#i hope you enjoyed it if you read it!

[palskippah]

Oooh mareach preg ftw!

Ngl Im kind of curious, how did mario and peach handle the birth? 😳

Hi! Yess 😭 Them expecting babies is so cute to me ;-;

They (mostly Mario) handled the labor and birth like champs, although at the beginning both had the downside of panicking, but later on they had the help of people with more experience than them (Luigi or the doctors) or that were less panicky during the situation (like Toad). Mario was scared shitless bc giving birth is intimidating, but once he's with Peach and Luigi he's much calmer.

Btw I don't think I'll set this on stone, bc there's other ways the labor and birth could've gone that I also had thought of and actually written or drawn askdlsa but I'm sharing this one bc I like it c: Like, Toad's singing (like that person at tiktok that dresses up as him and sings shakira's songs?? them) makes him laugh too hard and that makes him break his water and he's like 🧍 bc he doesn't realize at first and all-

Under the cut there's a much more (I mean it 😔) detailed description of how it went! It's pretty long (mostly the labor part) and you'll scroll a lot sorrie, I thought of shortening it, but then left it like it is- the moments are separated by star emojis, so if you wanna skip to the birth, go ahead jiji

Birth isn't explicit but I'll give you a warning about it anyway! Also, it's kinda cartoonish (I think? maybe not) for the fun of it, I'm not a big fan of serious stuff sdlksdks

BTW! here's the bebis :'v

[Nettarina was born like half an hour before Mariella was, so she had more experience with being out in the harsh, cold world out of the womb- so she was peacefully sleeping while her twin was being delivered akjsdkd

Imagine those scenes in TV where there's in the first plane a very peaceful thing going on and at the background there's a ruckus- something like that but with Nettarina wrapped in her warm blanket and sleeping comfortably in her bassinet, and in the background there's Mario grabbing the hell out of Peach's and Luigi's hands while he pushes and grunting in effort and the other two are encouraging him and stuff, she doesn't wake up at all despite the noise.]

Also, there are some drawings that are kinda vague about birth- and also the newborn baby will not look like an actual just newborn baby bc that's too much 🧍

Anyways, enjoy the thingie if you read it!

🌟So! The whole thing is very fast and tiring- like when Mario wakes up, he doesn't even hope he'll go into labor that day, and before the sun even sets, he already had both babies in his arms.

Also, I read that first-time pregnancies are a tiny bit more likely to go past full-term and I was like sure why not, let's put Mario in situations. So, he's overdue by just a few days and honestly the babies are really taking their time with getting there, and that's why he isn't even worried that particular day that he'll go into labor.

Also, the doctor had said they'd have to consider induction if the babies didn't make act of presence in the next week. Bc twins usually are expected to arrive like at the 38th week, where they are already full-term, and over that is considered overdue- so maybe Mario is like 38 weeks-and-something pregnant in this day where he has the babies.

🌟 About the labor-

For when Mario goes into labor, I'm torn between doing it sitcom-like, where Peach for ABC reason is very far away from Mario, and she has to go through frustrating drawbacks to get to him quickly, or go with that it happens when they're together and all comfortable and stuff sdkjskd

But going with the first option, imagine Peach is at a meeting that she definitely didn't want to go to, where the king was adamant about her presence and of other royals to see the matter (which in Peach's opinion, could've been handled via email!), so she couldn't send in Toadsworth to sort it through.

Peach warned the host king that Mario could go into labor at literally any minute, and she wished to stay with him when it happened (Mario was supposed to go into labor a few days ago, she was really anxious about it!), but the other thought she was being overdramatic, surely Super Mario would be fine without the princess for a few hours.

Many royals think that way initially, whenever Peach requested that meetings be held at her castle, or that may Toadsworth go in her behalf, since she doesn't want to leave Mario's side for too long. But, they wholly understand when they see Mario, who definitely looks like he's ready to pop. Others are more understanding, because they have been the pregnant person being fretted over, or the partner that frets, so they indulge the princess on her requests.

And well, she was overly worried the whole meeting, and barely paid any attention. At the beginning Peach texted Mario every few minutes to make sure he was okay and calm her anxiety, but after one too many judging looks from the host king, she apologized and asked one of the servants to take her phone until the meeting was over, knowing she'd keep using it otherwise- she had duties to attend as a princess, despite her worries as a soon-to-be mom.

Meanwhile, back at the Mushroom Kingdom, Mario had woken up not long ago, stretching as much as he could and groaning because he slept like hell. His back hurt a lot, like was usual lately. He briefly wondered when the babies would dignify themselves to show up, so he could have a proper night's sleep finally (as if! with two newborn babies it wouldn't be very likely), because they overstayed long enough, he was supposed to have them in his arms by now, while also he wished Peach was there to just magic his pain away.

Mario resigns himself to hurt and keep being pregnant for a few days more. He throws a look at his side, and then checks his phone, smiling at Peach's (fretting) texts, so he starts answering to each of them, while getting himself more comfortable on their bed.

[Good morning my love! 😚😚😚] Good morning bella mia :33 [Are you awake? 🥰🥰] I am [Maybe not, it took you a lot of time to fall asleep 🤕 just wait until the little rascals are born, I'll give them a harsh lecture right away] Me too bc my back hurts like a beach I wish you were here to make it better :c [I love you] I love you very much too! [Te amo mi amorchito pechocho💓] Ti amo la mia luce 💖 [Mi amore] 🥰 [Wake up mi amore] I did :D pick your phone peachy [King Calami keeps talking about I don't know what hepl] Pay attention and don't pick your phone peachy [Mario 🥺🥺] Peachy <3

Peach appears offline from not long ago; and Mario hoped she actually had put her focus on the meeting. After that, Mario does the extenuating routine of getting off of bed, showering, grooming, dressing on his own -which proves much harder than when Peach just does it for him, especially with the overalls and shoes, but he's in the mood for them, so he tries anyway (and almost falls off the bed trying to reach his feet- but at least no one's there to see him struggle). He does all this while feeling a bit restless the whole way, but it's been a few days of the same feeling, since the babies weren't born when they were supposed to.

Mario has a very late breakfast and then spends a while just nibbling on treats and lazing around (Resting! You're resting - says for the nth time a voice that sounds like Peach's). He made some plans with Toad over text, and soon he met Mario at the lounging room in the castle, ready for a walk around Toad Town.

Mario wasn't very sure if he still wanted to go, still feeling like something (read: labor) was about to happen. Toad offered staying at the castle, if he wasn't sure, and they could eat ice-cream right there too and maybe watch a movie, or just walk through Peach's gardens. The thought of the ice-cream stall at the middle of Toad Plaza makes him salivate and reconsider- oh his damned cravings. Also, to walk and enjoy the sun and bustling streets would do him good, so they go.

The walk to Toad Town is very slow but filled with conversation (mostly from Toad). At certain times Mario felt cramps on his belly, but he has been feeling them from weeks ago, so he doesn't get too worried about them. At the platforms Toad very carefully helps him. And while they walk down the steps, Mario looks at the pipes systems and all the toads going through them, which was a much quicker way of getting anywhere. Not for the first time Mario lamented that traveling through pipes was not safe for him anymore, and it made him too dizzy anyways (and in some of them he didn't even fit any longer- but whatevs).

Through the walk many toads greet both of them as usual, some commenting lightly about the babies not being there yet, which had Mario chuckling politely (bc, of course they're not there yet, Mario is clearly still huge!) and by the time they get to the ice-cream stand Mario's too tired and feeling kinda out of breath, so Toad tells him to sit and wait for him to get the ice-cream, and Mario does so gratefully.

When he's at the bench, the cramps only get worse, and he briefly wonders if maybe they're contractions- He hopes they are, because the babies are overdue and he is tired as hell of carrying them, but also- he wishes it's not the case, he doesn't want them to come out yet because he is still way too nervous of giving birth. Either way, the cramps hurt and are uncomfortable, and after a while they stop, and he realizes he'd have to pay closer attention to them, lest he actually was in labor.

Toad gets back with their stuff and they eat and talk and it's very nice, because the day is sunny and calm, and the babies aren't as energetic as other times (which is always good, because they would beat up Mario's ribs, bladder and whatever was in their way whenever they kicked or stretched).

Suddenly Mario feels a particularly bad cramp, and he has to take a moment to breathe through it, wincing in pain and placing his hand where he's kinda feeling it. It catches Toad's attention, and he gently pats Mario's arm to be of comfort.

Toad then gasps excitedly, "Wait- are you having contractions yet?"

Mario shakes his head, then signs, "I don't think so."

"Aw... I want to meet your babies already, Mario," Toad laments, taking a sad lick from his ice-cream cone. "I want to receive my Uncle Toad title from you too."

Mario smiles at him and shakes his head again, in amusement, the toad had said years back that he was happy to receive the title from Luigi, and now from Mario, as if they were some sort of university of unclehood by simply becoming parents.

At some moment, their conversation takes a turn towards Mario's relationship with Pauline, for some reason. Toad can't believe Mario had sung with the Pauline! And why is he just now finding out about it?!

It leads to Toad begging Mario to sing something for him someday, and Mario saying he can beg all he wants. Toad shakes his head in feigned disappointment and says, "I would never deprive you from my singing skills, Mario!" And Mario does a 'really? prove it' face, so Toad graces him with the most off-key, shrillest and loud cover of Pauline's Jump Up, Super Star!

It had Mario laughing almost hysterically- it probably wasn't even that funny, but he was caught off-guard bc Toad started off strong with the main vocals and from then on, his singing didn't get any better. He was holding his belly while trying not to drop his ice-cream and waving slightly at Toad with it to stop- or he's sure he'll... oh- have an accident.

Mario stops laughing all of a sudden and looks down with a grimace. For a few seconds he thinks not again! because he has two heavy babies resting right over his bladder, he can't help it sometimes! But this time it's much more than usual, and he can't even stop it.

He turns to Toad in panic and embarrassment, because he's sitting in the middle of the crowded plaza and there's no way other toads won't notice! Toad notices his exalted state and stops singing. He tilts his head in confusion and worry.

Mario signs "I peed myself."

"Oh- that's huh..." Mario looks more embarrassed. "That's okay! Don't worry, bestie, I'm going to fix it. You just stay here, Mario!"

Toad shoves the rest of his ice-cream in his mouth and while he munches the waffle cone, he jumps out of the bench and scoots somewhere in the crowded place. Mario huffs in discomfort, throwing nervous glances around him, hoping no one suddenly decided to speak to him. He looks at his cone still in his hand, melting down. He gives it some licks, entirely out of anxiety, because he doesn't have much appetite anymore.

Toad returns soon enough, carrying a folded blanket with himself. Very subtle, especially with the nice weather and Mario in his long overalls. The man kicks himself mentally for being picky about Toad's ideas, when his friend is clearly trying. Toad jumps on the bench and gets closer to whisper to Mario, "I asked some friends to bring you clothes. Don't worry though, I told them to be discreet about it- also got this blanket so we can walk to a bathroom."

Toad sits back down beside Mario on the bench, to wait for the other toads. Mario decides to occupy that brief time by finishing eating his ice-cream, and rubbing his belly while silently scowling at the babies for putting him in situations. When the toads arrive, carrying a little bag, they discreetly leave it on the bench, and walk casually in the other direction, not even looking at Mario or Toad. Mario lets out a relieved sigh, glad that they left them alone. Toad stands on his seat and extends the blanket, leaving it ready to use over the bench, and then jumps back to the floor.

"Let me help you up," he says, extending his little hands to him with a big smile. Mario smiles a bit funnily, knowing that Toad wasn't precisely strong enough to pull him up.

After much effort from both, Mario is on his feet, and he has to suppress a disgusted shiver, because the wetness is very uncomfortable and has gone cold. Toad notices his discomfort and hurries to hand the blanket to Mario, who wraps it around his shoulders. The toad makes sure it covers all the damp spots, and then they get to it, looking for the nearest bathroom either of them can think of.

Toad peaks his head in a restaurant, and quietly asks the receptionist to use the bathroom without being clients, who refuses, being strict about their rules, but Toad says with a knowing smile, 'it's for Mario' and the other toad quickly agrees for them to just come along, anything for the Mushroom Kingdom hero! (But Mario's sure it's because he's very pregnant, it's obvious).

When Mario's inside and Toad's doing guard outside the door, he strips from his wet clothes and rummages through the little bag, pulling out one of his red maternity dresses and underwear. He smiles to himself in relief as he thinks 'perfetto...' because having to ask for help from Toad to put on his overalls would probably be the last drop in the glass for Mario to- to have a breakdown or something.

When he's almost done and letting the dress down his arms, he feels such a strong cramp in his belly that he's just sure it must be a contraction. Mario panics for a few seconds because his arms are stuck in the dress and he's in pain and all he sees is red! He has to double over and support his weight with his hands against the wall the best he can, while he tries to quiet down his pained groans and tightly closes his eyes.

When it passes, he gives himself a bit of time to catch his breath back, and then quickly lowers the dress the rest of the way, to dress himself properly. Mario then holds his belly, looking around the bathroom nervously. He slowly paces on the small space in building panic- he's sure it was a contraction! It was way too strong- and- and the accident? What if that was his water?

He stops waddling and looks down at his belly, placing his hands on it as if silently asking the babies if that was the very important liquid that signaled that he was indeed in labor. Mario notices that he's breathing way too quickly, so he tries to do the breathing exercises that Doctor Toadlina taught him to do- he clenches his fists tightly over his belly while the babies move leisurely as if their mamma wasn't freaking out.

Outside, Toad hums to himself patiently, giving Mario all the time he needs to get comfortable in the changing of clothes. He nods to passing waiters and clients alike, with a big smile.

Back inside, finally Mario's calm enough to think of what he should do now if the babies are coming- he immediately thinks of Peach and that she's far away and literally on another whole kingdom, with no pipe system attached to theirs! Mario scrambles as fast as he can for his phone, feeling his hands and his lower lip trembling in fright.

He calls her and places the phone by his ear, while trying still to breath calmly and failing spectacularly. His fear only spikes up when it sends to voicemail. Mario calls a couple more of times, each without success. He tries to write to her instead, being a bit difficult with his shaking fingers and his blurring gaze due to the tears.

Pech I don't wanna scare you but i think I'm in laborr Pelsa answer Nd come back soon I'm very scared

He holds his phone in his hands for a while, still trying to convince himself that everything will be okay... Mario frowns and looks to the side for a second, those words remind him of something.

Everything will be okay...? Right, Luigi! Mario should call Luigi. He calls him this time and smiles in relief when his twin answers right away.

"Ciao, fratellone!" Luigi says happily.

Mario's smile drops when he realizes just then that he must talk if he called- Oh, fuck! What an idiot! He's bringing more despair for himself on his own!

He opens his mouth and then closes it and shakes his head- why does he never think things through?! He curses himself, now with tears of frustration in his eyes and the thought of just hanging up and texting instead goes through his mind.

"Bro? Mario? Is everyth-" Mario quickly hangs up and goes to text him. He blinks his tears away the best he can and writes down while his phone rings and the notification of Weegee calling... appears just above the chat.

M in labor nd pach isn't here Can you come ?

A few seconds pass when Luigi answers:

On my way Where are you going to be?

Mario sniffles and thinks quickly, should they go to the castle, or maybe just wait for Luigi to get to the restaurant? Mario didn't want to be in that bathroom all alone, he felt too scared and defenseless. But he doesn't think he had the energy to go to the castle quick enough either.

Gret toadcimu restornat Oki I'll be right there bro Pls be calm Everything will be okay I promise Are you with someone? Let them help you Mario To stay cal M Ok

Mario opened Toad's chat this time, feeling at least a tad bit calmer now that he knew his brother was on the way.

Tod Come in pls

A short moment later, a knock sounds at the door, and Mario unlocks it and let his friend in, Toad closes the door and looks at Mario in thinly veiled worry when he notices his tears and panicked expression.

"What's wrong, Mario?"

"I'm in labor," he has difficulty even signing, his hands trembling too much. Toad seems to have difficulty to understand what he signed too, but when he does, he opens his eyes widely and seems absolutely ready to start panicking. Mario braces himself for his shrilly screaming, but the toad shakes his head quickly and sets his face on a determined expression, that Mario would not be surprised if he started speaking in a very deep voice.

"We have to go to the castle, then! I'll tidy this up, you- you just focus on not having the babies yet and calm down. Calm down, Mario!" he says in his regular voice, with a very subtle hint of panic that Mario can easily ignore for his own sake. The toad starts gathering his wet clothes in the little bag, then hurries on folding the blanket while Mario focuses on doing the breath exercises.

Another contraction hits in and Mario has to lean against the wall again, groaning in pain and holding his back. He feels like it lasts even longer and hurts worse than the previous- how is that possible? They were supposed to grow very gradually in intensity and time!

He feels a hand on his back, and he turns to look at Toad, with a pained expression on.

"Do I call the princess?" His friend knows Peach isn't in the Mushroom Kingdom, but Mario shakes his head. She didn't answer him, it'd probably be the same for Toad.

Mario breathes through the contraction the best he can, and when it's over he tells Toad that Luigi's on his way. The toad nods and leads them slowly to the outside of the restaurant, going through the tables occupied by many toads since it was lunch time, saying his thanks to the receptionist (and Mario awkwardly nods at them in thanks too).

Toad looks around quickly, looking for a bench for Mario to sit on, when he spots one, he leads them in its direction.

Just as Toad is helping Mario to take a seat, they hear, "Bro!" and Mario straightens up right away, looking around for his twin, almost losing his balance, and he and Toad and Luigi all panic that he'll fall, but Mario manages to keep standing as he grabs onto Toad's cap and the other hand supports his back, while Luigi runs to his side.

When Mario and Luigi are close to each other, the first thing Mario does is hug his twin, feeling like he wants to cry. And he does, actually, while Luigi gently shushes him and holds him tightly (albeit a bit awkwardly due to Mario's belly in the middle).

"It's-a okay, Mario, I'm here," Luigi says, subtly trying to catch his breath, he surely must have run all the way from the pipe that connected their kingdoms to the Great Toadchimu restaurant. Mario nods and buries his face on Luigi's shoulder, feeling much less scared than he did moments ago. The only thing to truly make him feel complete would be that Peach was there with him too.

Luigi takes care of the situation and instructs Toad to please get him a super mushroom so he could easily carry Mario to the castle. Once he eats it, he goes up the hills on a careful walk to not accidentally drop Mario or jostle him too much, while Toad hurriedly walks beside them, carrying Mario's stuff and calling Peach's father to let the doctor know they were on their way (and so were the babies-).

Back at Peach, the blessed (cursed) meeting that seemed like it lasted hours just ended, and the (damned) King Calami finally let them leave, but of course, he invited all the royals to have lunch first. But Peach is absolutely ready to tail it out of there and return to her own kingdom and to her Mario.

After exchanging quick pleasantries with the rest of royals, and passive-agressive words with King Calami that left no space to argue her reasons and determination to leave, the king kindly instructed a worker to prepare a vehicle for Princess Toadstool, as she's in such a hurry to leave already, and isn't even able to stay for lunch. The servant bows and leaves to do as instructed.

Peach smiles while inside she wishes unpleasant things for the king. She bows her head and walks calmly out of the meeting room, but one of the servants standing at the doors stopped her, "Princess Toadstool, your phone, your highness."

Right! Peach smiles thankfully as she receives it and immediately checks her notifications while walking out of the room. Her smile drops when she sees the three missed calls from Mario. With worry she clicks on the notification that says [New messages from Marito❤️] and her smile comes back in full force again while reading Mario's responses to each of her texts. And finally, her smile fully drops as does her stomach, all the way to her feet, when she reads the five last messages.

Mario's in labor?! Peach anxiously hurries to walk in a direction, then halts and turns around and prepares to walk the other way, then realizes she doesn't even know where she is supposedly going, and she's just panicking. Peach looks at her phone and quickly calls Mario's number, while trying to calm her breathing as she places a hand on her chest. There's no use on her losing her mind, she needs to stay calm.

Peach gets more anxious with each ring, until the line picks up and she jumps into talking.

"Mario, are you okay? Where-?"

"Princess, it's-a me!" She gets interrupted. It's Luigi.

"Luigi! Where is Mario?!" So much for keeping calm, she mentally scolded herself.

"He's-a with me, don't worry, we're-a going to the castle, oki? We'll wait for you there, Toad talked to Toadsworth, so he can notify the royal doctor."

"Hi! Princess, it's me, Toad, Mario's best friend- he's good and he's not talking now!"

Peach lets out a mildly relieved sigh, at least they had the situation under control.

"I hope you are okay, Mario," she says, lacing her words with the most fondness she can, while she smiles. "Please wait for me, I'll be there as soon as I can."

Luigi chuckles after a while, "He says he will, and he loves you, and you're his very beloved light- Hey! Don't-a hit me, I'm-a just adding-!"

Peach giggles to herself, imagining Mario swatting Luigi.

"I love you so much too, mi chaparrito bigotón pechocho," she says, allowing herself to be utterly corny, at least Luigi wouldn't get it.

"Aw please, Peach, that's so cheesy!" said Luigi while laughing and Peach's face burned. Right, he knows some Spanish, Daisy is teaching him only the things that are convenient for him to learn- like Peach's terms of endearment. When she hears Mario's own chuckles, she's glad she said what she said, despite her embarrassment. She smiles brightly, "I'll be there very soon, Mario! Stay strong, I love you!"

"Wait, when you're-a on your way here try ta do a videocall," says Luigi before she can hang up.

"Okie-dokie! Bye!"

Peach allows herself to jump in place for a few seconds, while holding her phone to her chest, closing tightly her eyes and smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt. Mario's in labor! They'll finally meet their babies! How exciting! She must get there as soon as possible.

As if on cue, the servant that King Calami talked to was walking to get closer to her. Peach walked to reach them quicker, expecting for them to tell her that her vehicle was ready.

"Your highness, I'm very sorry-" Oh great. "-but we have a few complications with the long-journey vehicles. But if you're willing to wait, by late afternoon-"

Peach shakes her head worriedly; Mario needed her now! Not by late afternoon- and she'd get to the Mushroom Kingdom by night if that were the case!

The servant patiently waits for the princess to arrange her thoughts, as she seems lost on her own mind.

What could she do? What to do... There wasn't a pipe system between this kingdom and hers, so she couldn't go quickly there, and the journey on any vehicle was longer than two hours, but there were closer, neighboring kingdoms to this one, that had agreed to install the pipes! She could go to them first, and then go to her wished destiny!

Peach is struck with a feeling-like-an-idiot urge to facepalm, because that's literally the way she got into King Calami's kingdom to begin with. She sighs, lamenting that her first-time parent panic is affecting her good reasoning.

"Are there available any vehicles for shorter journeys?" she asks with a falsely calmed smile.

The servant nods, "Yes, your royal highness. The smallest allow for a very fast travelling- but they fit only one member inside, you'd have to leave on your own."

Peach quickly nods, "Yes, I will- It's perfect. I'll, um- arrange for my toads to return the vehicle safely once I no longer use it, yes?" she says, trying to be convincing.

The servant nods and leads Peach to the room where the vehicles are (a royal garage i guess?), while mentioning how they will not notify the who was in charge (whoever that is-) first, if all because the princess looked so antsy that it was making the servant a bit nervous too.

Peach apologized for her clearly anxious state, delightedly (and unsubtly terrified) saying that Mario's in labor and she's in a hurry to leave. The servant looks back at her in surprise, because why didn't she say so before?!

After that, things go very quickly, both the servant and Peach hurry to get to the vehicle, where Peach puts her few belongings in and hops in, ready to drive as quickly (and safely-) as she can to the nearest kingdom with a working pipe system to the Mushroom Kingdom.

As she puts on her seatbelt, the servant, whose name Peach still doesn't know, bows respectfully, "I wish you luck and very healthy babies, your royal highness!" Peach smiles and nods hurriedly saying 'thank you so much!', and she starts her journey towards Mario.

Back with Mario, they are received by Toadsworth already fretting over the whole situation, while Luigi takes him to his bedroom, where Doctor Toadlina and two young toad nurses are already setting everything to attend his birth.

Luigi leaves Mario gingerly on the bed, in a sitting position. On the way up the hills Luigi asked Toad to take the time between each of Mario's contractions. They were way too close to each other if Mario supposedly started labor not long ago, Luigi is sure it must have been much earlier.

The doctor informs what will be done from then on, to pass labor and check his contractions and to check his dilation depending on how the labor progresses and the babies' position and all that (vague labor stuff, y'know 🧍).

Luigi (after asking one of the nurses to pinch him hard to wear off the super mushroom effect-) gently helps Mario into a more comfortable sleepshirt and underwear, while he makes some light conversation to distract him from his worry at Peach's absence. Toad isn't let in, and he asks to at least be updated if anything important happens, like the babies being born or Mario needing something. Doctor Toadlina politely closes the door on his face with a, "Thank you, Toad, we'll let you know!" while the nurses lightly giggle as they arrange water bottles, and very light snacks in their little coffee table, and arrange Mario and Peach's bed for more practical use, tying the bed drapes as tightly as possible to avoid them becoming a burden for any of them.

Mario breathes slowly and tries to keep himself as calm as he can, while closing his eyes as Luigi helps him to lay on the bed for a check up, Doctor Toadlina puts on a glove meanwhile. He feels Luigi's own gloved hand caressing his hair.

"It's-a okay, bro," he says softly, and Mario turns to look at him with a small smile, that turns wobbly after a second. He just wishes Peach was there too.

After the check-up, the doctor muses that he must be very far along in labor, because his dilation is very advanced. She announces that in no time he would be ready for the pushing stage. Mario nods with a very nervous smile, glad and also terrified to hear so.

So, Mario and Luigi do anything for him to dilate further, like walking around the spacey room, or doing different exercises together (the ones Luigi remembers from when he was in labor, and also the ones the toad doctor recommends them).

They are face to face a bit far away from the bed, both with their feet a bit apart and hands on their hips, both moving them in a swaying motion- Mario thinks his twin is doing much better than he is, and briefly wonders if he's doing it wrong himself, but then remembers that Luigi's not even pregnant, and Mario smacks himself mentally for being an idiot again, always realizing things too late. He shakes his head, he's not even sure anymore if it's the pregnancy brain or he's always been like this.

Luigi frowns, "No? But I thought you already settled on tha names-"

Mario blushes a bit, now realizing he and Luigi were supposedly talking. He shakes his head again with a bashful smile, letting Luigi know to just ignore him. His brother smiles comprehensively. "You're-a not even paying attention- Is your mind on tha princess? She hasn't called yet..."

Mario frowns and settles his gaze on the nurses quietly talking among themselves, a bit sad about the matter. He supposes she's still busy getting to their kingdom if she can't call, but still...

Back at Peach, she just exited the outskirts of King Calami's kingdom, now entering the long, deserted road that connected both realms. Now that the risk of running over someone were diminished almost to zero, she pulls out her phone, finally she can videocall Mario! She thumbs around on it, throwing brief glances at the road, and then back. As the phone dials she keeps it in her hand, not about to risk it flying away from the speed she was driving at.

The other end picks up and her big smile falls a bit when it's Toad's face that receives her, she muses that Mario must be a bit busy, then!

"Hello, Toad!"

"Hi, Princess Peach!"

"Where's Mario?"

"Oh, he's inside with the doctors and Luigi, he left his phone with me- when they kicked me out. I'll hand it to him, don't hang!"

The brothers end up going to the balcony for Mario to take some air after he realizes he's again way too nervous (so close to giving birth and Peach's nowhere to be seen!), while Luigi pats his back, and he leans on the railing. Mario looks up to the sky, the day is so nice and sunny, and it feels ironic with the way he feels- all heated up and tired already.

He gets another contraction and his hands clench on the railing while he whimpers and winces. Oh, Peach should get there sooner, she could help him to not feel pain! He tries to breathe through it as he's been doing it since they started, while Luigi rubs his lower back. It almost feels like the same rubs Peach usually did to ease his pain with her magic, only that Luigi's just brought him emotional comfort and nothing more.

They hear some commotion at the door that leads to the hall and both twins turn to look and see (nosey 🤨) what's going on. It's Doctor Toadlina scolding Toad-

"I told you already! You can't come in, Toad, only the queen and the princess can, Mario needs people that can bring him comfort and support-!"

"Yeah, I know, that's why I need to give him his phone, it's the princess!"

Mario gasps, Peachy is calling?!

He turns to Luigi and signals with his head for him to go deal with it. Luigi nods and leaves his side briefly (not before throwing a dirty look at Mario for ordering him around-) to go to the toads and see the situation. Mario doesn't have to wait long for Luigi to come back, talking to his phone with it in front of his face. Mario's heartbeat gets quicker at the idea of finally seeing Peach. When he sees her, he smiles brightly at Peach's face, being hit with a lot of wind and making her hair fly behind her.

"Hi, Mario!"

From then on, Peach and Mario talked as if she were right there with him, while Luigi did as an interpreter - given that the princess couldn't look too long at her phone while she was driving -, and Mario felt much better about the matter, now only longing that she was physically close to him.

He keeps doing exercises and staying hydrated and complaining from the contractions - at which Peach reassures she's going to calm all his pain away once she got there! -, while the doctor checked every now and then the position of the babies and stuff.

At a certain moment the connection halts because Peach had to go through the pipe system- and after that Mario had to resist the urge to laugh at her, because Peach was clearly running as fast as she could while still trying to keep her face on the camera. Mario also felt the excitement that she was very close to getting there. The background behind her changed fast from the outside of the castle to the main floor, and then to the hall where their quarters were, and finally she all but bolted inside the room, making Doctor Toadlina jump in fright and the nurses squeal in surprise.

"Mario!" she says, phone held in her hand. "Where- where are you?" She looks at the room, at the exalted toads, and then at her phone, looking at Mario's happy face.

"We're-a here!" says Luigi while waving his arm from the balcony's entrance.

"Oh!" she all but glides through the room, after saying quick hi's to the medical toads. And when her and Mario are finally face to face, they embrace the other so tightly and tenderly that Luigi quietly leaves to give them some privacy. Mario exhales in utter relief, at finally feeling completely safe. And Peach let her chin rest over his hair.

They walk to the bed and Peach lovingly helps Mario to sit close to the pillows, while the plumber keeps his hands at all times in hers.

Doctor Toadlina suggests Peach changes her royal clothes into something less cumbersome, so Peach obliges- and Mario reasonably knows it's better that way and it wouldn't take her very long, but he looked worried when she started to back away, in direction to their wardrobe- she smiled and said she wouldn't take long. Yet he still held into her hands until she pulled back too much, and they slipped from his.

At Mario's very puppy-kicked eyes, Luigi laughs and says Peach will be back to his side soon! Mario wipes his eyes and lays back on the pillows, smiling a bit ashamed of his reaction. Soon enough, Peach gets back from the bathroom where she changed, with her hair tied up, her crown still on and dressed in a white shirt and pink trousers, without her gloves or her blue brooch.

From there, Peach takes Luigi's place and is the one to help Mario with the exercises and helping him walk around or lay down or help with his contractions. She uses her healing magic several times each hour to numb his pain, and Mario sighs in relief each time she does. Also at certain times they sit at the little coffee table while she feeds him nibbles from the light snacks the nurses left. Luigi is glad to simply sit back as back-up support until the birth, enjoying the lovebirds' interactions, which in his opinion are adorable.

(Y'know those moms that do their make-up all pretty for when they give birth?) Since Mario had been crying and wiping his eyes so much, let's say his eyeliner had kind of wore off almost completely- and, in a moment of relative calmness while they waited for Mario to be able to push, Peach went to their bathroom and came back with his eyeliner. She proceded to apply it while humming to herself, as she has done many other times (this post!), while Mario smiled all relaxedly. He wasn't in pain, the babies were barely moving or bothering him, and both his girlfriend and brother were there with him (as were the doctor and nurses), so he was feeling all safe, although tired.

Mario doesn't feel pain anymore, but he is still so very tired. And the next few hours of labor and contractions became taxing way too soon, feeling the pressure at his pelvis as the babies got ready to be born and all that. As Peach helped him walk around, he finally decided he had enough of that, so he squeezed her arm to let her know, and from then on he kept himself out of his feet.

He looked tiredly at his brother from time to time, looking for additional support, while Luigi said comforting words, because he knew all too well how Mario was feeling. He spent the last moments before pushing mostly supporting his weight on the bed while on his knees, or laying propped up against the pillows, or sitting at the edge, all while still trying to vaguely do the exercises to help dilation and stuff.

🌟 During the whole ordeal Toad is outside and so is Toadsworth, because none of them were let in, for Mario's (and the medical toads) comfort. The old toad is more or less a nervous mess, so Toad takes on distracting the soon-to-be grandpa, while his daughter and son-in-law (never mind that Peach and Mario weren't married, he'd consider him so if he wished!) were going through the whole thing.

Mario at most was grunting or groaning loudly and stuff, not really screaming or anything, so from outside they couldn't hear much- which was more worrying than comforting, bc they couldn't guess what was going on.

Almost a couple of hours later, one of the nurses peaks their head out, excitedly saying that the first baby has been delivered and it was a healthy baby girl. It leads to Toadsworth being all tears while Toad excitedly (and quietly) celebrates.

Maybe he (or maybe even Luigi) had been keeping their friends updated on the matter? They have a big friend group chat or something and he's been writing the few updates he has been getting, like:

First baby's a girl!!!👶🥳🥳

And he receives a bunch of confetti emojis and crying faces and excited replies in the next few minutes, and asking for pictures (which are sent by Luigi a lot later, when Mariella had been born too, and Mario was sleeping and so were the babies).

🌟 During the birth-

The birth of each baby is extremely quick.

Doctor Toadlina gives the ok to Mario that he's free to push, but he's nervous and he quickly turns to look at Luigi, with his eyes teary and clearly very scared. His brother hugs him and is quick to reassure him that it'll all be okay bc he's right there with him (the meaning behind the words is that as long as they're together everything will be okay :''''v cries in brotherly love), and Mario smiles and nods.

Despite that, he is still feeling terribly nervous, but he's determined to do it anyways (because what other option does he have? Not give birth? He has to do it!), so he firmly grabs Peach and Luigi's hands. He takes a deep breath to brace himself- and then he exhales and takes another breath. Then he quickly looks at Peach with a pout. She smiles brightly back, full of encouragement- so he takes one last breath.

And then, he pushes with all the strength he can muster, holding and clenching Peach's and Luigi's hands firmly, not bothering to hold back (so maybe it feels like the man is trying to break their fingers, but Peach and Luigi don't say anything about that, of course-)

(pipipi kinda sad of these drawings, in the sketches they looked better and like he was really putting force into it skdjks whatevs I lost them)

After the first push, the doctor is pleased to notice that he made a lot of progress right away. And Mario's all slumped back on the pillows and trying to catch his breath, but he smiles very slightly bc he's making it despite his tiredness, woo! Peach and Luigi congratulate him quietly on his efforts, while the princess squeezes his shoulder and his brother pads at his sweaty face with his wrist. That helps too in giving him more determination to keep pushing with all he got.

The thing is that (for the sake of funny, remember) Mario is very strong and it takes one more, really strong push and the first baby pops out in the whole sense of the expression. She just shots out and Doctor Toadlina is definitely caught off guard, but she still manages to hold the baby, the thing is that she stumbles back, and she would've fallen if the assisting nurse toads hadn't hurried to help her stay upright, all caught by surprise.

She's like obviously surprised, as are Peach, Mario and Luigi (who actually took a lot of effort to push his own baby out, so he's like 'wowie bro :0'), but she quickly snaps out of it and congratulates the now officially moms for their baby girl, while the baby cries with all her little lungs' strength, looking too big in the doctor's arms.

Then she instructs the nurses to cut the umbilical cord and do all the procedures to check on the baby's health, while Peach cries because "A baby girl! that means we'll have two baby girls! Oh, Mario!" and Mario looks almost heartbroken that they had to take their baby away (he knows it's for her own wellness, but he just wants to see and hold her already), but then smiles widely at Peach's words, and at his bro's excited congratulations and hugs.

Doctor Toadlina offers Peach to hold their first born so she can bring her to Mario, but Peach is kind of scared and feels shaky from excitement, so she hurriedly tells Luigi to hold their baby instead, since he has more experience. And when he does, Luigi first holds her to Mario's face, and after making the baby kiss his cheek, he places her in Mario's arms.

When the baby is placed in his arms, Mario can't help all his tears because she's so cute! (she's actually a bit ugly, like any newborn baby is) and small (not really, she's bigger than average, especially for a twin pregnancy), and she's utterly perfect (that part's true).

Peach and Mario lean their heads together while admiring their baby (and having so many tears running down their cheeks, but they don't care).

"Oh, Mario- she's perfect," Peach barely chokes out, feeling her heart overwhelmingly full. She turns to him and kisses his head a bunch of times, while Mario smiles brightly. "You did great!"

Then Doctor Toadlina tells Mario that, given baby two's position, it'd be a while for them to be born, so he's allowed to rest and maybe take a quick nap if he wishes to. And Mario takes up on the offer right away.

He leans his head back on the pillows and, with his baby still held in his arms, he knocks out immediately. Peach lets out a surprised but amused giggle. And Luigi shakes his head in amusement too, he gently brushes Mario's hair from his forehead, and then pats his head tenderly. Mario's arms go a bit lose around the baby, but Peach and Luigi make sure he still holds her firmly, supporting his arms with their hands. While Mario naps they whisper about the baby, and how cute she is, with her little cheek squished against Mario's chest.

Peach notes all the physical features that she notices, the clearest one being her round Mario™ nose! And her brown hair, and her little dot eyes, so similar to how she knew Mario's were when he was a baby!

(Mario and Peach totally fall in love when they see their oldest baby- and fall in love again with the second- who arrives almost half and hour later.)

🌟 Once both babies are in Mario's arms, Luigi takes 23429 pictures of the three while claiming that each picture is absolutely perfect, because Mario looks happy in them (and the babies look adorably ugly- like newborns usually do), and Peach, while crying her eyes out, says how she's going to put all 23429 of them in their photo album (that so far has many pictures of Mario's pregnancy process-).

Mario's sure he looks terrible, because despite his joy he feels really exhausted, he can barely keep his eyes open enough to look at Luigi's phone while he snaps several pictures, and even though Peach ran her fingers through his hair to fix it up a bit for that moment, he knew it probably was still a mess.

It's just that everything happened so quickly and it was taking its toll on him, but at least he's very glad that both babies (baby girls! They're Mariella and Nettarina!) are in his arms already.

After everything is done, and he knows his babies are going to be well-cared for, Mario just passes out the rest of the night, and nothing wakes him up. When the babies start to get fussy because they feel hungry, Peach and Luigi take care of them, and they keep doing it for the whole rest of the afternoon and night, all while quietly speaking among themselves how cute the baby girls are and how much they look like either Mario or Peach (definitely more like Mario). Peach tears up almost each time she looks down at the babies' little faces, but it's out of her overwhelming happiness, while she whispers to herself: 'stars, they're finally here!'

At some moment, Peach hands Mariella to Luigi's arms so she can drink some water, since the baby seemed adamant about not joining her twin (and mamma) in sleeping.

"I feel very dehydrated-" she says quietly and then serves herself a glass from their coffee table. Peach makes the mistake of looking back to her brother-in-law and the little bundle of light green blankets in his arms, and she has to cover her mouth to sob again, turning to look at her glass. Oh, she was so small! And so real and there already! She hadn't felt this overwhelmingly happy since... maybe ever. And also, Peach is sure the lack of sleep has something to do with her very emotional state.

"I don't blame you, you've-a cried so much, Peach," mutters Luigi distractedly, as if he hadn't been crying a lot too, while very gently rocking one of his newborn nieces as the baby slowly blinked at him.

She had a round nose like all the Marios did (he, his bro and Magma-), and very relaxed little eyebrows, and almost a full head of reddish chestnut hair. And her little mouth was not even pouting, but Luigi couldn't help but think that she (and her sister, since they were identical) reminded him very much of when Magma was a newborn, and just placed in his arms (he also briefly remembered Mario's and Bowser's weeping when they saw her properly, and he huffed a laugh to himself).

-By the end, Peach puts only some (but still many) of the pictures in their family album, several of Mario holding the girls, either smiling or kissing them, others of her holding them, others of both new moms with their babies, and others of Luigi holding his nieces.

🌟 The next morning, Mario wakes up and the first thing he does is stretch as much as he can, realizing that he actually slept pretty well (and he was even laying on his back!). He feels a bit sore and all but less... heavy. He looks down to his body and sees his still round and swollen belly, but much less than it should be if he had two babies inside. He panics for all of a few seconds as he looks around the room, and a huge relief envelops him as he sees the two wooden bassinets that hadn't been there the day before, until the previous afternoon, when one of the nurses brought them in from the nursery to lay the babies.

He looks at the other two sleeping adults in the room, at Peach sitting in one of the armchairs in their room, with her cheek against her fist in what must be an uncomfortable position, with her crown still placed perfectly on top of her head. And to Luigi, sprawled at the foot of the bed, hatless and snoring slightly.

He smiles to himself slightly and slowly gets out of bed, wincing a bit because he still feels kind of tender from the previous day and the toll it had in his body. Mario waddles sluggishly to the bassinets and his soft smile turns bright as he looks at the little babies' faces. They're still as perfect as they were the day before, when he had them in his arms.

He looks at the oldest baby, Nettarina, wrapped in the red-pink blanket, just like he and Peach accorded that the first baby to be born would be, and then to Mariella, who's wrapped in light green. And whose little dot eyes are blinking open. Mario gets closer to her bassinet, and he leans a bit while smiling softly to her.

"Hi, baby," he whispers, holding out a hand to lightly caress her very soft cheek with a finger. Mariella just keeps blinking, with her little closed fists close to her face. She does a big yawn with her eyes tightly closed, and then she keeps looking and blinking in Mario's direction.

She was just born yesterday, and of course her vision was just terrible, but Mario still smiled at her widely as if to show her how happy he was that she was finally there. After a while the baby fell asleep, all while Mario kept looking at her.

He spent some very good minutes on his feet beside his babies, until Peach stirred awake and, upon seeing Mario standing, scrambled to her feet and with a smile asks how he's feeling-

The morning goes all nicely and stuff while both new moms (and uncle!) spend the time caring for the babies and tending to them. When it's the afternoon and Mario's feeling much better, they first let Toadsworth in -who got there early to ask for Mario's and the babies' state- and he's all weepy while looking at his grandbabies!

Maybe a few days later their friends meet their babies, as do their niblings and Daisy and all :''v

[stump-not-found]

A Lifetime Served in a Little Cup

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4

---

bill, babygirl, the red flags get outta there

[waywardstation]

Look for anything (or anyone) that could be familiar

For part two:

❤️ 300 likes

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Reblog with the hashtag:

🔼 for Ingo to find Emmet

🔽 for Emmet to find Ingo

[thatskindarough]

“‘I just…I thought you might like to come back, one day,’ Crowley said very quietly. Aziraphale’s foot pressed against his again, and Crowley drew in a sudden breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing properly since Aziraphale had stopped touching him.”

This piece was a commission from the lovely @fellshish for their lovely friend, @alphacentaurinebula ‘s fic What Are You Doing Here? This fic is cute, funny, heartwarming, and incredibly spicy, and I’m very much looking forward to finishing it! Thank you Fells for being wonderful to work with, and happy (belated) birthday to you Alphacentauri, I’m very happy I could do this for you!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

[right to left]

finally finished This Wip from Ever ago and so now i ask you ever look into another dudes eyes and suddenly want to do whatever he wants

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

masterlist | part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this), part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Ground Riot agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Feelings Thawed

Character; Cater Diamond

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, pining, ice skating (to various degrees of success)

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; This is a present/thank you to my mutual @i-like-forgs. I hope you enjoy this ice skating scene with Cater, and that you get to skate soon!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The brisk wind bit at your nose, and you pulled up your scarf, trying to keep away the offending wind. Around you it was a winter wonderland, all made possible in the temperate conditions thanks to Cater, who was filming you skating around on the frozen pond’s surface.

“You know,” you hollered, making sure that you caught his attention, “you should join me! It’s fun!” You came to a stop by the pond’s edge, where Cater was standing with a large thermos.

Cater just shot you a wink, handing you the thermos. “This is for you though, silly!” 

He was deflecting, you could tell; behind that bright and cheery smile that he always seemed to wear around others, you knew when there was something off with Cater. You accepted the thermos though, and took a sip of the spicy apple cider, still piping hot.

You gave him a look and pulled lightly on his coat sleeve. “Yes, but it’s more fun with others, come on Cater!” You stepped back onto the ice, and slowly skated near him, waiting with an eager smile.

He looked at you, and then back at the ice, but he stayed standing in the light snow, shooting you that smile. “But I can’t take photos if I’m out there with you!” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Liar. “Cater,” you looped back around and stepped onto the bank, balancing on your skates, “do you not know how to skate?”

Cater’s smile turned sheepish, and his ‘ahahaha, looks like my gig is up’ chuckle made its appearance. He had been found out. “Never got the chance to,” he hid his face slightly in his scarf, either to keep the cold at bay or to hide that his cheeks were turning pink. “So I’d just slow ya down.”

You took his hand into yours, “Well, I could teach you if you wanted. Just a warning though, you’re gonna fall on your butt a lot, might get a few bruises.”

Cater looked down at your entwined hands. Mittens and gloves separated your skin from touching one another, but Cater could swear that he could feel the sensation nonetheless through the layers of fabric.

“You would? Even if I pull you down with me?” 

The last question wasn’t just about the ice skating; Cater didn’t want to force you to do anything that you didn’t want to… and that included being his friend. His heart seemed to whisper stronger emotions though, but he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

You walked him out to the ice, and the both of you swiftly fell down on the ice, hard. But you just laughed and got right back up again, “Well, we did just fall. There isn’t anything scary about falling down; yes it stings and might leave a gnarly bruise, but in order to move forward we have to fall and get back up. So yes, is what I guess I’m saying.”

Cater looked up at you, the sun illuminating you and the snow glittered behind you. You were holding your hand out again, waiting for him. And Cater took your hand. 

It took him a while to get the hang of it, and he fell down quite a bit, but every time he fell down you helped him back up. And by the time that the sun was setting in the west, the both of you were cold, and both were going to wake up tomorrow with some bruises. It was fun though, which is all that mattered… but that whisper in Cater’s heart was by now singing, and maybe he would listen to it, but for now, he was happy with how the way things were, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, especially with how much you had smiled today. Your smile and knowing that you had fun with him was enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time His Older Brother Gave Him A Tarot Reading”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, pure fluff, reader is not present, Sukuna is pining hard

Word Count: 1.26k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna isn’t one to make time for his family. Although he has an identical twin brother who bothers him far too much for his liking and an older half brother, he almost never talks about them and spends even less time talking too them. But today he was feeling nice… which is strange for him, but regardless, he decided to agree to come by his brothers’ apartment.

And was quickly reminded of why he never comes over.

Sukuna was seated on the antique couch while Choso kneeled in front of the coffee table between them, flickering candles on every surface bathing the living room in a soft warm glow and reflecting on the shiny surfaces of the crystals placed meticulously all over the table. Choso opened up a small black box, pulling intricately designed tarot cards from inside and fanning them between his fingers before spreading them face down across the table.

Sukuna really was trying not to roll his eyes at the whole ordeal, but the man can only take so much before he’s bound to cave, “This is so stupid.”

“Shh…” Choso leans forward and presses his finger over Sukuna’s lips.

“Don’t touch me.” He grumbles.

“Shut up,” Choso loses his calm demeanor for only a second before he’s closing his eyes again, “I’m focusing.”

“On what?”

“I’m tuning in…” He wiggles his fingers over the cards, “to the energies.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Sukuna rubs his temples, “When did you start doing this witchcraft shit again?”

“Not witchcraft,” Choso peeks one eye open to shoot a quick glare at his brother, “And yesterday.”

“Oh you’re a real professional huh?” He smirks down at him.

“Sukuna,” His shoulders slump and he lets out a frustrated huff, “Just, fucking shut up.”

The two of them squint as the lights suddenly flick on, Yuuji not quite getting the memo of what’s going on downstairs as he leans his head over the stair railing to peek into the living room, “Ooh, how’s the satanic ritual going?” He calls out from the stairway.

“Yuuji!” The two of them call out in unison. He lets out a little “Oops” and flicks the light back off, running back to his room upstairs.

Choso rubs his eyes, smudging his eyeliner onto his fingers, “Okay just, pick a card.”

Sukuna huffs out an annoyed breath, reaching forward and tapping his pointer finger on one of the cards in the middle. Choso slides the card down in front of Sukuna and flips it over, revealing an upside down picture of a man sitting upright in a bed with his head in his hands and swords neatly stacked on the wall behind him.

“Oh, interesting.” Choso mumbles.

“The fuck is he crying about?” Sukuna leans down and squints at the card on the table, “It’s upside down.”

“It’s reversed,” Choso clarifies, “The nine of swords reversed.”

“Choso, I don’t know what the hell that means.”

The long haired man sits up a little straighter, pointing at the card with a manicured finger, “This first card is your past. The next will be the present, and the last will be your future.” He picks the card up and scans it carefully, “You were… struggling, alone, not one to talk to others even when you need to-“

“What is this fuckin’ therapy?”

Choso groans and rolls his eyes, “God knows you need it, but no. Anyway,” He clears his throat, “You were in a downward spiral, but this is past tense, clearly you’re more open now considering,” He gestures vaguely around the room, “Well, you’re here for once.”

Sukuna is visibly annoyed, not a fan of being picked and prodded at. Choso places the card back down on the table, gesturing for Sukuna to pick another one, which to Choso’s surprise and for Sukuna’s morbid curiosity, he does; tapping his finger on a card pushed to the side of the table.

Choso flips the card over, and once again, it's upside down. It pictures a man sitting cross crossed in front of a tree, three golden goblets on the grass in front of him and a fourth being given to him from a disembodied hand floating next to him.

He’s really fuckin’ bad at organizing his cards.

Choso’s gaze flickers between Sukuna and the card, his brows furrowed in thought so clearly that you could almost see cogs turning behind his eyes, “Four of cups… reversed.”

“The hell does reversed mean?”

“It’s usually a negative version of the card’s meaning.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Oh fuckin’ lovely.”

Choso props his elbow onto the table, tracing the outline of the card with his finger, “You’re withdrawing-“

“Well yeah. No shit,” Sukuna cuts him off, “You’re telling me I’m cursed. What’s the damn card mean?”

“That is what the card means, idiot. You’re reluctant to open up to someone.”

Sukuna leans back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, “Who?”

“I don’t know,” Choso shrugs, “Maybe the future card will clarify.”

“Absolutely not.” He huffs. Choso looks up at him with confusion, “I told you this was stupid, I’m not picking another.”

The light flicks on once again, Sukuna groans at the sound of Yuuji’s voice yelling from the stairway, “Sounds like someone’s a fucking pussy!”

“Yuuji, quit eavesdropping or I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out.”

The light flicks back off.

Choso looks up at Sukuna expectantly, and after glaring down at him for a moment he breaks, rolling his eyes and flipping over a random card, “If it’s upside down I swear to fucking god-“

“Oh shit!”

“What?” Sukuna sounds almost startled, looking down at the card he sees that this one is upright; picturing a naked man and woman standing in front of some kind of angel. But he’s quickly able to gather the most damning part of the card.

The bottom of the card says “The Lovers.”

“Oh fuck off.”

A smile spreads across Choso’s face, “I don’t think I need to explain this one to you. And it’s not upside down.”

“Reversed.” Sukuna mockingly clarifies.

“Shut up,” Choso leans forward, grin still plastered on his lips, “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody, this shit isn’t real.” Sukuna scowls, but deep down he’s glad the room is so dark to hide the tint in his cheeks.

It’s not fucking real idiot. Stop it.

“How about this,” Choso clasps his hands together, looking up towards the ceiling, “If this shit is real, give us a sign.”

Yuuji flickers the lights.

“No! Stop interfering, this is serious!” Choso yells out towards the stairway.

But Sukuna’s blood runs cold as his phone buzzes in his pocket, quiet enough that no one could hear, but he could feel it.

It’s not real.

The room is silent for a moment as Choso scans for any type of sign, but it’s as if the world had completely stopped turning, not even the candles were flickering. Choso plops his head onto the coffee table, mumbling under his breath, “I don’t know why I thought that would work.”

“Mhm.” Sukuna hums, putting up a disinterested front as he pulls his phone from his pocket, “Can we watch a movie or something now like a normal family?”

Choso defeatedly blows out the candles, collecting his crystals and placing his tarot cards neatly back into the box, “Fine, fine, but I still think it’s real.”

Sukuna’s heart nearly stops beating when he unlocks his phone and sees a text from you, “If u leave dirty dishes in the sink one more time I’m actually gonna kill u in your sleep.”

God I hope it’s fucking real.

A/N: Family bonding time has never been so awkward, anyway here’s that time Sukuna started to believe in magic, or witchcraft, or anything if it means you like him as much as he likes you. Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[katsu28]

home is wherever you are

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol

a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH

“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.” 

Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was. 

“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips. 

“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.” 

You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most. 

There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch. 

But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room. 

Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing. 

He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing. 

It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench. 

Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise. 

But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you. 

You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal. 

The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.

“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms. 

Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own. 

But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor. 

He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.” 

“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.” 

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.” 

“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.” 

“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?” 

“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled. 

Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.” 

Oh, if only he knew. 

You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.” 

Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.

“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.” 

Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on. 

Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out. 

He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word. 

“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?” 

“You’re really going to be gone.”

“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him. 

“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.” 

That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits. 

 “What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression. 

“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—” 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking. 

You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?” 

“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.” 

“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms. 

“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.” 

“Yeah, I am pretty great.” 

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.” 

“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.” 

Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.” 

“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional. 

“Is that a promise?” 

“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.” 

It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could. 

You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night. 

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined. 

You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch. 

He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.  

The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that. 

Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something. 

The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room. 

It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine. 

But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time. 

You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano. 

Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in. 

Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world. 

You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead. 

It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now. 

Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring. 

“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly. 

“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?” 

“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.” 

Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.” 

“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?” 

This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep. 

You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh. 

There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell. 

It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course. 

Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more. 

Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?” 

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask. 

You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable. 

“Any requests from the audience?” 

“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow. 

“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”

“Anything you play is perfect.”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”  

He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker. 

It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa. 

Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine. 

Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own. 

Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him. 

God, why were you even thinking of those things? 

It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend. 

Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know. 

Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop. 

Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him. 

-------

Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him. 

“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place. 

The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice. 

You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up. 

It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow. 

Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.” 

“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.” 

“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.” 

You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.” 

“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”

“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?” 

“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.” 

“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.

Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him. 

That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles. 

His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.” 

You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—” 

“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.” 

But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all. 

You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.” 

His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign. 

That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.” 

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

You almost faltered. Almost.

“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?” 

“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?” 

“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.” 

“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you. 

“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly. 

“Then why did you?” 

“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.” 

“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone. 

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.” 

Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued. 

“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”

There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had. 

Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.” 

“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.” 

“It is, if he feels the same way about you.” 

A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head. 

“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.

Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?” 

You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.

He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you. 

Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.

“Do you believe me now?” 

“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).

“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.” 

“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them. 

This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.

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[originalartblog]

Tiny skk Thunderstorm Megacomic part 1 - part 2 ↓

Continued under the cut ↓

...

❤

Chuuya had managed to hide that (very embarrassing) fear of lightning for all those years through careful movement planning, dubious self-control and luck. Today is probably not the day he'll talk about it, but lucky for him, he wasn't the only one here who would have liked to keep more stuff to himself.

[runningupthatvecna]

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

[shorthaltsjester]

if i keep seeing so many people refer to ayden as an indication of an unknown softness in pelor i will start setting things on fire. just because YOU cannot handle nuance does not mean the story of exandria has not contained it and done so consistently. in fact the first in depth interaction that any party had with pelor (vex becoming his champion) was a portrayal of him that was explicit in his complexity. taken straight from the transcript for 1x104 elysium, “[vex you] spin and look, whereas there once was a burning star-- and to the rest of [vox machina], you see the painful, endless light that averts your gaze-- it doesn't hurt your eyes as much, and you can see the faint features, the soft cheeks, the hairless head, and the bright warm eyes of he who brings the dawn. And you can see the smile there, behind the light. “there is hope.”” sunlight can warm you and burn you in equal measure.

that burning image of the sun has much in common with a teenage boy who steps into a dark room, and reminds the dm that it’s not dark. the same way that a teenage boy who stands by as a woman who will not give up her worship of pelor is punished because he has more important responsibilities he must honour has much in common with a seemingly benevolent lord of the dawn might respond harshly to a cleric who asks if he is worth saving while he is trying to find a way to survive so he might keep helping to provide light. the gods aren’t simple and they never have been. i am as psyched about the particular angle that downfall is taking as anybody but it is already frustrating watching people act like the gods are suddenly more nuanced because they’re in literally mortal bodies when the entire Point of the gods in exandria in the various stories we’ve seen so far is that the only difference they have with mortals is the bounds of their power. they carry all the same flaws and the same profundity. just because so much of the fandom has reduced that to black and white flatness or faulty mapping onto real world religions (or the various traumas those might have caused individuals) doesn’t mean that complexity has been missing at all from the story.

[milkamel]

✨ Kross AU where soulmates share pain from injuries ✨

I’ve been thinking about some kind of a soulmate AU for these too (just for fun, nothing too complicated) and this concept was quite interesting so here it is. I also wanted to make it angsty but instead, it turned silly- I think it’s even better this way. This idea was sudden so there may be plot holes and inaccuracies.

So, Killer and Cross are soulmates and they’re linked by the pain they share (the one that comes from injuries, being hit etc. If any of them gets physically hurt, both of them feel it). Killer has a pretty high pain tolerance due to his experiences, trauma and general numbness, so he barely feels any pain and can easily ignore or not notice injuries on himself.

Cross on the other hand can feel everything clearly but he’d just learned to pretend like everything’s fine. He’s a soldier after all, he has to be strong for his people, friends and his soulmate that he’s bound to meet. He can’t show weakness no matter how unbearable sometimes the pain is. Though he can’t help but be concerned over how intense the pain is sometimes so he tries to avoid anything that might bring even more pain to his poor soulmate who suffers so frequently.

So, in conclusion, we have two idiots who hide their pain and can’t realize that they are soulmates because of that 🎉🎉 Mutual pining and idiots in love 🎉🎉

Killer belongs to rahafwabas Cross belongs to jakei

[dahldahlbills]

he connected the dots

[xxplastic-cubexx]

your krakoa era cherik art has altered my brain chemistry

more krakoa era is to come from me my friend so i worry for your brain

[tusks-and-claws]

I’m Not What You Need (But I Am)

Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary:  “When you sit there/acting like you know me/acting like you only brought me here to get below me”

You have a concern to bring to Miguel, but when he hears what you really think of him, he doesn’t let you off so easily

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, kind of missionary idk what to call it, dominant Miguel, brat taming, orgasm denial, dirty talk, choking, sort of strangers to lovers, maybe a little bit of a hatefuck if you squint, reader is a Spider person, def a bit out of character

Wordcount: 3.5k

Find on Ao3 here :3

"Why are you coming to me with such trivial annoyances?" Miguel O'Hara asked you from the platform of his lab, at least ten feet above you. He was tapping on various screens, not giving you eye contact. It felt purposeful, pointed. 

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to know when fights broke out. Keeping the peace and all that." You felt yourself growing warm, anxiety fluttering in your stomach. 

"What I want," he said, his tone growing short. "Is for people to sort out their own bullshit, so I can worry about what's important. Which, if you haven't noticed, is much bigger than you and I and some stupid fight in the lobby."

As soon as he said it, you knew he was right. But he was still being an asshole. You were only trying to help.

You put your hands up in defense. "I just thought you'd wanna know." Then whispered under your breath "douchebag," as you turned to walk away.

But your progress was halted by something tugging at your wrist. You looked down to see what it was, and closed your eyes, quietly cursing yourself. Neon red webbing. 

"You wanna run that by me again?" Miguel asked. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat. "Nothing, it was nothing. I'll just leave." 

You tried to pull free, but he was reeling you in, like a helpless fish on a hook. "Oh, no," he said, sounding somewhat amused. "No, I heard you. 'Douchebag,' eh? Not very creative. But…" he paused when you were closer, close enough that he could look directly down at you. "I want to hear you say it again. Face to face, this time."

You frowned. "How can we be 'face to face' when you're so high above me?"

He wagged a finger at you. "You've got a point there." In a sudden flash of tingling, your Spider sense triggered. But Miguel was too fast, he'd been doing this for far longer than you had. In an instant, you were wrapped in neon red and being hoisted upward onto the platform. He planted you right in front of him, putting his hands on his hips and leaning down so his eyes were level with yours. "Happy?"

You huffed. Why was he like this? A self-satisfied grin played at the edges of his plush lips as he scrutinized you with bloodshot eyes. Finally registering how close he was, and how huge he was, you started turning red. He could throw you around like you weighed nothing, couldn't he? He had just lifted you up here with hardly any effort. You'd never thought about another Spider like this. Sure, you were all strong, but there was something in Miguel's upper body that you couldn't free from your thoughts, something in those massive shoulders, something-

"Well?" He asked, breaking your trance. "I don't have all day."

You met his eyes. They looked so tired. You didn't want to insult him anymore. You wanted to leave and pretend like the thoughts you had about him never existed. 

But you knew what he needed to hear. 

"Douchebag," you repeated. 

He smiled, and it was humorless. "It's nice to know that this is what people think of me. That I did this for all of us, and everyone in our worlds. And the word that comes to mind when people talk to me is…?" He raised an eyebrow prompting you. 

"...Douchebag."

"That's right!" He pointed a finger at you. "I don't ask for much. I ask for people to listen and respect the operation. And that means respecting my time, too, eh? No more coming right to me with petty fights that people can solve on their own." 

You just stared back up at him, hardly registering his words. Respect time, no more fights, whatever. His hair looked so soft. 

"Got it?" He asked, starting to sound frustrated again. 

You nodded.

"I need to hear you say it."

"G-got it." 

"Good." He patted your shoulder. What an odd gesture. It was very nearly caring. "Let's get you out of here." He flexed his hand, talons coming free. He quickly swiped at the webbing he had wrapped you in, the strands snapping and falling to the floor in shreds.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. His brow furrowed. "Listen, I know I'm scary, but I'm just doing my job."

You shook your head. "I'm- I'm not scared."

"Are you not? Dios mio, I can hear your blood pumping." 

His heightened senses were going to be your death sentence. The longer he stood staring at you, the worse your thoughts became. But you couldn't bring yourself to move away from his attention. You crossed your arms, trying to make yourself small so he would stop looking at you. 

He raised an eyebrow. "What, do you wanna be friends or something?"

No, you thought, I want us to be something different. 

Despite your best efforts, you blurted out, "no, in all honesty, I've never really liked you that much." Why did you say that? What was wrong with you? 

He cocked his head, his eyes widening, processing what you just said. He started to nod. "Oh, wow. Great. Thank you so much. What a productive conversation. And you're still here because…?"

"Because you getting the last word in is infuriating to me." You couldn't stop yourself. You knew this was bad, but you couldn't stop.

"How do you think I feel? You came here for the sole purpose of bothering me and now you won't leave me the shock alone." He pointed at you again, forefinger lightly jabbing your collarbone. "You. Can. Leave. This is my lab, you little brat." He spoke the words through gritted teeth, and you could just barely see his elongated canines, gleaming and sharp in the light of the lab's computer screens. 

Oh no.

You stood there, just blinking at him. You've never seen someone so annoyed looking so attractive at the same time. It wasn't fucking fair.

He suddenly started, the anger from his face vanishing, confusion taking its place. "Oh yeah?" He asked, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "That's why your heart is pounding?"

Fuck.

"What, uh… what do you-"

"Don't play dumb with me.” He placed a gloved finger under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. “I can smell that you're turned on. Is that why you came here to bother me? So you could gawk at me? And maybe I'd fuck you if you were lucky."

You backed up, nearly slipping off the edge of the raised platform. Miguel reached out and caught your hand, pulling you in close to him. Unconsciously, you splayed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. His body was so warm and inviting, and you were drawn into it like a little planet circling a blazing sun. 

What was happening, what were you doing?

"Is that what you thought?" He asked, seeming to echo the questions you asked yourself, his voice growing more quiet as he looked down at you.

You quickly raised your hands away from him, closing them into loose fists and crossing your arms again. "No," you said, truthfully. 

"But you're thinking it now." He nodded. "Aren't you?"

After a pause, you nodded too.

"I really need to hear you say it." He probed.

"I'm…. I'm thinking about it now."

"Oh, are you? Thinking about what?"

You swore under your breath, doing a poor job of hiding a scowl. You should've known he wasn't going to make it easy for you. 

"Thinking about you fucking me." You grimaced after admitting it, waiting for him to mock you and disown you. 

He smiled. "That's funny. I thought I was a douchebag." 

"Fuck you, man!" You threw your arms up into the air, turning around and preparing to hop down from the platform. 

“No no no, come on, now,” he said, grasping your wrist with a large, warm hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle. “Why don’t you give me a chance to change your mind?”

You looked him in the eyes, and there was a small spark there. You sighed, unable to deny the reaction your body had to him. You wanted him. And he was offering himself to you. What reality was this where that was even possible? Not ten minutes ago, you were hardly closer than strangers. “Okay,” you said, offering him a small grin. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“Oh, I won’t.” In another swift movement, he swept you up into his arms and laid you down on your back on the lab floor. He was above you, arms on either side of your head, boxing you in. You could hardly see anything past those vast shoulders. You swallowed. He raised one hand to your head, petting your hair. “Look at that. You really are so pretty. Couldn’t help thinking it even when you were pissing me off earlier.”

You furrowed your brow. “I thought you wanted to change my mind, asshole, is this-”

He cut you off as his hand lowered, skating down your side and brushing against your breast before traveling even further. You exhaled shakily, trying to prepare yourself for this. Miguel O'Hara was touching you. Miguel O'Hara was going to fuck you. 

When he reached the curvature of your hips, he fondly squeezed, humming to himself. "Soft… so soft. You wouldn't want an asshole like me to eat you out, would you?"

Your brain short-circuited at how blatant he was. "No, I- I would, I really fucking would, Miguel."

"Oh, are we on a first name basis, now?" He hooked a clawed finger into the fabric of your suit, ripping a huge gash into it so he could access you. That… that was your good suit. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself from quipping back at him as he scooted downward, wrapping his arms around your thighs and lining himself up with your pussy. You threw your head back in anticipation, screwing your eyes shut. How was this real? How was-

You gasped as his tongue made gentle contact with your sex, slowly and carefully licking a long swipe from your opening to your clit, like he was savoring the first taste of you. 

"You taste even better than you smell, amor." 

Fuck, he was savoring you. You trembled beneath him, your hands tentatively reaching down to tangle with his hair. And it was even softer than you thought it would be. 

"That's it," he encouraged. "Hang onto me." 

You listened, your grip on his hair tightening. As if that were his cue, he brought his tongue back to your aching pussy, lapping at the wetness that was all but dripping from you. Your body immediately felt too hot on the metal floor, and you were convinced that you were beginning to melt under the warmth of his tongue. The almost-penetration was sending you spiraling; he was giving you nothing that you needed while somehow simultaneously answering your every secret desire. You needed that mouth on your clit. Your greedy, aroused body needed more, more. You had him all to yourself and he was teasing you. It wasn't fair. 

You whimpered as you gripped soft locks of his hair, waiting for him to take the plunge. Waiting…. And waiting. But he just kept lapping contentedly at your entrance, just barely dipping his tongue inside. The feeling was pleasant but infuriating. What was he trying to do? Did he want you to beg for it?

Oh.

…He couldn't be serious. 

But that was the only conclusion you could reach. After all, he'd been asking to hear you say things this entire encounter, prompting you to be vocal. All you had to do was swallow your pride. 

"M-Miguel…?" You asked, your voice quiet.

He stopped, picking his head up slightly, looking at you from under his thick brows. "Mm? What is it?"

"Please, um… please…." Your voice caught in your throat. Why was this so difficult?

"Oh, you're begging me now? What could you possibly be begging for… Isn't this what you wanted?"

You narrowed your eyes as he held your gaze with that lackadaisical expression. 

"Please," you started, feeling humiliated. "Please suck on my clit."

"Good girl. All you had to do was ask." In no time at all, his mouth was back on you. He zeroed in on your clit, taking the sensitive bundle of nerves into the wet warmth of his mouth, sucking on it just as you needed. The feeling was so intense and you couldn't suppress any of the noises that escaped you. And the noises he made didn't help in the slightest. He was humming as he worked your clit, the gentle vibrations of his voice adding to the overstimulation. He stopped for a moment to instead use his tongue, and the pointed attention was delicious.

"How are you feeling, amor?" He asked without fully pulling away from you, his voice slightly lisping from the contact. 

"Good," you gasped, feeling like you were getting close to the edge. "So, so good. Please keep going."

"Tell me when you're going to cum."

"Yes, yes I will." 

He continued his efforts, mercilessly devouring you, a cacophony of wet sounds rising to meet your ears. You could feel your orgasm building, your body singing. He was playing you like an instrument. That warm, pulsating feeling was building deep inside your core, threatening to burst apart with every second. 

Your grip on his hair tightened. "Miguel, I'm- I'm gonna-" 

Your back started arching and you closed your eyes as… nothing happened. He pulled his head away from you. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you from between your legs, one of his eyebrows raised. 

"Wha- what?" 

He smirked. "Oh, this? It's nothing... It's just that douchebags usually don't care about making women cum."

Your jaw dropped open. This again? You gritted your teeth, your clit swollen and thrumming with your pulse. You needed release. 

"I'm sorry." You said, your voice desperate. 

He raised his eyebrows, amused. "Oh, wow, that was fast." His tone was so matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry for calling you a douchebag and an asshole, I was wrong about you. Please let me cum." You spat the words out so quickly that you hardly registered what you were saying. 

"How could I say no to that?" He returned to you, gripping your thighs more firmly than he had before, shamelessly moaning into you as you started to curl up off the hard metal floor. Your orgasm was so close, it was right within your grasp. Your breath started going ragged as you held onto him for dear life. In a white hot burst of pleasure, you came, swearing loudly as Miguel drank up every bit of you, letting you ride your orgasm out on his skillful tongue. He slowed down right as you did, matching your pace perfectly until you were a heaving mess on the floor in front of him.

"My turn, now," his voice came through the fog, it sounded distant. But you could feel strong arms lifting you up and all but dropping you onto your back on one of the lab's computer consoles, its screen turning off in response. He dismissed a section of his high tech suit, his manhood coming free. You couldn't help but gawk at him. His body was unreal. From the small window he created, you could see hard lines of muscle carved into golden skin. Your head started spinning again. 

He began pumping his hard cock as he looked down at you, spreading your legs further open with his free hand. "See how easy it is to get what you want when you aren't being a brat?" The way his muscles flexed through his tight suit while he worked himself was maddening. You wanted- no, you needed him to fuck you. You needed him inside you. 

You nodded your head, answering his question. 

"So, tell me what you want." 

"I want you to fuck me," you answered, still panting from your orgasm. "I want to feel you so badly. Please, Miguel."

"You're a fast learner," he purred, bringing his cock to your folds and lubricating himself on the mess you two had made. He slid over your slick entrance, his head touching your aching clit as he moved up and down. "I'll fuck this pretty cunt for you, since you asked so nicely." 

He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside of you, inch by thick inch. You moaned, the feeling of finally being full was luscious, he was pressing at your walls from all angles. At last, when he was in up to the hilt, he stayed there for a moment while his large hands found your waist. 

"My God, look at you. You took all of me, and so shocking well. You," he exhaled, seemingly taking a second to compose himself. "You feel so good." 

"Thank you," you whispered, breathless. He was praising you. It was… nice to hear. Stubbornness be damned.

He chuckled to himself. "Please and thank you? You really do learn fast. You've earned this, amor." And with that, he pulled himself out of you, slamming back in with a hard slap. Over and over, he fucked you with the entire length of his cock, hitting spots inside of you that you weren't sure even existed. "Lemme hear you, I wanna hear it all."

You obeyed. "O-oh my God, Miguel, fuck. It's… it's so good. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you."

Thanking him fueled his fire; his grip on your waist tightening, red eyes sparkling wildly. "Good girl, that's it… watching my cock disappear inside of you… it's making me crazy. You like getting fucked by someone you hated before all this? You wanna get filled up by someone you don't even like?"

"Yes, please." Your back arched into him, the pressure from his unwavering thrusts overwhelming you. The feeling was impossibly perfect, your body tingling from your head to your toes. He really did fit inside of you so well.  

"You'll get it, baby. Keep being good for me, you'll get it." 

As he continued, his hands roamed your body. Groping at your breasts, resting on the soft slope of your stomach. You grabbed one of his traveling hands, a rogue feeling overtaking you as you brought it up to your throat. 

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Y-yeah? You want me to choke you?” He sounded excited.

“P-please,” you huffed, grabbing onto his forearm.

“Holy shit, you’re something else.” He began applying gentle pressure to your airway as he kept fucking you. It was the perfect amount of constriction; suppressing your breath intake just enough for your head to feel pleasantly airy. He was good at that, why was he so good at that?

Between the way he was pounding you and the way he was choking you, your muscles started to bear down on him.

"Yes, yes, squeeze that cock. Good girl. You’re gonna get what you want.” 

You clenched down on him, your orgasm rocking you to your core as he fucked you through it. It hit you in giant waves, crashing over you and pulling you into the undertow. You felt completely drunk on it. The warmth of it was everywhere in your body, all the way up to your fingertips. Your head swam, your eyes rolling back into your head. Miguel swore to himself, his tempo becoming more irregular. He released your throat, hands flying down to grip the console. You thought you could hear it cracking. 

“God, you’re tight. I’m gonna fill you up.”

“Yes,” you rasped, your body shaking. 

He growled as he came inside of you, bearing his fangs in clenched teeth once more, and you could feel his cock twitch followed by the heat of his seed as it stuffed you full. He lingered over you, his eyes looking frenzied as his gaze flicked over your face, his chest heaving with every recovering breath. 

You released a deep sigh, smiling tenderly at him. “Thank you, Miguel.”

“You, uh,” he started awkwardly, running his hands through his hair. He still hadn’t even pulled out of you yet. “You earned it,” he repeated. 

He took a short, unsure step back, as he pulled his length free from you. You could feel his cum leaking from you upon his release. There was so much of it. 

He held his hand out to you to help you up, and you grasped it, smiling again as you got to your feet. 

“I’ll clean this mess up, but you.…” He scanned your frame. “...I’ve got a pair of pants on one of the lab chairs down there.” He pointed toward a particularly cluttered section of his space. “Bringing them back would be a much better excuse to see me than a fight in the lobby.”