, some things never change, and even though Mike has been a teacher for the last four years of his life, he still can’t for the life of him figure out how to create an aesthetically pleasing classroom by himself for the life of him. For the longest time, his best friend, Max, would come over and help him kind of make the classroom look pretty. Max is no artist either though, even if she’s a little better at making things look nice than Mike is.

But then, this past December, Max just had to accept a new job and move across the country to be closer to the guy she’s been dating for a year or so now. Ugh. Traitor.

So, that’s exactly how Mike finds himself here, on fucking February 1st, at approximately 8 PM at night, desperately trying to redecorate his classroom for Valentine’s Day. 

In Mike’s defense, Valentine’s Day isn’t for another two weeks, thank you very much. But all the other teachers in the school have already decorated for Valentine’s Day, and if Mike gets one more stupid, passive aggressive comment from stupid fucking Brenda or her evil twin, Tammy, he’s gonna end up losing his job.

Ugh.

“Are you kidding me?” Mike groans, and he falls backwards onto the floor, letting the stupid pink construction paper heart fall onto his head. It’s rather ironic that he’s a kindergarten teacher and responsible for teaching twenty-five kids how to color inside the lines and cut paper properly and other stuff like that, since Mike didn’t even go to kindergarten and can’t cut in a straight line for shit.

The woes of being an “academically gifted” child.

Mike sighs heavily, and he closes his eyes, lying on the floor and questioning every single moment in his life that led him to this moment. Maybe he’s being overdramatic, but Mike doesn’t really care. Right now, he’s hungry, tired, and ready to go home. 

Teaching shouldn’t be this hard. Seriously. How is it that Mike can deal with little Riley Jones throwing up all over his brand new pair of shoes or Kimmy Harris screaming at the top of her lungs and picking a fight for the first month of this year, but somehow Mike can’t decorate his stupid fucking classroom? Why on God’s green earth is so bad at making things look nice—

“Mike?”

Mike flinches sharply, and he startles, sitting up quickly at sudden intrusion. Much to his surprise, Will Byers, of all people, is standing in his doorway, an amused (and admittedly adorable) smile on his face.

…

Okay, so look.

Here’s the thing.

Will Byers… is the new art teacher at Hawkins Elementary. Their old art teacher, Sandy, had retired at the end of the year, and though Will had been hired pretty early on into the school year, he’s only just started working at the school. 

And um… well… you see… Will is really, really good-looking.

Like really good-looking.

Quite possibly the most gorgeous and also the kindest person Mike has ever met in his life. 

For starters, Will has the prettiest eyes—a warm shade of hazel that looks green in certain lighting, Mike has noticed. His smile is pretty too—soft and sweet and perfect for his personality. He’s got fluffy, brown hair, and maybe Mike shouldn’t think this about his coworker for God’s sake, but he thinks he’d really like to run his hands through Will’s hair and pull him close and kiss him stupid and—

Ahem.

Um, yeah. So, that’s… that’s Will Byers. He’s great, and Mike has been meaning to get to know him more—not even necessarily in a romantic way. The two of them are some of the only male teachers at Hawkins Elementary, and they’re among the youngest here at this school. It makes sense that they’d become friends. 

Life’s just been absolutely crazy these past few weeks, so Mike unfortunately hasn’t gotten around to that.

“Will!” Mike exclaims, and he winces at the way his voice comes out as a little, panicked squeak. Warmth rises to Mike’s cheeks, and he offers a sheepish smile to his coworker. “Hey, um… what’re you still doing here?”

The smile on Will’s face grows, and he shrugs. “I could ask you the same thing,” he points out; then, his eyes flicker to the construction paper surrounding Mike. “I’m guessing you’re decorating your classroom though?”

“Ugh.” Mike scrunches his nose, picking up a few of the sad little paper hearts and letting them fall dramatically back onto the ground. “I’m trying to, at least. It’s going great, if you can’t tell.” 

A soft laugh escapes Will’s lips, and oh God, Mike’s heart does a little somersault. Will walks into Mike’s classroom, sitting down across from Mike, and he offers a smile. “Not a fan of arts and crafts, huh?” he guesses.

“Not all of us can be artists, Byers,” Mike replies easily, and a crooked grin forms on Will’s face. “I like every other part of teaching, but decorating my classroom? It makes me wonder why I didn’t just stick with being a Business major like my dad wanted.”

Again, Will just laughs, reaching for some of the construction paper on the ground. “I don’t know you very well yet,” he admits, “but you definitely don’t seem like the kind of person who’d enjoy working in business.”

A couple things stand out about Will’s response:

He says business the way that Mike’s kindergarteners say things like… homework or broccoli or other things that they hate, and Mike can’t help but grin. He’s liking Will more and more with each second that passes.

… Yet.

Will definitely said “yet,” and okay, Mike probably shouldn’t read too much into this, but also, he can’t help himself. His heart may or may not be pounding inside his chest, and his cheeks may or may not be burning up right now, and he may or may not be trying to stop smiling like a total idiot.

“I would’ve hated business,” Mike agrees, and he leans against his desk, scrunching his nose again at the mess of decorations sitting on the floor. “But at least businessmen don’t stay late at their jobs trying to decorate their offices for a stupid Hallmark holiday.”

“No, they just stay late at their jobs to crunch numbers and avoid their wives and children,” Will deadpans, and Mike just snorts. 

“Way to describe my dad in a nutshell,” Mike deadpans in return.

That playful grin returns to Will’s face, and he looks pleased at his ability to make Mike laugh. “Are you really planning on staying here until you have your entire classroom finished?” Will asks incredulously.

Mike winces, looking around at his classroom—which, admittedly… is about 10% decorated for Valentine’s Day. “Maybe,” he says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… I’ll probably end up coming back tomorrow and Sunday, but I wanted to finish as much of it as I can tonight.”

Will purses his lips, and he looks around the room again, a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re gonna need some help,” he decides, finally turning to Mike and smiling brightly. “And luckily for you… I’m pretty good at arts and crafts.”

Another playful smile—which most definitely makes Mike’s heart skip a beat and his stomach do a silly little somersault. “You don’t have to,” Mike reassures, though he really likes the idea of spending the entire weekend with Will Byers. “I’d feel bad making you help me out—”

“You could always make it up to me,” Will blurts out, and Mike just blinks.

For a moment, the two of the stare back at each other, and Mike watches as a rosy (and adorable) blush forms on Will’s face. He seems to register the fact that he just said that aloud, and Mike doesn’t really know Will Byers that well yet… 

But he gets the feeling that Will might just be as interested in Mike as Mike is in Will.

A slow smile forms on Mike’s own face. His cheeks are burning right now, and not for the first time, he feels like a kid with a kindergarten crush. “I could,” Mike says softly, meeting Will’s eyes. “What’d you have in mind?”

Though Will’s face most definitely gets redder, he smiles at Mike again, his eyes going soft. “Dinner, maybe,” he suggests, still playful and soft. “A movie, if you’re interested.”

The inside of Mike’s head feels like the movie Inside Out, with all of his emotions running around in a panicked, flustered mess, and okay, look, maybe it’s embarrassing to admit at the ancient age of twenty-four (almost twenty-five) years old, but Mike’s not sure he’s ever felt this giddy and excited around someone.

There’s just something about Will Byers—something incredibly special that makes Mike feel like this… this could be something real.

“I’m definitely interested,” Mike says with a smile of his own, and he gestures to the Valentine’s Day themed decorations around them. “Getting a headstart on Valentine’s Day, huh?”

“Something like that,” Will laughs, and his eyes crinkle when he smiles. Then, he sets the construction paper in his hands down and stands up. “Come on. Let’s grab dinner, then we can come back and knock out a couple of your bulletin boards.”

He holds his hand out to Mike, and Mike’s heart—stupid organ that it is—feels all fluttery again. He can’t help but smile again, and he takes Will’s hand, letting the other man help him up. 

“Dinner sounds like a good idea,” Mike agrees softly, feeling all too aware of how Will’s hand lingers in his for longer than it needs to. “You’re the best, you know that, right?”

An amused look forms on Will’s face as the two of them walk out of the classroom, and he glances back at Mike. “You don’t know me that well yet,” he says, a bit teasing.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re about to change that,” Mike retorts, just as playful, and Will just smiles.

“Yeah,” he agrees softly, “it’s a really good thing.”

For a moment, Will’s eyes linger on Mike’s own, and warmth rises to Mike’s cheeks again. The two of them stay there, out in the hallways of Hawkins Elementary, for what feels like a little eternity; then finally, Will clears his throat and glances away.

“I’m kinda craving pizza,” he suggests. “You cool with that?”

“Pizza sounds great,” Mike agrees, and Will smiles again, walking down the hallway. “I can drive us. I know a good place.”

“Perfect,” Will says softly, and he glances back at Mike one more time, a softness in his eyes.

The words go unspoken, but somehow, they don’t go unsaid.

It’s a date.