#the fact that you all love this fic so much really is a balm to my soul

[bizaar]

Hiya! Just wanted to stop by and share how IMMENSELY re-readable I find endless/cruel summer to be. I think what calls me to come back to it, and think about your story time and time again are the collective decisive narrative moments. Especially, Part 7 where the narrative begins to converge with season four's plot-line.

It's one of crossroads where I cant help but think What if? Where would the characters be if they hadn't been thrown into that supernatural setting and remained in a mundane setting? Do you think Eddie would have discovered Reader was still in town, or would they have co-existed in Hawkins completely removed from each other's orbit with him being none the wiser?

I'm curious if this is something you've given any thought to!

p.s. it's been a delight to read endless summer and slowly watch our beloved dyad become more recognizable to who they develop to be in cruel summer. agh! good stuff!!

Bestie oh my God…. oh mY GOD you’re really gonna make me write another fic CAN YOU IMAGINE THAT???? I gotta sit down… I gotta think about this

[domjaehyun]

KISS U RIGHT NOW (L.MK)

pairing. mark lee x fem!reader genre. some fluff, smut word count. 6.9k contents. kissing, breast play, fingering (receiving), oral (giving), unprotected sex

summary. in which mark just really wants to kiss you. alternative summary. five times mark wanted to kiss you and one time he actually does.

notes. happy (belated) birthday @najaemarkl !! this fic is based off the song ‘kiss u right now’ by duckwrth 🥰

saturday.

Mark thinks he might be going insane.

Mark is standing in the middle of this party on a Saturday night, red Solo cup in his hand, surrounded by dancing bodies, among which there are undoubtedly several girls who would go for him.

Mark is standing in the middle of this party, and all he can think about is how badly he wants to kiss you, his best friend. 

monday.

It started as an inkling these past couple of weeks, but it got a little stronger on Monday, a persistent nagging feeling as he watched you in the back of your shared Linguistics class. You’d knocked your dangly earring out in your hurry to raise your hand and answer a question your professor had asked, and were currently preoccupied with lightly dragging the point of the earring hook against your lobe in an attempt to find the piercing hole.

There’s something about the soft tilt of your head, the focused look on your face as you devote your attention to putting your earring back in, and the way the tip of your tongue peeks out in concentration that has Mark seeing you in a light getting further and further from platonic by the day. 

He wants to feel your tongue against his lips, wants to caress that space of your neck you’re thoughtlessly exposing to him with his hand, feel the soft skin under his fingertips, tilt your chin towards him and lean forward to connect your lips. You’re nibbling at your bottom lip now as you write something down in your notes, and Mark bets you wore that lip balm he’s always loved the smell of, unbeknownst to you due to his never mentioning it, and he wishes he could just lean over and see how it tastes—

“Mark!” You whisper, placing your hand on his thigh just a centimeter above his knee, and Mark jolts out of his stupor, meeting your gaze with a sheepish tint to his cheeks and ears that he prays you don’t notice or ignore. “I asked if you have correction tape? I made a mistake.” You frown and Mark almost spirals all over again at the sight of your bottom lip jutting out in a pout that he just wants to kiss over and over until it goes away in favor of a smile. 

“Uh, yeah—I definitely do,” He stumbles over his words as he roots through his pencil case and finds it, passing it to you. Your hands touch, fingers brushing the other’s palm, as you take it from him with a grateful smile, and Mark knows you definitely don’t think much of it, but he’s thinking about how soft your hand is, how warm, how he wishes he could just reach over and hold it for no reason other than the fact that he wants to.

Mark’s not sure if this wave of wanting to kiss you is going away anytime soon, but he hopes it does—for his sake.

tuesday.

Mark’s inkling, his persistent nagging feeling, turns into a whisper on Tuesday, accompanied with a phantom tugging sensation that he fears might literally pull him towards you for more than comfort when he comes over to your dorm, as requested, to see a very sad and teary-eyed you sitting on your rug dejectedly. He almost drops the takeout bag he carefully carried from your favorite Chinese food restaurant to your dorm, and he cannot afford such a financial loss, so he clutches onto it protectively.

The glossy look in your eyes, lashes, now wet with tears, clumping together, your pouty bottom lip—that damn lip—trembling slightly with the weight of unshed tears, and the occasional sniffles you let out almost make Mark drop the damn takeout bag, the male floored by how pretty someone can look when they cry. He approaches you carefully, settling down on the rug beside you and folding his limbs in somewhat clumsily. When you look over at his struggle, a small chuckle escapes you, and Mark’s heart clenches at the sound, eyes sweeping over your frame to assess any physical injuries you might have. Finding none, Mark sighs in relief and slumps back, his head resting against the side of your covered mattress.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Mark asks softly. You hadn’t specified what was wrong in your distress signal text; you only sent “SOS,” your and Mark’s Best Friend Code for “come over and bring comfort food,” and Mark readily complied as soon as he caught sight of the notification banner; he’s not sure if this is a symptom of being hopelessly whipped for you or just a testament to the strength of your friendship.

He’s pretty sure it’s the former, as another glance at your tear-streaked cheeks sends his poor heart lurching again, but Mark really hopes for his sake that it’s the latter.

“No,” You mumble, sniffling twice before meeting his gaze with wide, shining eyes that, to Mark, are just screaming for him to lean forward and capture your lips with his. “Just need you here.”

“I’m here,” Mark promises, and sets about opening the takeout containers and laying everything out as nicely as he can, even using some textbooks from his backpack and your desk as a makeshift table. “I got your favorite.” He says hopefully, spearing a piece of chicken and bringing it to your lips expectantly. You laugh softly, the sound fond, your cheeks lifting into a smile as you lean forward, accept the forkful, and chew, relief taking over your body as Mark watches you visibly relax.

You slump against Mark’s arm, resting your head against his shoulder, and Mark prays you can’t hear the pounding of his heartbeat which sounds out loud and clear in his own ears. Mark drapes an arm around your shoulders and tries not to stiffen when you turn yourself inwards, tucking yourself into his side and humming softly, tries not to let his desires take over and give in to the tugging feeling that urges him to nudge your head up with his own and slot your lips together.

Mark really isn’t sure if he can hold out much longer.

wednesday.

Wednesday almost has Mark caving when you two lie on his bed, watching movies on his laptop. You’re so close, the side of your thigh pressed up against his, hips brushing, shoulders touching, and Mark knows it’d be so easy to turn and press his lips to yours. 

To make matters worse, Mark’s eyes keep trailing down to your chest, which moves every time you laugh, and by the time you’re engrossed in the film, Mark’s lost interest entirely, instead opting to study your features and reactions. Try as he might, Mark’s eyes continue to wander down to your breasts, shamefully gazing as if looking hard enough would grant him the feeling of what it’d be like to touch you.

Mark’s finally coming to accept that he wants to do more than kiss you; far more, actually. He wants to touch you, hold you, be intimately familiar with the taste and feel of you—

More than anything, though, Mark wants to love you. If you’d let him. He wants to make you smile, laugh, understand the meaning of love songs—he wants to spin you around in the rain and leave kiss after kiss against your lips and trailing down your neck to your collarbones. He wants to buy you thoughtful gifts and watch your eyes light up; he wants to be the one to wipe your tears and kiss everything all better.

He wants, firstly, however, to know if you even want that from him. He hopes you do. Overwhelmed by his thoughts and unshakable desires, Mark reaches up and fitfully runs his fingers through his hair, no doubt messing it up. He mumbles a quick apology when his sudden movement causes you to jolt in surprise, looking over at him. To his confusion, you don’t look away yet, observing him for another moment before leaning towards him.

Is this it? Is this the moment Mark’s been dreaming about for ages? He can barely contain his excitement, reflexively nibbling his bottom lip out of nervous habit, and he tries to remember to breathe, to relax, there’s no good in kissing someone who’s stiff as a board—

“You messed your hair up,” You murmur distractedly, reaching up and ruffling his hair, adjusting it until he looks presentable. “All better,” You say sweetly with a soft smile, and Mark wants nothing more than to cup your face and kiss you over and over and over until your smile is so wide he can’t kiss you anymore.

Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him? Mark hopes you don’t, because that would be uncharacteristically cruel of you.

“Thanks,” He forces out a small chuckle, and your brows furrow instantly, of course they do, you know each other like the back of your hand.

“You okay?” You ask curiously, a tinge of worry in your voice, and Mark nods reassuringly. “You sure? You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

As Mark successfully de-escalates the situation and redirects your attention to the movie, he can’t help but think that there are, unfortunately, some things he might be better off keeping to himself.

thursday.

By Thursday, Mark doesn’t know how much longer he can hold his feelings in. He’s driving down the road, endlessly pursuing the night if it means staying by your side, and you’re sitting right next to him, content as can be.

“Were we supposed to be turning soon?” Mark asks, and you look over at him, shrugging.

“I dunno.” 

“You’re riding shotgun,” Mark chuckles, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel and looking over at you. “You’re in charge of directions.”

“Nuh-uh,” You counter, furrowing your brows—very cutely, Mark thinks to himself—and turning slightly to face him better. “I’m a passenger princess.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mark snickers, and you nod firmly, settling back into your seat.

“Yep,” You reply, popping your lips on the “p.” “I’m in charge of looking pretty and maintaining the good vibes.”

“Well, in that case, you’re doing an excellent job,” Mark replies with a laugh, barely registering his words until they’ve settled in the now thick air between you two.

“…Did you just call me pretty, Mark?” You tease, reaching over and tugging at his pinking ear.

“Don’t distract the driver!”

“Answer my question!”

“Maybe I did.” He admits, and you smile widely, flipping down the mirror and checking your reflection. Mark steals a glance while you do, studying the slope of your nose, the curl of your lashes, and the faint pucker of your lips as you reapply your lip balm, the faint but pleasant scent of cherry Chapstick wafting past Mark’s nose.

He’s never been one for cherries, but he can honestly say he’s never wanted to taste them so badly in his life.

“Why, thank you, Mark.” You don’t yet look at him, fixing your hair in the mirror before flipping it back up, and Mark’s eyes rove over your face with an almost hunger, drinking in your beauty as you sit beside him, entirely unaware. When you turn to look at him, he shifts his gaze back to the road as if he’d never been looking, and you hum thoughtfully, picking up your phone and connecting it to the Bluetooth speakers in his car. “Any requests?”

“Nah, play what you want,” Mark offers. “I trust your taste in music.”

“Mark, you’re just killing it with the compliments tonight.” You say gleefully, stretching your legs out before you cross one leg over the other. Mark can see the faint line of muscle in the side of your thigh, and he wants so desperately to run his fingers along it, press his lips to the indentation, leave kisses lower and lower and back up until his mouth grazes your inner thighs— “Who are you practicing on me for?”

“I’d never use you as practice,” Mark replies indignantly, offended that you’d even suggest such a thing. 

“Sorry,” You stress the word with a playful lilt as you raise your hands defensively. “Was just asking.” The car falls into a comfortable silence between you two as the song you picked plays in the car speakers. ‘Crush’ by DUCKWRTH sounds throughout the car, and Mark can barely hold back his chuckle at just how apt your song choice is. 

He’s crushing, and he’s crushing bad. 

He can’t help but steal glances at your bare legs as he drives, eyes gravitating towards that damn muscle, and he’s moving before he knows it, reaching over to you with his closest hand. He wants to stop, pretend it never happened, but he’s more than halfway to you and to stop now would mean an awkward retreat of his hand back to his lap, and he doesn’t think his pride could handle that.

He swallows hard and pushes past his worries—literally—and pats your knee comfortingly, his hand almost trembling under the feeling of your warm, soft skin under his palm.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Mark echoes his sentiment from earlier. “Use you as, like, flirting target practice or something.” He hopes he sounds sincere because he means every word. 

You have no idea that you’re the main event to Mark. 

You smile at him, eyes bright, and place one hand on top of his, patting it gently and leaving it there. Mark’s over the moon, floating on cloud nine, and it’s a miracle he can stay focused on the road and not swerve off from how frazzled his thoughts have become. 

“Passenger princess?” He calls to you, and you hum in acknowledgement, half-turning to look at him. “Can you go above and beyond your job description and look up the directions, please?” 

“Mm,” You hum thoughtfully, tapping your chin with your index finger of the hand holding your phone. “I guess I can do that.” You answer finally, shooting him a teasing grin before unlocking your phone and devoting your attention to it.

To be honest, Mark could drive for hours aimlessly if it meant getting to keep his hand on your leg and you by his side.

friday.

By the time you two get your food, eat it in Mark’s car, and drive somewhere to relax, it’s well past midnight and officially Friday, the night enveloping you two in its cool embrace. As soon as he puts the car in park, you’re leaping out of the passenger side door and making your way to the front of the vehicle.

Mark can’t help but chuckle as he gets out of the car and heads over to where you’re standing at the precipice of the overlook, all the city lights twinkling in the night.

“It’s so pretty,�� You sigh dreamily, the lights reflecting in your eyes, and Mark can’t help but agree, his gaze only on you. You’re practically bouncing on your heels with excitement, bounding back over to his car and carefully sitting on the hood, crossing your legs at the ankles.

“It really is,” Mark echoes, but he’s still watching you, mentally hyping himself up for his next move. Swallowing thickly, he throws caution to the wind and walks over to where you sit, standing so your knees push against his hips. 

Mark’s not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t for you to uncross your ankles and hook them behind his legs to pull him closer to you. You release him almost immediately, the moment fleeting, but the mischievous grin on your face sends Mark’s heart lurching as he wants nothing more than to cup your face and press his lips to yours. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, and Mark blinks out of his daze.

“Nothing?” He winces inwardly at how defensive he sounds, and by the unconvinced look on your face, you’ve picked up on it too.

“You’re biting your lip like you do when you get all…in your head.” You point out, tapping his chin lightly, and he swallows before releasing his poor bottom lip. “Let me in there, Mark.” You say softly, reaching up to trace light circles on his forehead. “What are you thinking?”

I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad that it hurts, Mark groans internally, but says nothing yet. In an act of boldness he’ll surely regret later, he loops his fingers around your wrist and brings your hand down to your lap, slowly slipping his digits between yours. You smile down at your linked hands fondly, squeezing his hand comfortingly, and Mark thinks for one hopeful moment that you want him too. 

Mark looks up from your hands, pushing away the thoughts of how nicely they fit together, to see that you two are much closer than he thought; your eyelashes are close enough to count, and he can smell that fucking lip balm that drives him insane. A shaky breath leaves him before he can stop it, a breath of anticipation, of hope, of—

“Mark!” You laugh incredulously, and he jolts, sheepishly refocusing his gaze on you. “You disappeared again.” You murmur fondly, releasing his hand and trailing your fingers up his arm to tickle the back of his neck lightly. 

“Sorry,” Mark mumbles, nerves sitting tight in his throat, a lump he can’t seem to swallow, and you shake your head dismissively, smiling up at him.

“Will you take me with you next time?” You joke softly, and he nods before he knows he’s doing it, his body so tuned into you that he’d give you anything you want without a second thought. “Good.” You sigh, content, and Mark makes another bold move, acting on his desires for the second time tonight—third if you count his touching your leg in the car—and stepping closer until his knees hit the bumper, placing his hands on the car on either side of your body to tentatively trap you in. 

Your bright eyes look up at him curiously and, if he’s allowing himself to indulge in his thoughts, challengingly, as if daring him to take the step he so desperately wants to. His chest swells with anticipation, his eyes slowly dropping down to your lips, and he thinks for a moment about leaning in and biting the bullet. 

But flashes of your panicked, nervous, even disgusted possible reaction to him have Mark popping the balloon of hope suddenly, an awkward laugh forcing itself out instead as he leans back from you slightly, freeing you from his embrace.

“You’re welcome anywhere I go,” Mark assures you. 

Your responding smile almost soothes the ghostly chill of rejection Mark imagined.

Almost.

saturday. (again.)

A cracking noise startles Mark out of his thoughts, with him quickly coming to realize that his grip on his cup has tightened considerably, denting the cup. He’s about to go and toss the cup, having lost his taste for the drink inside, when he hears his name being called from behind him.

“Hey, you.” Your voice cuts through the sounds of the party with ease, and Mark turns his head as your arms wrap around him in a tight backhug. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothin’, really.” Mark answers, shrugging casually.

“I ask because you love this song, and yet you were just standing in the middle of the floor like a statue.” You snicker, and he balks, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

“Oh, nothing, for real; just thinking about school.”

“Thinking about school on a Saturday night? Don’t we come here to do the exact opposite of that?” You tease, and he chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Come with me to the bathroom? I need you to stand guard.” You grin widely in an attempt to convince him, and Mark fights back the urge to chuckle. 

You have no idea that he’d do damn near anything for you.

“C’mon.” He murmurs, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow just a step behind him, Mark’s hand ghosting along the small of your back as he guides you through the many bodies. For a brief second, Mark loses you, the feel of your back slipping away startling him into turning around to see you a couple of feet back stuck behind a kissing couple. 

He moves back towards you, hand returning to your back as you graciously lean into him, and continues making his way through the crowd, keeping you closer to him than before. Your hand grips the hem of his shirt—Mark guesses it’s so you two don’t get separated again—and Mark’s hand accidentally dips under the hem of your shirt, fingertips briefly grazing the bare skin of your waist. His mind reeling, Mark moves his fingers and, if you notice, you say nothing, readily following him upstairs to the bathroom.

When you two reach the door, the last thing Mark expects is for you to pull him into the bathroom with you, the sound of the door clicking shut finally letting the situation sink in. 

“Are you sure you want me in here—”

“I’m not actually using the bathroom, Mark.” You laugh, leaning up against the sink and inspecting your reflection. Mark watches as you pull your lip balm from your pocket and apply it to your lips, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re doing this on purpose. “I missed you, y’know.” You hum thoughtfully, and Mark makes a surprised sort of sound.

“Yeah?” He asks, trying and failing to hide his incredulity. 

“Yep,” You confirm. You turn to face him with a (very cute) frown. “Did you not miss me?”

“No—I mean yes, of course I did—”

“Then why wouldn’t I miss you?” You counter, and he presses a hand over his face, laughing despite his building nerves.

“You just love messing with me, don’t you?” He chuckles, and you shrug, lips curling into a beguiling smile.

“I like pulling you out of your head, Mark.” You say. “I like knowing what you’re thinking.”

Mark thinks that it’s basically now or never; when else is he going to get the opportunity to tell you how he feels?

“You know, lately, I’ve been thinking about—” Mark starts off boldly, but he cuts himself off at the last minute, still unsure if he wants to take that forward step and possibly ruin your relationship.

“Mark, you’re always so in your head.” You chuckle fondly, leaning in towards him. “Thinking about what?”

“Thinking about…kissing you.” Mark finishes slowly, and the look in his eyes when he looks up from his shoes to meet your gaze is a look you’ve never seen from him before. He steps towards you, your feet inch back reflexively, and this continues as he slowly backs you up against the countertop, his hands coming to rest by your hips on the sink, carefully closing you in.

“Oh, yeah?” You hum, blinking slowly at him, and your lips curl into a small grin.

“Yeah.” Mark’s serious—more serious than you’ve seen him in a while—and the intensity in his gaze has arousal stirring in your lower abdomen as you watch him intently.

“And how long have you been thinking about this?” You ask softly, voice low and curious. Mark chuckles finally, looking away from you for a moment before answering you.

“A while.”

“How long is a while?” You press.

“Couple weeks.” He answers, knowing he’s severely lowballing it, and you roll your eyes, nudging his thigh with your knee.

“And you never thought to tell me this because…?” You question, and he shrugs dismissively.

“Didn’t think you were interested.” He replies, and you nod thoughtfully.

“Ah.” You say. “That’s stupid.” 

Mark lets out a small chuckle as he leans even closer to you, his face closer to yours than it’s ever been. “Don’t make me laugh right now.”

“Why not?” You tease, gently poking his stomach and trying to mask your surprise when you feel firm muscle as opposed to the squishiness you expected. “You can kiss me, you know.”

“Stop talking,” Mark groans, his brows furrowing, and you grin at him mischievously.

“Or what?” You’re lifting up onto your tiptoes, leaning in closer to him and stopping just before your lips connect. “What if I don’t?”

“I’ll make you.” His words thrill your mind and the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips thrills your body, your blood starting to buzz in anticipation.

“Mm, is that a threat or a promise?” You know Mark well enough to know he needs to be goaded into boldness, and you’re just the right person for the job.

“Whichever you want.” His voice is throatier, huskier, and almost unbearably attractive.

“I want you to shut up and kiss me already.” You lightly bump the tip of your nose against his, a wide, excited smile growing on your lips.

“I can do that.” He breathes, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he pulls you in and finally connects your lips. The kiss isn’t an explosive fire right away, but a slow, warm one that builds steadily to an inferno as you two get used to the feeling and taste of each other. 

Mark’s mind is reeling, finally getting to taste your lip balm, which is almost as delicious as the unique taste that’s just you, and he thinks for a moment that he could probably stay there forever with you.

Before you can even process it, Mark’s kissing has morphed from cautious and hesitant to heated and passionate, and his hips press against you, pushing you against the countertop of the sink more insistently. His fingers on the back of your neck slip into the hair on your nape, tugging not-so-gently at the locks. When you softly gasp in surprise, he pulls back as if you’d shocked him, eyes wide and apologetic.

“Is this okay?” He asks worriedly, and you scoff, leaning into his embrace.

“Yes, Mark. Didn’t I say something along the lines of ‘less talking, more kissing?’” You huff, and he grins, pulling you back against him to slot your lips together once more. “You don’t have to be gentle, Mark—I can take it.”

“God, you’re gonna drive me insane.” He groans under his breath, sounding strained as he obliges and presses you against the countertop roughly, hands flying to your hips to lift you, guiding you on top of the sink. His lips detach from yours and start descending down your neck, sucking and licking, his fingers digging into your hips as he moans against your skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He grunts, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your sweet scent as he presses his lips to your skin over and over. 

“That feels so good, Mark,” You hum, content with the feeling of Mark’s mouth working away at your neck.

“Can I—?” He starts, but you cut him off.

“You don’t need to ask about everything, Mark,” You chuckle fondly, pulling your neck away from his lips in favor of running your fingers through his hair and tugging gently. “If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.” 

“Promise?” Mark mumbles worriedly.

You nod. “When have I ever missed out on an opportunity to complain about something?” You say playfully, and Mark relaxes visibly as he laughs and nods in agreement.

“Good point.” He murmurs, and you smile sweetly as you pull him in for another kiss. “In that case,” Mark says in a low tone, lips pressed to yours, “I’m gonna indulge for a bit.”

Before you can ask what he means by that, he’s yanking your shirt up and over your head and discarding it thoughtlessly on the floor, his hands finding your waist and slowly gliding up to your chest, where he cups your breasts and squeezes, kneading them and tugging gently at your nipples through your bra.

Without his having to ask, you reach back and unclip your bra, shrugging the straps off and letting the garment fall off of you. It lands between you and Mark on the floor and Mark looks down at it, up at you, down at your bare breasts with wide eyes, then back up at you in awe.

“Damn, you’re incredible,” He groans, his hands eagerly massaging and caressing your breasts as you arch your back in pleasure, pushing your chest towards him. His lips attach to your neck, kissing and nipping his way down to your chest, where he takes a nipple into his mouth. You moan lowly and tip your head back, hissing when his teeth catch your sensitive bud, tugging and releasing before swirling the tip of his tongue around it and sucking. He cups both of your breasts in his hands, pressing them together, before rolling his tongue over your nipples, moving from one to the other eagerly and punctuating his surprisingly skillful swirls with gentle nips. 

“Feels good, Mark,” You sigh dazedly, a lazy but content smile curling your lips, and he groans, the sound low in his throat, in response, sucking at your nipples with more fervor. He bathes your chest in wet kisses, groaning louder when you whine plaintively. 

His hand leaves your breast to snake between your bodies and unbutton your jeans, pushing into your underwear and stroking along your folds, parting them until he reaches the fleshy pearl of your clit. Your hips jolt at the touch, Mark releasing your nipple from the warmth of his mouth and moving up to kiss you as you rock down on his fingers.

His fingers, thicker than you expected, push past your entrance, two digits curling inside of you and eliciting a pleased hum from you. He slowly fucks his fingers into you, your walls slick and tight around them, and he can’t help but think about how tight you’re going to feel when he’s finally inside of you.

“Right there—” You whimper when he hits a spot that has your toes curling, and he chuckles, diligently thrusting his fingers into you repeatedly as your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and making him hiss. “Sorry,” You pant and he kisses the corner of your mouth sweetly, an unspoken acceptance of your apology. You turn his face to yours and kiss him full on, Mark moaning against your lips as your core flexes around him. 

You’re practically riding his fingers at this point, breathy whimpers escaping you as he strokes along your inner walls, your orgasm rapidly approaching. 

“Mark, ‘m gonna—” You moan, and he nods, flicking his tongue into your mouth and kissing you through your climax, the liplock turning sloppy and clumsy as your lips part to moan his name and a string of swears. 

As soon as the aftershock trembles disappear, you’re pushing him back gently, creating enough space between you two for you to slip off the sink and sink to your knees.

Mark thinks he could faint at the sight of you looking up at him, opening his pants with one hand. His cock aches at the prospect of your mouth wrapped around it, and he tilts your chin up to look at you better.

“You don’t have to, you know.” Mark assures you, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that, Mark.” Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and he hisses. “I want to.” Your mouth is around the head of his cock without a moment to prepare himself, and Mark swears—loudly—his head tipping back and thumping against the wall behind him. Mark whimpers, both in pain and from pleasure, and your giggle tickles his ears as you pull off of him and pump his length up and down, positioning yourself above his length to drip a trail of spit down onto his tip, working your fist over it to lubricate your movements. 

Mark blinks down at you in awe, shuddering when you take his length as far into your mouth as it’ll go, the tip of your nose pressed against his stomach as you swallow around him.

He whimpers when you start bobbing your head slowly, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock with every movement. His breaths are ragged, chest heaving, blunt nails scratching uselessly at the wall behind him, and he curses when his hips buck up of their own accord, sending his length further into your mouth. There’s a moment of bliss when he’s smoothly sliding into your mouth only to be topped by a second of ecstasy when he hits the back of your throat, which flexes around him and drags out a groan of delight from deep in his chest.

“Sorry—” Mark whispers, poorly restraining the urge to thrust into your mouth. You pull off slowly, swiping your tongue over your lips to break the string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his tip, and when you speak, your voice has a slight rasp to it that has Mark’s eyes practically rolling back into his head.

“Do you wanna fuck my mouth, Mark?” You ask with a beguiling smile, your hand slowly stroking his length, and it’s all he can do to stop his knees from buckling right now. 

“I’m not gonna last if I do,” He warns you in a choked voice, and you frown.

“But I want you to finish inside of me.” You huff petulantly, and he groans, gripping your wrist to stop your movements.

“You can’t say that or I’ll cum right now.” He complains, and you roll your eyes. 

“Then I’ll finish that later.” You decide, and Mark successfully contains his surprise at the prospect of doing this again with you. You stand back up and Mark’s hands move to your hips, the gesture almost second nature, before he’s gently pushing you back so you’re pressed up against the sink countertop. He nudges himself between your legs and brings the thick head of his cock to your entrance, gliding it up and down through your slick folds to collect your arousal. “Mark, we don’t exactly have the luxury of time.” You chuckle, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Well, sorry for wanting to take my time with you.” He mumbles, and a fondness spreads through your body, your lips curling up into a sweet smile. He pushes into you slowly, and you hiss at the stretch, your best friend being more well-endowed than you expected. “Told you I should slow down.” Mark wants to gloat, but his heart seizes with concern at the look of discomfort on your face.

“I’m fine,” You answer stubbornly. “Just—give me a minute.” Mark nods and rubs comforting circles into your hips, bringing his lips to your neck to press sweet kisses from your ear to your shoulder and back up again. 

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Mark urges against your skin, brushing his parted lips along the spot behind your ear, and you sigh blissfully.

“You can move,” You murmur, and he thanks the powers that be as he pushes forward into you, bottoming out and feeling the tight wet warmth of your walls wrapped around him. Both of you let out a moan, your head falling forward to rest on his shoulder, and he pulls out before starting to thrust into you, deep strokes reaching every spot inside of you that makes your mind go blank. “Shit, Mark,” You cry out as he fucks into you with all the desperation and desire he’s been restraining for the past weeks.

“You like that?” He chuckles breathlessly, pulling back slightly to reach between you two and massage your clit, and you nod with a whimper, rolling your hips against his. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Me too,” You breathe, and he’s so surprised he almost fucks up his rhythm, sending you shifting back on the sink with a particularly powerful thrust. “Fuck—”

“Sorry, I’m—I can’t,” He moans, pressing his fingers against your clit harder and angling his hips so he can drive his cock into the spot that makes you roll your eyes into the back of your head.

“Mark, please, I’m gonna—” You gasp, and he nods, kissing you again to silence your moans as you both climax, your walls tightening around his length almost painfully as he pumps spurt after spurt of cum into you. He presses kiss after kiss to your lips, the corners of your mouth, your cheeks—anywhere he can reasonably reach.

He pulls out of you carefully, his chest heaving as he catches his breath and tucks himself back into his clothing. The air is thick and silent as Mark starts to spiral; are you coming to your senses? Experiencing some sort of post-nut clarity? Are you about to tell him you two can never be together and that he’s ruined everything—

“Wanna get food and watch a movie at my place?” You ask, turning around to face him. You’ve adjusted your top back into place and are in the process of zipping and buttoning your jeans.

“Y-Yeah.” Mark mumbles, half-dazed, half-relieved.

“Great! C’mon.” You say with a smile, washing your hands and leaning against the door as he does the same. When he’s finished, you take his hand and open the bathroom door, ignoring the stares you two garner as you leave. As you lead Mark through the party, he can’t help but hope things stay this comfortable even in the morning. 

sunday.

When Mark wakes up on Sunday, his mouth is drier than he ever remembers it being, his head feels like someone’s drumming on his temples, and he can barely get his wits about him quickly enough to take in his surroundings. All Mark knows right now is that there’s sunlight streaming in from the window beside the bed he’s lying in, he is not in his bed, and the person lying beside him is still asleep—

Hold on.

Mark turns his head carefully, lifting off of the pillow to look beside him so he doesn’t make any noise at all, and—it’s you.

At the sight of your sleeping frame, your back to him, Mark feels himself go limp with relief—well—almost everything on him goes limp, but one thing remains very, very…stiff.

Mark is now trying to piece together everything that happened last night, and the realization of what exactly went down hits him like a freight train, damn near knocking the wind out of his lungs in an involuntarily sucked-in breath.

Flashes of the night before start to run through his mind; his hands on your cheeks, your waist, your breasts, grabbing at your hips, his lips following the trail blazed by his lustful fingertips, the way your mouth felt wrapped around him—his cock—nestled deep in your folds—how tight you were, the pretty sounds you made—

Mark remembers damn near everything, but he can’t remember how it ended. Did you hate him for taking that forward step? Did he fuck up the relationship between you two? Did his lust get the best of him and potentially cost him his best friend?

“You really are so in your head, Mark.” Your sleepy voice remarks softly, fondness and amusement audible even past your just-woken croakiness, and hope fills Mark’s chest as he turns his head towards you. You’re now facing him—Mark wonders when you did that without him hearing, but figures he was so distracted by his thoughts that he must not have noticed—and smiling sweetly, tired eyes twinkling nevertheless, and Mark thinks it’s insane that you’re every bit as lovely when you’ve just woken up as you always are—maybe even more so. “Good morning,” You greet with a small chuckle.

“Morning,” Mark mumbles, his thoughts still racing. “Did—last night, did I—was that a bad idea—?”

“I’m happy,” You cut him off pointedly with a wider smile than before as you stretch your limbs, a small groan escaping you as you relax again. You look over at Mark and raise your eyebrows in question. “Are you happy?”

“I’m fuckin’ thrilled.” Mark rushes to get the words out, feeling like he can’t reassure you quickly enough, and your eyes scan his face before you laugh, and the sound is so free, so void of worry, stress, concern—

You’re not stressed in the slightest, so maybe Mark doesn’t have anything to worry about.

“I like you here with me like this,” You muse lightly, looking over at Mark with warm eyes. He’s about to speak, but you continue, “in my bed.”

“Yeah?” Mark can barely get the word out alongside his exhale of immense relief, but you hear it, as you always do.

“Mm, yeah,” You hum, and he nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know what else?”

“What else?” Mark’s relaxed considerably, smile morphing to a small smirk as he parrots your cadence back at you playfully. You don’t say anything for a moment, and he looks over at you curiously to see that you’ve propped your head up on your hand, elbow resting on the mattress. There’s a playful glint in your eyes, mischievous, even, and Mark’s a little bit lost, but your happiness is infectious.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

It’s Sunday morning—or afternoon…Mark hasn’t figured that part out—and Mark feels like something’s clicked into place, and, when he looks at you, he knows you feel the same way.

i hope you enjoyed! donations are not required but appreciated 💖

SUPPORT ME?  VENMO !!  CASHAPP !!  KO-FI !!  WISHLIST !! (why?)

[carlos-in-glasses]

The Notorious C-I-G

💌 🍄 📚 🏜️ 🐝 (you don’t have to answer this one if you don’t want, I already know it’s me 🤭)

Lemon...right?

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?

Darn you for making me look! 248!

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Answered this one here and here but here is another: After Andrea met TK and really started opening up her heart and mind to Carlos being gay and in love with another man, she began seeking out queer art, books, shows, so she could learn more about the community her son is a part of. Carlos recommends and lends her things! I touch on this in my fic Wrestling Angels.

📚 ⇢ what’s the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

I didn't have to say anything. He knew I was shaking.

🏜️ ⇢ what’s your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I love it when an aspect or overall theme leads a reader to discuss something and it gets a bit more personal and chatty. Fire Island and Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines led to comments in which people shared their memories and feelings about the AIDS crisis and about 9/11 respectively. I guess it makes it seem like the fic has a bit more 'social impact' in a way. It's quite amazing when that happens.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

Haha @lemonlyman-dotcom... right? You have been so supportive and friendly from the beginning - the beginning being pre-tumblr when you were leaving such lovely comments on my fics. When I saw you'd set up your tumblr I was so happy to be able to interact with you on here too. And now look!

And @thisbuildinghasfeelings - you were one of the first people I spoke to on here and your kindness and enthusiasm not just towards my writing is just incredible and I feel very lucky you're here.

@heartstringsduet your comment on Afterglow of a Supernova basically changed my life in that it made me instantly more confident in my writing, like it represented a turning point in how I felt about it, and you've always been in my corner. And you've made art for my fics???!!!

@goodways you have been so lovely about my fics I feel like I can never thank you enough and your comments always make me laugh and make me think. Your feedback always means the world to me.

@herefortarlos your enthusiasm for my fics, all fics and this fandom is a thing of beauty and so inspiring.

@welcometololaland you were one of the first people to ever tag me in anything and I remember it vividly because I couldn't believe it haha. Your comments are always so hilarious and make me feel like I've done something right, and without you I wouldn't have written I Was Thinking About Your Mouth, so I am forever grateful for that and for you being such a good sounding board when I complain about work!

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut mate, you are divine and the fact that you spend any time beta'ing my fics when they are still kinda hot messes is wild to me. Thank you as well for your kindness and generosity!

@im-overstimulated-and-im-sad you are a delight and your comments are like a balm to my soul!

@reyesstrand Also from really early on you were leaving such encouraging comments on my fics and including me in WIP tags and things and I'm so grateful and forever awestruck.

@paperstorm I always cherish in particular how incredible you were about Fire Island (and When Soulmates Swim recently!), and how you helped so much in my hour of need when the whole scary situation around Afterglow of a Supernova happened. Thank you!

There are other people too of course but I worry I'm banging on a bit too much like I'm at the Oscars and the music is going to play over me talking so I just want to wrap up by saying thank you to everyone who has read my fics and commented and left kudos - I've said it before and I'll say it again, it really does blow me away that you're giving your precious free time to my stories in that way.

[distant-velleity]

Gift-Giving

Summary: Floyd gives Yu a gift. It does not go unnoticed. Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: none! :) A/N: Merry early Christmas, everyone... I present to you the longest fic I've written in the past few months and it's self-shipping nonsense. And it doesn't even take place around Christmas...💀💀 Welp. No beta, we die like men. Enjoy!

—

Like all things do, it starts with Floyd approaching Yu right before class.

—It’s a relatively quiet, warm morning that day as Yu heads to the alchemy lab, his freshly-washed lab coat folded and draped over one arm. He’s yet to run into any brawling students or scratched egos, or any disruptiveness in general. It’s a wonderful balm on his drained mind, and there have been no interruptions to this lovely morning yet.

Keyword: yet.

Yu is just thinking, Wow, this is really nice, when an all-too familiar voice sings out to him:

“Li’l Kooooiii~”

He looks back over his shoulder to see none other than Floyd approaching. The merman has forgone wearing his blazer entirely (both since it’s warm and because, right, doesn’t his class have Alchemy first today?) and is down to just his vest and shirt. For some reason, his arms are folded behind his back. 

Yu squints at him suspiciously. “…Good morning, Floyd.”

“Mornin’,” Floyd replies happily, shoulders wiggling a little as his hands fidget behind him. “It’s nice and warm out today~ must be nice for all the little fishies.”

“Uh-huh. What do you have behind your back?” 

Floyd blinks, as if he wasn’t actually expecting Yu to cut straight to the chase. “Eh? Well… Nothing… What’s up with you?” He shifts his weight from one leg to another.

“That’s… not what I…” Yu trails off. Something feels really off. “…okay, then.”

He wonders what it could be. Is it Floyd’s outfit? No, that sort of unorthodox fashion is pretty much par for the course. His posture and body language? Well, he does seem a little more nervous… but that’s probably not it. Is it?

“…Hey, Li’l Koi,” says Floyd all of a sudden, shifting his weight again. It looks a little like he’s chewing the inside of his cheek.

Yu tilts his head. “Yeah?”

“Close your eyes for a sec.”

“Uh…” There’s about two seconds in which he internally debates with himself before replying with an “okay” and closing his eyes.

With the world absent for a moment and his other senses heightened, Yu hears Floyd approach and his clothes rustle as he moves his arms. There’s a faint jingle—jewelry?—and then a little pinch through the neglected pierced hole in his ear. An… an earring, maybe?

“Done?” Yu asks when he feels like enough time has passed.

Floyd hums his affirmation with no small amount of satisfaction, so Yu takes that as a good sign and opens his eyes. The eel mer is beaming down at him, reaching out to hold Yu’s hair where he put on the presumed earring. 

“Cool. Now, let’s get to class; I can’t be late as the TA, you know…” Yu frowns half-heartedly. “And there’s no need to play with my hair.”

It’s tempting to pout and complain more about it, since he was going to feel for himself what the thing was, but he supposes it’s not that big of a deal. It’s probably hidden by his hair, so no one will question it, hopefully. And then he can go back to his dorm later and check for himself in the mirror.

“Okay~” Floyd cheerfully replies, sounding even more bubbly and ecstatic than usual. He then proceeds to mess with Yu’s hair all the way to the lab, much to the TA’s exasperation. 

—

People do, in fact, end up noticing.

—

1-B is the class that follows 2-D that day. 

During a pause when the students have to wait for their potions to settle in the vials, Yu stands by Jack and Epel’s station. Between the two of them, their potion-making seems to be going along well and their sample is starting to resemble the textbook example, so he sees no harm in idly chatting with them.

That is, until—

“By the way…” Jack looks down at Yu. “Where’d that earring come from?”

“What earring?” It takes Yu an embarrassingly long few seconds to remember, and he reaches up to feel it. “Oh. Oh! Well—Floyd gave it to me this morning. I’d honestly forgotten I was wearing it, it feels so normal…”

Epel squints to notice it. “Wow, Jack, you noticed that? I can barely see it past his hair—...wait a minute.”

Jack seems to share the same sentiment as Epel, whatever it is, because his ears twitch straight upwards and he holds up a hand. “Back up for a second. Floyd gave it to you?”

“The temperamental, violent Floyd?” Epel adds.

Yu frowns a little. “Uhh… I don’t know any other guys named Floyd. And he was being super nice today, if a bit nervous. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Everything,” the two reply in unison without missing a beat.

“Aren’t you two prejudiced? It’s just an earring,” Yu says, crossing his arms. “I still don’t know why he just gave it to me all of a sudden, but I don’t think he’s the type to scheme for the long run, so it’s probably not anything meant to kill me or something.”

Epel furrows his brows. “Well—yeah…”

“Still, that’s kind of unexpected,” Jack remarks, ears relaxing somewhat. “Keep your guard up, okay? Since you don’t know what he intended with it.” When the other two give him a look, he huffs. “I’m just saying that so you don’t end up roped into a deal of some kind! It’s not like I’m that worried about you.”

Yu smirks, knowing better, but Crewel stands up and calls out instructions for the class to continue before he can respond properly.

—

“Thank you for letting me borrow the lab,” Chrysos says politely to Crewel as he walks in, shrugging on his lab coat. 

Crewel huffs in approval, looking pleased at the freshman’s punctuality and neatness. “Good, hardworking boys should be rewarded for their performance in class. Just make sure to start cleaning up ten minutes before your free period ends. Now, I have business to attend to—I’ll leave you in here with Yu, he’ll lock up when you’re done.” With a billowing flourish of his coat, he steps out.

Yu finally looks over from the ingredient shelves then, spotting Chrysos and waving to him. “Yo. What are you making?”

“Nothing much.” Chrysos makes a beeline for the higher-level ingredients, only sparing Yu a passing glance on his way by. “Azul gave me a recipe I wanted… to try…” He trails off all of a sudden and whips his head back around to look at Yu.

“Is something wrong?” Yu asks, because he doesn’t think he’s committed any serious offenses against Octavinelle recently. He’s pretty sure, at least.

Chrysos doesn’t say anything, just steps closer to the TA and narrows his eyes. He then moves to get a look at him from the side, which is when his expression morphs into one vaguely resembling horror. “Wait. Don’t tell me…”

“What is it?”

But he goes ignored. 

“No wonder his earring was missing a scale,” Chrysos mumbles to himself, almost completely inaudible. His usually flat tone is full of disbelief. “I didn’t think he’d ever settle down like that, but—or he could just be playing around—”

Yu waves a hand in his face. “Uh, Twisted Wonderland to Chrysos?”

“Ah—” Chrysos blinks, caught off-guard for once with his eyes wide, but quickly schools his expression back to its normal stoicness. “Forgive me. It’s just… that earring is new, isn’t it?”

“Oh, this?” Yu asks, reaching up to feel the dangling earring in question. “Yeah. Floyd gave it to me this morning.”

That must have been the wrong thing to say, because somehow Chrysos goes even paler than he already is. “I… see.” He steps back and returns to looking for ingredients, although there is an unmistakably conflicted aura about him.

Chrysos pointedly avoids making eye contact with Yu for the rest of the period.

—

After grabbing his lunch, Yu finds his usual table and sits down, ready to just eat up and not think for a while. The cafeteria is loud, as per usual, so he almost doesn’t notice his friends until they place down their trays and slide ungracefully into the seats across from him.

Deuce nods to him. “Hey.”

“What’s up, Yu?” Ace asks with his usual grin. 

Yu daps him up from across the table out of habit. “Not much,” he replies, opting to not talk about the sore subject for Ace that is Chrysos. “How did your classes go today, you two? No fights?”

“No fights,” Deuce confirms proudly. “It’s been a good day so far.”

Ace raises an eyebrow at him. “For you? Yeah, right. Anyway—” Before an argument can start, he narrows his eyes at Yu to change the subject. “I saw it on the way here, but is that an earring you’re wearing? The locket is one thing, y’know, but I didn’t take you as a jewelry kind of person.”

“You’d be surprised,” says Yu dryly. “And you’re the third person to ask me about this today, excluding Crewel giving me the bombastic side-eye. Seriously—” 

He’s cut off by Deuce leaning diagonally over the table to get a look. The card soldier purses his lips. “Hey, doesn’t that look kind of familiar to you? The design, I mean.”

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right,” Ace realizes, “Where’ve I seen that before…?”

The two squint and observe Yu for a few moments, creating a very awkward bubble of silence. Yu is tempted to reach over and clap in their faces. Instead, he just tries to say, “Guys—”

“It’s part of Floyd’s earring, isn’t it?” There’s a pause as Ace brings a hand to his chin. “Or Jade’s…”

“Stop fucking interrupting me,” Yu demands, reaching over and flicking Ace on the forehead. It elicits a disproportionately loud yelp. “Yeah, Floyd gave it to me. Now that I think about it, it does feel like a scale… Anyway, as I’ve said, you’re the third person to ask me about it today, and more than the third person I’ve had to explain it to, so calm down. Please.”

“He actually gave you something?” Deuce asks like he didn’t hear that last part to calm down, eyes wide. “Do you know why? Or if it’s, uh, cursed or anything?”

“He could also be trying to take advantage of you by making you owe him,” is Ace’s contribution. “If I were you, I wouldn’t wear it.”

Yu rolls his eyes. “You guys are just repeating what Jack and Epel said. I’m sure it’s fine, he was kind of nervous when he gave it to me, so I’m gonna assume it’s nothing actually harmful. If that makes sense. And, nothing has happened so far, so I’m gonna keep wearing it.”

“Yu…” Deuce looks at him with obvious concern in his eyes. “Are you really, actually sure? If you get into any trouble, you know you can call on us, right?”

“Yeah, what he said. Unless we have to actually fight Floyd…”

“Guys, seriously, it’s fine.” Seeing their faces, though, Yu hesitates. “...Fine, I’ll keep it in mind. But I’m still not taking this earring off just because you think it’s cursed or something.”

Ace snorts and starts digging into his food. “Worth a shot. I’m gonna get to say the most satisfying ‘I told you so’ of my life soon.”

Yu flicks him again. “In your dreams.”

—

The subtropical zone of the botanical garden is always unpleasantly humid. Yu rolls up his sleeves as he walks, looking around for the plants Crewel told him to collect for the next day’s classes. 

It’s through pure luck alone that he manages to stop himself right before stepping on an unmistakable tail, spotting it stretched out onto the pathway from the grass. He stares down at it for a moment, two moments, and then looks over to where a nearby tree covers the grass in comfortable shade. And, of course, a certain someone is lounging in that very shade.

“Leona,” he mutters under his breath, carefully stepping over the lion’s tail. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?”

The grass rustles beneath Leona as he sits up, grumbling to himself. “How’s that any of your business?”

“Because you’re here instead, leaving your tail on the path. Again.”

“You didn’t step on it, right?” Leona yawns, not even bothering to cover it with his hand. “I don’t see the problem then.”

Yu raises an eyebrow at him, before deciding that this is hardly worth his time. He turns away, about to go back to the task he came here to finish—

“Hold it. One of the eels gave you that earring, didn’t they?”

For fuck’s sake.

“No, I beat them up and took it by force,” is Yu’s sarcastic response. At Leona’s unimpressed look, he rolls his eyes. “Of course Floyd gave it to me.”

“And you’re not making a big deal of it?” Leona asks, something akin to amusement starting to seep into his voice.

Yu shakes his head. “Everyone else is. Am I supposed to?” 

There’s a long pause in which Leona stares at him, grass-green eyes and slit feline pupils observing him from the shade. If looks could kill… Well, Yu wouldn’t be dead yet, but he doesn’t quite like the pressure that comes with being watched by this guy.

“You really don’t know, huh,” Leona comments finally, lips curling up into a smug smirk. 

“No…?” Yu narrows his eyes at him. “Whatever happened to ‘minding one’s own business’?”

“Guess I won’t tell ya what it means, then. I’ll let that moody eel do it himself.”

“Wait—”

Leona lies back down, rolls over onto his side so his back is to Yu, and falls right back asleep. As if out of spite, he snores exceptionally loudly, like an unspoken middle finger. 

—

After school, Yu is working on his homework in a corner of the lab—Crewel always insists that even someone in his position, a non-student at a secondary school, shouldn’t forget to study too—when the door opens. Azul and Jade peek in.

“Professor Crewel?” Azul calls out.

“Oh—” Yu sets down his pencil and stands up. “He’s not here right now, he’s getting something. Do you need something? Though, I thought neither of you have him until tomorrow…”

The two Octavinelle students turn to look at him. 

As per usual, Yu and Azul lock eyes—however, rather than glance away as he normally does, Azul stares at the TA oddly for a few moments. Jade is equally silent, a hand brought up to his chin.

Yu tilts his head a bit. “Uh, guys…?”

Jade is the first to shake out of his stupor, mouth curling in a smile. “My apologies. It’s just, your earring…” He chuckles into his gloved hand, not mocking or pitying but a secret third thing.

Oh, right. Yu had almost forgotten about it once classes were dismissed and people stopped bothering him about it. Only for it to be noticed yet again, he thinks with no small amount of irritation and embarrassment. And by the two closest to Floyd, at that.

“It’s about time you two got on my case about it. So many people have asked me about it today,” Yu grumbles, sitting back down and self-consciously rubbing the singular scale attachment between his thumb and index finger. “Floyd gave it to me and didn’t elaborate.”

Azul, finally tethered to reality again, coughs into a fist. “Yes, well—that… was to be expected, he probably doesn’t feel like explaining himself yet. Though he meant no harm with that gift, I assure you.”

“Yes. Absolutely none at all,” Jade echoes, his smirk somehow growing. A little part of Yu dies inside when he notices the eel is totally getting a kick out of this situation. “In fact, I would argue it’s the complete opposite. You see, under the sea, we often give gifts to those whom we like—”

“That’s enough from you.” One of Azul’s hands not-so-subtly reaches up for Jade’s shoulder to steer him away while the other rubs at his temple. “Seriously, you and Floyd are both far too giddy about this… Anyway, thank you for your time, Yu,” he says, so politely it seems a little awkward. “If the professor isn’t here, I may as well ask him our question tomorrow. See you later.”

The two leave as abruptly as they popped in, Jade still chuckling when he walks out the door.

Just leaving me alone to process that? is all Yu can think, still reeling. Rude.

—

If any Octavinelle students have questions or concerns about the way that Yu storms into the Mostro Lounge, they know better than to voice them. Instead, they simply clear a path for him and go about their evening, quietly turning a blind eye to the way he marches right up to Floyd.

It’s answers he wants, and answers he intends to get. 

“About those earrings,” Yu begins, “what did you—”

“Li’l Koi, you’re wearing your dorm uniform again!” Floyd cheers, shoving his serving trays onto some poor fool and lifting Yu up into the air by the waist. The TA, in a panic, has to grab onto Floyd’s shoulders to stabilize himself. “It looks really good with the gift I gave you, doesn’t it~?” 

“Y—” There’s a moment where Yu almost tips over and he tenses up in a panic, noticing how far away he is from the ground, but he relaxes with the feeble hope that he won’t be suddenly dropped. “Yeah, I guess… The sturgeon scale does pair nicely with the patterns on my clothes… Ah, but that’s not the point.”

Floyd beams. “Uh-huh? Should I fight another merman and get you some different scales, then? Oh, but teeth would be way cooler…!”

“Uhh, not right now,” Yu answers, trying and failing to ignore the way Floyd lights up even more at not being straight-up rejected. “I, um, wanted to ask you about why you gave me the earring. It was a part of yours, right? One of the scales from when you got into that fight.”

“Yeah.” Tellingly, Floyd averts his gaze for just a moment too long. “It was ‘cause I wanted to. I just wanted to give something to ya.” The way he lamely finishes it suggests it’s definitely not the whole reason, and Floyd himself knows it.

“Yeah, but…” 

Yu’s mouth feels dry; he knows what he wants to ask, sort of, but can’t bring himself to say it. Even though it’s just them around. Something he heard a while back pops into his mind—eels are cowards—and it sure shows with the way Floyd decided to go about this. If he even meant it like that. 

It somehow feels like he’s the bigger coward, though—

Floyd gives Yu’s sides a gentle squeeze. “Stop thinking about it so hard,” he complains lightheartedly. “I’m gonna shower you with gifts, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Huh?” Heat floods Yu’s cheeks. “Wait, that won’t be necessary!”

“Too late! I’ve already made up my mind,” declares Floyd. “I wanna see you make more interesting faces like that, so be ready to accept a tooooon of gifts, ‘kay?”

“Oh—oh, okay,” Yu says quickly, as if speed will hide how flustered he is (it, in fact, does the exact opposite). Besides, receiving a lot of silly yet thoughtful gifts doesn’t exactly sound like a bad thing—

“Cool.” There’s an almost giddy energy to the way Floyd sets him down and then immediately takes his hand. Yu can actually feel him trembling a little from excitement. “I’ve got some stuff in my room I was saving up to give you, so let’s go.”

Yu blinks, and suddenly he’s being tugged along down the hall while trying to keep up with the pace of Floyd’s long legs. “Now? Wait, Floyd…!”

[zoeykallus]

Hi Zoey,

Would you like to do a Spicy One shot or Spicy Headcanon on Gar Saxon (Clone Wars version) x Reader.

He's a character that I really appreciate on the Mandalorian side and we see very few Fic on him.

I love your writing and I thought you would have a good idea for this character. 😍

Thank you so much.😁

Aloha!

I don't know much about this guy, only the few times we see him in TCW and Rebels. But I'd love to dive in and make my very own wild guess. Let me start with some basic HCs to get a feel for this guy 😊

Gar Saxon - Spicy Headcanons

Warnings: Suggestive/Mention Of Sexual Activities, Kinks And Such/Dominance/18+

________________

This man is tough, unyielding, dangerous, a warrior. But he is not only passionate in battle. A look under the surface also shows that he feels intensely once you open his shell. But don't be fooled, he is still Gar Saxon, he is in control.

How he approaches you, the object of desire:

Once you have aroused his interest, be prepared that he is very engaging. He romances you in quite a demanding way. He is very direct, and be aware, he is full of himself. Gar does not hide what he wants, and what he wants is you. He flirts intensely and bluntly, approaches you, small touches underline his interest, just like his deep, slightly smoky tone he uses. He is a seducer.

Don't play shy or disinterested for too long, Gar is not of the patient kind. For a few weeks he may play the game, woo you, flirt, compliment you, but eventually frustration sets in, and he flirts with others in your presence to show you that he can theoretically have whoever he wants.

Dom/Sub/Switch?

Gar is not a switch. He is in control at all times. The dominant role is where he feels comfortable, when he has you under control, and you are writhing in ecstasy. He loves it when you adore him, act submissive and read his every wish from his lips.

Rough Or Soft?

Gar can actually do, and enjoy both. Even in his dominant role, he can be gentle with you. But either way, one of the first things you two discuss regarding your intimacies is a safe-word, just in case.

Selfish Or Generous?

In fact, he's a bit of both, even if he enjoys your submissiveness and is sometimes a bit condescending, degrading even, it's all part of the game. Foreplay is long, extensive, and even if he is in control, you can count on having at least one orgasm during foreplay alone. He'll never surrender control, but he won't let you fall short either.

Foreplay:

Gar is anything but lazy, the more he can drive you out of your mind, the better. He enjoys that power he has over you as he licks out your pussy, and you moan, squirm and barely hold on to yourself. There are days when he fingers and licks you until you can't cum anymore, and almost beg him to stop.

Favorite position:

Practically any pose in which he is dominant. However, he prefers to have you under him, your feet on his shoulders, your knees pressed down almost to your own shoulders, practically folded under him. In this pose, he feels like he can penetrate you especially deeply and have you completely under his control.

Kinks:

Praise-Kink when you look up at him, on your knees, about to give him a proper blowjob, and tell him how wonderful his cock is. Or you're lying under him and moaning in his ear how perfectly he takes you, it's like balm for his soul, spurring him on and increasing his arousal.

Dom/sub kink, as mentioned before, he likes to be very dominant and likes it when you submit to him erotically, playfully. Just to make one thing clear, he does not expect this submission from you in everyday life, only in bed it brings the extra kick. In this context, he also likes to tie you up,

Dirty talk turns him on, if you have it in you to talk submissively but suggestively, to offer yourself to him verbally as well, you have him in the mood immediately, from 0 to 100 in just a few words.

Sexdrive:

Very high, way above average. It can happen at any time, in almost any place, that he suddenly gets in touch with you. It's not necessarily a kink, but he doesn't mind doing it in public places. He doesn't really mind if you get caught either.

His Love Language:

Protection. One of the greatest labors of love he gives you is his protection. He will stand up to anything and anyone if necessary, for him, it is a matter of honor to protect the beloved partner at any cost. But it does not always have to be a matter of life or death. Anyone who dares to even look at you wrong or get the stupid idea to say something foul to you, should quickly seek the distance.

Attention is another sign, Gar has a certain arrogance about him, but he listens too, you certainly do not always agree, but he will never ignore you.

Gifts. He brings you something from every trip he has to make without you, from every battle. Sometimes it's small gestures that just show you he's thinking of you, but sometimes it's very special, expensive things.

Jealousy:

Gar is probably one of the most jealous people you will ever meet, maybe even the most jealous. He checks every person who comes near you carefully, keeping an eye on everything. When you go out alone, you always have an escort breathing down your neck to keep an eye on you, just in case.

He claims that this is not about the trust he has in you, but about the fact that he does not trust others whom you might meet. Should someone hit on you, it will be stopped very quickly, even with violence, Gar does not hold back. Admirers should be very, very careful if they want to stay alive.

________

AC:

As I said, I don't know too much about Saxon, but this is what my mid came up with, reviewing what I saw/heard/read about him. I hope that's not too far from what you imagined.

________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

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[callsign-bunnie]

I just want you to know that I recently fell into the CoD fandom and was tossed between Soap and Rudy. . . But then I encountered one of your AleRudy fics on AO3 and fell firmly into the Rodolfo (and AleRudy) bandwagon kicking and screaming (tbh probs was a minimal fight). I think I have read all of your Rodolfo fics and your blog is a balm to my soul and fills the Rudy-less void in AO3.

Do you have any fic recs for Rodolfo/ AleRudy you can share? Btw keep up the good work and I always eagerly await each new post. . . In the words of Soap, "Keep fighting the good fight Hermano" 😄😄

Ahhhh, so I don't really read. Um, it has nothing to do with anyone else's fics, more to do with the fact that I am very picky and also, dyslexic, so it's just hard for me to read. Since I write so much and I write to my tastes, I mostly reread my own stuff.

However-

I still have a couple

These two fics singlehandedly got me into Alerudy and while one is dual Soapghost/Alerudy, it inspired me to write my own fake dating fic for both ships

I really loved this fic, I thought it was so cute, and it was the first fic I read where a Rudy perspective happened, and it made me latch on pretty hard.

This was the first Alerudy centered fic I read and it was pretty good, I loved it. It's short, but it didn't feel short at all. It felt really fluffed out and it definitely deserves more attention

Anyway, I am trying to get better about reading other people's stuff but it takes a lot of energy and also, I was dumb and took on way too many projects that I barely have time to read. I have started to slow down, though, and drop projects here and there.

[subskz]

my rinnie you will not believe the dream i just had…

i apologize if the way i’m about to describe it sounds like a wattpad fic but anyways i was hanging around skz and lino was chilling a few feet away from the group so i sought him out specifically to see what he was up to and he just started staring at me so deeply with this piercing yet soft gaze it was so . mesmerizing? couldn’t help but stare back at him and especially looking at his lips that were glossy n cherry red i felt like i was going mad!! there was this overwhelming kindhearted, gentle (?) energy from him and he looked so cute with those doe eyes looking at me expectantly like 🥺 cause at that point i just walked up to him and literally said nothing lmfao

think i managed to stutter out that he was beautiful or something and ended up babbling out a string of compliments while still staring at his lips and he just shyly smiled and his ears got red but he still kept composure while still staring me down with his catlike stare only it was much more friendlier and warm than he’s usually painted out to be it was really interesting?? especially bc i haven’t thought about him this way in a while but oh man he’s been wreaking havoc on me bit these days.. woke up immediately and had to tell you about it because you’re our resident lino lover ♡︎♡︎

so to this i propose you: typical brat lino but instead of punishing him like he wants, you praise him instead and compliment him until he gets embarrassed :p

hello my angel i missed you!! 🥰 what better message to come back to than a dream like this…so tender and sweet and w my favorite boy nonetheless…i would say i’m jealous but if anyone deserves to have all these lovely dreams abt skz it’s you <3

that’s just the lino effect isn’t it!! the most captivating stare that could pierce a hole right through you w its intensity or make ur heart feel like its gonna erupt outta ur chest w its gleam and aegyosal ㅠㅠ there really is such a warmth and gentleness to his eyes esp when his smile reaches them! and u mentioning his cherry red lips when he recently revealed that he uses cherry flavored lip balm is truly the cherry (hehe) on top <33

PLEASE rambling abt his beauty is a completely reasonable reaction to lee minho lmao and his ears turning red n betraying him too…oh i’m inconsolable over this ur mind really knows how to hit where it hurts 😭 the fact that u thought to tell me is so sweet too thank u so much for sharing it and reminding me that i am maybe a lil bit in love w him…did his gaze perhaps look smth like these pics?

you know a softie like me can’t resist such a perfect concept, i love to believe that countering all of lino’s pointlessly convoluted games w a simple approach like that is the best way to get him to break sometimes…all he really wants is ur attention after all! there’s only so much praise and adoration he can be showered in before that crack in his bravado appears and suddenly he feels so silly for ever causing trouble in the first place. cup his cheeks, fawn over him until his face heats up under your palms, and he’ll be putty in your hands in no time 💗

[aceofsages]

tear me to pieces for the WIP ask game :) I've seen you post about it and I'm so intrigued by the fact that it's Percy Weasley centric, because he's definitely an underused choice for a character study ! (atleast from what I've seen so far)

(also curious about the hp has a twin story and the Santa Clarita diet one, but I've only watched the first two eps of that show, so any literary brilliance would be completely lost on me 😅)

thank you so much for your interest!! percy weasley has the potential of so much nuance and i love him your honor.

here's a snippet: Penelope is his first friend and for a long time, his only. Her blonde hair and blue tie and clear eyes and calm countenance feel like a balm to his soul—he, who has only ever been surrounded by red, and is still surrounded by it, has chosen to be surrounded by it by choosing Gryffindor. Oliver takes time—the love Percy has for Penelope has always been instant, and Penelope will always be his first everything, and if Magic wills, his last—but it’s all the more special for it, the thing Percy feels for Oliver. It’s a purer love than that he has for his brothers, a love untinged with bitterness, without the ghosts that haunt that love between siblings.  It’s a choice—he chooses Oliver in third year, and perhaps the thing that really, truly, cements his choice is when Oliver chooses him back.  (Choice is a powerful thing, a cruel thing, a beautiful thing. Family of choice is the toughest thing one could ever make—because there are no ties of blood to hold you in hurt, in bitterness, in contempt; you choose and you keep choosing for the rest of your life—and hence it’s all the more beautiful for it. Choosing to be brave is a separate matter altogether, but Percy hasn’t learned that lesson yet.)

as for hp has a twin, I've wanted to write a slytherin character for so long, and i've wanted to fix so many damn things that bugged me about hp so I was like hey! what if? and there you have it! a morally ambiguous girl who was born on august 1st, after harry, and abandoned by petunia and never knew she had a twin! of course, harry also doesn't know about her existence and my plan is for the fic to follow all seven years of hogwarts.

a small snip: A pause. Then, “Alright. A word of advice, though. You underestimate your brother."   What do you know, you’re a Hat. The hat chuckles. “I look forward to seeing you thrive in SLYTHERIN!” (Jasmine doesn’t look at Harry when a stunned silence descends on the Great Hall, when she takes off the Hat and has to practically keep holding it before McGonagall comes to her senses and her grip tightens. She doesn’t look at him when she starts walking towards Slytherin, when polite—albeit surprised—cheers start to ring in the air, when she sits down at the far end of the table, away from Malfoy, but still with other First-Years. She doesn’t—can’t—and so she misses Harry’s cheers and his disappointment at not being able to meet her eyes.)

tbh, it takes a while to really get into santa clarita diet, so you're good! i myself barely watched the first episode and left it for a while before circling back. my fic is about abby hammond and what she does after the series ends, which, in this fic, is serial-killing lmao

[otherworldseekers]

They Can’t Take You Away From Me: Part 13 (Conclusion)

Here it is at last, the final installment of Amnesia AU (for now). Remember that this picks up right in mid scene from part 12. Includes a steamy bit but nothing explicit this time.

Fic Masterpost

“I love you, Nero. I love you so much,” Severia tells him as their kisses grow more passionate, more hungry.

When she says those words his heart feels lighter and more full than he can ever remember. Was it like this the first time, Nero wonders. Had she always made him feel like he can do anything, be anything, grasp the entire world in his hands… But right now he is content with just her. 

And he is becoming keenly aware of how naked they both still are, the scent of their previous coupling clinging to them. Nero rolls her beneath him and settles between her thighs. Severia’s legs circle his waist. Her hands grasp at his chest, shoulders, neck, as if to make sure that he is real. “Nero, please,” she whispers as her hands dig into his hair, “I need you so much.”

How is it that she knows just what he needs to hear? He has spent the last few months feeling inadequate, useless, needing assistance from everyone around him. Her words are both balm and spark. The sex before had been fantastic but also inevitable. He had been hopelessly aroused by her. Had wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless. (And prided himself that, for all intents and purposes, he had.) But now… Now he wants to adore her. To show her what it means to him that he’s found her again and that he needs her just as much, if not more than, she needs him. 

“Severia,” he breathes against her neck in fervent tones. “I’m yours.” 

This time he goes slowly, his touch tender and reverent. He revels in eliciting both her impatient whimpers and her gasps of pleasure, delights in the way their bodies move together perfectly. Her kisses burn him, her whispered words of love exhilarate him. And his name upon her lips as she finds her release sends him over the edge. 

Afterward, they hold each other close with limbs pleasantly entwined. Severia is soon asleep once more and as Nero tucks the blanket around them and snuggles in to join her he knows that he has finally found contentment. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severia wakes the next morning to the pleasing sensation of Nero tracing along the outer edges of the scales on her back with his fingertips. A smile creeps onto her face, but as she is facing away from him, she pretends sleep for a few more minutes, enjoying his touch. 

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” says Nero beside her. 

Severia laughs and turns over. She never has been able to fool him. “Sorry, it was just too nice a way to wake up.”

Nero grins. “I can make it much nicer now that you’re awake.” 

“Oh?” 

He pulls her against his chest and kisses her thoroughly as his hand moves down to squeeze her backside. “Can I ask you something?” he says as he kisses her nose, her forehead, her chin. 

“Of course.”

“I don’t know if this will sound odd, but are your scales… different?”

Severia freezes. “You’ve remembered?”

“No,” Nero says apologetically His fingers return to her upper back, brushing across the scales there. “I have the most curious sensation that this area should be bare. I can’t account for it unless…”

“It happened while I was on the First. I think it was in response to the Light. My scales grew much more rapidly than they normally would,” Severia explained. “Do you… hate it?”

Nero gives a surprised laugh. “No. Never. Your scales are beautiful.” He kisses her again in reassurance. “In fact, now that I know they’ve changed, even if I don’t technically remember what they were like before, I really will have to devote considerable time to reacquainting myself with every inch of them. I trust you won’t object?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Well then, I always say there’s no time like the present.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is quite late in the morning by the time Severia and Nero come down the stairs to the main floor of the Rising Stones, hand in hand. Heads turn from around the common area, but they have eyes only for each other as they make their way out of the building. They pause on the doorstep of the Ironworks and Nero gathers her into his arms, indifferent to the stares they are attracting. 

“I’ll miss you,” he says, as he cups her cheek and draws her lips against his. 

“I’ll miss you too,” Severia answers with a pleased grin. 

Nero looks vaguely uncomfortable for a moment as he takes a step back and holds her hands in his. “I still don’t know what I’m doing. What happens next… for us?”

“We have a lot to talk about,” Severia replies. 

“So?”

“So dinner at 18 bells?”

Nero grins. “I’ll make something delicious for you.”’

“You still cook?”

“It seems I never forgot that.”

“I guess I’ll restock the cupboards,” Severia says cheerfully. 

Reluctantly, Nero gives her one more kiss and then enters the Ironworks to begin his workday. Within is the normal bustle of a busy workshop, but there’s a definite sense of many eyes very carefully not looking at him. And no wonder. This morning Nero is not the neat and meticulously coifed figure they are used to. He’s still wearing his attire from the night before. Pants and shirt are somewhat wrinkled from lying on Severia’s floor all night. Coat and tie are slung over his arm carelessly. And perhaps most telling, his golden locks look distinctly disheveled.

Cid comes up and claps Nero on the back. “Well, it seems someone had an interesting night,” he says heartily. 

Nero looks down at him with a haughty frown. “Don’t bother pretending you don’t know all about it, Garlond. I detected your hand immediately.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Nero.”

Nero sighs. “So it’s to be like that, is it? Calling her to meet you urgently and then just not showing up? How very amateur of you. You’re fortunate that Miss Zetsuen is too trusting an individual to notice your duplicity.”

“So it’s still Miss Zetsuen?”

“To you it is,” Nero replies coldly, walking away. “Fear not. I have a spare tunic in my office and, if the gods are merciful, a comb.”

“Nero!” Cid calls to Nero’s retreating back.

“What?”

“I’m happy for you.”

Nero pauses, turns, and nods once to Cid before continuing to his office. With a smile Cid looks around and notices all the faces very carefully not staring in his direction. 

“The entertainment is over. Back to work!”

Meanwhile, Severia returns to the Stones and plops down in a chair next to Thancred, head in her arms on the table. She sighs heavily. Thancred and Tataru look at each other in alarm across the room and Tataru runs over. 

“Severia! Good morning! It’s a lovely day!” Tataru cries with affected cheer. 

Severia turns her head so she can look at her two friends. “You’re right. It is.”

Thancred clutches his coffee mug and clears his throat. “Er… long night?”

Severia huffs a laugh. “If you two are trying to figure out how to ask me what happened with Nero you can just come out and say it.”

Tataru and Thancred trade another glance of trepidation. 

“You looked rather happy before… when you came down…” Tataru ventures. 

“It’s complicated,” says Severia. “I am happy. I’m also… rather overwhelmed. It all happened in so short a time.”

“That’s understandable, Sev,” Thancred says. “Going from having your heart broken to being, er, well clearly the object of his affections again… It’s a big change and is bound to be stressful, even when the change is good. Don’t be afraid to take it slow.”

“A bit late for that. I’m afraid we just jumped right in.”

“Because you wanted to, right?” Tataru asks.

“Yes, I wanted to very badly, but I’m afraid we’re both going to flounder a bit after this.”

“That’s natural,” Thancred assures her. “But I have faith you’ll figure it out.”

Severia sighs again, this time in some relief. “You’re right. In the meantime, I think I could use a nap.” She pushes herself away from the table and stands up. “Tataru, could you send my apologies to Aymeric? Just tell him something urgent came up. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“What?” Tataru says in surprise. Thancred elbows her. “Oh! Oh, right. Yes, I’ll do that.”

Severia smiles and gives each of them a hug. “Thank you. Both of you.”

As they watch her walk back up to her rooms, Thancred and Tataru grin at each other. “Mission accomplished,” says Thancred.

“And a job well done it was too, if I say so myself.” Tataru bows. “Now to sort through these messages that have been piling up. There was one here from the Alliance somewhere…”

[raleighcarreras]

if i die young

Part 4: send me away with the words of a love song

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Rating: M (language)

Warnings: talks about canon typical violence, implied D/s undertones

Wrd Cnt: 1k+ maybe?

Part(s): part 1, part 2, part 3

Notes: One more chapter to go after this one! I don't think it will take a month like this one did lol. Song is Options by Doja Cat & JID. The first chapter of the wanda fic is done. Not sure when I'll post it. Probably within the next few days. But be on the lookout! As always: not my gif! And 18+ only!

We know we both got options

"Fuck, Y/N- we should stop-mmm."

You nipped at Natasha's lip in an uncharacteristically selfish move to get her to stop talking. You should start being selfish more often honestly.

It didn't matter if she was right or not. You probably should stop frantically making out like the world is ending against your exposed brick wall in your expansive apartment but...

But what Natasha was missing was the fact that you didn't want to fucking stop.

The last time you felt this alive, you were ironically dodging a bullet or two.

"Y/N..."

And in your defense, she clearly didn't want to stop either. Her cold hands running underneath your shirt, serving as a balm to your overheated skin and a clear indicator that she was enjoying the turn of events just as much as you were.

One of those cool hands ran it's way up the length of your arm. Stopping to grip firmly at you chin.

"I said stop. God, you don't listen. We're going to have to fix that." She said firmly into your ear, in response you could only give her an embarrassing whimper.

It's now that you're convinced that Natasha Romanoff hates you, because why else would she stop something so delicious and delectable from happening?

"I'm five seconds away from screaming bloody murder. To stop that from happening, I suggest you kiss me again." You didn't even bother opening your eyes to speak.

Natasha released your chin with a chuckle. She pulled the rest of her body away from you and now you really are close to screaming. Or crying. Crying, more likely.

"You're so dramatic."

"I resent that." You scowled at her.

"Of course you do."

"Nat!" You whined and stomped your foot. Just as embarrassing as it was unbecoming. You suddenly wished Kamilah was here to yell at you to stand up metaphorically.

"You were just mad at me 30 seconds ago, were you not?" Natasha traveled away from you slowly and sat down on your couch. Naturally, you followed her. She had turned on some sort of magnetic force field and was not turning it off.

You sat down on the couch next to her. Your legs crossed underneath you, "I've never been one to live in the past."

"Nice try." She gestured for you to continue speaking like she needed to give you permission, and just like that you were mad all over again. Magnets be damned.

The glint in her eye told you that she knew you were mad, and that seemed to be exactly what she wanted.

"You don't let good things happen to you, do you?" You asked with an innocent lilt.

Fuck. You loved catching The Black Widow off gaurd.

"I thought we were going to talk about why you're mad at me..." She adjusted her spot on the couch. Sinking futher into the plush fabric.

"I'm getting to that. Answer the question first."

"Good things don't happen to me. Don't deserve them."

Damn, you weren't expecting such a cynical answer. But then again, you had to remember who you were talking to. A woman whose hands were covered in as much blood and other miscellaneous bodily fluids as a newborn baby.

"Who says you don't deserve good things?" Who said she didn't deserve you? Were you not a good thing? Had you not happened to Natasha the same way she had happened to you?

"I don't know...society? God? I'm sure even some of my coworkers feel that way." Her face seemed to take on a harden edge. Her jaw so sharp that it would surely split your finger open had you reached out and caressed it like you wanted.

"Who cares what they think? Take it from me. You'll surely bite the dust quicker if you listen and trust anyone but yourself."

Natasha's eyes darted towards you quickly," Is that why you don't trust me?"

You bit at your bottom lip. Natasha knew you trusted her. You were fairly sure you had told her as much, but she was right about you choosing not to listen to her.

"Would it kill you to realize that you don't know everything?" You didn't mean the question in a harsh manner, you just really had no other way to say it. So, you kept your voice soft .

"Would it kill you to realize that I don't know everything but I just might know more than you. At least when it comes to this superhero thing." Her voice stayed soft too.

You let go of your lip with a sigh, "Why won't you let me learn from my own mistakes?"

"Because those mistakes could get you killed, Y/N! Don't you get it?" Natasha stood from the couch abruptly. She crossed her arms and started to pace the length of white shaggy rug in front of the couch.

You shrugged, "And if that's apart of the job?"

"You were kidnapped. You were taken so easily and it's like you don't even care-"

"Why do you?" You said simply from your place still on the couch.

"What?"

"Why do you care when I so clearly don't? What do you see in me, Natasha?" You needed to know for your own sanity, and for hers as well.

Natasha stopped pacing. Her eyes started to bore into yours so hard you wondered if it was hurting her. It was surely hurting you. Being on the receiving end of those green eyes made you feel like you were drowning in a lily pad infested pond.

"Am I your pet project? Your protegé?"

Natasha shook her head slowly, "No, you're-"

"What, Natasha?! What am I to you?" Despite the calm you had successfully kept on the surface, it was slowly starting to wane. Natasha was dragging this on way longer than she needed to.

"You're me, and you're not. You're so many different things that I can't keep track of and I'm not used to that. But I can't get enough." Natasha sat slowly back down onto the couch. Her eyes never leaving yours.

And fuck, you wished you could think of something, anything to say.

"You're predictable, and unpredictable at the same time. I have to know what you're going to do next, just to see if you'll surprise me or not."

You were caught in that magnetic force again. That fishing line she managed to snag you on when you weren't looking was reeling you in so fast you were losing your breath.

"I didn't think you'd manage to get yourself arrested. I knew you wouldn't want to ride back here with me. I knew you wouldn't stop poking me when I told you to. I didn't think you'd let me kiss you."

You spoke softly, your breath airy," When will I stop sparking your interest then?"

Natasha shrugged, "When you stop being you."

Your face heated from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You were grateful she couldn't see that.

"I don't plan on doing that anytime soon." You bit at your lip again.

"I didn't think you did." Natasha used her thumb to lightly free your bottom lip from its prison.

You liked to think you weren't this easy. But you leaning towards her, your eyes firmly planted on her soft lips suggested that you most definitely were.

Shame on you really. One hot girl tells you that she likes you for you and you're putty in her hands? You need to be fucking for real.

"Thank you for telling me that. But I really don't like what to be told what to do." You said cheekily after breaking away from her lips.

Natasha smirked that smirk that made you rethink going commando under your sleep pants, "Something tells me that's not true."

Your breath hitched.

Two could play at that game.

"This coming from the super spy who choked on her own spit after I called her 'Mommy' jokingly." The smirk was quickly wiped off of her face.

"You caught me off gaurd..."

"Shit! Can you say that again but this time look directly into my phone while I record?" You scrambled for the aforementioned mobile device.

Natasha only scowled at you and into your phone camera.

After a while, you were both lulled into a comfortable silence. Natasha seemed to have sunk further into the corner of your couch. And for the first time since you've known her, she looked truly relaxed.

"Nat, are you asleep?"

She popped one eye open, "I'm like a shark. I don't sleep. If I do I'll die."

You just blinked at her unamused, "Yeah. Anyway, can I ask you a serious question?"

She attempted to sit up but the couch swallowed her back up. "Shoot. Not literally."

Your fingers fiddled with each other, only stopping to pick at the inconspicuous tattoo on your wrist occasionally, "H-how do you deal with taking a life?"

If Natasha was surprised by the question, she didn't show it. But, now you knew she liked that sort of thing, "Who says I deal?"

"I just assumed you had a way, I guess..." You trailed off.

"Oh, I have a way, but I wouldn't call it "dealing" persay. It's more like ignoring it until I absolutely can't anymore." She smiled as if what she said was actually reassuring in any possible way.

"...Therapy it is then. Fuck you, Club Club." You shook your head dejectedly.

"STOP SAYING CLUB CLUB FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS!"

[hairmetal666]

Hi hi! I just reread tis the damn season (what a beast of a fic, so so good) - chapter 12 especially when they have that fight/ conversation!!! What an emotional climax.

Also- super interested in the gap between chapters 12/13 - do they bring up Eddie’s scathing remarks later on? I know Eddie’s apologized and given Steve’s more forgiving nature (+ the fact that they both messed up and Steve knows that Eddie’s tendency to lash out when upset, and that was a heat of the moment thing) Does Steve feel any lingering repercussions/ insecurities surrounding this when they first properly get together? Always feel a bit more heartbroken for Steve when Eddie twisted the knife so deeply like that

The final chapter is such a good balm for that good good angst! Such a good character study on these characters and circumstances, always love coming back to your writing but to this fic especially!

Thank you so much!!! 💜💜

This is a really good question! The answer has a lot to do with the way I constructed the fic. They obviously love each other, but they're also constantly getting in their own way, and they each have super similar (though ultimately very different) reasons for doing so. Eddie doesn't think he deserves Steve; can't get past King Steve falling for Eddie the Freak, like, that would never happen. So, no matter how famous Eddie gets, no matter that he and Steve hook up, he's convinced himself it doesn't mean anything. And Steve, in his attempts to hide his feelings, only plays into Eddie's assumptions that they're just fwb. But Eddie has an outlet for his feelings in his music, so he's able to work out some of his unrequited love that way, in a way that Steve can't. He finally lets himself believe that Steve might really love him after they have sex, so when Steve doesn't show at the concert, Eddie is fucking devastated.

As for Steve, he feels like he doesn't deserve love from anyone, and that his love is too much, too intense, etc. He's so afraid of being too much, of showing too much of his feelings to Eddie, that he keeps it all in. And he has no outlet, has made it so he can't even talk to Robin about his feelings So, during the fight, when Eddie is being intentionally cruel and hurtful, Steve can only agree. Eddie is only saying all the worst things that Steve has thought of himself, not only confirming that they're true but that the man he's in love with sees it about him too.

As you said, they don't get in too deep about the ways they've hurt each other in Chp 13. I wanted for them to have a little bit of that reckoning in the chapter, but mostly it's for the confessions, of them finally realizing they've loved each other this whole time. The real heavy emotional work happens off page. Steve struggles to accept that Eddie does love him, and Eddie takes full responsibility for preying on all of Steve's biggest insecurities during their fight. He doesn't mind reassuring Steve of his love, shows it both in words (and songs) and physical affection. The fear Steve has does get better with time, but he still struggles to not see only the worst of himself. In those moments, Eddie is more than happy to remind him just how much he's loved.

I also think they would get some therapy, both as a couple and individuals. Like, those poor boys, they've been through so much

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

Check out a sneak peek at an upcoming chapter in my fic Growing Sideways

Ed knew he was being a pretty shitty passenger right now, legs bouncing incessantly as he barely managed a series of short noises in response to Kiri’s seemingly never ending chatter – he really couldn’t give a shit about the new scrub tech who managed to piss off the entire night-time nurse rotation. He would make it up to her later, all he could focus on right now were the signs counting down the kilometers to the airport; the steady shortening of distance only expanding the growing lump in his throat that threatened to constrict his airways if let go for much longer. 

Stede had been texting him since he left Mary’s last night, updating him on his travel status, quippy observations about the absolute lawlessness of people in airports, telling him how much he loved him. He’d also called when he could – during layovers and inbetween way too many bloody security checks and passport control.

At some point last night Ed had fallen asleep, a few hours into Stede’s 9 hour trans-Pacific flight – Stede had paid for wifi on that one to keep messaging Ed, even after Ed had fallen asleep. 

After Ed had managed to get several not-so-helpful hours of sleep – not like he’d been having any particularly restful nights lately anyway – he’d woken up to half a dozen voice notes waiting for him. By that point, Stede was already half an ocean closer, waiting for his too long layover in Tahiti. Ed had immediately called him, desperate to just hear his voice.

They talked the rest of his layover, until an absolute monster of a flight attendant made Stede put his phone away for his second to last flight. Wifi apparently wasn’t available on that one as Stede went radio silent for close to six hours until he landed in Auckland. 

Ed had been absolutely useless the rest of the day, not being able to sit down for more than ten minutes as he moved through the motions of waiting, impatiently, desperately, for five pm to roll around. The hours seemed to take their sweet, excruciating time to roll through the day, seemingly taunting him every time he checked his phone to find it was decidedly not five pm, because the universe definitely hated him.

He was pretty sure that at some point Kiri had pressed a breakfast pie into his hands around two pm, realising that he had definitely not eaten anything that day in between waiting for updates and texts and phone calls. 

Now, from the passenger side of Kiri’s truck, his thumb swiped his phone open every thirty seconds, anxiously waiting for any update from Stede after his last text an hour ago saying that he’d boarded his final flight. The flight was a short one, less than an hour, Ed knew, so he should have landed by now. He should have landed and disembarked and be there waiting. Waiting for him. 

After another excruciating three minutes, his phone buzzed on his thigh, lighting up with Stede’s face. Ed almost dropped the phone with how quickly he moved to answer it, cutting Kiri off in the middle of some new story (he really would make it up to her).

“Stede,” Ed barely managed to choke out, voice cracking and tinged with a desperation he couldn’t even bother to be embarrassed about right now. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Stede soothed, concerned, his voice a balm against Ed’s fraying nerves. “I’m here, my love, ready for you.” Ed was barely keeping it together, chest tight with a thousand emotions that threatened to burst if he didn’t get Stede in his arms in the next ten minutes. 

“Well, I’m ready for you, they are taking quite a while to unload the baggage despite the fact we’re quite literally the only flight here.” Stede addendumed, in his little bitchy tone that Ed was desperate for right now. 

“Okay, yeah, okay, we’re, um -” he looked back at Kiri, who held up four fingers as she mouthed “minutes” – “4 minutes away.” 

Stede gave a pleased little hum, a sound that spread through Ed’s chest as it warmed him from the inside out. “Oh, fab.” There was a pause where neither of them said anything, listening instead to the other breathing. 

“Do you want - ”

“Please keep talking - ”

They spoke over each other, Ed stumbling over his rushed words to get them out before Stede could even consider hanging up. Not to be dramatic, but Ed was pretty sure that if Stede hung up now, he would actually combust before making it to the airport. 

“Please, love, just keep talking. Anything. Just need to hear you.” He managed to mumble out, trying and failing to clear the ache in his throat.

[kritischetheologie]

🎈please! the hardest question of all time

(fic writer asks)

answered here, but I am still thinking about this question, and in particular about what distinguishes my writing.

I said here that the conflict I'm most drawn to is man vs. society, but I have shades of man vs. self as well. where those two intersect, for me, is in the gap between the person we want to be, think we're supposed to be, or are supposed to be (from society's perspective), and the things we actually want. more below the cut.

the most romantic things I've written (in my opinion, at least), EWTRTW and S&G, are both about leaping over that gap. they do it very differently; in EWTRTW, seb's relationship with nico is one of the factors that helps him stop trying to pretend to be a better person than he is, and embrace his selfish, ambitious side, whereas in S&G, charles's relationship with bono is arguably a reward for the decision to give up on trying to be a ferrari driver, as well as a balm for the harms that were done to him during/by the attempt. but what they have in common is that they share the driving image of love as the experience of having the parts of yourself that you have most been trying to repress be witnessed and cherished by someone else.

when I think about which of my fics are the most and the least me, a lot of what I end up thinking about is that gap. it's not a major player in the yale au, for example, which is part of why that fic hits me as more generic than some of the other things I've written. tons of the URBP is about nico's conflicted ideas about what being an omega means to him, or is supposed to, but it could well be that my dissatisfaction with the endgame is rooted in the fact that nico and lewis's relationship doesn't actually help him to resolve that issue. the reason I love the seb and max fic so much, even though you're not meant to ship them, is because max is struggling with the gap between how he thinks he's supposed to feel about winning his title and how he actually does, and seb is struggling with the gap between how he's supposed to feel about having left red bull and how he actually does, which makes both of those characters very precious to me.

I wrote about the Seb Paradox here, and I think part of why I am drawn to it as a question is because the gap is right at the center of it. which seb does lewis love: the one he's trying to be, or the one he really is?

I think you can also see this theme in a lot of the fics I gravitate towards. if you give me a popular, prolific author, and ask me what my favorite fic by them is, it will almost certainly be about this gap in some big way.

and yeah, there's nothing particularly original about believing that Love Means Being Authentically Seen or whatever, but...

I dunno, man. that shit's harder to admit you want than you'd think.

[starport-seven-five]

Hello! For the ao3 wrapped:

3, 6, 11, 29, 30

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

The Beauty and the Grace I’m proud of because it’s the only multi chapter fic I have ever completed, and really, the first one I had even attempted since I was a kid. It was also a very low engagement fic but I can honestly say that I did write it for myself, and I completed it despite that, because it was important to me, so I’m proud of myself for that, too.

I also have to say (Can’t get) Away From This Love Affair because it was also a pretty big undertaking for me, and had a clear storyline (not exactly a plot), rather than being a pile of feelings and/or porn, and rather artsy, and I’m really happy with how it came out.

6. Favorite title you used

I actually answered this in a previous ask! But basically, my titles from the Bible, lol

11. What work took you the longest to write?

With the exception of the multichapter, definitely my soul shall be sated. I did actual research for it, I meticulously crafted the aesthetic and feel I wanted, and I pored over every single line and word that I wrote to make sure everything was perfect, because I had a very specific idea in my head and I wanted to do it justice. I had the idea in December or January, and didn’t post until mid May.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year

Probably a toss up between this, from Parts of one whole:

He chokes out a little sob at the sound of Mobius’s voice, so gentle and still such a balm to the state of frantic overwhelm that he’s trapped in. Loki hones in on that soft, even cadence, still whispering words of comfort and affirmation and praise, and slowly, slowly, feels himself sink deeper into them. Into these two precious entities who hold him, who behold him, who have taken him apart and put him back together so many times there’s not a single cell of his body, a grain of his soul, they’ve not seen and held and turned over in their hands in reverent examination before replacing it, all of it, exactly as it was. Exactly as he is.

Or this really indulgent, sexy extended metaphor from in the face of certain doom:

It begins slowly, gradually, with Loki’s fingers still dancing along Sylvie’s back- a steady beat, to start off. Then Sylvie’s light, almost tentative touch, stroking along the invisible midline of Loki’s chest and abdomen, up and down, adding melody. And finally, Mobius’s hand between them, skimming along the wake of Sylvie’s touches with the tips of his fingers, his knuckles brushing the underside of her wrist and forearm, a harmony layered perfectly to round it all out.

It’s a symphony that winds through a meandering first movement, soft and experimental as hands and lips roam in a consonant pattern, each phrase wrapped up neatly with a sigh or gasp as it builds to a sweeping crescendo that has them all breathless and writhing.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

So many! I mean, firstly, the sheer volume of fics I’ve put out. Then, the fact that I’m still just as obsessed and just as full of ideas for this fandom and these characters and ships.

Also, the fact that I STARTED AND FINISHED a whole ass multichapter fic this year.

Probably also the amount of FLUFF I wrote, and the amount of porn-less fics I wrote, in general.

Thank you so much for the ask! I love doing these :)

[here2bbtstrash]

idk why but fics with lgbtq themes like bi!reader/bts are my fave like they’re HOT but it’s also comforting in a way- needless to say i really really enjoyed ‘babygirl’

if you have any fic recs of this sort pls pls pls let me know 🫣

OH GOSH HI BABE 💜 i'm soooo glad you enjoyed babygirl, i genuinely have such a soft spot for it and i just kjdfjghjd deeply love writing queer shit 🥲

so i've got a couple but i am very scared i'm forgetting/missing some stuff that's out there SO i will also open it up for y'all to add onto !!

first i must toot my own horn *beep beep* - if you haven't read love the way you wear that, it's the first truly self-indulgently queer bts thing i wrote and features a queer reader and bi / trans jimin, my beloved 💜 and a hot bathroom stall hookup lmao

now onto a couple faves:

jai's (@gimmethatagustd) nothing to hide is a comfort fic for me at this point 🫠 it's seriously like a balm for when the world is shitty. queer/genderfluid reader taking baby bi yoongi to his first pride, jimin makes a brief appearance as a drag queen, AND there's hot smut in a closet (yes they address the fact that it's literally in a closet lmfao) ?! what more could you ask for. it's incredible, i highly recommend 💜

and then i'm just gonna tell you to scroll clare's (@nabiolive) masterlist to your heart's content, bc they infuse amazing queer magic into nearly everything they write, so whether you want reader stuff or member stuff or anything in-between, you really can't go wrong with ALL OF THEIR WRITING it's fucking phenomenal 😩💜

aaaaand finally - i am going to recommend something i have not read sdjflsdjf but i have been going 👀👀👀👀 at for a very long time !! @hesperantha 's series teardrop had my interest piqued as soon as i saw "everyone is queer" and "fuck gender" in the warnings lmfao. i'm lowkey allergic to reading series before they're finished so i'm sitting here waiting very patiently for it to be done so i can binge it all at once like a maniac 🙇‍♀️ but everything about it looks incredibleeeee and like the kind of queer content i'm trying to see around here!!!! 💜

girls, gays, theys, friends - PLEASE reblog if you have any more queer bangtan content to share, not only for this anon but also for ME, because i'm gay and i wanna read gay shit all the time 💅✨ alright LOVE U SO MUCH and i hope you enjoy babe !!! 🥰

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 5- Cheat Code

WOW!! So I didn’t realize that my next plot bunny wasn’t queued up today until right now.🙃 Better late then never I guess. I’ll probably do an overnight reblog of this one right before the next one drops tomorrow morning. SORRY!

If you would like for this to be my next fic, please be sure to shower it with lots of love (reblogs/likes/comments).🥰💖 All plot bunnies will be linked back to this masterpost.

Summary: Bilbo moves in with his cousin, Primula, and her family as he tries to cope with the grief of losing his parents when a curious thing happens. Fiddling with one of Frodo’s games one night, he found that every night at 2:17am he is sucked into the video game world of: Quest for Erebor. At first, it just becomes an escape, but as time goes on and Bilbo really gets to know the characters, he is bound and determined to see every single one of these dwarves safely to Erebor. Even if he has to cheat the game to accomplish it.

Warnings: Depressive episodes (none that lead to self-harm)

It was almost over. The worst day of Bilbo’s life. All he had to do was get through this last part, and he could go home. Locking himself away from insufferable relatives and their condolences. Leaving him to finally grieve on his own. A much needed reprieve that would be a balm on Bilbo’s poor heart after the week he’s had. It was just that…he noticed the hole. Eyes wide and unblinking were trained on the twin black caskets, unadorned by embellishments save for the simple carved floral wreaths gracing the head of each, and poised over a hole large enough to swallow them both. His chest started to burn, and he quickly sucked in a much needed breath, only for it to stab like needles all the way down to his lungs.

Someone next to him squeezed his hand tightly, but Bilbo barely felt it. Everything seemed to be fading away. The preacher’s voice was getting further away, his chair no longer felt sturdy beneath him, and his ears were ringing as a simple fact seemed to echo loudly inside his head: his father was uncomfortable in tight spaces, he was afraid of holes. And Bilbo, his own son, was about to force him into one. Bilbo felt himself attempting to stand, but he couldn’t even get his knees under him as he crumpled and his vision faded to black.

When Bilbo came to, he realized he was no longer at the grave site. Instead, he was laying in the backseat of a car as someone gently ran their fingers through his curls. For a moment, Bilbo could have sworn it was his mother, and his eyes immediately flew open only to see his dear cousin, Primula, looking down at him. He physically felt something in him shatter, as he gave a hoarse wail and the flood of tears followed. Prim held him as tightly as she could, silently crying over him as he lost any semblance of control. He buried himself as deeply as he could into her knees, trying to anchor himself in the turbulent sea of emotions threatening to drown him. 

“You can’t go back there. Not like this.” Prim’s shaky voice ordered. “You’ll come stay with us. At least until you’re back on your feet. And that’s the end of that Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo felt like he should argue, but his strength had all but deserted him. He managed the smallest of nods, curling up against his cousin tighter. His last coherent thought before a true sleep claimed him was one week. He would not allow his cousin to baby him for longer than a week.

***

Prim lived in a two-story townhome just on the outskirts of the city. It was painted a fetching color of pale blue, and the white trim really completed the look. She lived with her husband, Drogo Baggins, although of no relation to Bilbo (Baggins was a fairly popular name after all), and their twelve-year old son, Frodo. Bilbo had been delegated to the guest room upstairs, across from his nephew (as cousin seemed too odd a term for a boy nineteen years his junior). 

After Bilbo had fainted at his parents’ funeral, he had been taken back to the home he once shared with them just long enough to pack his suitcase before he was whisked away here. The first two days had passed with many tears, hugs, and warm drinks. The first two weeks ended with Bilbo having long given up on a sleep routine that didn’t involve him awake most of the nightly hours. After the first two months, Bilbo feared he would never find the motivation to return home. 

“Bilbo?” Prim’s voice accompanied a knock on his door.

Bilbo groaned as he curled up tighter in the covers.

“Bilbo Baggins, I’m coming in unless you say something.”

Bilbo groaned again, but clearly that didn’t count as an answer to Prim’s ears as the door flew open.

“Oh Bilbo.” She scoffed, crossing the room.

A bright stream of light hit his closed eyes as Prim tore open the curtains, and he quickly remedied the problem by burying his head under his pillows. 

“Bilbo, you have to get out of this room.” She chided. “I know I told you I wouldn’t bother you, but it’s been three days since you’ve had dinner with us and it smells like it’s been at least that long since you’ve showered as well.”

It had actually been eight days since Bilbo last showered, but he wasn’t going to tell Prim that fact. 

“What about work?” She continued as she sat down on the edge of his bed, her hand finding his covered foot. “Your editor is going to start bothering you again before too long.”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to let me worry about that and quit nagging me!”

Prim’s hand immediately withdrew, and an uncomfortable silence settled around them. 

“I worry about you, Bilbo.” She admitted quietly. “Being in this dark room, by yourself for days on end, it’s not exactly…healthy.”

Bilbo closed his eyes tightly against the tears that stung against his eyelids. He just wished Prim would stop and go away. He was just coping in his own way. It wasn’t like he was even remotely considering self-harm. He was just exhausted constantly, and certain tasks had begun to feel like massive chores. However, he worked on his stories at night when everyone else had gone to bed and it was peaceful, and he slept in til early afternoon. She was the one making a big deal out of nothing.

“What time is it anyways?” He finally peeked out from under his pillow.

Her lips were pressed together and her eyes were swimming with pity. It almost sent Bilbo back into hiding.

“Five.”

That did jolt Bilbo a bit as he pulled himself up just far enough to reach out for his phone. The time reflected back matched Prim’s answer. He could also see he had two emails, four missed calls and voicemails, and several social media notifications that he dreaded to answer. Perhaps he should get up. He used to love to take his laptop to the tea shop down the road from his house, and just let himself bask in the sunlight at his favorite window seat as he wrote. He had considered doing that yesterday, but then noon came and went and he just thought of it as a missed opportunity at that point.

“What are we having for dinner?” Bilbo tentatively asked.

Prim’s expression lightened as she jumped to her feet. 

“Frodo voted on pizza.”

Something greasy, additive, and full of fat. Sounded heavenly.

“Alright. I’ll come downstairs.” Bilbo groaned as he swung his feet to the floor.

Prim wrinkled her nose. “Not before you remove those pajamas and burn them.”

Bilbo gave her a flat look at her joke. However, even he was beginning to smell the stale odor of sweat and other unpleasant secretions of the body. A shower would probably not be remiss. 

Two hours later after completing the gargantuan task of cleaning himself, brushing hair and teeth, and getting dressed in a tee and sweatpants, Bilbo was finally ready to face the rest of his family. In spite of how badly he had been dreading it, the evening was far from difficult. He mostly sat and listened as Frodo entertained them with anecdotes from school, Drogo complained about his clients at the firm, and Prim regaled them with the wonders of teaching. 

However, Bilbo was more than relieved when he finally had the opportunity to retreat to the makeshift study (Frodo’s game room), and work some more on the next book in his series. By that he meant, he stared at the last place he had left off wondering just where he had been going with this direction, returning to his outline hoping for some form of inspiration, only to procrastinate any actual writing because motivation was a bitch.

“Uncle Bilbo?”

He spun around in his chair to see Frodo standing at the doorway.

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to reclaim your space?” He asked with a thin grin.

Frodo shook his head, a shy smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“No, Mom said you were having trouble with your book.”

Bilbo frowned and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Your mother needs to mind her own business.”

Rather than spurned by the sharp tone, Frodo giggled as if Bilbo had just told a funny joke. Despite that not being his intention, it pulled a real smile from Bilbo all the same. Frodo seemed to take this as an invitation to creep further in.

“You know when I have trouble writing, I just play video games for a couple of hours, and my mind gets so numbed I suddenly am plagued with ideas!”

“You write?” Bilbo questioned.

Frodo shrugged. “Just fanfiction, but I like it.”

Bilbo sat forward, a soft smile refusing to leave his face.

“You know that’s how I started my writing career? Of course there weren’t all the fancy websites like there are now when I was writing it.”

“Really?!” Frodo lit up. “For which fandoms? What was your OTP? What are your favorite tags to use?”

Bilbo blinked as he tried to process most of that, but he seemed to at least understand the gist.

“I liked to write in the world of Arthurian legends.”

“That makes sense.” Frodo nodded. “Since your current series is about wizards, burglars, and dragons. Real D&D kind of stuff.”

“Yes.” Bilbo deadpanned. “I have heard it described as that before.”

“OH!” Frodo suddenly exclaimed as he began to shift through the box of games next to the television. “I know the perfect game for you.”

The moment Frodo had found his prize, he thrust the game case into Bilbo’s chest.

“Quest for Erebor?” He read.

“Yeah!” Frodo implored. “It’s really cool! So there’s these thirteen dwarves, and you’re trying to get them home to their mountain only it had been taken over by a dragon and there’s this thing with the orcs and the leader of the company. But the really, really cool part is that you get to choose your character at the beginning and depending on what species you choose you get certain advantages in the game. Sam and I think that ideally it’s built as a multiplayer game where you have one of each type of character on the team, but Merry has played it before and he doesn’t like to replay games, and we don’t really want to play with Pippin because he never takes multimodes seriously, he just wants to goof off and then record it for his let's play…”

“I think I understand. Thank you.” Bilbo hastily interrupted.

Frodo ducked his head as he slowly started backing out to the door.

“Right, yeah. Anyways. I think you’ll like it if you want to give it a go. And then when you get good at it, you can play with Sam and I.”

Bilbo felt his breath hitch before he released it slowly in one drawn out and silent sigh.

“That would be marvelous. You’re very sweet, Frodo.” 

That had the boy beaming widely again as he nodded his head before exiting. Bilbo waited until he heard Frodo’s bedroom door close before he tossed the game away on the couch. It truly was a sweet gesture, but unwarranted. Bilbo had never been a gamer and couldn’t see that changing any time soon. He would get back in the groove eventually. He just needed to buckle down and start writing.

Three hours later, and Bilbo had abused every app he had on his phone with not even a single additional word to the document. He didn’t understand. He saw the scene so beautifully in his head, why couldn’t he put it into words correctly? He tossed his phone on the desk as he rubbed his hands down his face. If he wasn’t going to write, he should go to bed. Start getting his life back in order by actually waking up at a decent hour. Then his gaze landed on the game his nephew had so lovingly pulled out for him. 

It did sound fascinating…

Getting up to reach out for the case, Bilbo let his eyes linger on the cover where the dwarves had been so realistically animated. They weren’t your typical ‘Snow White’ dwarves with the short stature, long beards, and big noses…okay well that was a lie. There were certainly more than a fair few who fit that criteria, but they were more than that at the same time with the heavy metals and furs and elaborate braids. And the three at the front didn’t follow this pattern at all. Curious. 

Bilbo opened the box to stare down at the game disc inside. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He didn’t know how to operate any of these machines, and it was far too late to wake his nephew. Yet, he owed it to Frodo to try. Sweet lad who only wanted to help Bilbo find the motivation to write again. Besides, he was an intelligent, college-educated man. Surely he could figure out how to operate a child’s toy.

It was almost 2 a.m. before he finally got the damn thing turned on and on the correct channel. As Bilbo held a controller that seemed to have more buttons than he could even imagine operating, he was rather starting to think this was not in any way worth the effort. The title screen came up threatening to blast Bilbo’s eardrums in the soft silence of the early morning hours until he scrambled for the TV remote to remedy the problem. He pressed the appropriate ‘Start’ button on the gaming controller and was taken to a “Choose your character” screen.

It became rather intuitive to scroll through the five types of characters and read their bios, although the ‘stats’ bars were beyond Bilbo’s comprehension. He could choose a dwarf, which did seem to make sense on a quest with other dwarves but probably wasn’t as fun. There was also an elf with a warning that there would be an immediate drop in comradery as elves were natural rivals with dwarves. Not a viable option then. He could be just plain ‘man’, also seemed to be a boring choice. Then there was hobbit or wizard. On one hand…a wizard seemed rather useful but Bilbo was a bit intimidated by the ‘expert magic skills’ that he didn’t think he would be able to master. Meanwhile, the hobbit was such a simple fellow, valuing home and comfort, but having skills in stealth which sounded like an easy feature to control. 

Having made his selection and entered his name (he didn’t bother with a nickname), the game launched him into a movie-like scene as he was given a narrative on how the dwarves lost their home in the first place, and that the eye-catching fellow on the front cover was indeed a dwarven prince which explained his sharper features compared to the rest of his companions. After all, in modern media royalty must be ‘good-looking’. Bilbo listened somewhat boredly as the wizard, Gandalf, and the dwarf prince, Thorin made a plan to retake Erebor. Bilbo half wondered if he had chosen wizard if he wouldn’t be playing at this juncture. Then the implication was made on them needing a burglar before the screen went dark and the word ‘Hobbiton’ came across the screen. Clever.

Bilbo gripped the controller tighter thinking this was going to be the moment where he was actually going to get to play as his little hobbit character appeared on screen just now rising out of his bed. Then the controller in Bilbo’s hand began to vibrate. Thinking this was a gaming mechanic, he wasn’t too worried only the TV began to glow with a soft edge. Great. The game was crashing. Bilbo moved to get up and turn it off, only he couldn’t. He was frozen. His hands refusing to come away from the controller. 

Was he having a stroke?! What in the world was going on? The buzzing from the controller grew louder, the fuzzy edges to the TV screen seemed to come out towards him, and then Bilbo felt as if he were falling. He closed his eyes tightly against the sensation. Then it all stopped. Bilbo first became aware of his panting, too loud in the quiet that followed his strange experience. Then he realized he had somehow landed on the ground and off the couch. Groaning, he pushed himself up to his knees.

“Well that was unpleasant.” He huffed.

When the spots cleared from his vision, the first thing he realized was how bright it was. Did he stay up all night? Again? As he looked around the wooden room with its rounded doorways, it took him longer than he was proud of to realize this wasn’t the study. This wasn’t even Prim’s house anymore! Just what was going on? Was he dreaming?! 

Bilbo found himself rushing through the house to the front door, desperate to find out what exactly was going on. He opened the cheerful green door only to gape at the hobbits, actual real life hobbits, passing by his gate.

“Hello, Mister Bilbo!” 

Bilbo slammed the door shut. This was not happening. Not happening. Things like this did not happen in real life. He slowly opened the door only for the same hobbit to once again call out in exactly the same manner.

“Hello, Mister Bilbo!”

Bilbo stood there dumbfounded as he watched the hobbit saunter off only to return a few minutes later to repeat the same greeting. That had to be proof then. He wasn’t just in some weird fantasy land. He was inside the video game.

“Nope.”

Bilbo fainted dead on the spot.