#1 week returning/recovering from a job

[lelslizzylebs]

Literally just ignore this because the angst is so good, but they went back down on 3/16, interacted with the Tansu party 3/22, and with Toshiro and Kabru's parties 4/3. They defeated Thistle 4/12, and everything after then moved pretty quickly. So the whole ordeal was about one month, and Namari would have been able to confirm that Chilchuck was alive as of the first week after he was overdue, and Toshiro and Kabru would have confirmed he was still alive the week after. Not that they would have told his daughters, but it's emphasized that adventurers are a close-knit community and news travels fast. Then news travelled back that he was still alive once Thistle was defeated. Which means there would have been only one week where he was fully awol (which, incidentally, is also the week we see him being the most distressed about not getting back home).

learning that getting to the red dragon only took the party 8 days has made me completely reconsider how long regular dungeon jobs would take. And also made me realize that all in all since they were down there for several months(?) (and dungeon jobs apparently actually don’t generally take more than a week or so) means that Chilchucks family 100% thinks his ass died

[joelsrose]

Good Neighbours: Chapter 1

NEW SERIES!!! i know yall are still waiting for the next chapter of guns and roses its still in the worksss

no warnings, slow burn - reader is 24, joel is in his mid 40s

The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that presses heavy against your chest. The space that had once been your sanctuary now feels cold and lifeless, stripped of everything that made it yours.

Boxes are stacked against the walls, their edges frayed from too much tape and too little care. The bare floors creak under your steps, each sound echoing like a reminder of how empty this place has become. Your eyes linger on the window by the fire escape, the view of the city you used to love now feeling distant, like it belongs to someone else entirely.

Chicago had been your dream. The bustling streets, the never-ending noise, the late nights at cramped bars with friends, and the early mornings at the publishing house, fueled by coffee and ambition. It was everything you’d wanted—until it wasn’t.

Your life here didn’t fall apart all at once; it unraveled slowly, piece by piece. The first crack was the breakup, a betrayal that still feels like a sucker punch every time you think about it. Three years with someone who looked you in the eye and lied. Someone who had the audacity to cheat on you with your ex-best friend.

That revelation shattered something deep inside you, leaving a hollow ache you couldn’t quite fill. You cried for weeks, the kind of crying that leaves your chest raw and your pillow soaked, until eventually, even your tears gave up. When that ended, it took more than just your relationship—it took the version of yourself who believed in happy endings.

Then came the job. Or rather, the lack of it. Months of feeling distracted and unsteady after the breakup led to a mistake on a project too big to recover from. You were let go with a sympathetic smile and a box of your things, the kind of professional pity that only makes the sting worse. With no savings to fall back on and no one to catch you, you were forced to face the one option you had left: starting over. Somewhere far away from all of this.

That’s how you ended up on the phone with Uncle Ray, the one steady, no-nonsense presence in your life. When he offered you a place to stay in Texas, you hesitated at first—what did you know about small towns, about fixing cars and country music and people who knew your name before you even introduced yourself?

But you didn’t have much of a choice. A fresh start sounded like the only thing that might save you from drowning in everything you’d lost.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You stood outside the airport, feeling entirely out of place as sweat clung to your skin. You hadn’t expected it to be this hot, the kind of heat that seemed to cling to you, making the air feel heavier.

Tugging at the hem of your shirt, you scrolled through your phone mindlessly, the notifications blurring together as you tried to distract yourself from the awkwardness of waiting. Then, you heard it—a low rumble that grew louder with every second, the unmistakable sound of a truck’s engine.

Looking up, you spotted it, an old Ford pickup that had seen better days but still rumbled along with purpose. Uncle Ray was behind the wheel, his grin wide as he pulled up to the curb. He climbed out, his arms open as he approached you.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted warmly, pulling you into a hug that smelled faintly of motor oil and aftershave. He felt solid, familiar, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax into it.

"Hey," you returned, your voice softer than you intended.

"You ready to head home?" he asked, leaning back to give you an appraising look.

Home. The word felt foreign, strange on your tongue, but you nodded anyway, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, I’m ready."

The truck’s interior was worn and weathered, the seats cracked in places—a surprising sight considering Uncle Ray was a mechanic. Yet, it carried a charm all its own, a lived-in feel that spoke of countless miles and stories etched into every scuff and tear. As you settled in, pressing your back against the sun-warmed vinyl, Uncle Ray climbed in beside you, his fingers deftly adjusting the stubborn air conditioner until it rattled to life with a sigh.

The scenery outside was nothing like Chicago. Gone were the towering buildings and chaotic traffic, replaced by open stretches of land that seemed to go on forever. Fields of green, the occasional barn, and roads that seemed to shimmer under the weight of the heat. The town came into view slowly, a scattering of small businesses, a diner with a flickering neon sign, and houses spaced far enough apart to feel lonely.

You thought about the last time you’d seen Uncle Ray. Years ago, he’d taken you fishing on one of his rare visits up north. He’d been the same then—chill, a little chubby, always ready with a story that had you laughing until your stomach hurt.

"You holding up okay?" he asked, his eyes darting to you briefly as the truck slowed to take a turn.

"Yeah," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

When you finally reached his neighborhood, you leaned forward, taking it all in. The houses were modest but well-kept, each with a wide porch and a patch of green that looked as though it had been freshly mowed. Kids played on the sidewalks, their laughter echoing in the warm air. It was the kind of neighborhood where people probably knew everyone’s name and said hello every morning.

Uncle Ray pulled into the driveway of a double-story house with faded blue shutters and a swing on the front porch. The lawn was dotted with a few wildflowers.

"Here we are," Uncle Ray announced, cutting the engine. "Home sweet home."

You stepped out of the truck, the scent of freshly cut grass and something sweet—maybe honeysuckle—filling the air.

As you reached for the first overstuffed suitcase, your gaze drifted to the houses next door. Neatly trimmed lawns, colorful flowers in hanging baskets, and wide porches with rocking chairs. It was idyllic, picturesque even—a world away from Chicago's cramped apartments and noisy streets.

Your new neighbors.

It was strange being back in suburbia, where people probably waved over fences and borrowed sugar like a scene straight out of an old movie. In Chicago, you hardly saw the people next to you.

Sure, you’d hear them: the clattering of keys as they stumbled in after a late night, the thud of their running shoes as they left for an early workout. But no one lingered for niceties or exchanged cheerful "good mornings" like they probably did here.

You were lost in your thoughts, trying to reconcile this new reality, when you heard a low chuckle from the front of the truck. Uncle Ray was leaning against the hood, talking animatedly to someone.

His laughter carried easily in the warm, sticky air, a sound you’d always found comforting. Curious, you craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of who he was talking to.

That’s when you saw him.

He stood tall, broad shoulders casting a shadow that stretched over the gravel driveway. His hands rested on his hips in a way that made him look like he owned the space around him, completely at ease. He wore a plain t-shirt, faded from too many washes, stretched just enough to hint at the strength beneath.

His jeans hung low on his hips, worn at the knees, and scuffed boots completed the look. He wasn’t trying—God, he wasn’t even trying—but the way he carried himself made it hard to look away.

He had to be in his mid-40s, the faintest streaks of silver catching in his dark hair, but that only made him more handsome. Ruggedly so, in a way that felt deeply unfair.

"There she is," Uncle Ray called, catching you staring. He waved you forward, his grin wide. "C’mere, kiddo. Meet our neighbor."

Reluctantly, you abandoned your luggage and crossed the driveway. Every step felt heavier under Joel’s gaze—or Mr. Miller, as Uncle Ray had introduced him—but when you got closer, you noticed his eyes. Warm, earthy brown and piercing all at once, like he could see straight through you.

"This is my niece," Uncle Ray said, clapping a hand on your shoulder. "She’s staying with me for a little while. And this here," he motioned toward the man, "is Mr. Miller. Lives right next door."

"Nice to meet you, darlin’," Joel said, his voice low and smooth, with a Southern drawl that seemed to settle into your bones.

Oh, right. The pet names. Sweetheart, honey, darlin’—you’d heard them at least fifteen times since your plane landed, each one dripping with charm. But coming from him, as his hand reached out to envelop yours in a firm, calloused grip, it felt different. Better. You liked it more than you cared to admit.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller," you replied, your voice softer than you intended. His hand was rough and large, making yours feel almost laughably small.

He shook his head, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Call me Joel, please. Mr. Miller makes me feel like I oughta be signing up for a retirement home."

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. A genuine laugh that bubbled out before you could stop it. He smiled at that, a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips, but it was there. You noticed.

Uncle Ray, ever the social one, leaned in conspiratorially, a sly grin on his face. "Hey, Joel, how’s Sarah? She’s what—23 now? Same age as this one," he added, nudging you lightly with his elbow, as if you were part of some inside joke you hadn’t been let in on.

"I'm 24," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. For some reason, you thought it might make you sound more mature in front of the very much older man standing before you. Immediately, you regretted it—like he needed to know or cared about the one-year gap.

"Same difference," Uncle Ray said with a wave of his hand, completely unbothered.

But Joel raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement passing through his dark eyes.

"She’s good," Joel said, "Working over at the diner, keeping herself busy."

You must have furrowed your brows because Joel caught it immediately. "Sarah’s my daughter," he said, clarifying before you had to ask.

"Oh," you said, feeling a little silly.

Of course, he had a family. He probably had a wife, too. Your gaze drifted toward his house, half-expecting to see her step outside—a vision of blonde hair and a warm, effortless smile. The kind of woman who bakes cookies from scratch, smells like vanilla and sunshine, and waves cheerfully to the neighbors. Maybe there was even a golden retriever named Benji, lounging inside on the couch, completing the perfect picture.

"I’d love to meet her," you offered, trying to mask the pang of disappointment you didn’t fully understand. "I don’t really know anyone here yet."

Plus, my ex-best friend kinda betrayed me by sleeping with my boyfriend, so I could really use some new friends, you thought bitterly, the memory flaring for a moment before you shoved it back down.

"Course, she'd love that" Joel replied easily, his tone warm. "Y’all are coming over tomorrow for the barbecue, right?"

"Course," Uncle Ray said, already moving toward the house as his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. "Wouldn’t miss it. Joel makes the best ribs in town," he called over his shoulder with a quick smile.

Then his expression shifted as he glanced at the screen. "Sorry, it’s work—I gotta take this," he muttered, answering the call with a distracted wave before disappearing inside.

And just like that, it was just you and Joel.

You stood there, awkward and unsure, while he seemed entirely at ease, hands still resting on his hips. He had a way about him—calm, confident, charismatic.

"You need help with your bags?" he asked, tilting his head toward the suitcases you’d abandoned.

"Oh," you blinked, realizing you’d completely forgotten about them. "No, I should be fine."

Joel’s gaze shifted to the two enormous suitcases that were clearly over the weight limit, and he raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a laugh. "You sure about that?"

Before you could protest, he was already moving, lifting one suitcase with ease and hoisting it into his arms like it weighed nothing. You couldn’t help but notice the way his bicep flexed, the fabric of his t-shirt pulling taut as he carried the weight effortlessly. It was distracting, the kind of subtle strength that you knew he wasn’t showing off—it was just there, in every deliberate movement.

"You pack bricks in here or somethin’?" he asked, his tone light and teasing, as he glanced back over his shoulder. That faint smirk tugged at his lips, like he’d caught you in the act of staring, though he didn’t say it outright.

Your cheeks burned instantly. "No, I just—uh, I guess I overpacked," you stammered, trying and failing to sound unaffected.

He chuckled, low and warm, shaking his head as he grabbed the second suitcase, hefting it just as effortlessly as the first. "Just teasin' darlin" he said simply, his voice steady, but something about the way he said it—calm and self-assured—left your stomach fluttering.

This was going to be a problem.

Your cheeks burned, and you hoped the heat of the day would mask the blush creeping across your face. "Thanks," you mumbled, biting back a smile.

He carried the second suitcase up the porch and set it down with a satisfied nod. "There. Easy enough." He turned back to you, his gaze holding yours for a second longer than necessary.

"Well," he said, his voice low and steady, "Welcome to Texas." Your name rolled off his tongue in that unmistakable drawl, each syllable slow and deliberate, like he was tasting it.

It settled in the air between you, making your knees feel just a little weaker, your chest tightening in a way that you refused to acknowledge.

You swore he gave you a once-over before he strode back toward his house, his boots crunching against the gravel. Just before he reached his door, he glanced over his shoulder and tipped his head.

"See you tomorrow," he said, and then he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart doing something entirely inconvenient in your chest.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

After dinner—a greasy but satisfying burger and fries from the local diner—you finally settled into your room. It was modest, with a bed tucked into the corner and walls painted a soft beige. A worn wooden dresser sat against one wall, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air from a small sachet tucked into the bedside drawer. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy enough.

What caught your attention, though, was the window. It faced the backyard, and as you peered out, you realized it looked straight into Joel’s. The same backyard you’d be standing in tomorrow night for the barbecue.

The space was neat, with a patio table and chairs under a faded umbrella, a small grill parked in the corner, and string lights dangling above. You could imagine it already—laughter, the smoky scent of ribs, and Joel moving easily through it all, a beer in hand and that rugged smile.

Shaking off the thought, you flopped back onto the bed, the mattress letting out a soft creak under your weight. With your phone in your hand you unlocked the screen and hesitated for a moment. Your fingers opened Instagram hovering over the search bar before typing: J-o-e-l M-i-l-l-e-r.

You weren’t a stalker—you told yourself that twice as you pressed search. You just wanted to know more about him. Maybe seeing his wife, his family, would yank your head out of the ridiculous fantasies that had started creeping in since the moment he’d carried your suitcase like it weighed nothing.

Nothing.

The results came up empty, just a scattering of people who were very obviously not the Joel Miller you were looking for. You sighed, biting your lip, and switched apps.

Facebook. He was older—he probably wasn’t on Instagram anyway.

Jackpot. There it was—a profile with a photo that looked like it had been taken years ago. Joel stood with a much younger girl, who you assumed was Sarah, all teeth and curly hair, her arms flung around his neck as he smiled faintly at the camera. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was sweet—simple. A glimpse of him you hadn’t expected.

You scrolled further, the glow of the screen lighting up your face in the dim room. There were more photos: Joel and Sarah on vacation by a lake, Joel in construction gear with a hard hat tucked under one arm, Joel standing next to what looked like an old truck, his hand resting on Sarah’s shoulder as she beamed up at him.

But there was no wife. No wedding photos, no anniversary posts, nothing to suggest she existed. Huh, you thought to yourself, your brow furrowing slightly.

You locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed beside you, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe he was just private, or maybe…

You tried to push the thought from your mind, but it lingered, the possibilities swirling in your head far longer than you wanted to admit.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"You ready, kid?" Uncle Ray’s voice boomed from downstairs.

"Yeah, just one sec!" you called back, turning to the mirror one last time. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of the white halter dress you’d chosen, the hem brushing mid-thigh. It was simple, breezy—perfect for the Texas heat—but there was a part of you that wanted to look good. Not over the top, but enough to feel confident. Enough to catch someone’s attention.

As you descended the stairs, Uncle Ray was balancing a platter of meat and a case of beers, muttering something about forgetting the tongs.

"I’ll take these," you offered, grabbing the beers from him before he could protest.

"Thanks, kid," he said with a grateful smile.

The short walk to Joel’s house felt longer than it should have, anticipation bubbling under your skin. You weren’t sure why you were nervous. Maybe it was the thought of finally seeing inside Joel’s house, the place he lived.

Maybe even meeting his wife. If he has one, a voice in your head whispered, though you tried to ignore it.

Uncle Ray knocked on the door, the sound heavy against the wood. Moments later, Joel’s unmistakable voice called, "Comin’!"

When the door opened, your breath caught in your throat.

If it was possible for him to look even better than yesterday, somehow, he managed it. His hair was slightly tousled, damp at the edges, and there was a sheen of sweat glistening on his tanned skin—no doubt from working outside at the barbecue. He wore a faded gray t-shirt that clung just enough to hint at the strength beneath and a pair of jeans.

Your gaze lingered a second too long, and as if sensing it, his eyes flicked to yours, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You swallowed subconsciously, the motion betraying you. He noticed.

"Ray," Joel greeted warmly, clapping your uncle on the back. "Just through there to the kitchen," he said, nodding toward the hallway for the meat Uncle Ray was carrying.

"Got it," your uncle replied, brushing past him and leaving you standing awkwardly in the doorway, the beers still in your hands.

Why did you feel so out of place? Why were you so... flustered?

"Hey, sweetheart," Joel said, his voice dropping into that low, his arm leaning against the doorframe, his familiar drawl sending warmth cascading through you. He motioned to the beers in your arms. "These for me?"

It took you a second to process what he meant. "The beers?" you asked, dumbly, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

"Yeah," he said, amused, his lips curving into a faint grin. "The beers."

"Oh. Yeah," you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

"Here, I’ll take ’em off your hands," he offered, stepping closer. As his fingers brushed yours, a spark zipped through you, quick and unbidden. You glanced up, catching his eyes just as they shifted—flickering down for the briefest moment.

That’s when you realized where he was looking. You followed his gaze instinctively, and your heart stuttered. The condensation from the beers had soaked into your dress, dampening the fabric over your chest. You could see the faint outline of your pink lace bra through the thin material.

Joel murmured something under his breath, so quiet you couldn’t make it out. His jaw tightened as his gaze snapped back to your face, his expression carefully neutral.

Your cheeks burned, your entire body flushing a deep crimson. But Joel—ever the gentleman—pretended not to notice. His eyes didn’t stray, not once. Instead, he made steady eye contact, his tone smooth and unaffected as he said, "Hey, come on in. You can meet Sarah. I’ll introduce you two."

He stepped back, holding the door open wider for you to enter. His voice remained calm, his movements composed, but there was a tension in his posture, a stiffness that hadn’t been there before.

You ducked your head, mumbling a quiet "thanks" as you stepped inside, the air-conditioned coolness of his house brushing against your overheated skin.

Joel’s voice followed you, steady but quieter now. "She’s out back helpin’ with the food. You’ll like her."

You nodded, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Joel Miller had just seen far more of you than you’d intended—and that the way he handled it, with his quiet restraint and piercing eyes, somehow made it even worse. Or maybe better. You weren’t sure anymore.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ Sarah was incredible—her energy was infectious, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke made you feel like you’d known her for years. She had Joel's kind eyes and smile. Conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating every other sentence as you sat in the shade of the patio, the warm buzz of music and mingling voices filling the air.

"So, you moved from Chicago?" Sarah asked, taking a sip of her beer, her head tilted curiously. You nodded, but before you could answer, she grinned. "What gives? I’d do anything to get out of Texas, but I think my dad would have a heart attack if I tried."

You laughed softly at her playful tone, but inside, your heart clenched, the real reason for your move bubbling to the surface. The betrayal of the two people you had trusted most in the world—your boyfriend and your best friend—still stung like an open wound. For a moment, you thought about answering with one of the rehearsed lies you’d been telling people since it happened. Something casual, vague, easy.

But there was something in Sarah’s eyes—kindness that felt so effortless, so genuine—that made you hesitate. She wasn’t prying; she just seemed... safe. Your lip caught between your teeth as you glanced down, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

"Well, uh, my boyfriend cheated on me," you said quietly, the weight of it easing slightly as you said it aloud. Sarah’s eyes widened, but before she could respond, you added, "With my best friend."

Her gasp was immediate, her beer nearly slipping from her hand as she leaned forward. "Oh my God. Are you serious? What fucking assholes!" she said, her voice sharp with indignation.

You managed a small, sad smile. "Yeah. So, uh, here I am, trying to figure out what to do with my life. Honestly, I don’t have a clue."

Sarah’s expression softened, and without hesitation, she reached over to rub your shoulder, her touch warm and comforting. "Hey," she said firmly, "they’re both idiots for doing anything that got you out of their lives. I’ve known you for, like, an hour, and I can already tell how stupid that was."

Her words hit you harder than you expected, a warmth spreading in your chest as the corners of your mouth lifted into a genuine smile. "You’re too sweet," you murmured, your voice soft but sincere.

"I’m serious," she insisted, her eyes narrowing slightly as if daring you to argue. "If they couldn’t see what they had, that’s on them, not you."

For the first time in a while, you felt something shift—just a little—a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you were in the right place to start over. "Thanks, Sarah," you said, meaning every word.

"Anytime," she said, raising her beer with a grin. "And hey, if you need someone to curse them out over the phone, just say the word. I’m really good at it."

You laughed, a sound that felt lighter than it had in months. "I’ll keep that in mind."

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You sat by yourself now, nursing a drink as you watched the scene unfold around you. Sarah had disappeared into the kitchen to help with something, leaving you to take in the warm buzz of conversation and laughter that filled the air.

People were scattered in groups, mingling, sharing stories, and you couldn’t help but smile at how… nice it all felt. Like being part of a community, even if only for a little while.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by you—the absence of a partner in Joel’s life. No photos, no affectionate glances exchanged with a woman across the yard, no lady hanging off his arm.

You’d been looking, admittedly more than you should have. And you’d noticed another thing, too: his left hand. Bare. No wedding ring, no tell-tale tan line suggesting one had been there recently.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement, and when you glanced up, Joel was walking toward you, his figure outlined by the afternoon sun. One hand lifted to shield his eyes from the glare as he stopped in front of you, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Hey," he said, his voice low but carrying easily over the noise around you.

"Hey," you replied, sitting up a little straighter.

"You havin’ fun?" he asked, his tone casual but his gaze steady, like he genuinely wanted to know.

"Yeah," you said, nodding. "Sarah’s the best. She’s been really great."

His lips twitched into a grin, one of those subtle ones that made you feel like you’d earned it. "I figured you two would hit it off."

There was a brief pause, a flicker of something in his eyes as he seemed to consider his next words. Finally, he nodded toward the grill. "Hey, you, uh… wanna help me out with the grill?"

"Oh," you said, caught off guard but smiling nonetheless. "Yeah, sure." You stood quickly, brushing your hands on your dress. "I don’t know how much help I’ll be, though."

"That’s alright," he said, already turning to walk back to the grill, his voice carrying a hint of teasing warmth. "I’ll teach ya."

You followed him, the scent of charcoal and smoked meat growing stronger as you approached. When you reached the grill, Joel handed you a pair of tongs, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he did.

"Alright," he said, stepping beside you, his shoulder close enough to brush yours if either of you moved even a little. "First rule: don’t flip ’em too much. Just let ’em sit there for a bit. You flip too early, you lose all the good stuff."

You nodded, gripping the tongs tightly. "Got it. No premature flipping."

He chuckled at that, low and warm. "Exactly." He reached over, his hand lightly covering yours to guide the tongs. "Here, like this. Just slide it under real careful, and then—" He helped you flip one of the ribs, his movements steady, deliberate, his voice low in your ear.

"See? Easy," he said, stepping back but not too far, his hand lingering on the edge of the grill.

"Sure, when you’re helping," you replied with a small laugh, turning to glance up at him.

"You’ll get the hang of it," he said, his eyes meeting yours for just a beat longer than necessary before he looked back at the grill. "Soon enough, you’ll be the one teachin’ me."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "I don’t think I’ll ever reach your level of grill mastery."

"Mastery, huh?" he teased, his grin widening slightly. "You’re just sayin’ that ’cause you’re tryin’ to get on my good side."

"Didn’t realize you had a bad side," you said before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out light and teasing.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized how they sounded.

This was so not you—flirting? With Joel? .You immediately regretted it, your stomach twisting as you replayed the words in your head. You made it weird, you thought, biting the inside of your cheek. He probably thinks you’re a freak.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours, his grin softening into something quieter, almost contemplative. Then, as his gaze lingered, something shifted—something darker, deeper that wasn’t there before. His eyes traveled, not overtly, but enough to make you feel the heat of his attention, before they settled back on yours, steady and unreadable.

"Guess you’ll have to wait and see," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the kind of tone that felt like it carried a secret meant only for you. It was so quiet, so deliberate, that if the laughter and hum of conversation around you had been any louder, you might have missed it entirely.

Your breath caught for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty threading through your thoughts. Was he—? No, he couldn’t be. Could he? The weight of his gaze, the subtle shift in his demeanor, it all felt different now. Like the casual, teasing banter had taken a step into something else—something charged.

You blinked, trying to shake the thought as your heart gave a traitorous thump against your ribs. Joel’s expression shifted back to something lighter, the corner of his mouth tugging into a small, almost amused smile, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

Before you could say anything—ask, deflect, do something—Sarah’s voice called from the patio, pulling both of your gazes away. And just like that, the moment dissolved, leaving you standing there, wondering if you’d imagined the whole thing.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The rest of the evening unfolded like a whirlwind. Sarah had pulled you into the fold of her hometown friends, introducing you to a group of easygoing, lively people who made you feel like you’d known them for years.

They shared stories of growing up in the small town, teasing one another in a way only lifelong friends could, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks. It was lovely, and for a while, you let yourself forget everything that had driven you here.

You hadn’t seen Joel. Not since your brief moment at the grill. Uncle Ray had left earlier, muttering something about an emergency at the shop—a customer with car trouble that couldn’t wait until morning. He’d pressed the extra house key into your hand before he left, telling you to stay as long as you liked.

But now it was late, and most of the guests had filtered out. The once-lively backyard was quieter, the string lights casting soft, golden halos over the empty tables and half-finished drinks. You hugged Sarah goodbye at the door, a plate of leftovers in your hand that she’d practically begged you to take.

"Seriously, come over anytime," she said, squeezing you tightly. "It was so nice meeting you."

"You too," you replied, genuinely meaning it as you hugged her back.

As you pulled away, you glanced around one last time, hoping to spot Joel, but he was nowhere to be seen. You shifted the plate in your hand and opened the door, stepping out into the cooler night air. The distant chirp of crickets filled the quiet, and you felt the weight of the day settling into your shoulders.

"Leavin’ without sayin’ goodbye?" a familiar voice drawled, stopping you mid-step.

You turned sharply, startled, to see Joel leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed and his gaze fixed on you. His shirt sleeves were rolled up slightly, and his hair was mussed like he’d run a hand through it more than once. The soft glow of the porch light caught the sharp line of his jaw as he tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"What, I work you too hard?" he teased, his voice low and laced with that easy humor that made your stomach flutter.

You let out a surprised laugh, adjusting the plate in your hand. "I didn’t know where you went," you said, feeling suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze.

"Had to clean up a bit," he replied, straightening from the doorframe. "Didn’t think you’d sneak out on me, though."

"I wasn’t sneaking," you countered, smiling despite yourself.

Joel’s smirk widened slightly, his eyes catching yours in a way that made your pulse skip. "Good," he said simply, stepping closer until he was just a little too near, the space between you shrinking in a way that felt intentional. He glanced at the plate in your hand. "Sarah guilt you into takin’ that?"

"Of course," you said with a small laugh. "I didn’t stand a chance."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, before his gaze flicked back to yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, the quiet night wrapping around you like a cocoon. His expression softened, the teasing edge fading just slightly as he said, "Glad you came, though."

The way he said it—low, steady, and deliberate—made something in your chest tighten. You nodded, your voice quieter now. "Me too."

You turned toward the driveway, ready to head home, when Joel cleared his throat behind you. "I’ll, uh, walk you home," he said, his voice calm but steady enough to make you stop in your tracks.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Joel, it’s like three steps," you pointed out, gesturing toward your house practically next door.

"I know," he replied, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "But here in Texas, us gentlemen protect our ladies."

Our ladies. The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been, and you felt a sudden warmth rush to your cheeks. You knew he didn’t mean it like that—not like you were his—but still the idea made your stomach flip all the same.

"Okay," you murmured, the word barely audible as you started walking, Joel falling into step beside you.

You both walked slowly, the kind of unhurried pace that almost felt like stalling. Joel’s hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, his gaze flicking around the quiet neighborhood before landing back on you.

"So," he said, his voice easy but laced with curiosity, "how long you here for?"

You sighed softly, your fingers brushing the plate of leftovers Sarah had given you as you considered your answer. "I don’t know," you admitted, glancing at him briefly. "I’m here until I figure my shit out, pretty much."

Joel nodded, his expression thoughtful. The light from your porch illuminated the edges of his profile as he turned toward your house, his next words slipping out low and steady. "Well," he said, "let’s hope that takes a while, then."

Your breath hitched, his words landing like a soft knock against your chest. He said it so easily, so casually, but something about the way his voice dipped made it impossible to ignore. You felt the blush creeping up your neck, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Joel stopped just short of following you up, rocking back slightly on his heels. He looked at you then, really looked at you, and the warmth in his gaze sent your heart into a full sprint.

"Good night," he said, his voice softer now, before turning on his heels. He walked away slowly, his hands still in his pockets, and you couldn’t help but watch him until he disappeared into the shadows of his own porch.

You stood there for a moment, breathless and still, your mind replaying his words on a loop. The weight of them lingered, warm and undeniable, leaving you leaning against your door long after the night had fully settled around you.

Tag List:

@pedritospunk @ickearmn

[lockefanfic]

Truth

The following can be considered an alternate ending to the Business Trip series - although it can just as easily be read on its own. :)

---

The first few weeks together as an official couple were wonderful. Honeymoon phase and all that. Moving in together, domestic bliss. Fucking like rabbits, of course. But problems arose - became noticeable, and then unavoidable. Two of them, actually.

Problem 1: Your job.

Problem 2: Her job.

---

Problem 1: You’d thought business trips were a thing of the past. They weren’t.

You were happy to put the little adventure you’d had in Seoul and Tokyo behind you. Since then you’d done your best to decline any opportunities to engage in similar trips - feigning illness, sending underlings in your place, handling as many meetings as you could remotely. These days your life consisted of long, sometimes draining days at the office - a far cry from the brushes with danger and law enforcement that characterized your most recent trip overseas. Your days at work were boring and mundane now, but you were at home, and that was what mattered.

Home, after all, was where she was.

Regardless, the allure of another trip still came calling every now and then, tempting you, enticing you into spending a couple of weeks or months overseas where anything could - and sometimes did - happen. 

Sometimes that allure took physical form. Sometimes it came waltzing into your office wearing a tight blouse and a pencil skirt. Sometimes it was named Shin Ryujin. Other days it was named Hwang Yeji, or Lee Chaeryeong. Today, as with most days, it was named Shin Yuna.

“Ryujin and Yeji are on-site in Busan, and Chaeryeong is in Seoul, waiting for her flight to join them. Lia sustained injuries in our last operation and isn’t medically cleared for this one, but she’s recovering well. Ryujin has begin surveillance on our competitors’ teams - codenamed New Jeans and Le Sserafim - and she is ready to proceed with next steps once you arrive,” Yuna says, eagerness evident in the tone of her moderately Korean-accented english. “Shall I make travel arrangements for us to join them?”

For the first time since she walked into your office you look up from the reports on your laptop. You don’t miss the small bite the young woman is giving her lower lip, nor the way she has crossed her legs and begun leaning her wide hips against your desk. It takes more restraint than you were willing to admit not to steal a glance at her long pantyhose-clad legs and the tight charcoal pencil skirt they led to. You find the self-control to keep eye contact with your eager young executive assistant, even if her body language and tone of voice made her intentions clear and easy to read.

“Give me a second to finish reviewing Ryujin’s report,” you answer, returning your full attention to the screen in front of you. “I’ll confirm whether I need to be on-site by end of day, and if so you can make the necessary arrangements then.” 

Despite her best efforts, Yuna can’t hide the small twinge of disappointment that makes its way across her soft features. She’d been looking forward to the thirteen hour flight with you and the opportunities it would present.

“Oh, and…” she begins, her tone a little less upbeat now that you’d at least temporarily dampened her excitement. “You have a visitor. It’s Detective-”

“Let her in,” you interrupt. Yuna frowns, offers a short bow - a lingering habit from her Korean upbringing - and steps back toward the door to your office. She swings it open, and you catch the look of disdain on her features when she waves in your visitor.

Im Nayeon pushes past Yuna and into the office. She gives Yuna a sharp look as she passes the younger woman, and even from your chair you can sense the venom in it. The detective sits down in the chair opposite your desk, legs and arms crossed. She is dressed plainly, in a short denim skirt and a leather jacket, the glimmer of her badge on a chain around her neck the only clue as to her profession. She drops a large paper bag onto your desk.

“Please let me know if you need anything else, sir-”

“That will be all, Yuna,” you answer. 

Before your executive assistant has a chance to close the door, Nayeon turns her head and squeezes in one last shot.

“Cancel his next hour, Miss-” 

“My name is Yuna,” the young woman at the door answers, crossing her arms, scowl painted on her lips.

“Whatever,” Nayeon retorts, flatly. “Clear his schedule for the next hour. Oh, and do be a dear and lock the door.”

Out of the corner of your eye you catch two things - the barely restrained scoff on Yuna’s lips, and the satisfied sneer on Nayeon’s. With one last look of scorn directed at the back of the detective’s head, the younger Korean woman closes the door with a little more force than was necessary. The click of the lock engaging follows shortly after, as does the heavier than usual click-clack of her heels as she stomps away in obvious irritation.

“You have a thing for executive assistants with hips,” Nayeon observes. “Although this one’s much more of a brat than the last one.”

“Be nice,” you say, although you can’t keep the smirk from appearing on your lips as you continue to scroll through the report on your laptop. “She grew up in Korea, so she’s useful whenever I’m in-country. And she’s not a bad person.”

“I know,” Nayeon relents. “But the more of a cunt I am to her, the more she gets off on being a little fucktoy for you. I bet she gets off on thinking that you’re fucking her without me knowing. I bet it makes her so wet.”

Your smirk turns into a slim smile, and it becomes difficult to keep your eyes on the report in front of you.

“Am I wrong?” she contests.

“No,” you admit, finally turning to give her your full attention. “In fact, I’m about to hop on a plane with her to Korea in a couple of days. I expect it will be an… eventful flight.”

“Good,” Nayeon states, satisfied. “I bet she’ll be a good little girl for you, now that she’s received another reminder of how much you need some time away from your queen bitch of a girlfriend.”

She smiles - this one warm, soft - the smile that caught you in its clutches all those years ago and never let go. She turns momentarily to face the door.

“Oh, yeah, baby, fuck, you’re so big in me, fuck me! Fuck, this is the best dick I’ve ever had!” she exclaims in faux-pleasure, ensuring she was loud enough for the exasperated executive assistant sitting just outside your door to hear. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We can fuck at home later. I just wanted to piss her off,” Nayeon admits, a sly smile on her lips. “Anyway, pull up House of the Dragon?”

“Already on it,” you answer, swinging your laptop screen around so you can both watch. Nayeon pulls containers of take-out sushi from the paper bag.

She swaps your salmon for her tamago.

She leans over your desk as she passes you your chopsticks. She gives you a warm kiss, and the smile she leaves on your lips stays there for the rest of the day.

---

Even after all these years, she never tired of the collar and its leash.

It was showing signs of wear, of course - the bright fire engine red had faded into a softer, paler shade, the chain was no longer as shiny, and there was more than one set of her teeth marks on it from particularly frisky sessions - but she never missed a chance to put it on when the mood struck, and you never missed a chance to put it on her.

For now you are content to let the chain dangle freely in your left hand, watching the light streaming in from the open window as it plays on its metallic links. The chain glimmers in the morning light against her pale, creamy skin, swaying and occasionally bouncing along with her movements.

The chair you are sitting on protests with the weight and movement the both of you make atop it. Her soft sighs and gasps - a far cry from the loud shouts and moans you knew she was well capable of - happily cancel out the furniture’s squeaking protests as she rides you atop it. Soft, sensual, slow. The perfect fuck for a perfect morning.

You do your best to just sit there and savour the moment, letting Nayeon do all the work as she grinded back and forth on your lap. As much as you enjoyed watching her bounce up and down atop you, taking your full length in and out of her body - taking special delight in the delicious bounce it gave her breasts and thighs - there was something to be said for the intimacy of the way she was riding you now, slowly and softly. It gave her a chance to grind her slick, swollen clit against your crotch, and while it only let a third or so of your cock slip in and out of her hot, slippery cunt with each entry and exit, each movement nonetheless caused a warm spike of pleasure to course up your spine as your cock moves around inside her.

She was so beautiful, so utterly ethereal and intensely erotic all at the same time - clothed simultaneously in perfect golden sunlight and slick sweat, saliva, and other fluids. She was ethereal beauty and dirty sex. She wore both, was utterly enrapturing in both, was equally comfortable in both.

You watch each movement of her body - a body you knew well, knew every peak and curve and valley of - and you never tired of it. You watch as her round, full thighs flex and work, as her tight core drives her lower body back and forth, as her small, perfect breasts sway and bounce. Her face is immaculate, soft features twisted and wracked by pleasure. Sweat glistens over all of it. It makes her perfect skin glisten and glimmer in the sunlight.

You take a moment to look over her shoulder at the dressing mirror behind her, relishing the sight of her back - the beautiful curve of her spine and the sweat dripping down that delicious valley; the round cheeks of her ass and the muscles beneath them as they work to fuck herself on your cock; the short glimpses of your balls as she moves back and forth, takes you in and out of her body. Even her hair, having started the morning pulled into a messy bun, has become disheveled and loose - but in a way that is enticing and alluring, glued to the back of her neck and upper shoulders by perspiration.

Your right hand, resting on her thigh, snakes a path up her body - up her chiselled abs, cupping a soft breast and delighting in the tightness of her nipple as you capture it with your thumb and index finger and give it a pull, a twist, a pinch. Her pussy pulsates in response around you. She is sighing and moaning her pleasure when your hand continues its journey, sliding up a sweaty neck until you reach the side of her face.

Her eyes, shut, drift open at your touch. 

You give the chain a jerk forward.

Her entire upper body crashes against yours at the sudden pull at her neck. Your lips find and capture hers, and for a few moments you share a passionate, heavy kiss. As your tongues duel you give her a slight thrust upward with your hips, timed to meet the apex of her grind - and she sighs into your mouth at the movement, eyes shutting again, nails digging into your shoulders.

Spurred by her reaction, you continue to thrust upward as best you can given your sitting position. Her cunt, already so wet and slick and hot, clenches around you with each thrust, welcoming you, taking you.

“Oh god,” she sighs, the first full words either of you have spoken in a while. “Oh god, I’m close-“

Her sentence breaks into a moan, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure as you continue your thrusts upwards into her body. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, burying your face against her warm, moist chest. You lick the sweat from between her dangling breasts. You savour each moan that leaves her mouth, heavy and hot, directly into your ears.

The chain drops from your left hand, its end falling with a soft clink onto the hardwood floor of your apartment. Forgotten for now, because the faux, pretend-ownership it represented was no longer needed, was perhaps never necessary.

She orgasms around you - pussy clenching, lungs emptying of breath as she cries her pleasure into your bedroom. Your hands find themselves clutching at her moist, sweaty back, hugging her to you, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

“Your cum, inside me,” she hisses, her voice soft and almost vulnerable in your ear, still at the height of her orgasm. “Please, I want, I need it, please.”

Im Nayeon knew you - knew every part of what made you tick. She knew what you wanted to hear, knew when you wanted to hear it.

You thrust upward into her clenching, creamy cunt one last time. Every part of her body surrounds you, wraps itself around you: she buries your head into her chest, fingers interwoven into your hair, cradling you with her arms and legs as her cunt clenches and tightens around your cock. 

Your shaft spurts warm, thick cum into her. She lets a sigh leave her breathless lips with each pulse of your cock inside her, knowing each one was another rope of cum that would bind your bodies even further together.

Your fluids mix inside her, eventually sliding out between the pussy lips stretched tight around the base of your cock. It drips down your shaft, your balls, and onto the chair. You are sticky everywhere - on your sweaty chests, your slick thighs, but especially where you are joined together, your shaft still embedded hilt deep inside her. You are glued together, made one.

You sigh into her chest, and the nails that had dug furrows into your scalp now stroke it softly. The exhaustion hits you both at once, and for a few wonderful moments the only sound either of you can hear is the sound of heavy breathing.

Her hands eventually slide from your scalp. Her turn now to cradle your face in her hands. Your faces hover in front of each other, noses barely touching, half-lidded, pleasure-ridden eyes locked on one another.

For a moment her left hand moves to her neck, where she undoes and releases the clasp of the red leather collar. It slips from her body and falls to the floor.

“I belong to you,” she says, breathless, not needing some scrap of leather around her neck to convince you of it - not that she ever needed such a thing to begin with. Her hands cradle your face, palms on each cheek, like you are the most delicate thing in the world. Your arms wrap themselves even tighter around her soft, trembling torso. Your foreheads touch, your eyes close.

“I know,” you answer. “I always have.”

Later that morning, when she is snoring peacefully, you slip out of the bed. Your flight to Korea wasn’t until later that afternoon, and so you had some time to spare before you had to leave the house, and her, for god knew how long. Every part of you wanted to lie there in bed with her and savour every moment of it, not knowing when you’d next be able to do so - but you had decided the night before that something needed to be done, and there was no better time to do it.

You fire up the coffee maker - you’d both settled into specific domestic roles since moving in together, and you were almost immediately appointed Minister of Caffeinated Beverages - and take a seat at the kitchen island with your laptop.

A few minutes later, and you’d begun an email to JYP informing him of your intention to resign your position following the end of your next business trip.

Distance had taken her from you once, and it wouldn’t do it again.

---

“Is she being a good girl?”

“Yes, Nayeon,” you say, your answer somewhere between a sigh and a hiss as you press your phone close to your ear, ensuring only you could hear the voice on the other side of the call. You made sure to use her name, as she’d previously suggested, knowing what hearing it would do to the young woman you were currently sharing a hotel room with. 

Between your legs, Yuna gives the tip of your cock a swirl with the end of her tongue. Those large doe eyes glance up at you, the mention of your girlfriend’s name giving the topless young woman a small spike of wicked delight. You watch with a measure of your own satisfaction as she pumps your cock with one hand, the other fondling her own small, round breast and the tight nipple atop it. After a moment her hand drifts down her body, between her legs - and soon after she begins to sigh and moan around a mouthful of your shaft as she begins to pleasure herself.

“Good,” Nayeon continues. “I told you she would be. Did you fuck her on the plane, too?”

“Yes, we’ve started the operation. And yeah, Korea’s hot this time of year,” you say, keeping up the false pretence you both agreed upon.

“Let me guess - she’s on her knees? Are you fucking that pretty little mouth of hers?”

“Not yet,” you answer, “I think I’ll let the team continue to observe before we move.” Your eyes drift closed as the pleasure begins to build. You lean your head back slightly as the young woman between your knees increases her pace. What Yuna lacked in experience and technique, she more than made up for with enthusiasm.

On the line, you hear a soft sigh. A moment later, the sigh turns into a barely audible moan.

“What about you?” you ask. “Are you busy? How’s work?”

“Fine. I’m… alone. In a squad car.”

“On a stakeout?”

“We prefer the term ‘distanced surveillance,’ but yes, a stakeout.”

“You miss me?”

“Fuck,” you hear, followed by a soft hum. “Yes, I miss you,” she admits.

A thousand miles away, you smirk. The image of Nayeon alone, in her car, in an alleyway, a hand down her pants, touching herself to the sound of her boyfriend getting head from another woman - it aroused you more than the young woman between your knees, truth be told.

“Do you… miss me?” she asks.

You reach out with your free hand, cradling the side of Yuna’s head, running your fingertips through the bright red strands. She redoubles her efforts at your touch - she quickens her pace, her hand squeezing tighter around your shaft as her head continues to bob up and down its length.

“Fuck, I want you right now, Nayeon,” you hiss, knowing what repeating her name would do to the younger woman filling her mouth with your shaft. “I wish you were here.”

Between your legs, the moan Yuna lets out around your cock sends a delicious pulse of pleasure up your spine. On the line, Nayeon lets a similar moan escape her lips. 

“Tell me what you would do to me,” Nayeon says, tone low and deep, the way it was when she was desperate, needy. “I bet she’d do it for you.”

You bite your lip for a second - listening to Nayeon’s increasingly breathless sighs and picturing her becoming a writhing, wet little mess in her car, watching Yuna try and fail to wrest your attention away - taking it all in, savouring every second of the two women, a thousand miles apart, each doing their best to pleasure you in their own way.

“I’d pull your mouth off my cock,” you say, gripping the base of Yuna’s ponytail and easing her off your shaft. She looks up with you with those large doe eyes of hers, momentarily confused, temporarily disappointed at the sudden emptiness in her mouth - until she quickly catches on to your intentions.

“Mmm, more,” Nayeon says, on the verge of a plea.

“I’d tell you to strip, and get your cunt on my cock like a good little girl.”

And just as she predicted, Yuna does exactly that - peels off ridiculously short denim shorts she wore, along with the flimsy scrap of string beneath it that passed for a thong. She climbs atop you, straddles your waist, reaches between your bodies, grasps your slick cock and spends just a second rubbing your head against her dripping, slick lips.

And then she takes you inside her. On the line, Nayeon hears that unmistakable gasp you made whenever you entered her own cunt, and it drives her crazy. Her fingers work quickly between her legs. 

A thousand miles away, you watch as Yuna bounces her young, tight little body on your cock - up and down, up and down, up and down. She is rough, fast, impatient, with little technique but plenty of need. 

Your free hand grips a thigh before snaking up her torso, gripping a soft, bouncing breast and pinching the taut nipple between two fingers and giving it a slight slap from the side that elicits a yelp of pleasure from the young woman. Your cock stretches her tight little cunt with each entry, filling her up, making her need more, want more, making her lose her control over her senses - not that she had much to begin with.

She is enthusiastic, needy - but she is clumsy in her movements, inexperienced, drunk on the idea of being used and fucked and not possessing the control to savour the moment, make it anything more memorable than a messy, quick fuck.

She sighs and moans. “Daddy,” she gasps, uncaring now of being heard on the line, forgetting that you were supposed to be fucking her on the down low, under your girlfriend’s nose. “Daddy please, I need… Daddy please, your cum, inside me, I want-”

You remind her of her place by closing your hand around her throat. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to remind her of what she was - a fucktoy. Something to warm your cock while you were apart from the woman you really wanted. A substitute for a woman a thousand miles away.

“Is she… is she good for you?” Nayeon asks, voice betraying the fact that she was bringing herself to the edge. She’s wet and squirming and sighing - but she’s alone, in her car, far away. 

Her fingers aren’t you.

Yuna continues to fuck herself on your cock, recklessly and wildly, her orgasm doing little to slow or stop her. You watch as she bites down hard on her lower lip, enough to draw blood, doing her best to keep herself from vocalizing the pleasure coursing through her body and only partially succeeding. You knew she’d be especially loud once you’d ended the call. You consider pretending to end it but leaving the line open, just to give Nayeon the satisfaction of hearing what Shin Yuna sounded like when she was being bent over the bed and having her tight little pussy pounded full of cum.

Your fingers tighten around Yuna’s neck as she bounces with an increasingly wild pace atop your cock. It forces her to slow down, forces her to submit to you and your needs. It reminds her of her place, reminds her who she was. It was necessary.

A makeshift leash. 

“She’s good, Nayeon,” you admit. “But she’s not you.”

---

“Alright, I have to admit - she’s pretty fucking perfect for you.”

“There’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” you admit, looking up from your laptop and the report on it to give Shin Yuna a look. The young woman is lounging about on her stomach your hotel room bed, picking away at a plate of room service french fries. She’d taken a shower, but hadn’t bothered to put her clothes back on after you’d bent her over the bed and fucked a load into her.

“She’s a bitch, don’t get me wrong,” she continues, tone casual, as though she weren’t naked on her boss’ hotel room bed with his cum still warm inside her. “But she’s really fucking pretty, and she’s a cop? Man. That’s a dream girl for most guys, you have to admit.”

“I suppose,” you say, flatly. “Where are you going with this, Yuna?”

“Nowhere,” she answers, popping another fry into her mouth. “I was just curious, I guess.”

“About?”

“About why you’re not married yet. About why there aren’t little hellspawn baby versions of her running around in your life.”

The thought is finally enough to wrest your attention from the report for good. You give the young woman atop your bed a look.

“Listen, I think it’s hot as fuck to be some exec’s fucktoy,” Yuna continues. “I just want to make sure I’m not the thing that’s keeping him from marrying the love of his life or some shit.”

“You’re not stopping anything, Yuna,” you state, clearly, ensuring that she didn’t form any wrong impressions. You certainly didn’t want her to overestimate her role in your life. “Trust me,” you add.

“So then what is stopping you? You’re in love, aren’t you?” Yuna continues. “I’ve heard all about your past with her from the company grapevine, and Dahyun filled me in on the rest. College sweethearts finding each other again in a foreign land after so long apart - that’s cute as fuck. So why isn’t there a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly?”

You are struck temporarily wordless by your executive assistant’s forwardness, but the answer comes to you eventually.

“We’re not ready yet,” you state.

Yuna seems satisfied with your answer - or at least, isn’t curious enough to pursue it further. She gives you a shrug before she picks up her phone and begins to scroll on it. “Whatever you say, boss,” she says.

You return your attention to your laptop, and the resignation email to JYP that was sitting in your drafts. Sending it would mean leaving a career that, in many ways, had defined you. Yes, it had played a major role in bringing Nayeon back into your life, but were you really ready to give up the adventures in distant lands, not to mention all the romance and intrigue and excitement said adventures brought with them? 

Your cursor hovers over the send icon.

—

Problem 2: Her job.

As it turned out, JYP was more than happy to do whatever it took to keep you with the company - even if it meant giving you a tidy little promotion along with a promise to make any further business trips entirely optional. That was Problem 1 solved, then - leaving only Problem 2.

For the most part, Nayeon did a good job of keeping her work at work and not taking it home with her. Every now and then she’d vent about a particularly hard case she was on, or tell you about how something an actor did in a movie or tv show was wildly inaccurate compared to standard law enforcement procedures in the real world. By and large you could almost forget that she was a senior detective who regularly found herself in situations the average person might consider dangerous.

This was all to say that you only rarely gave Nayeon’s profession any thought, had you not noticed the breaking news report playing on the large TV screen in the JYP lobby on your way back from lunch one afternoon.

A reporter, apparently on scene, is speaking into the camera - but the TV is muted, and the captions are not turned on. Behind him civilians flee from a building under the guidance of two understandably anxious-looking uniformed police officers with their sidearms drawn. “Active hostage situation underway at downtown bank,” read the ticker. “Multiple hostages and casualties reported.” 

You were ready to give it no further thought aside from a passing sense of disappointment at the general state of crime in your country, had you not caught a fleeting glimpse of her on the screen.

In the background, behind the reporter, Nayeon steps into frame, her back to the camera - but it was unmistakably her. She flashes the badge around her neck to the two uniformed cops nervously holding the bank entrance door.

You watch as she draws her sidearm from the holster at her hip, racks the slide to chamber a round, and rushes into the building.

--

To say the next few hours were absolutely nerve wracking would be an understatement. 

Yes, you’d known that danger and the possibility of being hurt were part and parcel of being a member of active law enforcement. You were in the room when she was quite literally shot at close range in Seoul - a few layers of kevlar being the only thing that kept her from bleeding out on a dirty apartment floor.

You’d done your best to avoid having to deal with the reality that your girlfriend had a relatively dangerous profession. Maybe it was a subconscious thing - maybe your brain knew that living every day in fear of your girlfriend losing her life was not exactly conducive to a healthy relationship - or a healthy mental state.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t really hit home until that day. You’d never been so worried in your life, staying glued to the TV and your phone and news sites, pacing nervously alone in your apartment, grasping for any snippet of an update that would confirm she was okay, that she was safe. Needless to say she wasn’t picking up her phone, and a call to her precinct lieutenant went unanswered. 

You’d learn later that she was never in any actual danger - the gunfire she’d heard turned out to be warning shots fired into the ceiling to intimidate the bank staff. Nayeon, who’d been passing by the building randomly on her lunch break, had decided that civilians were in immediate danger and entered the bank on her own volition, cleared out the remaining customers from the bank lobby, and held down the hallway leading to the safety deposit boxes where the suspects were holed up until SWAT arrived. 

As the first responder to the scene, protocol demanded she remain on-site until it was resolved, explaining the length of her absence. She wasn’t actually in danger for very long, she’d later insist.

But she knew none of that when she rushed into the building, gun in hand. For all she’d known there could have easily been a suspect pointing an assault rifle down the hallway, finger on the trigger, just waiting for an eager young detective to stray into his sights. Moreover, her nine millimetre sidearm and lack of kevlar would’ve put her in a precarious position had they decided to make an escape using force.

Nonetheless, you were more relieved than you’d ever been in your life when she finally called to tell you she was on her way home - eight hours and forty-nine minutes since you’d made your first unanswered call to her cell phone (the first of thirty). 

Your heart let out the breath it had been holding for nine hours.

---

When she finally got home it was a lot, all at once. 

It was relief, mostly, and then reassurance, and comfort, followed shortly by an irresistible, intense lust. Danger never failed to get Im Nayeon going.

Within seconds of bursting through the door she was already on you, arms wrapped around your neck as yours wrapped around hers, lips searching for and quickly pulling yours into a deep, passionate kiss. Her leather jacket quickly leaves her body, her fingers immediately going to work on your button-up. While this hurried undressing was happening, when your lips parted long enough to draw in a breath, she’d tried, in broken sentences, to fill you in on what had happened.

You pieced enough together from her jumbled words to get an idea of how her day went, and how she wasn’t allowed to contact you until the incident was resolved. You wanted to ask her more, wanted to know more about what exactly happened, but she was in no mood for talking. Her lips and tongue stole the words and questions from your mouth before you could give them voice.

You are naked before long, stumbling into the bedroom and leaving behind a trail of haphazardly discarded clothing. She pushes you onto the bed with more force than you were ready for - silencing any objections by quickly climbing atop you, straddling your lap as you sit on its edge. Your mouths find each other and your tongues continue their frantic duel. Before long you slip from her lips to kiss a rough trail down her neck and to her chest.

You capture a breast in your mouth, closing your lips around her taut nipple. “Fuck,” she gasps, her hands quickly burying themselves in your hair, nails digging almost painfully into your scalp as you suckle from her tight bud.

A small part of you wants to slow down - perhaps even stop altogether - and tell her how damn worried you were for her, how the last nine hours were the longest nine hours you’d ever had in your life. But she steals your words again, this time with some of her own.

“Hard,” she hisses between gritted teeth, “I want it hard.”

She reaches between you, points your tip at her dripping entrance, and takes you inside her.

The long, hot sigh that escapes your lips finally rips them from her nipple. For the next few minutes you are powerless to do more than breathe heavily between her breasts as she rides you - those toned, full thighs of her working to throw her body up and down your shaft, taking you in and out of her tight, warm little cunt.

“Nayeon, I-” you begin, finally finding the wherewithal after a few minutes to look up at her.

She silences you with a finger to your lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, but hungry.

“Shut up,” she spits. “Just shut up.”

You were not one to argue, not when you were balls deep inside the most beautiful woman you’d ever known. And so you content yourself with watching as Nayeon took her pleasure from your body, using your cock like a toy, impaling herself with it over and over again until she became a mewling, moaning mess atop your lap.

You grasp her thighs, squeeze her bouncing breasts and tease the nipples atop them, slide your hand up her chest and up her throat and to her jaw before sliding your thumb between her lips for her to suck as you cradle the side of her pleasure-filled face - and throughout it all she rides you, pace relentless, merciless, hard.

Soon she is cumming - and she shows no sign of stopping, fucking herself through her orgasm even as her body is wracked by pleasure. She trembles, shakes, and quivers atop you - but it doesn’t stop her, doesn’t come close to fulfilling her immense need. She wants more. She needs more. 

Even as her orgasm radiates throughout her body and turns her into a wet, writhing mess, you hold her tight to you as you turn her over, putting her on her back atop the bed while you rise to your feet next to it. You wrap her legs around your waist, pull her hips onto yours, and continue to fuck her - hard, fast, rough.

She sighs and moans and cries and you are content to let her, content to let out some of the frustration and worry and fear you’d held inside you for most of the day on her tight, helpless little body. Her breasts bounce deliciously atop her heaving chest. Her fingers are claws, finding purchase wherever she can - on the bedsheets and your forearms, mostly. Eventually she reaches down and fingers her own clit, even as your cock pumps in and out between the lips of her cunt, just beyond her fingertips. Her eyes spur you on - telling you to keep fucking her, keep using her, all without saying a single word.

Your hands leave her hips, pulling on her legs until her calves are atop your shoulders. You continue to pound into her all along, this new position leaving her cunt open and exposed, rendering her helpless to do anything but take each hard, fast thrust you make into her body. It is almost callous, the way you fuck her, as though she were some whore and not the love of your life. You use her cunt. You make it yours, remind her who it belonged to. 

Her moans build, rising in volume and signalling another impending orgasm. You want to join her, and are about to give in, about to fill her-

“My ass,” she gasps. “Fuck my ass.”

She pulls her sweaty, still trembling body off you, denying you the warm slickness of her cunt. Her pussy drips onto the bedsheets as she wastes no time, getting atop the bed on her knees, upper body pressed against the bed. She reaches back with her hands, palming the cheeks of her ass, spreading them apart, showing you what she’d been keeping inside her.

And there it is, red silicone, glistening and slick with lube.

The sight of it takes your breath away. You let an unexpected sigh of pleasure leave your lips as you grasp the toy with your fingers, easing it out of her body slowly. She moans as it leaves her, perhaps in pain or pleasure or both. Soon it’s finally out. Every molecule in her body yearns to replace its absence.

Grasping your cock, slick and wet with her juices, you press the tip against her open, gaping hole - and begin to slide inside her.

You’d had her ass before, but never after she’d had a plug inside her, and it is sublime. Her ass immediately closes and tightens around you, and you think right then and there that you might cum. Your hand clutches her ass and left hip, fingers digging deep into the soft, yielding flesh, relishing the pleasure coursing through your veins but fighting it before it gets too intense, wanting to prolong this moment. She sighs and moans as she adjusts to your size. She trembles at the feeling of her ass being filled.

“Mmmm,” she hisses into the sheets, evidently having lost the ability to form words. She reaches back as far as she can with a free hand, her long fingers clutching your thigh. She pulls you toward her, and you oblige, pressing yourself as deep as you can until you are hilt deep.

“Do it,” she spits from between gritted teeth, “Fuck my ass. Hard.”

And so you begin - fucking Im Nayeon’s ass with hard, long strokes, using her tight, hot hole with the same tempo and speed as you did her cunt just moments earlier. She moans and shrieks and gasps into the sheets, the side of her face pressed against the bed, saliva dripping from a slack mouth. Her fingers are claws, digging into the sheets or your thighs or both, searching for something, anything, to ground herself amidst the constant pounding into the most vulnerable part of her body.

“Fuck, Nayeon,” you say, your brain unable to form much more than a curse and her name. She is so tight, so very hot - and she’d ensured the toy was well lubed before it entered her, so she was slick enough to make every entry and exit so delicious, so utterly sublime; a perfect cocktail of pleasure and pain all mixed into one irresistible sensation.

For the first time in a while Nayeon lifts her head from the bed, sweat pasting dark strands to the side of her face. She opens her mouth to say something-

But you reach forward, grasping her by the back of her neck, and slamming her back down onto the bed. She shrieks - partially in surprise, mostly in pleasure - as you resume pounding her.

“Shut up,” you spit. “Just shut up.”

The thick cotton bedsheets can do little to hide the long, deep moan of pleasure that leaves Nayeon’s lips as you impose yourself on her. She continues, not stopping for a moment, letting a drivel of wordless pleasure leave her mouth with each thrust you make into her body. She reaches a hand down, plays with her wet, slick clit even as you pound relentlessly into her ass - pleasuring her, hurting her - either way, making her yours.

The hand at her neck doesn’t leave her - it merely moves to her upper back, still keeping her pinned to the mattress, making sure she could do nothing more than take you. She lets you. She gives herself to you, lets you do what you want to her, because this - a rough, hard fuck - was what she wanted, what she craved.

It doesn’t take her long to orgasm, with her fingers on her clit and your cock pounding hard into her asshole. She tightens even more around you. She screams her pleasure into the bedsheets.

She clenches around your cock when she cums. It sends you over the edge, and you push yourself as deep as you can into Im Nayeon’s ass before you cum, filling her depths with thick, hot semen. Her moans turn into whimpers and then sobs, and you think for a moment that she might be crying.

You want to stay there, as you often did after you came inside her. You want to relish the moment and the sight of your cock embedded inside her ass and the feeling of her body wrapped around yours. But the accumulated physical and mental exhaustion of the day hit you all at once, and you collapse atop her, your arms only barely keeping you from crashing onto her back as you land on your elbows, still hilt-deep inside her.

You find the strength to bring your mouth to her ear. Filthy sex and dirty fucking aside, she had to know.

“I belong to you,” you say.

“I know,” she answers. Beneath the sweaty, messy hair and heavy breaths, Nayeon smiles.

—

The next morning, while you are still asleep, she wakes up early to make breakfast. She rarely cooked - every food delivery driver within a ten mile radius knew how to get to your apartment by heart - but when she did it was for special occasions. Or, in this case, a form of apology for making you worry so much the day before.

She’s stumbling towards the kitchen - she was understandably more than a little sore in places that made walking difficult - when she catches a glimpse of her old criminology textbooks on the hallway bookshelf. 

She was a fairly sentimental person, and despite your efforts she wouldn’t get rid of the old, heavy texts. She insisted that they were a part of what made her who she was, and wanted to keep them as a reminder of how far she’d come in her career; privately, she kept them to remind herself of those hard months when you’d left to join JYP all those years ago, and how much she missed being away from you. Those months were difficult, and she’d turned to her career as a way of coping. Those months were instrumental in putting her on the path to becoming a detective, but they were also part of what drove her to Seoul to find you.

A thought strikes her as her eyes take in titles of the texts. She reaches out and lets her fingertips graze their worn covers, seeing in them a way to ensure her career would never worry you so much again.

---

And so the problems were solved. All it took was a few uncomfortable emails, a few months of occasionally stressful worrying and intense interviews, and two new job offers. Easy peasy.

You’d taken a job at a branch office of JYP that promised travel would be completely optional. Nayeon had quit the PD and become a professor in criminology at a local college. You’d moved out of the small downtown apartment that had been the home you’d shared for the past five years, and into a slightly more comfortable townhouse in the suburbs.

Time passed. Good days and bad days. She was there for all of them, making the good days sweeter and the bad days more bearable. She was home. Safe harbour and north star for each other.

You are both sitting in a cafe on a lazy Sunday morning - you’re reading a book and nursing a coffee while she’s grading some papers on her laptop. You loved many things about your relationship, but one of the things you appreciated the most was how comfortable you both were in silence. The years had given you both a familiarity that had often transcended the need for speaking. Most of the time, you knew what the other was thinking, even before they spoke.

Your presence was enough, and there was no need to fill the space between you with words for the sake of it.

After awhile you look up to her to find that she’d been watching you, apparently for some time.

“I think we’re ready,” she says, a warm, soft smile on her lips. 

She says no more, returning her attention to her laptop, but you know what she means.

You smile as you return to your book.

---

Im Nayeon could always surprise you.

You’d had her more times than you could count, but this night was different - it was important, special in a way none of the in-shower quickies or weekend-long marathon sessions were. Just when you’d thought sex and lovemaking could hold no more surprises, you are proven wrong.

“It’s you,” she sighs into your ear, her voice soft, still filled with pleasure, but with an undercurrent of emotion that you’d never heard in her before. One of her arms wraps itself around your back, the other buried into the hair at the back of your neck as you thrust in and out of her body. 

“Cum inside me,” she continues, breathless, words spilling from her lips in a long, drawn out hiss. “Fill me up. It has to be you. Breed me, put a baby in my belly. I want it- I want you. It has to be you. It’s only ever been you.”

“Nayeon,” you say into her ear, and when she replies with your own name you think it is the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard in your life. 

She is tight, wet, hot - she feels every bit as good as she did when you were teenagers fumbling awkwardly in an old dorm room, or when you were reunited old flames brought together by fate in Seoul, or when you moved in together and decided to build lives together. But it means more now. It means more now than it ever did.

“Give me a baby,” she says, half-moan, half-sigh. “Breed me, make me yours.”

Words you’d heard before, from the same lips, on many another night. But none like tonight, not when she meant them more than she ever did - this wasn’t pillow talk, an act meant to spice up a risqué encounter; no, this was much more. She meant every word, without pretence or facade. She meant it all.

“Nayeon,” you repeat, unable to say much else. The sound of her name on your lips draws a sigh from hers, sends a quiver up her spine that is pure pleasure and love. 

“It has to be you,” she whispers into your ear, the most intimate words she has ever spoken. “It was always you - I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, every molecule of your body shouting the words, even if they left your lips as little more than a light gasp.

You thrust between her spread legs, and she wraps her thighs and arms around you, making the two of you into one. 

You fill her. She sighs, moans - and when your cheeks press against each other as you both lie there, breathing heavily - you can feel her cheeks pull her lips into a smile.

---

“It was always going to be you and me, wasn’t it?”

You are caught a little off-guard by her words - truth be told your mind was solely fixated on the humble sign outside your favourite sushi restaurant and the familiar but delicious culinary delights that awaited you. It’s a Friday night, and you were looking forward to a quiet dinner with her following a long, draining week of work. 

The choice of dining establishment was a foregone conclusion, and you had nothing on your mind other than settling into a simple but comforting meal with her. Grand statements of destined love weren't exactly on your mind - not this early in the evening, anyway.

But when you turn to her and find a soft, warm smile on her lips, you couldn’t help but agree. She doesn’t even turn to look at you - her gaze, like yours, is locked on the old, dingy, familiar restaurant sign.

“Yes,” you answer, the word leaving your lips quickly, almost on instinct, almost on reflex, as though your body knew the truth - knew what you felt, in your innermost core. “It was always going to be you, Nayeon.”

She doesn’t turn her head to look at you. There is a slight deepening of the smile on her lips, a slightly deeper blush on her cheeks, but that’s it. She doesn’t need to read your face to verify or discern the truth in your expression. She is confident enough -  in the years you’ve spent together, in the trials and tribulations borne at each others’ side, to know the truth in your words.

She feels it in the way you clutch her hand, the way you hold her close in your most intimate moments, the way you brush stray hairs away from her forehead when you kiss her good morning before heading out the door to work. 

She sees it in the slight swell in her belly, and the family you were building together.

She knows all this. She feels it all, deep inside herself where nothing else exists except you and her and the home you’ve built with shared memories. She knows it is all true, always will be.

When you enter the restaurant you are greeted warmly with a smile and hug by the waiter - he’s become a good friend in the years since your escapades in Tokyo and Seoul. From behind the counter, Jisoo looks up from her prep work to wave and smile widely. She leaves the counter for a moment to greet you both, revealing the full roundness of her belly. She waddles awkwardly over, exchanging hugs, confirming plans for next week’s gender reveal dinner party for their child.

With one hand, Nayeon cradles Jisoo’s full belly. Perhaps unconsciously, her free hand hovers over her own, a warm, thoughtful smile on her lips.

Eventually, Jisoo shuffles adorably back to the counter to finish her vegetable prep, promising to come back later to chat. The waiter shows you to your table, leaving you both two cups of tea. 

He doesn’t leave a menu, because he already knows your order.

You tap the chest pocket of your jacket as you take it off and drape it over the back of your seat, making sure the small box and the engagement ring within were still there.

Nayeon cups her tea in both hands before taking a small sip. She finally locks eyes with you, although she doesn’t say anything. She knows she doesn’t have to. She’s content just to smile, content to reach her hand over the table, palm up, wanting nothing more than to feel your hand in hers.

Maybe she knew what was coming. Maybe she caught a glimpse of the box in your nightstand drawer, or noticed an open tab on your browser for a local jewelry store. Maybe she read it in your face at some point today, in the way you moved or the words you chose. She was a former detective and current professor of criminology, after all. She’d made a living out of reading people, and to her, you were an open book.

But it didn’t matter whether she knew it was coming or not, whether she would be surprised at all when, at the end of your meal, you got down on one knee in this restaurant where your relationship began and asked her to spend the rest of her life with you.

Because you both already knew, on some level had always known. It was always going to be you and her. And every trial and tribulation, every painful relationship with long-gone lovers, every day apart - it had all led to tonight.

Nayeon’s hand finds yours and your fingers intertwine.

Your heart warms at her touch.

---

Author’s Note: Good to be back ^^ Excuse any writing rust that was evident in this fic :( I actually had this alternate ending to BT mostly written awhile ago, but I'd been thinking about coming back to writing again and Nayeon's comeback gave me all the inspiration I needed to finally finish it.

Shoutout to @capslocked, whose work played a part in getting me back into writing. A special shoutout to his Tzuyu fic, which is probably one of my favorite smuts of all time - and I might have borrowed the phone sex idea from it. Love ya bud. Mimosa fic next pls k thx.

Stories and posts will be few and far between, but you’re always welcome to leave an ask. Thank you all for the love and support you've shown me over the past year. <3

[seresinhangmanjake]

Not Your Type: Part 2

Jake Seresin x goth girl!reader

Summary: Jake Seresin doesn’t usually have to try hard to get women, but the only woman to catch his attention in a long time doesn’t want anything to do with him.

Written in the form of sharing milestones of their relationship as it develops. For example - Day 1: the day they meet; Day 3x: the day they (...); Day 5xx: the day they (...); and so on.

Notes/Warnings: Jake being annoying but also desperate. Cursing.

Words: 2990

Full Masterlist

Day 14:

“What do we want for this round, girls?” Gemma asks. She stands, albeit a tad unsteadily, at the edge of your booth with her hands on her hips, ready to take your order as if the Hard Deck provides her with biweekly paychecks. 

She’s been in California all of three days; she and Lola—friends from your hometown who were in desperate need of a change of scenery and accepted the offer of your extra bedrooms. And as usual, Gemma effortlessly embraced her new environment within the first twenty-four hours of her arrival. To onlookers, you imagine that of the three of you, she would be the assumed local.

“More of this fruity stuff, whatever it is,” Lola says around the thin straw clenched between her teeth as she nurses the current ‘fruity stuff’ in her glass.

Gemma looks to you with a raised brow, but you shake your head, tapping your nail against your soda cup. “I’m good.”

“Party pooper,” she playfully sighs, flipping a section of deep purple hair over her shoulder and turning in the direction of the bar.

Getting the drinks was meant to be your job—a welcoming treat after their exhausting move—but Gemma got a peek at the bartender, and by exercising the magical abilities that come with her smile, has spent half the night providing the three of you with free alcohol and fountain sodas.

“I’m the DD!” you call after her, but as is the case on most Friday nights at the Hard Deck, the volume of the room devours your voice before it can reach her.

“She’s gonna go after that bartender the second his shift is over,” Lola tells you. “Poor guy has no idea who he’s dealing with.”

“No,” you agree, chuckling and rapidly recalling the string of heartbroken men who would reach out to you or Lola in the hopes of getting ahold of Gemma after she’d ghosted them. “But they never do, and unfortunately, they never learn.” 

“You know, I’ve been told I’m a phenomenal learner,” you hear, but it’s a much deeper sound than the curly-haired woman at your side is able to produce. The unexpected addition makes the sip of soda in your mouth travel down the wrong pipe, throwing you into a coughing fit. 

“Oh, shit,” the voice rushes out, snatching a napkin from the next booth and thrusting it in your face. You take it to muffle the sharp choking noises fighting their way out of your windpipe. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You scold yourself for not realizing he was here before he made himself known. It was almost two hours ago that you began feeling that same burning sensation from a couple of weeks ago, but you thought little of it, having scanned the room for him when you first arrived at the bar. You even opted to sit facing the front door, figuring you wouldn’t miss it if he entered, but he still managed to sneak in. He still found you. He still affects you.

As you recover your breathing, he extends his hand past you toward Lola. “I’m Jake.”

“Lola,” she replies, shaking his hand as she glances at you.

You let out a final cough, dabbing a napkin at the corner of your mouth then wiping it just under your waterline to pick up your tears. “Fuck,” you mumble.

“Name a time and a place, sweetheart, and I’m all yours.”

Lola snorts with her lips around her straw. Her following giggle makes air bubbles burst from her shallow glass. Stray droplets splash onto the table, a few soaking into the sleeve of your top.

You have no time to decide who is more deserving of your glare—Traitor Friend or Ken Doll—before Gemma’s return. As she slides into the seat opposite yours, she’s so focused on keeping liquids from sloshing over rims that she doesn’t notice the intruder. 

“Fruity thing for Lo,” she pushes the glass to Lola who eagerly accepts a fresh drink, “spicy thing for me, and, tragically, nothing for the DD.” 

When she finally senses the vibe at the table—greatly altered from what she left behind a few minutes prior—she turns her head. The surprise in her expression settles into subtle excitement as she rakes her eyes up Jake’s body to his face. With that wicked smile of hers, she plants her elbow on the wooden surface and rests her chin atop the back of her hand. 

“And what would you like?” she teases in a low, seductive tone.

“Just a chance to talk with your verbally vicious friend,” he says, jutting his chin in your direction. 

“This is Jake,” Lola informs her. 

“Jake?” Gemma questions you, cocking her head in genuine curiosity. “You’ve never mentioned a Jake.”

“He isn’t worth mentioning.”

Jake smirks through the jab. “You know, you don’t have to repeatedly stab me in the chest.”

“You’re the one who keeps standing in front of my knife,” you shoot back, crossing your arms.

There’s not a single uttering from the group of four as Lola and Gemma stare at you and Jake staring at each other. Neither of you is willing to break eye contact, and the tension becomes heavy, like rich honey—thick enough to drag your finger through. 

“Can we talk privately?” Jake then asks, that smirk still in place. He looks away from you only to address your friends. “You ladies don’t mind if I borrow her, do you?”

“Not at all,” Gemma answers, each word out of her mouth a little less crisp than the last. “As long as you borrow me next.”

“Gemma!” you snap. “Not this one.”

“But he’s so hot,” she whines.

“I’ll cut you off.”

She gasps. Then her bottom lip protrudes in a pout, and her hands cradle her glass as she pulls it closer to her chest protectively.

“That’s a very flattering offer, if we can call it that,” Jake says. “However, that guy over there, the one with the outdated mustache,” he steps aside and points to the friend you recognize from the other night. The brunet’s cheeks redden and he quickly jerks his head in the opposite direction of Gemma’s prying gaze. “He’s been having a hell of a time trying to keep his eyes off you tonight. Just can’t help himself.” 

Jake shakes his head, clicks his tongue, and faces your table again. “Honestly, I know the feeling,” he says. His eyes connect with yours, puzzle pieces locking together until the burn starts to sear too deep and you have to look away. “It’s a tough spot to be in,” he continues. “And I can’t in good conscience move in on the girl whose laugh has made another man blush three times within the last hour.”

Just like that, Gemma is over Jake. Other than the pang of relief you feel, you don’t think anything of her swift attention shift until five seconds, then ten, then fifteen pass without her ceasing her careful examination of Jake’s friend. 

“Will you come with me?” Jake asks you. “I promise I won’t keep you long.” 

You chew on your lip, trying to ignore his pull.

“Lola, you think she should come with me, right?” he says.

Lola doesn’t glance his way as she runs her finger along the rim of her glass to collect the leftover grains of sugar. “Secondary locations are very suspicious, Jake,” she says before pressing her fingertip onto her tongue. 

“We won't go far.”

Lola raises a brow at you and you sigh. “He's annoying but I'm pretty sure he's safe,” you tell her.

Jake smiles; another thing you don’t have to see to know it’s there. You feel that grin just from its power alone.

Standing, you straighten out your skirt, your fingers running down the dark material that flares from mid-waist to mid-thighs. Your belt is purely decorative, with consecutive overlapping chains that wrap around the band of your skirt and a tiny, crescent moon charm that dangles a bit lower than the rest. As you adjust the belt so the charm rests where it is supposed to at your hip, you catch Jake’s fixed stare on your movements. 

You don’t know what he’s thinking. You remind yourself that you don’t care.

“I'll be back in a minute, Lo,” you promise. “Gem, do you intend to blink any time soon?”

Gemma doesn’t turn. Jake’s friend has found a bit of boldness and no longer avoids her eyes. “No,” she says, waving you off. “Have fun.”

Jake tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I was thinking the deck since it's on the beach.”

Ignoring his suggestion, you begin to walk in the direction of the front door. He follows into the chill of Evening’s breeze and you suck in a refreshing breath. Was it always so suffocating in there? 

“Ok, what do you want?” you ask once you’ve walked far enough to avoid blocking the entrance.

Jake remains a good six feet from you. His hands haven’t left his pockets. “To apologize, for starters,” he says.

“For?”

“Bothering you the other night.”

“So you decided to bother me again tonight?”

Jake’s lips part to respond, but he pauses, mouth snapping shut. Glancing down at the gravel by your boots, his brow pinches as his actions sink in. “Ok, ‘bother’ wasn't really what I was going for a second time around, but in hindsight–”

“If that was just your starter, what’s the rest?”

He looks at you with a tick of false innocence that rapidly dies under the weight of mischievousness, and you prepare yourself for what he’s about to deliver. “Maybe I shouldn’t say,” he teases, smile budding, teeth showing. “Maybe I should prolong the suspense.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “Do you remember what I said about wasting my time?”

“Something about my ego suffering the consequences,” he replies. “Even though you’ve had my ego in a choke-hold since you threw around that whole ‘I’ve noticed you but you’ve never noticed me’ thing.”

That, you didn’t expect. You didn’t expect him to remember everything you’d said, or care. But neither did you expect him to approach you after that night, so you suppose he’s full of surprises. You're just not sure if you like them. 

“Oh?”

He nods. “Yea, that one…that one was a thinker, for sure. Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, actually.”

“Why?”

He sighs and drops eye contact. Like it’s too hard to maintain. Like he’s ashamed or confused or contemplating, or all three. Then he wets his bottom lip with a dart of his tongue; he draws that lip between his teeth, biting down; he barely shakes his head before he rejoins your gazes.

“Because I look at you now, and I don’t understand how it was possible,” he admits.

Your breath hitches. Your heartbeat trips, tumbling over itself, and you will it to find its proper pace before you dare open your mouth.

“Anyway,” Jake says to fill the gap that was meant for your response, “I also wanted to ask you out. On a date.”

You blink hard. Long beats snail along as you process the lunacy of that statement. “Has anything I've said to you indicated that I would ever agree to a date?”

He shrugs. “No, but it was either try once more and see if I have a chance with you, or don't try at all.”

For a man you’ve witnessed succeed in his every attempt at wooing women until you, you won’t deny that what he’s doing is gutsy and, you suppose, unworthy of being shamed. He’s resilient, determined, and you have great respect for perseverance, but in this case, it's not sufficient to rearrange your perception of him. 

“Do you even know my name?” you ask. “I never told you.”

He smiles; not broadly, not boastfully, but gently, sweetly, as if reliving a memory. “I asked Penny after you left that night,” he tells you. “It’s beautiful. Suits you.”

Your woven arms tighten, pointed nails digging into your bicep. Don’t shiver, you command your body. Don’t show the tingling chill he just shot up your spine and through your limbs. You try swallowing through the ghost-like grip he suddenly has on your throat. The light grasp of wispy fingers that don’t aim to choke, but simply rest around the column. Possessive but not controlling. Also not really there. And you don’t appreciate the growing strength of his power to touch you without you being within reaching distance.

The problem is, men don’t compliment you. Well, they do, but not like this. They compliment tits and ass and legs and face. They compliment clothes that they imagine ripping off, and makeup they hope they can ruin by the end of the night. Your name doesn’t often come to mind, and the ones who do ask for it, don’t ever use it again. That’s part of why you didn’t give it to Jake when he had asked. 

And then he went over your head. Fuck this guy.

“Before you say anything else—I’m willing to earn it.”

Your brows raise halfway up your forehead. “You're willing to earn it,” you repeat. “Why? You don't know me, and I have a feeling you understand that using me to prove some kind of point to yourself or your friends will only get you castrated.”

“I wouldn't have guessed castration, specifically, but that does seem in character,” he says.

He steps closer. His arm moves toward you, hand prepared to plant itself on your forearm, but at the last second, he thinks better of it and drops that limb back to his side. His fingers ball into a fist that tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He doesn’t know that you see him doing it, and then it stops. “Look, when you said that you're not my type, you were right. You were right. You're not right anymore. You only weren't my type because I'd never seen you before.” He takes a breath. “But I know I could swear that up and down, right here, right now, and you wouldn't believe me; not really; maybe not at all. So I have to prove it, don't I? I have to earn it.”

He seems to have forgotten that you know, and have known, who he is for months. Observation reveals more about a person than getting to know them firsthand. The Observed can’t pick and choose what they share with you to aid their desires and goals. In their cluelessness, they lose all defenses, all illusions, and Jake is no exception.

You’ve watched him pursue and flirt and conquer. You’ve watched him in the aftermath of the pursuing and flirting and conquering. You’ve watched his strategy of radiating cockiness to draw them in. There are the laughs, the winks, the tamed touches that bring out blushes, all of which join together until it’s the woman—and all of the near carbon copies of that woman—who takes the lead, pulling him into the bathroom or onto the back deck or out the front door. He’s tricky like that, but you’re not easily tricked.

“Have you considered that maybe you are not my type?” you ask. 

“I have, actually. It was a very troubling thirty seconds.”

“Thirty seconds of consideration?” Your head tilts. “Is that all?”

Jake acknowledges the offense you’ve taken. He doesn’t apologize but the disappointment in himself is palpable enough to satisfy you. But then he says, “Would you have come out here if you weren't attracted to me?”

And now you’re disappointed in yourself, because, no, you wouldn’t have come with him if you weren’t attracted to him. Attraction and curiosity convinced you more than his words, and therein lies the problem. One problem. One of many. 

“I shouldn't have.”

“But you did,” he says. His tone is low but it packs the punch of an exclamation point. You’re going to be hearing it for days. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

You sigh and let your arms unweave, falling at your sides. “I…” you begin, but you shake your head. You need to say this right. “Attraction is basic. It’s human. It’s all up in our personal space at all times. If that counted for anything, I’d be dating half of the usuals in the bar.”

You know the same goes for him. He finds a new woman to be attracted to whenever he walks into the Hard Deck and you’d be hard-pressed to believe that doesn’t extend to every room he enters. So you leave it at that and twist on your heel to head back inside. 

You hear a crunch of gravel as he takes a step after you. “Will you at least think about it? Please.”

Not stopping to answer, you reach for the handle of the door. “Have a good night, Jake,” you toss over your shoulder.

Being inside the bar does not stop your heart from thumping or your mind from racing through a jumble of thoughts that are no easier untangled than the voices around you, and it’s too much. So to avoid exhausting yourself, you shove those thoughts aside in favor of directing your attention to more important things, like one-third of your trio missing from the booth. 

“Where’s Gem?”

Lola nods her head and you follow. 

Across the bar, Gemma has Jake’s dark-haired friend leaning against the wall, her palms braced on his chest. One of his hands rests at her waist and the other is at the side of her neck just under her jaw, his fingers hidden by the curtain of her hair. There’s an oddness to their kissing. It is very non-Gemma kissing. They kiss freely like no one is around, but it’s not an attack of teeth and lip tugging or sloppy tongues; it’s slow, sensual. It clashes with the room. 

“I was gone for five minutes,” you say.

Lola shrugs. “She only needed four.”

---

tags: @kmc1989 @wkndwlff @dempy @sagittarius-flowerchild @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @averyhotchner @rosedurin @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @ssa-sadboi @buckysteveloki-me @whatislovevavy @dreamlandcreations @memoriesat30 @harrysgothicbitch @yvonneeeee @gg-trini

[gejo333]

An Unexpected Match XII

Pt. 1 Pt. 13

DBF/DILF Miguel O’Hara x female reader

18+ Warning

Summary: What does Miguel have up his sleeve during this graduation vacation gift?🤔

OMG, I am so so so sorry that I haven’t updated in a while. I moved abroad so I’ve been adjusting these past weeks. Also this chapter is extremely long which was another reason for the delay. Another reason might be that I know this story only has a few chapters left before it’s over🥺 so I want to savor it more.

I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Enjoy!💕

Wc: 8.5k

————————————————————————

Luckily you only were taking two classes for your last semester of college, as you were able to still keep high grades even though you were recovering from the accident.

Over the course of those weeks you did have to testify in court for the kidnapping and endangerment of Gabi and the attempted murder on you by Sofia. Although you kept your composure, you wouldn't deny that you were grinning from ear to ear to see her in an orange jump suite and cuffs looking miserable.

Today was your graduation and luckily you had healed enough that you weren't limping anymore and you could wear the heels you had bought months ago specifically for your graduation dress.

You looked in the mirror of the bathroom making sure your makeup, hair, and outfit stilled looked just as good as it did back at home. Though you were excited to finally get your degree with your piers your nerves were going through the roof. What you really wanted was to be at the graduation dinner with your boyfriend, daughter, brothers and best friend. You decided to still invite your parents, not being that cruel to not let them see you graduate. But you really didn't want to interact with them, which you knew sadly will not go your way. You feel bad for Miguel as he has no choice but to sit next to them. You hope your brothers were in between him and your father.

"You look fabulous!" You turned to see Stephanie as she walked into to the bathroom also wearing a dress with the cap and gown.

"You look amazing too, Steph!" You smile as you hug her before she checks herself in the mirror just like you had done. She took out her mascara she hid in her small purse as she touched up her eyelashes.

"Girl, I can't believe we're graduating! It's insane. You're going to work at Alchamex and I'm going to grad school here. Super excited for the next chapter in our lives! Especially for you girlie, I think I hear wedding bells in your near future." Stephanie smirked as she looked at you.

"First off, I don't know if I got into Alchamex yet. I should hear next week. And you really think he might propose?" Your cheeks turn pink as your smile widens to the thought of Miguel proposing.

"You're definitely getting that job. And I have this feeling. Like maybe sometime this summer he'll do it. Damn girl I don't think either one of us would have thought that one of us might be married before 25." Stephanie chuckled.

"Well, we don't know he's going to propose. But like it's not like it hasn't been talked about." You check the time on your phone as you take a deep breath before sighing nervously. "It's time to line up."

You and Stephanie line up, her one person a head of you. She turns around smiling both anxious and excited which you return before the announcer begins the commencement.

As you walked out on to the lawn and towards your seat you looked around in hopes to catch Miguel's gaze. Sadly you couldn't find him as the audience was far too large. You made it to your seat, sitting down while you listen to the speaker.

After some time had passed they finally begin to call out names as people begin to line up. Your heart begin to beat quicker as the line continues to get closer to the stage before you know it, you heard Stephanie's name being called as she walked on to the stage to receive her degree.

"Y/n L/N." Spoke out the announcer. You smiled  as you walked up on to the stage to receive your degree. The crowd cheered as they did for everyone. You hoped to have caught a glimpse of your people, but sadly you couldn't spot them.

After getting back to your seat you sit with jitters the rest of the commencement as you want to go see Gabi and Miguel.

After another two hours, finally the time came for everyone to reunite with their loved ones.

"Ahh we did it!" Said Stephanie as she holds up her degree which you join her in as you both scream in excitement. You both then make your way through the crowd to try and find your group. Of course it wasn't too hard as your 6'9" boyfriend stuck out from the crowd. You grab Stephanie's hand as you guide her towards the group. Once you got closer, Miguel's eyes locked on you as his smile widened.

You quickly get to him as he opens one of his arms wide, the other carrying Gabi who was wearing a matching colored dress to yours with a pretty headband. You wrap one of your arms around his waist.

"Mama! I saw you on the stage! I waved!"

"I wish I was able to see you, but there were just so many people. I love this dress. It's so cute." You smile as you caress her cheek.

"We match!" She smiled excitedly.

"We do! I love it." You smile at her lovingly.

"Ok ok, it's time for Papa to congratulate you now." Miguel chuckled as he leaned down and captured his plush lips with yours before pulling away. "Congratulations, mi amor."

"Congratulations y/n. Welcome to the real world." Said your older brother Jack as he came over with Stephanie by his side.

"Thanks Jack. So should we head out."

"Not yet. Mom and Dad want to see you real quick and congratulate you." Said Liam as he walked up to the group, followed by your parents. Even after your accident your relationship with them is still on thin ice. If they just accepted your relationship with Miguel then you would be more than happy to forgive them. However as they join the group their smiles falter as they glance over to Miguel.

"Congratulations sweetie, we're so proud of you. All that hard work really paid off." Said your mother as she tries to hug you which you awkwardly accept.

"Thanks." A half-smile was awkwardly placed on your lips. "I'm lucky I was able to finish this year." You couldn't help yourself from saying the snide comment.

"Well you understand our reason why." Added your father.

"And you understand why I'm going to continue to ignore you both."

"It's just ridiculous, it's so hard to attend local events because of-" your mother went off before she was interrupted by Miguel.

"It's getting close to our dinner reservation, so we're going to go." Miguel lost his smile as he stared down at your parents.

"Fine. Can we at least see you for dinner tomorrow or Sunday to celebrate?" Your mother offered. You sighed about to accept it, so that they'll be off you back off for a while, however before you could Miguel spoke up.

"Actually she won't be available this weekend." You looked up to him brows furrowed, curious to his response. He sighed before looking at you with a loving smile. "I was going to surprise you later with your gift, but you and I are going on a weekend vacation." Your eyes widen as a surprised smile replaces your awkward one.

"Can I ask where?" You chuckle.

"Sorry Cariño that's a surprise." Miguel chuckled as he kissed the side of your head.

"Well, we're going to leave." Said your Mother with an unamused expression as she and your father left. "Liam come on." She added.

"But I want to go out with them." Liam complained.

"Listen to your mother Liam." Added your father.

"Dad it's fine. I'll pay for him and drop him off." Offered Jack.

"Fine. Be back by 8." Your father said before catching up with your mother.

"Ok let's get these solemn faces some food and liquor to celebrate y/n and I graduating." Cheered Stephanie which made everyone smile and laugh as you all head to your designated cars to head to the restaurant.

Dinner with your brothers, best friend, and family to celebrate was great, but eventually it had to end as you all went on your way back home.

Miguel opened the front door, letting you go in first as you were carrying the sleeping Gabi. You both went upstairs as you helped change Gabi into her pjs before tucking her into bed. Both you and Miguel sit there on the bed gazing at her peaceful state.

"Is it possible to have her stay the way she is?" You whisper as you gently brush some of her hair away from her face.

"I wish there was a way." Miguel replied as he smiled down at her before placing a kiss to her forehead and standing up from the bed. After you repeated the gesture he held his hand out for you to take and help you off the bed, just out of kindness and for some contact with you.

You both walk back to your shared bedroom as you take a seat on the edge of the bed to rest for a second, as the exhaustion starts to take a toll on you. Miguel comes out of his closet, shirt unbutton, revealing his chiseled chest, which you couldn't help but glance at with a small blushing smile.

"You like what you see?" Miguel chuckled as he made his way over to you and sat next to you before putting your legs on his lap.

"I do."  You grin as you get on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Miguel places his arms around you to bring you closer.

"Hey, I have something to tell you." Miguel smile was wide and infectious as you smiled back at him.

"What is it? It must be good if you're smiling like that."

"I got a call from Jess my colleague at work. She said you got the job."

Your face turns to surprise before smiling again. "Omg, no way. Really?! I thought I wasn't suppose to find out until next week?" You hug Miguel which makes you both fall onto the bed, both laughing. You ended up straddled on his lap. You leaned down and kissed him. While distracted he flipped you around on the bed so he was above you.

"I might have pulled some strings to get your response sooner. Jess said that your resume was phenomenal. Actually you were the top person out of the people selected." He said before leaning down to kiss you. "Now you are stuck with me." He added placing another kiss to your lips.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." You chuckle as you happily return his kiss, You wrap your arms around his neck to deepen it and savor the taste of his lips.

"We should get some rest we have to wake up early to catch our flight. And Gabriel is probably going to be here earlier than planned." Miguel sighed giving you one last kiss before laying next to you and pulling you against his side, resting your head on his chest. You turn your head to look up at him.

"Where are you taking me Mr. O'Hara?" You smile as you trace your finger over his chest and abs.

"Like I said before, it's a surprise, cariño. You will find out when we get there." Miguel chuckled from your teasing tone.

Your hand trail down his abdomen where you loosened his belt and pants, and lowering your hand into his boxers. A sigh escaped his lips as your wrapped your hand around his half-erect cock. You begin to move your hand, " will this convince you to tell me?" You batted your eye lashes at him, which made him chuckle lightly as he relaxed against your touch.

"Sorry hermosa. Not telling you. But you can continue with what you're doing though." Miguel whispered in your ear. You smile as your roll your eyes from his response. You lower his boxer so his now erect cock, dripping with pre-cum bounced out against his stomach. "You're lucky I've been so horny lately since I was only cleared this week to be able to have sex again." You chuckle as you straddle him, positioning him before you lowered yourself as you let out a moan. Miguel rest his hands on your hips as he begins to thrust up into you instantly hitting your sweet spot.

"It has been a very fun week since that check-up." Miguel chuckled as he let out a groan. Not being allowed to have sex for so long during your recovery, making each time this week even more sensational. As soon as the doctor had cleared you, both you and Miguel couldn't even make it back to the house, fucking on the sink in the private bathrooms in the hospital and once in the car in the garage before barely making it to the bedroom. Let's just say neither of you have had any rest this week.

You move your hips along with his. You throw your head back as you feel his tip hit against your cervix. "Fuck I missed feeling you so much. God you're still tight even though I've been fucking you non-stop this week."

Miguel's grip on your hips grew stronger as he fucked you faster, making the knot in your stomach grow tighter and release as you let out a breathy moan. "Miguel."

Your voice sent him over the edge, as he thrusted into you, spilling inside your inner walls. You collapsed onto his sweaty chest as he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead before removing himself from you, earning a small moan from your lips. Of course your voice made his cock go hard again.

"Guess we're not getting any sleep tonight." He breathed out before thrusting back inside you.

——————-

It was the early morning hours of the next day, the sun not even out yet when you heard the doorbell ring. Both you and Miguel got up an hour prior to get ready and packed, barely running on two hours of sleep.

You go to Gabi's room as you go to her bedside and kneel down. "Hi baby bug. Tio Gabi is here. Papa and I are going to leave soon, do you want to say goodbye?" Your soft tone woke her as she rubbed one of her eyes trying to get the sleep out as she yawned nodding her head. You lift her out of the bed and walk out of the room. You smile as she rests her head against you, her eyes trying hard to stay open.

You walk down the steps towards the two brothers in the entry way where your two suitcases sat.

"Someone wanted to say goodbye." You say as you bring Gabi over to Miguel, who smiled lovingly at his daughter as he took her into in his arms and gave her a kiss to the cheek, "goodbye princesa. Mama and I will miss you so much. We'll see you on Monday." He gives her another kiss on her forehead. You then stood right next them as Gabi squirmed out of her father's hold as she wanted to go back in your arms.

You happily took her as you held her close to you as you gave her a kiss to her forehead. "Aw we'll miss you baby bug. If you ever miss us just ask Tio Gabriel to call us."

Miguel comes back inside the house after putting the bags in the hired car. "It's time to head to the airport."

You keep holding Gabi as you comb your fingers through her hair, which calmed her down when she felt anxious. "Ok baby bug, we have to go now. I'll miss you so much."

Gabi clung to you not wanting to leave your arms, which made your heart ache, making you not want to leave her.

"Come here mi pequeña sobrina. We'll have a fun weekend. We'll go to the movies, the park, and eat all the junk food we want." Gabriel said as you handed Gabi over to him. His words perked her ears and made her eyes widen with excitement. "Yay!"

Miguel rolled his eyes at his brother, not ready to have to deal with a sugar-high child when he comes back. But as long as his daughter was happy he would be happy.

After saying your last goodbyes you and Miguel enter the back seat of the car as it drives off towards the airport. The smooth ride plus the warmth of sitting right next to Miguel made your eyes grow heavy before closing.

What felt like only a minute later you feel lips pressed to your hand. "Wake up, mi vida. We're here." Your eyes open to see Miguel smiling down at you. You lift your head from his shoulder as you smile up at him. "Oops, I must have fallen back asleep." You chuckle. You both get out of the car. Eyes widened slightly shocked to not be in front of the airport drop-off but on the tarmac with a private jet 10 feet from where you stood.

"You ready, cariño?" Miguel placed a hand on your mid-lower back. You look up to him with a smile as you both walk towards the jet. When you entered you were amazed by the luxurious scene before you. Light tan leathered cushioned seats.

You find a seat by the window as you look outside the window, smiling as you begin to see the sunrise. Miguel sat in the chair in front of you. He extends his hand across the table to rest on top of yours.

"Is everything alright? You have a surprised look on your face."

" Everything is perfect. I guess it's a mixture of still waking up and coming to the realization that I'm on a private jet." You smile as you intertwine your hand with his.

"Ah I see. Well let's make it an amazing first time." He gestures for the flight attendant, who brings a bottle of Prosecco and two glasses. Once they were filled you clinked glasses and took a sip, neither of your eyes left the others.

Throughout the plan ride you still tried to convince Miguel to tell you where you were going. And every time he wouldn't tell you, only giving a toothy grin and a chuckle as he would say, "lo siento mi amor. Not happening."

In between that you both would have conversation either about Gabi and her changing schools next year, talking about you starting at Alchamex, or just random things on each others' mind. Plus a few fun activities in the bathroom.

Finally the time came that you would find out where you would be going, seeing the view from the window. However, Miguel, being sneaky had all the windows close so you couldn't see it. Your pout made his heart swoon as he gestured for you to come over and sit on his lap.

"You'll find out very soon." Miguel lightly took your chin as he kissed you. The kiss lasted a bit longer turning slightly heated, but before Miguel could get his tongue in your mouth you removed your lips from him earning a pout on his face, making you chuckle.

"Sorry Miggy. Not happening until I know where we're going." You press a quick kiss to his lips before getting off his lap and back to your seat. You grin mischievously at him knowing you've poked the bear who stares down at you with lust-filled eyes.

Another 20 minutes and the jet landed. You and Miguel got up and towards the now open door. You stepped outside as you felt the warm salty breeze that was so familiar to you.

"It's nice to be back in Miami with you cariño."

You look up at him both eyes and lips smiling in excitement. "You're so sweet. Thank you for this." You go on your toes to kiss his cheek, which made his grin widen, showing his dimples, something you cherished deep within your heart and soul.

The drive didn't take long as traffic went smoothly. Flashbacks and the feeling of nostalgia overcame you as the driver pulls into the same hotel you had met Miguel in almost 3 years ago.

After getting checked in Miguel leads you to your room. A smile graces your lips as you reminisce the memories of walking through these halls last time you were here.

Miguel opens the door as you enter a massive suite. As you walk in your eyes widen in amazement as you gaze at the gorgeous spacious living room with floor-to ceiling windows and luscious and soft furniture. When you turn you see a massive kitchen with an intimate-size dinning table.

You set your bag down as you walk towards the main windows you noticed the large patio balcony that has its own intimate pool, lawn chairs, and dining table with an umbrella. The sun was shining beautifully brightening your smile. You couldn't wait to spend the weekend under the sun with Miguel.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist pulling you against him. A relaxing sigh escaped you as you felt his soft lips against your neck, hitting your sweet spot.

"Should we break in our sanctuary for the weekend?" He whispered against your ear as his hand lowered, lifting your skirt. He pulled you closer as he moved your panties to the side and began rubbing your clit. Your breath hitched as you felt one of his fingers push inside you as his other hand lifted up your top and squeezed your right breast.

"Didn't get enough on the flight here?" You let out a small chuckle before gasping as he entered another finger and pumped faster.

"I can never have enough of you, cariño. Fucking you in that enclosed bathroom twice wasn't enough. I wish you would have just let me sprawl you on the sofa in the jet." Miguel inserted a third finger, filling your aching pussy as he sucked on your neck, leaving marks in his trek.

"T-the flight attendant w-would have seen us."

"She would have gone to the cockpit to give us some privacy.But no matter. We'll make up for it right now." Miguel continued to pump his fingers into you as he grind his boner into your back. A moan left you, chills shooting up your spine as Miguel pinches your right nipple as he sucked on your neck. The various touches made the knot form in your lower abdomen. Your head falls against his chest, giving his mouth more access to your neck, marking you all over.

Miguel lets out a groan as his pants tighten, wanting to free himself and fill up your soft and warm walls.

Not able to take it much longer Miguel removes his fingers, letting out an annoyed moan from you. He turns you around lifts you up and sits you on the dining room table. He goes down on his knees as he removes your panties and skirt putting your legs over his shoulders before diving his tongue deep into your aching cunt.

A shaky moan leaves you as Miguel's tongue enters your wet folds. His lips adventure around your overly sensitive area, as your thighs wrapped tight around his head, making his cock twitch from the pressure as he yearned to be inside you.

Every time your eyes opened and looked down your cheeks turned a shade darker as your eyes met his intense reddish-brown gaze. You gripped the edge of the table as you felt his tongue slowly lick your wet folds before sucking your sensitive clit, instinctively making your hips buck up against him.

You begin to feel your core tighten again, " Cum for me cariño," he said before his lips sucked on your clit.

Your grip on the table relaxed as you released yourself onto his face, your thighs shaking from your release of your orgasm. Miguel stood up from his knees, a smirk on his face as he hooked your knees with his hands as he pulled you closer against him. He leaned down and took your chin as he lifted your head slightly and captured his lips with yours. You moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

"You like tasting yourself, amor?" Miguel hummed in amusement before capturing your lips again and entering his tongue in your mouth.

You hummed in agreement against his lips before breathlessly saying, "only from your lips, Miggy."

As you both continued the passionate make out session Miguel moved his hands from your ass. To your disappointment as he began to unbuckle his belt and began to unzip his pants the doorbell rang.

You both sighed in frustration, annoyed in being interrupted. Miguel puts himself back in and walks to the front door as he buckles his belt. Already losing the moment you hop off the table.

You peak around the corner to see that it was the bell hop delivering the bags. Although you could only see Miguel's broad back you tried to hold back a chuckle as you saw the scared face of the bell hop. Miguel must have been terrifying the man just because he cock-blocked him.

After the bell hop left Miguel brought all the luggage to the main area, setting it down in a huff in frustration. His hair was out of its normal place. He combined it back with his fingers, however, it fell right back onto his forehead. He looked at you with a smile opening his arms to you, which you happily walked into his arms as he wrapped you up in a bear hug. You looked up at him as you got on your toes to kiss his chin.

"I guess the moment has passed?" Miguel asked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry Miggy. That Bell hop really did come at the worst time."

"He did." Miguel sighed as he leaned down and placed a loving kiss on your lips. "What would you like to do now? We can go shopping, go to the pool, the beach, stay here."

"I don't care what we do I just want to be with you." You smile as you rest your head against his chest, enjoying the rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Dios mío, mi amor. Mi corazón se hincha por lo lindo que puedes ser. Mi mente y mi corazón se vuelven locos por ti. Te amo con todo mi corazón y mi alma." Miguel smiled wide as he places butterfly kisses all over your face and neck. (Oh my God, my love. My heart swells because of how beautiful you can be. My mind and heart go crazy for you. I love you with all my heart and soul.)

"You are such a sweet talker, Miguel. Are you trying to get into my pants again?" You chuckle as you wrap your arms around his neck to pulls him down and kiss him.

"'Maybe a little bit." He chuckled along with you. "Let me take you shopping cariño. I want to treat you to a nice weekend."

"Aw Miguel that's sweet of you. But you know you don't need to win me over with anything artificial. I love you."

"I love you too. And I know that. But can't a boyfriend just spoil his girlfriend sometimes?" He chuckles as he brushed some strands of your hair behind your ear.

"Well if you say it like that, then ok. But if there is anything that catches your eye, I'm buying it for you."

"Whatever you wish for cariño."

You spend majority of the day exploring the shopping district in South Beach. Both you and Miguel bought plenty of things. The last place was a men's store to look at shirts for Miguel. Throughout the day he had bought everything that peaked your interest even if you didn't say anything, he got it for you. You really wanted to buy him a few things.

He picked out a few nice dress shirts as he went to go try them on on top of handing him a few more that you thought would look good on him. Every time he showed you a new shirt you thought he looked amazing in all of them. Also you just kept on eating up all the gawking stares at Miguel from both men and women. Usually some people would be annoyed by people checking out your boyfriend, as long as they didn't directly try to flirt with him in front of you. But you just loved that he was yours and you were his, which was easily shown when he wrapped an arm around your waist.

After grabbing a bite to eat you both decided it was time to head back to the hotel as the sun already was gone. After dropping off all the bags you both head down to a familiar-looking out door bar by the pool.

Miguel guides you to two seats at the bar counter. A chill went up your spine, the feeling of deja vu running through your mind.

Your smile widens when the bartender brings over the drinks you both had ordered. Before you could take a sip Miguel swiftly moved it from your grasp. You sent him a playful offended look as you lean closer to him, lips only centimeters a part. "This time I'm old enough to drink." You wink at him, before his lips could meet yours, you pulled your head away and placed your lips on the rim of your glass as you take your first sip, eyes never leaving his.

"This time I know that you're mine." Miguel pulls you closer  towards him, smiling wide at you before taking your chin and kissing you. "God I just want to ravage you right now."

You giggle at his words, "Not. Yet. My love." You tap his plush lips with your finger as you pronounce each word. Miguel smiles against your finger as he kisses it before wrapping an arm around your waist and moving your chair as close to his as possible.

"Hey I wanted to tell you some big news."

"Oh?! What is it?!"

"The same day I heard about you getting the internship I officially became the CEO of Alchamex."

"Oh my god Miguel! That's amazing! Congratulations!" Your eyes widen as you wrap your arms around his neck, practically jumping on him, giving him a kiss.

Miguel's smile widened with joy as he happily accepted you into his arms.

"Well now we have something to celebrate for this weekend!"You smile as you sit back in your seat and raise your glass. Miguel chuckles from your remarks as he follows your gesture with his drink.

"Let's drink to us mi amor."

"To us? What for?" You return his wide smile.

"Your internship. My new position. Our future." You felt your heart skip a beat when you heard his last words.

"I'll cheers to that. I love you."

"I love you too, cariño."

After a few more drinks at the bar and another night of passion you wake up the next morning feeling slightly sore.

Raising from the bed you stretch as you smile at the beautiful morning sky. You notice the lack of warmth to the other side of the bed as you can hear the shower running in the bathroom. A chill went up your spine, as the feeling of Deja vu washed over you. You leave the bed as you walk over to the master suite bathroom in your birthday suit.

As you enter your cheeks redden from the sight of water dripping down his wide strong back as it rolls down his waist to his plush ass and down to the marble floor. You bite your lip as you watch his arm muscles flex as he washes his curls. You step into the shower stepping around him and directly under the water. You look up at him with a suggestive smile.

"Good morning mi amor. I didn't think you would be up yet. But I'm glad you are now." Miguel leaned down and cupped your chin as he kissed you. Craving him you wrapped your arms lazily around his neck. His other hand grabbed you by the waist pulling you against him, a groan escaping his lips as your stomach rubbed against his erected cock.

"I missed the warmth of your body in the bed." You gave him a fake pout as you push your body closer to his, making your breasts push against him. Miguel's eyes widen before filling with lust as he gave you one of his iconic smirks.

"Aw I'm sorry baby. I can warm you up now though." Miguel lifted you up against the shower wall, large hands cupping your ass as he thrusts himself into you.

A moan escapes you as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as he begin to fuck you at a rough pace. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel the build up from the feeling of his thick ridges invading your pink flesh walls.

Miguel moved one of his hands to your lower abdomen has he could see and feel himself fucking your insides. "Ugh cariño I just want to fill you up with my seed and see your stomach swollen with our children."

"M-Miggy." You barely could say his name, to caught up in your own pleasure.

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name." Miguel's lips pressed against your neck as he nipped and sucked at your skin as he continued to ram you against the wall. With his hand pressing against your lower abdomen, making your space for his cock to move inside you tighter. The feeling in your stomach quickly builds up and with one more thrust your eyes roll back as you find your release. After a few more thrusts Miguel released himself inside you, latching his lips to yours in a heated kiss. His thrust slowed down before he pulled out, his seed spilling out of you.

Miguel let you stand again. He turned you around, putting some shampoo in his hand as he massaged it into your scalp. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes enjoying the sensation.

After he helped washing your hair, you poured some body wash in your hands as you began to wash his body. As you used the cloth to wash his broad chest he brush some loose strands behind your ear, whispering "So beautiful." You smiled lovingly up at him as he caressed your cheek. 

After finishing cleaning in the shower you both get dry and ready for the day before heading out hand in hand to grab some breakfast.

The hostess seats you at a nice table outside facing the beach. You and Miguel decided to sit next to each other instead of across wanting to be close to one another.

"Anything in store for today?" You smile before taking a sip of your mimosa.

"I was thinking we relax at the beach today. How does that sound?" Miguel smiles as he pops a grape into his mouth.

"That sounds wonderful."

Miguel's phone buzzed on the table, picking it up a smile appears on his face. Looking over you see it's Gabriel face-timing him. You scoot your chair closer to Miguel before he pressed the answer button.

"Mama! Papa!" Said the young voice you missed.

"Buenas días, princesa. ¿Cómo dormiste?" ( Good morning princess, how did you sleep?)

"Good! I miss you and mama. When are you coming home?" Your heart ached when you saw her sad pout.

"We miss you so much baby bug. Papa and I will be back in two more sleeps."

"Ok Mama. Papa did you-" "well look at the time, it's time for you to get ready for soccer practice." Gabriel interrupted his little niece for talking further.

You frowned slightly wanting to talk to Gabi more as you did miss her, but after a quick goodbye Gabriel hung up the call.

"I wish we could have talked longer. I miss her."

Miguel took your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist.

"I miss her too, but we'll see her soon."

"You're right." You smile as you cup his cheek lovingly.

After enjoying breakfast together you walk to the beach and find two seats with an umbrella. You lay your beach bag and towels on the chairs before removing your sun dress over your head. As soon as your were just in your colorful bikini you heard a snap. Before you could even react Miguel blocked your chest from nearby onlookers.

"Aw my shoulder strap broke." You pout, as you cover your chest. "I have another one in my bag, I'll go change in one of the bathrooms."

"Do u need help?" Miguel asked with a look of slight concern.

"Don't worry I'll be ok. Thank you for protecting me, my knight and shining armor." You go on your toes and kiss his lips before grabbing your spair bikini and heading over towards the bathroom.

After switching bikinis you look yourself over in the mirror smiling before heading back out to the beach. Your happy smile switched to a frown when you noticed the waitress getting too close to your boyfriend. Of course before you can get there she leaves. When you got to your chair you noticed Miguel's annoyed face before his eyes met yours and seconds later his loving smile returned.

"Make a friend there?" You chuckle as you sit on the chair next to him.

"Just the typical waitress trying to gain my favor, they are just too blind to see that my heart and body belong to you only. Oh I ordered you a mango margarita." Miguel took your hand and kissed your knuckles. You notice the waitress was about to come back over with your drinks, so the mischievous person you can be, you straddle his lap as you trace your hands up his chiseled chest to his shoulders to massage them.

"¿Qué estás haciendo mi sexy minx?" Miguel chuckled with a smirk on his face as he placed his hands on your hips. (What are you doing my sexy minx?)

"Just helping you relax plus another reason."

"Care to let me in on it?"

"Oh I think you already have figure it out Doctor O'Hara."

Miguel gave your hips a tiny love squeeze to your cheeky remark.

The waitress came back now acting nervous when she noticed you on Miguel's lap acting all lovey dovey.You smiled as you could tell Miguel was trying told back a chuckle as he knew your only got like this when you got jealous. He thought it was cute. "H-here are your d-drinks."

"You can place them on the table. Thank you." The waitress gives you a fake awkward happy smile before walking away. You hand Miguel his beer before grabbing your drink and taking a sip from your straw.

"This is bringing back fond memories." Miguel brushed some of your hair behind your shoulder before bringing you closer against him. Luckily you were at a Adults-only hotel, so you didn't have to worry about children being around.

"What makes you say that?"

"You sitting in my lap under the sun by the sea. Who would have thought I would call you mine almost three years later." Miguel took your chin gently and placed a loving kiss to both sides of your cheeks before placing one on your lips.

"Oh Miggy you can be such a romantic. I love you." You chuckle with a loving smile before placing another kiss on his lips.

"Anything to please you hermosa."

"You remember that nice memory of us in the private pool?" You give him a suggestive smile wrapping your arms around his neck now and bringing your chest against his. Miguel grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, feeling a half erect  hard on under neath his swim suit shorts rubbing  against your clit you bite your lower lip to hide your moan.

"I do."

"Maybe we should sneak into the pool tonight and recreate it?"

"Actually I booked us a private cabana and pool for all day tomorrow. So we can recreate that moment, on and on and on." Miguel moved his hips against you on rhythm with his last words. Before the beginning of a knot could form in your lower abdomen you remember you were in public and immediately remove yourself from his lap and back to to your chair blushing madly.

"Aw cariño why did you leave? I thought we were having fun." Miguel sent you a fake pout.

"A little too much fun in public. Save it for closed doors." You wink at him. Miguel winked back with a chuckle kissing your forehead as he wrapped and arm on the back of your chair as your were right next to him.

You spent the day laying in the sun enjoying each others presence in comfortable silence with a break or two playing in the water to cool off.

Once the sun begins to set you go back to the hotel and shower together, taking longer than usual to both satisfy your sexual hunger building up throughout the day.

You smile at yourself in the long mirror lining the long dress with heels that you chose. Miguel had said that dinner was at a Michelin star Mexican-Japanese restaurant tonight, which you were excited to try.

"You look gorgeous mi amor." Miguel wrapped his arms around you in a hug as he kisses your neck. You turn around to face your handsome boyfriend.

"You look handsome." You giggle slightly from his light kisses tickling your neck.

"Not too old for you?" He lightly chuckled but you could tell he actually wanted to know, feeling slightly insecure.

"Miguel. You're the one for me. You're my perfect man."

"Flaws and all?"

"Flaws and all. But I see your flaws as unique characteristics. And I love every single one." You lift his head to look into his brown eyes.

"You are more than perfect y/n." Miguel smiled as he kissed your lips. Once you both broke away you chuckled lightly to see that your red lipstick left a mark on his lips. You grab a tissue and gently wipe the red from his lips.

"God, if I didn't want to go to this restaurant I would mount you right now on this bed." You take a deep breath trying your best to control yourself. What this man could make your mind and body feel.

"We'll have plenty of time afterwords, unless, do you want to have a quickie right now? We have 20 minutes. Only takes 8 to walk there." Miguel smirked as he turned you back around and bent you over before you could answer. He got your answer when you rubbed your ass against his crotch making him groan from the contact. He unzipped his pants and taking himself out before lifting your dress and pushing your white lace underwear to the side before pushing himself in. A moan left your lips as he fully entered himself inside your wet pink folds. From this angle you were tighter so you felt the feeling of his ridges and veins moving against your inner walls.

Grabbing your hips he removes himself fully except the tip before plunging back into you.

"Fuck hermosa. You feel so good. It's going to be hard just to fill you once."

Miguel pace quickens at record speed building your knot instantly. Another moan escaped your lips overwhelmed by the quick and pleasurable orgasm. However, after coming down from your euphoric high you noticed his pace doesn't falter.

"M-miggy."

"Just one more. Let me make you cum one more time." And true to his word you felt another knot build just as fast as the first before feeling that familiar and intoxicating high you can't seem to get enough of. After your second orgasm Miguel stopped his thrusts inside you, as he made your inner walls white. He thrusted a few more times inside you wanting as much seed to stay inside you as his constantly had the need to breed you.

He walked over to the bathroom to get a warm wet towel to clean you off before cleaning himself off.

You look in the mirror to make yourself look presentable before linking arms with your boyfriend. "Look at that, we still have time to spare. Could have fucked you for another few minutes.Guess we'll head over early."

"Guess we'll have to add those minutes for later tonight's session." Miguel smirked from your response before placing a kiss on the top of your head before you both left the room towards the restaurant.

You make it to the restaurant and are seated right away at a beautiful table outside with a bottle of Prosecco in an ice bucket ready to be sipped.

The dinner and atmosphere was perfect. The food and drink was amazing, the staff were really nice. How more perfect could this night get?

"Wow, I can see why this restaurant has a Michelin star, every bite was amazing. What an amazing day. Thank you." You smile

"I'm glad you liked it cariño. But dinner is not quite over yet. We still have dessert." Miguel chuckled slightly when you gave him a curious look.

You were curious to his words because Miguel didn't have a big sweet tooth. You're surprised by the waiter coming over with a small white cake with white flowers dusted gold.

On the top it read in cursive "Will you..."the waiter took a lighter and lit the thin layer on fire revealing another set of words, "Marry me?"

When your eyes lifted to Miguel's you saw him already beside you kneeling down on one knee with a velvet small box open.

"Y/n. Mi Vida. Mi amor. When I look into your eyes, I can see a reflection of the two of us and the life I hope we'll share. I know we have had our challenges in this relationship. But my love for you is so much stronger than any challenge that has come or will come in our way. When I met you almost three years ago at this very hotel I'd never felt my heart so full. I never felt so happy before. And I'm so happy that you came back into my life. I promise you, no one will work harder to make you happy or cherish you more than me. Will you make me the happiest man on Eartg and marry me?"  Miguel opened up the black velvet box to reveal a beautiful oval shaped, 3 carat diamond stone with a white gold band that decorated with smaller diamonds on both sides.

Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute as you felt butterflies fly rapidly in your stomach. You started to nod your head yes having a hard time speaking as you gave him a wide happy smile before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him up with some new found strength as you kiss him. You pepper his lips with kisses while you say in between, "yes. Yes. I will marry you."

Miguel smile was bright and happy, the smile that made your heart swell with love. He cupped your cheek, "You just made me the happiest man on Earth."

The surrounding tables called and cheered for your joyous occasion. Miguel took the beautiful ring from its box as he slipped it on your ring finger.

"It fits perfectly. It's beautiful Miguel." You look at the ring smiling before placing another kiss to his lips.

After paying the bill you both leave the restaurant as you decide to take a walk on the beach.

Miguel leads you to a private section of the beach where a gorgeous open tent with candles lighting a path in the sand with petals trailing up the middle. You gasped in wonder when you see the inside of tent. A king sized floor mattress and comforters with blankets and pillows. On one side there was champagne and a small fruit platter with a sign that said, 'Congratulations.'

"Oh Miguel this is gorgeous." You look up at him with love and excitement which returns in his gaze.

"Now let's celebrate." Miguel lifted you up bridal style before gently throwing you on to the soft comforter.

The ending of the night was perfect as you showed each other how much you loved each other as you made love on the beach under the starry night sky.

You wake up to the bright sun shinning over the bright blue water. Brain becoming more awake you realize you were still in the tent on the beach.

You felt Miguel shift as you felt the grip he had around your waist tighten as he pulled you back against his chest as he whispered in your ear with his rough morning voice, " Good morning hermosa."

"Good morning." You turn your head slightly to meet his lips with yours to give him a morning kiss. You then remember the band around your finger as you turned to look at it.

"Oh my god, we're engaged."You cover your mouth eyes widening smiling as the realization finally hits you.

"We are." Miguel chuckled to your words as he placed a few kisses on your shoulder and neck.

"How did you set this all up?"

"It's a special offer they have for the newly engaged. It's a private part of the beach that no one else can go to .

"Very romantic. Thank you for a wonderful weekend away."

"Of course mi amor. Anything for you."

The rest of the morning was spent with more love making and breakfast that was delivered.

You both decided it was time to head back to the room, walking back in the clothes from the night before.

The day went by in a flash from the private pool and cabana to another romantic dinner to now where you are on the terrace balcony of your room laying on the outdoor sofa and cuddling in each others arms.

You gaze up at the stars as you both try to find constellations.

"Look there's the Little Dipper!" You point up to the sky with your left hand. Miguel gently grabs your hand that was raised to the sky and brings it to his lips placing a kiss to your wrist.

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." He smiled as his reddish-brown gaze met yours. Your cheeks flushed slightly as you smiled up at him.

"Me too. I love you Miguel O'Hara."

"I love too, soon-to-be Y/n O'Hara."

————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!💕

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Whisked Away 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get a job at a bakery but your new boss only adds to your work

Character: chubby!baker!Thor

Please comment and reblog if it's not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

The tea shop hasn’t called back. Or the grocery store. Not even the cafe around the corner. 

You’re tired. You’ve been sending out resumes for months. Reviewing and editing and sending again. You don’t get it. You have the proper credential and you have a decent amount of experience. It’s just been a while.  

You want to assume that people just aren’t hiring but that wouldn’t explain the postings and re-postings. They are still looking but somehow you’re just not good enough on paper. Disappointment knots in your throat as your inbox reveals no new emails. You need something. Even a job at the burger joint will do. 

You grab your phone and sigh. You stand and shut the laptop lid as you tuck your cell into your back pocket. You go down the short hall and knock on the bedroom door. 

“Delaney? You up?” You call through. 

You get a groan in return. Sometimes that’s all you get. 

“Alright, I’m gonna open the door,” you warn as you twist the knob slowly. 

You push inside and reach to flip on the light switch. Your sister grumbles against and covers her face with her arm. The windows are covered with dark curtains that give a blue hue even when the space is lit. She hids behind her forearm as you near the bottom of her bed. 

“Are you hungry?” You ask. 

“I’d love some coffee,” the croaks. 

“How ya feeling?” You grab her walker and move it parallel with the side of the bed. 

“It’s a rough one,” she warns and drags her arm away from her face. “I don’t wanna get up.” 

You nod and trail your fingers along the top of the walker, “if you don’t wanna...” 

“No, I should,” she insists. 

She braces herself visibly, closing her eyes as her cheeks strain and she sits up with a grunt. He arms shake and she kicks the blankets of her legs. Her movement is awkward and stiff. You hate seeing her struggle like this. You know she’s just as unhappy about you seeing it. That’s why she’s so stubborn. 

“Should be enough left for another cup but I can make a new pot?” You offer as you hold the walker steady and she grips it, pulling herself to her feet. She hunches slightly and tries to stretch out her legs. 

“My feet are numb,” she stomps one foot then the other. “Annoying.” She scowls and shakes her head as you let go of the walker and step back. She turns it sharply and lumbers forward with the aid of the wheels, “I can have the leftovers.” 

Patiently, you follow her to the door and into the hall. She wheels her way to the table and angles herself into the chair with her special cushion on it. She’s out of breath. 

You go into the kitchen to give her some time to recover. You try your best to give her space, even in the one-bedroom. You sleep on the couch while she gets the bedroom. It makes sense, especially since lately her stipend has been covering most of your expenses. 

You fill a mug for her and grab her pill box. You bring both to her and set them on the table. She takes the coffee first and swigs. She sighs as she sets it down heavily then snatches the box. She pops open the lid for that day of the week and scoops out the tablets. She sneers before she gulps them down with another mouthful of coffee. 

“So, you were up early?” She prompts. 

“You know I’m a morning bird.” 

“Eh, yeah, wish I had that problem,” she mutters. Some days, she sleeps more than she’s awake. You tell her it’s part of her diagnosis but she won’t accept that. You can understand that but you know you can’t really understand. You’re not her. 

“Yeah, well, the birds wake me up,” you shrug.  

A sudden buzzing ripple in your pocket. You pull your phone out of the loose sweatpants and look at the screen. It’s a number you don’t know. You doubt it’s important but you can’t risk missing any calls. 

“Gimme a sec,” you hold up a finger and turn away. “Probably the building or something.” You tap the screen and put the phone to your ear, “hello?” 

“Hello,” a deep voice rumbles over a calamity of noises, some metallic, others humming, “oh, apologies, give me a moment.” You wait as you hear movement on the other end and the cacophony finally subsides, “ah, much better. Is this...” 

You blink and confirm that he has the right number. 

“Wonderful, I apologise for the early call but I tend to get started with the sun,” he explains, “anyhow, I was only just reviewing CVs and you are on my list of candidates. When would be a good day for an interview?” 

You turn back and glance at Delaney. She sips her coffee as she pulls the laptop close. She opens it and squints at it before she clicks. She scrolls as you watch her. 

“Um, well, I could um, any day,” you answer, trying not to seem to desperate. 

“Today?” He asks, “it’s a bit ridiculous but I wouldn’t mind getting it over with.” 

“S-sure,” you answer, surprised by the suddenness. It's as if the universe had sensed you were about to give up. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I... got your name.” 

“Oh, yes, I did dive in head first. Thor Odinson, at Golden Crust bakery. You applied as a decorator?” 

“Y-yeah, I remember,” you assure him, “just wanna make sure I get to the right place. Uh, thanks, um, what time should I be there?” 

“Is noon doable?” He asks. 

“Noon it is,” you say, barely containing your excitement. You try not to let it overflow, you don’t want to get all worked up for another rejection. 

“Excellent, I will see you then,” he confirms, “now, excuse me, I think my sourdough has burnt.” 

The line clicks and you lower the phone, staring at it. The tapping of Delaney’s fingers on the keyboard are the only noise amidst the the stunned silence. It’s great you got an interview but what do you wear? 

“Hm, job hunt not going so well?” Delaney suggests as she leans into the screen. 

“Actually, just got a call for one,” you go to the table and put your phone down. “I have an interview.” 

“You do?” Her eyes flash as she looks up, a rare glimmer of happiness. “That’s awesome!” 

“Uh, yeah, but it’s at noon so... I’ll have to leave for a bit.” 

“Sounds good to me,” she scoffs, “perfect time to party.” 

You roll your eyes, “you’re silly.” 

“Well, you know, if you get the job, I’ll have to figure out how to entertain myself,” she says, “and I’ll get to binge all the TV shows you hate.” 

“You’re such an optimist,” you chide playfully. 

[datvtranscripts]

The Enemy of My Enemy Pt. 4

The Gods' Plans

Signs and Portents Masterpost Previous: Race and Class Decor

Rook: Now, how do I connect to Solas? Just sleep, or…? Relaxing. Maybe if I clear my mind…

They sit to meditate, and return to Solas’s Fade prison.

Solas: Back so soon. It must have been worse than I thought.

Rook: Hello, Dread Wolf.

Solas: Ah, but perhaps I am mistaken. You may be here to correct me, to tell me that my concerns were unfounded.

First conversation choice dependent dialogue:

Exchanged verbal jabs [1]

Dismissed his warnings [2]

Admitted worry [3]

Showed frustration [4]

1 - Exchanged verbal jabs → Solas remembered your verbal jab at him. Solas: I am, after all, remembered as the god of lies, treachery, and rebellion.

Dialogue options:

Affable: Yes, I remember. [5]

Sarcastic: Seriously? Rubbing it in? [9]

Stoic: Stop. I need information. [10]

5 - Affable: Yes, I remember. Rook: "Depending on the story." Solas: And what story shall we tell now? [11]

2 - Dismissed his warnings → Solas remembered you dismissing his warnings. Solas: You could not possibly be here to take advice from the one you called "the elven god of lies."

Dialogue options:

Affable: Yet here I am. [6]

Sarcastic: Seriously? Rubbing it in? [9]

Stoic: Stop. I need information. [10]

6 - Affable: Yet here I am. Rook: This has been a big week for running into things I didn't think were possible. Solas: You are adapting quickly. [11]

3 - Admitted worry → Solas remembered your earlier worry. Solas: Did I overstate the danger?

Dialogue options:

Affable: You did not. [7]

Sarcastic: Seriously? Rubbing it in? [9]

Stoic: Stop. I need information. [10]

7 - Affable: You did not. Rook: No, it appears to be just about as bad as you said. Solas: How unfortunate for you. [11]

4 - Showed frustration → Solas remembered that you accused him of wanting to destroy the world. Solas: Perhaps nothing escaped as you stopped me from, what was it? "Covering the world with demons"?

Dialogue options:

Affable: You know it did. [8]

Sarcastic: Seriously? Rubbing it in? [9]

Stoic: Stop. I need information. [10]

8 - Affable: You know it did. Rook: As you clearly already knew, something did escape. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. Blighted. [11]

9 - Sarcastic: Seriously? Rubbing it in? Rook: So you're gonna be insufferable about it. See, this is the reason nobody likes you. Solas: I led a rebellion for centuries that culminated in the creation of the Veil and the destruction of the elven empire. Rook: Okay, this is among the reasons nobody likes you. Solas: My information was accurate. Now you realize that the danger is real. [11]

10 - Stoic: Stop. I need information. Rook: I'm not here to debate whether what you said was accurate. Solas: But to be clear, it was accurate. [11]

11 - Scene continues.

Rook: I need to know what the gods are planning.

Solas: You are asking for knowledge no mortal in this world is privy to. If I am to share it with you, I need to know what makes you the right person to lead the fight against Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain.

Dialogue options:

Affable: Nothing, but I’m here. [12]

Sarcastic: I’m not in charge. [13]

Stoic: I punch up. You should know. [14]

12 - Affable: Nothing, but I’m here. → You told Solas that you’re a leader because there’s no other options left. Rook: Someone has to do something. I may not be the right person for this job… but I'm the only one left. Solas: So your call to action is that any attempt is better than none? [15]

13 - Sarcastic: I’m not in charge. → You told Solas that you are only filling in as leader until Varric has recovered. Rook: I'm not in charge of everyone. I'm just leading my little team until Varric is back on his feet. Solas: I understand your fear. Declare yourself the leader, and others may think you power-hungry, no better than those you oppose. Rook: I didn’t say I was afraid. [15]

14 - Stoic: I punch up. You should know. → You argued that you lead the team because you are good at succeeding against terrible odds. Rook: I stopped you, didn't I? Solas: You disrupted the ritual. Rook: Yeah, I did. Even though I'm nowhere near as powerful as you. Solas: Your plan is to tell me how powerful you aren't? [15]

15 - Origin dependent dialogue:

Crow [16]

Grey Warden [17]

Lord of Fortune [18]

Mourn Watch [19]

Shadow Dragon [20]

Veil Jumper [21]

16 - Crow Rook: Back in the Crows, I had to deal with the Antaam invasion. One night I saw a unit getting ready to transport prisoners to another city. It was way too large for us to hit. Solas: But you did so anyway, using unconventional tactics to confuse the Antaam and free the prisoners. [22]

17 - Grey Warden Rook: Back in the Grey Wardens, I was with a group of recruits outside this village dealing with a darkspawn incursion. Our orders were to wait for reinforcements. But we knew that by the time they arrived, everyone in that village would be dead. Solas: So you led your team of recruits in anyway, collapsing the tunnel and saving the village. [22]

18 - Lord of Fortune Rook: Back in the Lords of Fortune, I was hired to accompany this noble who was hunting for an old relic. The noble betrayed us and left us to die in an ancient ruin collapsing around us. Solas: But you escaped with your team and then tracked down and prevented the noble from selling the relic to the Venatori. [22]

19 - Mourn Watch Rook: In the Mourn Watch, I had to deal with undead nobles threatening all of Nevarra with civil war. Our squad was overwhelmed, and we were supposed to retreat. Solas: But you attacked instead, defeated the nobles, and prevented a war. [22]

20 - Shadow Dragon Rook: I met Varric when he asked the Shadow Dragons for help with freeing an old friend from Venatori slavers. The Shadow Dragons had a safe plan that wasn't going to work. Solas: So you and Varric led an armed rebellion and dealt a devastating blow to the Venatori. [22]

21 - Veil Jumper Rook: With the Veil Jumpers, I was in a dangerous part of the forest full of wild magic. My team got free, but not everyone did. There were a lot of people still trapped… including Varric. Solas: So you went in against orders and freed them. [22]

22 - Scene continues.

Rook: How’d you know that?

Solas: You helped Varric pursue me for the better part of a year. It would have been foolish not to learn about who was hunting me.

Told Solas you’re the only option: Rook: Then you know that if someone has to make a call, I'll do it.

Told Solas you’re filling in for Varric: Rook: Then you know I'm not interested in a fancy title. But when something needs doing, I do it.

Told Solas you succeed against the odds: Rook: Then you know that powerful opposition doesn't frighten me. I find a way to get the job done, whatever it takes.

Solas: I suppose I was not so different when I started.

Rook: Started what?

Solas: My rebellion against the Evanuris—the "elven gods," as you call them. They wish to reclaim their dominion over this world. To accomplish that, they will need two things. First, the blight. What exists in this world is a bare fragment of its power. The rest is imprisoned… until they release it.

23 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: It’s bigger than what we have? [24]

Investigate: It didn’t escape? [25]

Investigate: Why blight the world? [26]

Affable: How do we stop them? [27]

Stoic: The we need to stop them. [28]

Afraid: Can we stop them? [29]

24 - Investigate: It’s bigger than what we have? Rook: The rest of the blight is imprisoned? There's more than what's in the world already? Solas: Yes. Centuries ago, the magisters of Tevinter opened my prison. A tiny fragment of the blight escaped. That fragment grew beneath the earth and led to the Blights that have swept across the world. However terrible the blight is now, it is a mere fraction of what we will see if its full power is unleashed.

25 - Investigate: It didn’t escape? Rook: The blight didn't escape with the gods? Solas: Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain escaped largely empty-handed, fortunately. Most of the blight is still trapped in the prison I created ages ago. Rook: So what we saw at that village, that's them not at full strength? Solas: Correct.

26 - Investigate: Why blight the world? Rook: I don't understand. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain were elves like you, right? Why would they want to blight the world? Solas: It is my fault. As the Dread Wolf, I was a thorn in their side. When my efforts weakened their grasp on the elven people, they grew frustrated. Then desperate. Rook: And turned to the blight. Rook: Once the corruption took hold of them, they were blind to its horror. It was just another source of power for them. Now, they would blight the world without hesitation and call us backward and foolish for opposing them.

27 - Affable: How do we stop them? Rook: What would they need to do to free the blight, and how do we stop them from doing it?

28 - Stoic: The we need to stop them. Rook: Then we shut down whatever they need to do to free the blight.

39 - Afraid: Can we stop them? Rook: But we can stop them from freeing the blight, right?

40 - Scene continues.

Solas: They will need to pierce the Veil to reach the blight's prison. My lyrium dagger is one of the few artifacts capable of doing so.

Rook: We've already recovered it from the ritual site.

Solas: Excellent. Then they will have to make their own. That will give you time.

Rook: You said the gods needed two things, and the blight is the first. What's the second?

Solas: Followers. They have called themselves gods, and what is a god without worshippers to sing their praises?

Veil Jumper Rook: When the Dalish elves started the Veil Jumpers, we uncovered a lot about how terrible our gods were. I don't think the elven people will bend a knee to blighted murderous monsters.

Elf Rook (non-Veil Jumper): I'm not going to bend a knee to blighted murdering monsters just because their ears are pointed like mine. I don't think many other elves are going to, either.

Non Veil Jumper/Elf Rook: You think they want the elves back? I don't think the elven people will bend a knee to blighted murderous monsters.

Solas: Agreed. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain care little for the elves. They will find worshippers among those hungry for power. Tyrants and bullies. The cruel and the corrupt, who fear their own vulnerability and seize any chance to feel strong. If you hunt them, they will lead you to Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain.

Dialogue options:

Affable: Thanks. [41]

Sarcastic: Sounds entertaining. [42]

Stoic: That’s not enough. [43]

41 - Affable: Thanks. Thank you. I'll go poke at "the cruel and the corrupt", and we'll see what we find. [43]

42 - Sarcastic: Sounds entertaining. Rook: (Chuckles) You want me to pick fights with tyrants and bullies? Sounds fun. Solas: I gave no orders. All I offer are suggestions. Rook: I'm on it. What else? [43]

43 - Stoic: That’s not enough. Rook: I came here for specifics, not fortune-telling. Solas: I would tell you more were I not currently imprisoned thanks to your actions. Rook: Fine. I'll go kick the trees and see what falls out. [43]

43 - Scene continues.

Solas: The Vi'Revas, the Lighthouse eluvian, can take you anywhere, if you master its secrets. Have you done so?

Rook: Not yet, but we've got one of the Veil Jumpers working on it. She'll get it sorted, and we'll see how it goes.

Solas: Yes. I suppose we will. And when you speak with Varric, please tell him that I… regret what happened.

Next: Taking Point

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Fire Gen 1 pt.86

Trigger warning fire scene

With Spooky Day behind them and HarvestFest just a few days away, Kason returned to work. He'd been out for an extended period after his promotion, but now it was time to fill his new role as Master of Machines. Greg would be gone till the following week, leaving him in charge of the mechanics. After M's legendary spooky day party, he needed a few hours of work to make him feel like a productive member of society. The last time they'd been that drunk and wild was before the kids were born.

Kason entered Bay Robotic Engineering and was met with the familiar banging of hammers and the sparks of flame torches heating metal. He passed through the IT department relishing the rhythmic tapping of fingers across keyboards creating usable code. A symphony of sounds that ultimately meant the workday was in full swing.

He concluded his morning rounds, satisfied with the work he observed. On the way to his office, he made a detour, needing a caffeinated pick-me-up to motivate him to complete his own pile of work for the day. He laughed at himself.

Kason: Must be getting old. 2 days and I'm still not fully recovered.

He grabbed his espresso and went to his new office. The sleek furniture had been purposely positioned in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing a plethora of natural light to flow in. He could spin in his chair and enjoy the view anytime. He ran his hand along the desk plate that displayed his name. Taking a second longer to admire his workspace, he finally set down his coffee and started his day.

He got to work, scheduling new jobs and repairs, emailing the untested code to the IT department for revising, and later, he had an important in-house servo repair, which he intended to handle himself. After about two hours, Kason slid his chair soundlessly across the smooth floors and stretched. He headed to the breakroom to refill his coffee when he heard her.

Paris: Watch it! Geez, what are you, an idiot?

Whoever she was speaking too clearly knew it was best not to answer because they didn't bother responding to her question.

???: I'm so sorry! H-here’s a nap-napkin.

Paris: I don't need a fucking napkin! I need you to get a brain.

Kason picked up his pace. When he had a clear few of the situation his blood boiled. In the far corner of the room Paris had Aria Witt, one of the new Computer Engineers, backed up against the wall. The girl looked absolutely terrified as Paris loomed over her with a sneer.

Paris: You're a clutz and a waste of space Aria. Why are you even here?

Kason: PARIS!

Paris turned around lazily after she watched Aria sink to the floor in a defeated heap. Paris took a notable step back putting just enough space between her and Aria that she wouldn't step on her. Aria hung her head and covered her face in embarrassment.

Paris: Hey Kay, enjoy your time off? Heard your party was to die for. Too bad I didn't get an invite. I could have really made it a night for you to remember.

Kason's expression was stoic, but his words were gentle and directed toward Aria.

Kason: Aria, are you alright?

Aria: Ye-yes Mr. Gratz, I'm okay.

Kason: Gather your things. You're taking the rest of the afternoon off.

Aria: Mr. Gratz no please! I'm so-

She began saying as she climbed to her feet. He didn't want to scare her any more than she already was so he added a small smile, and a nod to reassure her she had nothing to be concerned about.

Kason: You've done nothing wrong, I promise. I'll see you for your next shift.

Aria: Thank you, Mr. Gratz.

She eyed the minimal walking space that Paris had provided warily.

Kason: Get out of her way Paris.

Paris took two more steps back widening the walkway. Once Aria cleared Paris she half ran, half stumbled from the room. Paris folded her arms, her face scrunched with displeasure.

Paris: Whiney bitch!

She called after her.

Kason: Watch your language Paris. You're walking on thin ice.

Paris: So pathetic. I swear this town is full of weak women. Speaking of, how's Mars?

His expression stayed neutral, not allowing her to think that bringing up Mercury would goad him. In as even a tone as he could manage he asked;

Kason: What the hell are you doing?

She busied herself with the coffee pot deliberately taking long to answer.

Paris: I came in here to grab a little snack when clums-a-rella spilled her tea on me.

Kason: So you attack her?!

He bellowed, her unapologetic tone left him unable to keep his emotions in check. He was pissed about more than just the way she had treated Aria, but he couldn't act on it, not here. This was his dream job and he wouldn't allow Paris to take anything else from him. He wouldn't give her the sick satisfaction. Paris shrugged as if her behavior had been completely normal.

Paris: Is it my fault she's brainless?

Kason: Go to Servo Hold 2 and wait for me there.

Paris: I was assigned to Servo 4.

Kason: I said go to servo 2 and wait for me there.

She gave in without further discourse. She winked as she ambled past him.

Paris: Whatever you say, boss. See you there Kay.

Kason could feel a headache surfacing. He took a few deep breaths that did nothing to calm his fried nerves before hustling back to his office already regretting the choice to send Paris to Servo 2. It was the one he intended to repair and now had begrudgingly forced himself to spend the rest of the day in her presence if his next play didn't go well. But it was better than unleashing her on the rest of the innocent people who worked for Bay Robotic Engineering.

When he arrived back in his office he picked up his phone and dialed Rufus's extension.

Rufus: Hey Kason, good to have ya back. What do ya need?

Kason: *Sigh* Can you meet Paris at Servo 2?

Rufus: I thought we were handling the S2 repair?

Kason: And hopefully we still are, but for now I need to keep her close by so she can't start any more trouble. You can start working on the programming if you want. You don't need to talk to her and she shouldn't touch anything. Just put her in the corner of the office and I'll be there soon.

Rufus: Sure thing. But hurry will ya.

Kason chuckled dryly.

Kason: I will my friend.

The dial tone beeped in his ear before he made his next call. He pressed Greg's number in his cell and pulled out Paris's work file. Greg answered on the third ring.

Greg: Gratz! How are you son?

Kason: We need to talk about Paris.

20 minutes Later (Trigger warning fire below)

Kason: What the hell? Greg, I'm glad we are on the same page I'll deal with it later today-

Receptionist: MR. GRATZ! THERE'S A FIRE IN SERVO 2. MS.AMYOT SEEMS TO HAVE GOTTEN OUT BUT MR.WALTERZ IS STILL TRAPPED!

Kason's heart hammered against his ribcage and his vision filled with red. Before he realized it he was running. When he reached the end of the hall that led to Servo hold 2 he was shocked by the thick cloud of smoke that was seeping beneath the door. Most of the office was crowding the hall.

Kason: MOVE! Did anyone call the fire department?

Worker: We did!

Worker 2: The door won't open. The override code isn't working!

Kason finally reached the door and stared through the small square window, trying to locate Rufus. He reached for the keypad and entered the code he had committed to memory, but the keypad lit up red, denying him access.

Kason: FUCK!

He yanked at the door as panic seized him and all rational thoughts abandoned him. He punched the glass window without thinking but it didn't even crack.

Kason: Get me something to break the glass! Maybe we can let some of the smoke out.

Worker: Clear the hall the fire department is here!

Kason stepped to the side as the sound of rubber meeting tile and the clank of heavy equipment grew closer. They pried the door open and began fighting the blaze inside. Kason made an attempt to force his way in, but the firefighters pulled him back.

Kason: My friend is in there!

Firefighter: We'll get him out, but you need to step back sir.

The firefighter pushed him back in line with the others. As he looked around at the sea of concerned faces, he spotted Paris, whom he'd conveniently forgotten about in the heat of things. She was standing at the back of the crowd, and she was smiling.

Previous Next

Beginning

Sidebar: Please ignore my Reshade. Sometimes the Resahde interferes with the decor sims but it kills me to take the screenshots without it. So I had to make a choice and this was what I went with. I know it's probably silly to not turn it off for one photo or get rid of the decor sims but the scene isn't the same.

Build:Servo repair rooms and room on fire I built myself CC: Fire and Smoke by @natalia-auditore Poses: Sims in destress @joannebernice Couples pose 15 @Akuiyumi

[spaceguy44]

2024 US Election Post-mortem

I need to get my thoughts out about the election. I'll split it into a few main parts. (This will be long) 1. Why did Kamala lose/Trump win?

There's 2 main reasons for the result.

1. The biggest thing isn't that Trump gained a lot (he did somewhat), but that Kamala lost hugely. Kamala ran an "strong" but status-quo style center-lib campaign. This was not the right move to capture the electorate in today's America. It hasn't been since 2012. People at every part of the political spectrum have expressed disdain with the way establishment Democrats have run things. People want change! They have since 2008. Obama convinced everyone that he represented change. Hillary lost in 2016 because they didn't get that change after 8 years, and wanted something new no matter what. Biden did a good job in 2020 of being somewhat of a change candidate, but it was really COVID that allowed him to win. I do think Trump would've won in 2020 if it weren't for the pandemic. Kamala had momentum at first because she literally was "change." Biden was hugely unpopular, and people didn't like the return to liberal status quo, even if he did do more than even Obama to bring (domestic) left-wing policies to the forefront imo. Kamala represented hope at first that we could get away from the Biden that everyone hated, and bring in a whole new kind of politics and movement that would take us out of the neoliberal malaise that was the again Biden. What happened in stead was the establishment decided that there was a contingent of Americans that were allergic to left-wing politics, and they need to be captured.

THIS IS THE MAIN POINT OF FAILURE FOR BOTH HILLARY AND KAMALA. I do not believe there is a (large) population that is inherently right-wing, and another that is centrist, and another that is left-wing. I do think there are some that you could never convince one way or another, but it's just impossible that so many people could vote for Obama, and then turn around for Trump if people had some sort of weird internal political compass that they adhered to regardless of policy. No, Trump (and the right more broadly) MADE his base. This is the other reason Trump won.

2. Trump did make some gains, though I believe the right campaign from Harris could've overcome that. I think the Trump gains are more indicative of what Harris lacked. Kamala tried to adjust her campaign to match an electorate. Trump didn't give a fuck. He said what he wanted, and people liked that. They don't care about decorum. They don't care about "unity". They want someone they think will "fight" for them. People saw Kamala bringing in the Cheneys and just saw another neolib that would flake on any conviction to grab a vote. People don't want a policy. People want a candidate with conviction. Trump was also adept at playing on people's fears and insecurities. He MADE them into Trump supporters by playing on those fears. Harris did not try to make Harris supporters by playing on fears (at least enough). She was best with the abortion stuff, but that wasn't the issue that exit polls showed people care about. The top issue was the economy. Yes, "the economy" is objectively doing better if you look at the stats, but people don't feel like it because prices are still high despite the buying power of the dollar recovering (inflation was reduced!). People felt that because corporations kept prices at pre-inflation reduction levels. Harris briefly flirted with price capping, which would be the exact sort of populist policy that directly addresses people's fears/insecurities and breaks from the status quo that could excite a mythical "Harris base" that maybe existed for 2 weeks.

It's the same with immigration. Trump created a "big lie" about the border being in crisis, and played on the truly hurting average middle-American's insecurities. You have a population that is hurting for corporate consolidation destroying small local business, that has been devastated by opioids, and is seeing the towns and culture they grew up with decay and seemingly leave them behind. Are Trump's policies going to uplift them? Hell no! Does he talk to specifically them all and directly address their insecurities though? Absolutely. In stead of addressing these people (these are the ones on the red arrow map that's been going around), she accepted the lie about immigrants and rejected making any radical policy change from the system that threw middle America under the bus.

I should say I am literally living in a small rural city in a deep-red state, so I know what they're saying. These people aren't necessarily bigots. Some are, but I think most think they aren't. I think anyone can be prone to getting caught up in a hate movement if the right buttons are pressed, and Trump deftly presses those buttons. What needed to happen was pressing the right buttons to address their insecurities and fears that doesn't rely on hate and scapegoating. This is what I think Bernie Sanders does well in general polls, but there's too much movement within the Dems to preserve the liberal status quo. That needs to change or, the Dems die. LIBERALISM IS DEAD. We address the fears that made people Trump voters, or democracy dies! Here are 2.5 other smaller reasons: 3. Sexism, Racism, and Religiosity. I will not deny that these do play a part in certain parts of the electorate. However, I don't think they're insurmountable hurdles in a general election. I think Obama's campaign is proof of this. But we shouldn't deny that there are a significant portion that wouldn't vote for Kamala for purely bigotry reasons. Hell, I know some personally. But I do think it is a mistake to blame these for our failures. WE LEARN NOTHING OTHERWISE! 4. Believe it or not, but there's just a lot of people out there that just don't care or avoid politics all together. These people aren't bad or deficient, but they just don't include thinking about politics constantly as a part of their lives. They think about the election for a few days, and then get on with their lives for 4 years and tune out everything. Generally, these people are privileged, though there's also some that have been so hurt by our system and policies, that they tune out in pure nihilism about it all. These people vote on vibes, they vote based on what those they care about support, and many just sit out the whole thing. Voter apathy is definitely a thing, and it hurst especially the left imo. I do believe the majority of people would loath Trump's policies if they actually knew what they entailed, so this apathy only takes away from the left. 5. Kamala did NOT lose due to the Gaza protest. She might have lost a bit of support by not being an empathetic foil to Trump's "glass the whole strip" rhetoric, but I don't think it made a significant difference. And I'm gonna be real with y'all; Tumblr is mostly full of it if they think they can accomplish anything with a protest vote for Gaza. I learned this in 2016. That action won't do anything, and it's too risky when a literal fascist is on the other side of the ballot. Yes, I hate that Kamala did not oppose the current Biden policy of letting genocide happen, but Jill Stein/no vote can't pressure these people in the establishment without hurting their campaign financing. The votes are in, and 3rd party votes would not have saved Kamala.

2. What happens now? What is a 2nd Trump admin like?Maybe this is a bit of copium, but I do think that Trump will still be overall very incompetent and unable to enact the worst of his policies. Terrible things will still happen (and I'll get to that later), but I think some of the catastrophizing is a bit overblown. Let's take the mass deportation policy for example. This would be a horrible campaign on the level of the worst historical genocides. He would need to create an ICE apparatus so large that it would rival the fucking gestapo. Just think of all the agents and infrastructure that would need to be developed to round up ~20million people and transport them to the border and detention facilities. There's no practical way to deport that many people. The logical end point is concentration camps. Yes, we have them already to an extent (I mean the euphemistically named "immigrant detention facilities"), but we don't have anything that could handle "mass deportation." Building the facilities, hiring the agents, buying the buses and trains, and executing the warrants all takes a lot of time and money. None of this goes unnoticed, and it won't go without resistance today. Congress still controls the purse, despite what the supreme court says about Trump's immunity to do whatever he wants. SCOTUS said he can't be prosecuted for committing a crime, not that he can break a constitutional rule. The margins are too thin in the new congress, and I genuinely do not think that he has the political tact to navigate around how much resistance he'll get. My main evidence for this is the border wall. He had all the support he needed within congress and his base to try to "build that wall." The GOP even controlled both branches of congress, and shutdown the government multiple times to try to get his way. They had a majority in the house his first 2 years. It meant nothing! He got a regressive tax cut passed, and that's about it. I know there's a lot of bullshit he can pull to push terrible things through, and he'll have ghoulish cronies that will be the actual brains behind things, but honestly, they're dumb as shit too. They're too evil for their own good. They will eat themselves alive through infighting and liberal resistance before they can start a genocidal campaign on American soil. That's not to say there will be some horrible things. Here's what I do think he'll be able to do: - Ban abortion nationwide either through the Comstock Act or SCOTUS. - Completely fuck up half of our federal institutions that keep us informed and safe (ie. dismantling or gutting of Dept. of Education, EPA, FTC, NSA, HHS, and more). - Allow for more religious integration into our public institutions like schools - Essentially turn our government into an oligarchy (or more of one than it already is) - Reverse gay marriage rights (overturning obergefell) and restricting the rights of LGBTQ+ in the public sector overall. - Exacerbate the Gaza genocide - Let Putin have his way with Ukraine - Royally fuck up the economy with Tariffs - Probably get us into some kind of overseas war - If he survives to the end of his term, I do think that our democracy will be incredibly fucked. Like, I think they'll be able to push through so many bullshit rules that we won't be able to come back unless an actual leftist populist makes huge rounds.

Overall, it's gonna suck, especially if you're LGBT in a red state. I think he'll also continue targeting undocumented migrants, but I doubt he'll be able to put together the infrastructure to genocide them. Yes, Hitler and his regime were incompetent too, but it was really the enabling act post-Reichstag fire that allowed for him to start pushing the policies that would become the holocaust. It was only at that point that he had no more resistance, and could order whatever he wants. We're definite not there yet with Trump.

3. What do we (the left) do now?Honestly, just stay vigilant, be active within your community, make connections (even with Trump voters), and don't give in to the despair. Once you're hopeless, it will only make it easier for them to keep winning. We fight against the fascists until the bitter end. The only endpoint of fascism is self destruction. I am a leftist, but I am not a revolutionary. I think armed action rarely leads to good outcomes, and history shows that. However, if we get a Reichstag fire moment or an enabling act moment, that's not the point to lose hope. If people start turning their neighbors into the gestapo-fied ICE, that's not the point to hide. These represent the time where politics should be abandoned, and an actual violent fight for freedom and liberty should begin. I pray we never come to that point. Hopefully, these next four years will look like a continuation of 2016-2020. We'll have a slow degrading of our rights, but if too many of those we all care about are hurt, we can come together and help to reverse it. I know things are super polarized and we all have our own little bubbles in society, but there comes a breaking point where too many people are hurt, and even the biggest MAGA head will have someone they deeply care about that is very hurt by Trump. This is my hope, though it unfortunately relies on things getting worse first before becoming better. 

[spicyclover]

Injured

Summary: Lance got hurt but is desperate to compete in the Bahrain Grand Prix. You strongly disagree and see that he’s struggling to recover.

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

“The year is starting well,” you think, slamming your apartment door. Despite his injury, Lance has decided to go for the grand prize, which severely handicaps him. You’ve spent a hell of a week between the hospital, the endless rehab sessions to get him over the edge so he can recover as soon as possible, and your crappy week at work. Got to say, arriving Sunday when he told you he was leaving for the grand prize, you got upset.

That’s why a big fight broke out, and he left the apartment with his suitcase and without a look, without a kiss, nothing. You can’t believe he will endanger his life or someone else’s to just drive a car. You like Formula One, but there are limits. He’s been unable to eat alone for a week. And now, he wants to race around a circuit for 57 laps. “Unbelievable!” Injuries do not heal in a day.

It pains you that he’s gone mad at you, and you're mad at him. Yet your ego is too strong for you to take the first step this time. You want to prove your point. His assistant wrote you when they arrived in Bahrain. 

You’re relieved to know he’s safe, but nipple as you are, you didn’t answer anything. Leaving a sight to his assistant, knowing full well that Lance asked him to do it. Still, he knows you won’t sleep unless he tells you he’s safe and on dry land. 

Wednesday arrives, and you are already exhausted. You no longer sleep, and your days at work are a nightmare. You’re in a terrible mood, with dark circles as big as the moon and eyes as red as a tomato.

You turn on the TV to watch the first days of media and see that Lance is just as tired as you. Tears are returning for the hundredth time today, and you can’t take it anymore. You begin to search for your favourite hoodie. It was one Lance offered you for your birthday with written in big “Mrs.Strulovitch.” Really cheesy, but you love it and wear it whenever you need comfort.

But you look everywhere, and it is nowhere to be found. You pick up your phone and click on Lance’s conversation to ask him where he is, but you hold back. You sigh loudly when you throw your cell out of your reach. You have only one desire, and it is that he speaks to you. Just a sign from him.

Thursday’s no better. You’re not even going to work because you don’t have the energy to do anything. You’re wondering how long Lance will last without talking to you, and you’re almost on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

You’ll only know how he’s doing through Aston Martin’s Instagram account. “It’s still serious that we got here.” You reload the page of your phone every thirty seconds hoping to get images of Lances that reach you. Free practices 1 and 2 have passed, and the car is at the front of the grid, which is incredible. Alonso does an exceptional job, but all you notice is that Lance has trouble with his hands. Being unable to hold his wheel correctly, in turn, is the worst.

At the end of his day, you finally decide to write to him. You ask him how he is and if his injury doesn’t hurt too much. You hesitate to tell him you miss him, but you do it anyway. After all, you’re taking the first step.

You’ve been waiting all day for an answer, but nothing. It’s Friday morning, and you pack up to join him in Bahrain. You take the first flight available. The whole flight, all you did was bite your fingernails at why he didn’t answer you and didn’t take the first step. “Does he still love me? Does he have anyone else?” This trip is torture. You only have one hurry to get here as soon as possible and clear things up with Lance.

You jump into a taxi and order him to take you to the circuit. You get the pass, which his assistant sent you the week before. You walk through the hospitals with determination, ignoring everyone who gets in your way. You trace to the green building.

You come in like a fury and head straight for Lance’s room. Nobody stops you, but they all know who you are. You open the door with a bang, but Lance is not there. You come back, look in the common air for a familiar face, and see his coach.

“Where is he?”

“Hello to you too, yes I’m fine and you?”

“I don’t have time for this,” you say, apologizing quickly.”Where is the idiot that happens to be my boyfriend?”

“He’s in the garage with the mechanics.” He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Thank you.” You head out. 

“Y/n?” Yell his coach once again. You face him. “I don’t know what happened between you, but please, please, make him nicer.” 

You nod, and you go out. You get to the garage and see him in the distance. He talks to his team. All the anger you have accumulated since the beginning of the day fades away, and you look softer. You step towards him lightly.

You wait for him to finish talking and turn around so you can do the first thing that goes through your head. You slap him before kissing him in the mouth. All your frustration evaporates for real, and you slowly back away. Lance is shocked. Actually, you think he doesn’t even know it was you. 

He blinks several times, making big eyes.

“I hate being in a fight with you!”

“Y/n.”

“Like you didn’t even respond to my message last night! I was worried sick.”

“Y/n.”

“I know I was harsh on you, but you’re in pain, and I don’t want to see you like this.”

“Y/n.”

“I love you, okay? I don’t want my husband to injure himself more because of his stubbornness. I know I’m selfish when I ask you not to go, but something, Lance, you don’t always have to go.”

“Y/n.” He stroked your cheek softly. 

“I haven’t slept in five days. I just want to sleep, and I want to cuddle with you.” You take his hand and kiss his band-aid.

“Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.”

“What?”

“Stop talking, he says, kissing you with passion. “I love you, but sometimes you speak too much” He chuckles, taking you to his driver's room. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond to you, but I could use my hands yesterday. I know I’m hurt, but we have a great car this year, and I can’t not be here.”

You sigh but embrace him. You’re happy to finally be in his arms and that he’s okay-ish. You don’t want him to compete, but he’ll do it anyway. 

“I don’t want us to fight like this anymore.”

“Me too. I love you, Y/n.” 

[lovethetasteofnothing]

good parenting, bad timing | ghostsoap

silly feverish brain writes silly fluffy scenarios..

part 1 | part 2

singleparent!soap who's bringing his daughter on her first day at a new school. she clearly isn't happy with the fact that she had to move again and she's complaining about how much she doesn't like ("hate is a very strong word my wee angel, yee should use it wise-like") her daddy's job. a sweet frown on her face as he tries to coax her into going into the school by herself because he's already running late.

but he can't help giving in when he sees the tears filling up her big puppy eyes, his arms wrapping around her and squeezing her as if to remind her he'll always be there for her. she was so different, yet so similar to him in so many ways, but the way she was so shy to warm up to people and make new friends was really the biggest discrepancy between the two of them.

so that's how singleparent!soap ended up late for work, choosing to be a good dad and help his little girl navigate the school until she reached her class. he knew how hard it was for her to constantly adapt to the change in environment, moving around or being left in someone's care while he went away, no promise was made that he'd return to her. and to be honest, it hurt his soul to see her suffering so deeply while he served for something he believed in.

and it broke his ego a little when he noticed his new team just staring at him when he showed up 10 minutes late, a specifically loud scoff accompanied by bitter words throwing him off for the rest of the day.

"so we're taking anyone in now, is it?" more of a mock than a remark. singleparent!ghost knew he was being a prick right now but after sleeping for barely a few hours last night he could care less if the new sergeant felt welcome or not.

besides the draining insomnia and the terrifying nightmares he suffered if he managed to sleep, he also had a little scoundrel to take care of. she resembled her pop, of course she did, but he knew deep down that she was so much more of a people-person than he was and would ever be. so when he woke up startled by his daughter's hand gently shaking him awake, he knew he had his fill of sleep for the night.

he had to pull her up and sit her down on his bed, wiping away crocodile tears from her blue eyes as she started talking about her nightmare and then drifted away to easy conversation about her day at school, the details she missed and whatever else she had found interesting that day. Simon couldn't complain, knowing that his daughter trusted, even loved him enough to share all of these things with him.

singleparent!ghost who wrapped her in a comfortable embrace, stroking her hair and nodding along to her story as he felt her drifting off to sleep. he knew he was too awake now to get any more winks of rest so he just spent the rest of the night holding his precious daughter, making sure she wouldn't get another nightmare like her daddy did.

he had promised himself to offer her a (great) childhood, something he had been robbed of and would never experience again. a thorn in his side whenever he thought about his life.

so when her mom left two years ago and simon was faced with the cold hard fact that he had to do everything by himself from now on, he felt like the world was falling apart. besides losing a lover he had put so much trust in, he had lost an important piece of his kid's life. for weeks he'd blame himself and think about the worst case scenario ,about his little princess growing up despising him for making her mom leave.

he had recovered, partially at least. he still blamed himself for the entirety of the fiasco. maybe he should have been a better boyfriend, proposed sooner, asked to be serious after they had had a kid. but he knew commitment meant inevitably losing someone and he wasn't ready to put it down on a piece of paper. to him it felt like signing a contract with the devil, knowing that the end goal was your own personal suffering.

but now he didn't have time to think about home or his ex, not when there was so much to do and so little time before he had to run and pick up his girl, bring her home and continue his tasks.

"get a clock next time, Sergeant. nobody likes a tardy soldier" he didn't know what had gotten into him... he was being oddly rude even for his usual self. Simon blamed it on the two hours of sleep.

even though the day went well and nobody had managed to piss him off except for the unhappy Sgt, he found himself constantly pestering the new man, a few snarky comments unintentionally leaving his mouth throughout the day. there was something about him that unsettled simon.

singleparent!ghost didn't have time for this though as he went to pick up his girl. the happiest man on earth when she ran and jumped in his arms. he wasn't wearing that scary mask anymore, his daughter and her friends didn't like it; or the balaclava because his girl always complained that she couldn't see any of daddy's face and it made her sad.

so he had to compromise and wear a simple black mask instead, still keeping part of his identity concealed.

but today she wasn't alone, no. it wasn't unusual for her to bring a friend over and ask if they could hang out but he wasn't familiar with the girl from today, he hadn't seen her before.

"daddy! daddy! can Blair come and play with me this week? please daddy, please?" his daughter always spoke so quickly, so enthusiastic about the topic at hand that it was hard to understand her sometimes. it was moments like these when he remembered that she was only partially like him, the chaotic and sweet side of her behavior coming from her now absent mother.

"we'll need to talk to her parents, won't we, princess?" he agreed with her softly, kneeling down and introducing himself to the new little girl. she seemed shy to say the least, her demeanor was neutral, almost a frown, even though her tone was so gentle and she had attempted to give him an awkward smile while talking. how come his daughter always found a new type of personality to attach her own to?

"Blair, pet, ah told ye to wait by the front gate. Ye got me all worried-" Soap was trying so hard not to let the shock show through on his face.

he hadn't recognized him at first, not when he saw just part of his face covered by a black mask, but his uniform was a dead giveaway, there was no way he could mistake him. did that fucking lieutenant have to show up here too?

"late again, Sergeant?"

this is the fanart that inspired the brainrot <3

creds divider: @/cafekitsune

[liberalsarecool]

Billionaires reimagined by AI in an alternative universe if they were born without rich parents, didn't receive billions in government handouts, and didn't have thousands of employees creating value they siphon away and rebrand as their 'personal net wealth'.

1. Donny Chumpf: Evaded taxes but didn't get away with it because he's working class, resulting in a criminal record which prevented him from obtaining another job. Chumpf spent more than half his life in prison.

2. Schemelong Musk: Musk's father was a miner but he didn't mine emeralds in Africa, but rather coal in West Virginia. After losing his mother at an early age to prescription opioids, Musk never regained focus or was able to obtain legitimate work. He spends his days roaming the streets loudly ranting to himself about space travel, underground tunnels, and magical coins with dogs imprinted on them that will replace the US dollar and global currencies.

3. Shill Tate: Had a good longterm job at a factory that makes chips for personal computers, but executives made the decision to relocate the plant to China so they could boost their bonuses. He and most of his community were never able to recover despite great efforts.

4. Jep Bozo: An enterprising and hardworking boy, Bozo got his first formal job at 15-years-old at the local warehouse for a global corporation. Despite working 60 hours a week for 20 years in backbreaking labor, Bozo never escaped poverty. He was injured on the job and without adequate medical or leave benefits, was told not to return.

5. Mac Chucklef*ck: Since youth, Mac had a lot of promise and was even accepted into Stanford University. Then Mac got in trouble for using the school's resources to bootstrap a private tech company which kept a database of images of female students without their consent. He was booted from the school, and without a college degree couldn't find good work and turned to a series of unsuccessful side hustles to make a living.

#InheritedWealth #TaxTheRich

[ell-arts]

Just some talking

Not quite a life update, but not quite an activity post either lol, just a plain post about some general things I guess?

I've slowed down quite a bit on content and activity on here. Ever since graduating and moving back in with my parents, I've been hit with art-lethargy and burnout fully settled in, and so I just kinda allowed myself to be stagnant for a while, recovering from the harrowing year that was 2023. It's been helpful. Of course, I couldn't rest for too long because I had to finalise my portfolio/CV and prepare for the working world. Good news is that starting today I'm working on a concept art/storyboard internship for an animation company for two weeks. I don't know if I'll stick with them after the internship ends, but I do have my eye on some other job offerings. We'll see.

I also just realised that 13 Jan was the 1-year anniversary of me returning to being active on Tumblr again. Since then, I believe I've made more content for PMATGA than ever before, and its all thanks to your support! Hoping for another year of PMATGA fanworks.

That being said, I want to get to the main point of this post. In the next few days (weeks?) I won't be talkative or very active for a bit.

If I may be honest, there's been a heck of a thing going on with my family and in my personal life right now. It's sucking at all of my energy and driving me to the point of having an anxious/depressive episode. Outside of work, I really don't have the motivation or will to work on any content at this point in time.

I've been trying to at least do small bits of writing, hoping to get a few fun drabbles out. But they're uninspired and being done haphazardly, because of emotional lethargy and feeling drained regarding irl drama. I am still barely recovering from last year's burnout from uni. So I'm not going to force it. My drive will come back in time, I just need time to readjust to a new work schedule and deal with personal issues first.

I know that Call Me Cyli is much anticipated. I know that The Veil has now gone precisely a full year without an update, equally as anticipated, if not more. I know how much you guys love these stories.

I am not giving up on them. I just need some time.

Hopefully, after I've landed a permanent job somewhere, I'll be able to have a bit more stability in my time and schedule.

Thank you all so much for being so kind and supportive during my first year back on Tumblr 💙 I'll see you when I see you :)

[late-to-the-party-81]

The Look - Chapter One

AN: Welcome all to my first entry for Hot Bucky Summer. I’m picking up where I left of last year, with a return to Bucky and Joaquín from You bring me closer to God @kingofsorrow20 jumped at the chance to beta this, so gets all my thanks.

Buckyquín sluts - Assemble!

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list | HBS Master list

Summary: Now that Bucky and Joaquín are proper boyfriends and not secret FWB, they don’t have to sneak around and have sex in out of the way, but semi-public spaces. However, when Joaquín voices that he misses that aspect and comes up with a solution, Bucky finds that he can’t keep his hands off his baby, just thinking about it.

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Joaquín Torres

Word Count: 2k

CW: Mean Dom Bucky Barnes, Sweet Sub Joaquín Torres, Domesticity, Developing relationship, Discussions of exhibitionism, exploring fantasies, Bucky’s dirty talk, Joaquín’s oral fixation, hand job, cum eating, cum as lube, spit as lube, masturbation, facials, dacryphilia, Bucky obsessed with how pretty Joaquín is, dirty pictures, aftercare

Bingos and Challenges: HBS - Week 1 - “Louder, let everyone hear you”/ Screaming or Noisy sex/ Gangbang/ Exhibitionism.

Every so often it really hit Bucky about how much things had changed since he and Joaquín had actually started communicating. Take the present situation, for instance. They were in his Brooklyn apartment, having gotten home from a mission just as the rest of the world was starting its day. After the debrief at the compound, they could have gone to their shared quarters onsite to recover, but together had decided it was worth staying awake a little longer to have the relative privacy later. Admittedly, Quín had dozed - complete with drool - while Bucky had driven, but once they’d gotten to his apartment they’d collapsed into bed and slept for seven hours. They both woke up mid afternoon and, still feeling exhausted, settled down with takeout on the sofa, while RuPaul’s Drag Race played in the background. The show in question was Quín’s guilty pleasure and Bucky found it cute whenever his boyfriend started shouting at the TV. Three months ago, such a scenario wouldn’t have even been on Bucky’s radar as something he might want, but now he’d realised all of the ‘boyfriend stuff’ he’d been missing out on, he couldn’t wait to catch up with it. 

Speaking of cute, despite the fact that Quín had moved in a stash of his belongings, - the look on his face when Bucky had cleared a drawer for him was priceless - he was still cosied up in a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants and one of his large hoodies. And although Quín wasn’t skinny - far from it - when the young army lieutenant put on his clothes it high-lighted just how much broader - thicker - Bucky was. Looking at him, Bucky couldn’t help but lick his lips.

The thing that had really surprised him though, was how much better the sex had gotten. Before ‘the talk’ they’d only ever fucked like animals - rough and dirty - and while they did still do that - boy, did they do that - they now also made love. There was something about teasing Joaquín softly - slowly -, until he cried those pretty tears, that turned Bucky even more feral. And Quín, the beautiful boy he was, would cry out about how much he loved Bucky, never once getting frustrated that Bucky hadn’t yet said it back.

On that note, Bucky knew that he cared deeply for Quín - had done for a while, even before he could admit it to himself - but those three words? He wanted to say them, he really did, but he also wanted to be sure he actually meant them and it wasn’t just lip service. There were days however, when Sam would catch him watching his boyfriend and roll his eyes and tell him to stop making goo-goo eyes at his protege in public. Moments like that made Bucky smile, and he was smiling a lot more these days. 

“Bucky?” Quín’s soft voice, complete with a note of worry? - concern? - embarrassment? - pulled him from his reverie. 

Bucky shuffled across the sofa and wrapped his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, drawing him close with a kiss to the top of his head. “What is it, baby? Got something on your mind?”

Quín squirmed a little and picked at some fluff stuck to his thigh. Bucky waited, giving him the time and space to voice whatever it was that seemed to have him a little twisted up. “You know how before,” he eventually started, “we were always… you know…”

”Fucking?” Bucky supplied, with an arched brow and a quirk to his lips.

”Yeah,” Joaquín confirmed, with his own small smile. “How we were always fucking in not so private spaces?”

The memories of trysts in store cupboards and dark corners of the quinjet jumped to the forefront of Bucky’s mind and made his dick twitch in his pants.

”Well, I was thinking that that wasn’t necessarily something we had to stop, just because we aren’t having to keep it secret any more.” Quín looked at Bucky with a sideways glance, obviously trying to check his reaction.

”You wanna go back to sucking my dick in janitors closets?” Bucky tried desperately to bury his amusement - this was obviously something that Quín wanted to discuss, and he owed it to him to take it seriously.

”No, not that,” came the tentative reply. “I was kinda thinking about… in front of other people. In a place where that sort of thing is acceptable. Like a kink club.”

”Oh,”said Bucky, glitching slightly as he tried to process his boyfriend’s request. “You want to be put on display in front of other people and let them see you?”

Quín bit down on his lower lip, stifling a moan, and a grin broke out across Bucky’s face. “Oh, sweetheart, my little exhibitionist slut, you want it so bad don’t you?” He dropped his head and nosed along Quín’s throat, feeling the fluttering of his heartbeat. In an instant, he turned his lover and pressed him back onto the sofa, looming over him. A pathetic, needy whimper left Quín’s lips.

”Would you want them to see how sweetly submissive you are? Let them see how you’ll do anything I tell you? Imagine me making you kneel, and spanking that perfect peach of an ass until it was throbbing in time with your cock? You’d have to count for me, and be loud. I’d want everyone to hear you, so they’d know exactly who was in charge of you. I wonder what else I could do to you?”

“Anything,” Joaquín whispered breathily as he rolled his hips under Bucky’s larger frame, getting lost in the fantasy. “I’d let you do anything.”

Bucky slid his right hand down between them, cupping the bulge in Quín’s - his - sweatpants and his slutty baby gasped at the harsher than necessary pressure. “You’re being very needy, sweetheart. What if I left you like this, all wanting, until I got round to arranging it? It could be next week - it could be a month.” Quín’s eyes fluttered closed and his hips rolled again, likely unconsciously this time. “You’d do it though, if I told you to, wouldn’t you?” Bucky continued. “You’d hate it, not coming, not having my touch, but you’d do it all the same. To be a good boy.”

“Yesss.”

Bucky let go of Quín’s crotch and trailed his hand up his boyfriend’s toned body, sliding it under the hoodie and tee shirt underneath, to tweak at his left nipple. With a gasp, Quín’s eyes shot open again, his body acting as though it had been shocked with electricity. Bucky pinched him again. Harder. Crueller. He could see Joaquín’s eyes start to water, but he didn’t safeword. His baby loved this type of treatment. With the thumb of his left hand, Bucky swiped at an errant tear that had broken free and started to trail down quín’s cheek.

“You gonna cry those pretty tears for me? Pretty tears on a pretty boy?”

The question was entirely rhetorical. Bucky didn’t even give Quín the chance to respond as his left hand then slid further down his sub’s face, and Quín’s lips immediately parted to accept two of Bucky’s fingers into his mouth. His boy immediately began to suck on the metallic digits and Bucky returned his right hand to Quín’s crotch, this time moving it under the sweats and underpants to circle his stiff cock. Joaquín let out a garbled moan and his hips thrust upwards.

“Greedy baby,” Bucky cooed, voice full of condescension. “Fucking my hand and sucking my fingers. How naughty. If you’re like this with just me touching you, imagine if I let other people play with you. How many do you think you could manage? How many loads of cum? Splattering these pretty lips, all over your tits.” He smirked as Quín whined at his words “I don’t think I’d let them have your ass though,” he mused. “That’s all mine.” Quín nodded in agreement around the fingers in his mouth.

Bucky continued his onslaught, his right hand jerking Quín’s cock methodically with a little twist to his wrist that he knew made the younger man see fireworks, and his left hand sawing between Quín’s dusky, puffy lips, pressing down on his tongue and testing his almost non-existent gag reflex. He felt pride well inside him at just how good his boy was being - taking everything he dished out. However, he was also only human, and Bucky knew all his lover’s buttons and how to push them. It wasn’t long before his body started to twitch, pleasure obviously threatening to overwhelm him.

“Open your eyes”, Bucky commanded and the sight of Joaquín’s dark lashes, clumped together with tears, along with the unfocused nature of his gaze almost undid him. “You wanna come, sweetheart?”

Quín let out a loud whine, which Bucky took as a yes. “Such a good boy, waiting for permission. And if I said no, could you hold off?” He knew he was being cruel as his hand continued to move, because he was making Quín wait, just not obviously. Another garbled whine and an accompanying nod, let Bucky know he had his boyfriend just where he wanted him.

“Such a good boy,” he purred. “You can come then. Show me how pretty you are.” He pulled his fingers from Quín’s mouth just so those wonderful noises wouldn’t be muffled. He hadn’t lied before - he loved it when Quín was loud in his pleasure, and he didn’t disappoint. As he came he shouted and garbled in both Spanish and English, his abs tensing and cock spurting out thick white ropes over the sweatpants that Bucky had only pulled down enough to give him access, as well as Bucky’s fingers.

Bucky looked down at his boyfriend - cheeks flushed, brow sweaty, looking totally fucked out - and he sucked his fingers, enjoying the salty, musky taste. His own cock twitched in his pants, refusing to be ignored any longer. He changed his position from kneeling between Quín’s legs to straddling his waist, and pulled his dick from his own sweats. “Just lay there for me, baby,” he commanded and Quín smiled lazily back at him.” Bucky began to strip his cock, his hand flying up and down its length, eased by the mess of saliva and cum still covering his fingers.

“God! Such a beautiful, submissive slut, and you’re all mine, aren’t you? Can’t wait to show you off. Let everyone else see what they’re missing out on.” He could feel his orgasm building in his gut, his balls twitching and drawing closer to his body. “Open your mouth for me, sweetheart. Stick that tongue all the way out.” Once again, Quín obeyed him, and with a loud groan, Bucky let his orgasm flow through him and he pumped his cum into Quín’s waiting mouth and over his lips. “Hold it, baby. Don’t swallow yet.” He dug into his pocket with his left hand, clumsily opening the camera and aiming it to take in Quín’s completely fucked out state with his eyes closed in a state of bliss and face painted with Bucky’s spend. With the moment immortalised, he let Quín know he could swallow it all down, and felt another jolt of lust when his boyfriend's tongue came back out to reach the cum that had missed his mouth. He couldn’t help but swipe at the remaining globs with his thumb and press it between Quín’s lips, making sure he got all of it

“How are you so perfect?” Bucky questioned, voice full of wonder, as he clambered off the sofa and scooped Joaquín up in his arms. “Now, let’s go have a bath and get you cleaned up, and then in a bit we can talk properly about this club idea of yours.”

Chapter 2

Tag list: @christywrites, @doasyoudesireandlive, @endlesstwanted

[doveshovel]

can we get more Hunter lore? 👉👈 niche little blorbo

!! Can't believe my little guy has gained niche blorbo status. I am honored, thank you anon <3

Feels it's important to mention that I'm not a very good writer, and Hunter's entire deal is essentially just me trying to make a character whose backstory is wildly out of place in the girl power sparkly horsie game but still sort of works with the cannon actions of the player character. This is just a hastily thrown together summary of how he winds up in Jorvik. That said, of course you can get more Hunter lore! :^D Sorry this took so long but I had to do some art to go with it :'))

Everything's tucked below since there ended up being a lot more than expected :') I think it's all fairly mild but

Content Warnings: Image 1: Some mild blood

Image 2: (dressed) head injury

Hunter's pre-jorvik summary contains: patricide, improper body disposal, vehicle theft (x5), unlawful operation of motor vehicles, crossing state lines with stolen property, trespassing, breaking and entering, evading arrest, speeding, and other minor crimes. Also some mention of drowning, concussion, and brain damage.

When an attempt to slip away from his childhood home in the dead of night goes awry, Hunter accidentally hits and subsequently kills his father with a stolen car, then does some sloppy short-notice body disposal. It's nowhere near enough to make sure he's not a suspect, but it does ensure that the body isn't found for another week (until the neighbors come by to ask why his father wasn't at church, only to find that the front door's been left wide open and a small family of raccoons have made their home in the kitchen). He makes his way from his old house in rural North Carolina (U.S.) northwards through eight states under cover of night, switching cars three times along the way (once in Virginia, once in Pennsylvania, and again in New Jersey) until he arrives at the coast of Massachusetts.

^Hunter, age 19, 5 hours after hiding the body of his father

It's here that (not knowing shit about sailing, boats, or oceanic navigation) he chooses an old pontoon in a private dock to hotwire and sail across the Atlantic with the hope of evading prosecution. Three days into the so-far shockingly successful voyage, rough seas capsize his little vessel, leaving Hunter stranded half-conscious and about two-thirds drowned on some debris until the North Atlantic Current carries him into Jorvegian fishing territory. Five days after accidentally murdering his father, he's spotted drifting on some debris by the crew of a Jorvik fishing vessel and brought back to Cape West where he gets some bearings and starts life anew. :^)

The little pontoon isn't so lucky, and its remains wash up along the coast of Maine nearly three weeks later. By then, it's been connected to Hunter's murder + string of vehicle thefts, and he's presumed to have died at sea in an unsuccessful getaway. In some ways, he did.

Most memories of life before the storm have been wiped clear from his brain, and what little that returns in brief flashes is usually just as quickly forgotten again. Some foggy details of events in early childhood remain, but his entire personality is altered by damage and Hunter becomes someone else entirely, often feeling that he's living in a borrowed body.

^old doodle of Hunter, age 19, a week after landing in Cape West

Hunter spends about two weeks recovering from a concussion and anoxic brain damage at the fishing club's Cape West bunkhouse before he's well enough to start learning the ropes and work doing some slightly less intensive odd-jobs around the village (fixing nets, processing fish, delivering mail, a little stablehand work at Goldenleaf, etc.). He attends a riding camp in Moorland towards the end of his first year in Jorvik at the suggestion of Mr.Trout, who believes it'll be a good way to get some better ideas of what the horse-loving isle of Jorvik has to offer and find some sense of self beyond Goldenhills Valley.

From here, its essentially the main storyline with some minor changes and seasonings thrown in :^)

[simplywghost]

He's just a ghost (part 1?)

After Johnny's death everything changed within you, around you and even in the world, nothing looked as colorful anymore, your family was not as happy and everyone felt the absence of your brother.

Time went on slowly, every week felt like hell because how do you really get over a loss? And people were nice, they gave you hugs and words of encouragement that were filled with nothing but good intentions, but you doubted you could ever recover from this, he was your family, your role model and the light of everyone who knew him.

On the other hand, your family and your home was not the only place where absence paid a visit, it also walked through the barracks and his captain's office, it hugged his teammates and although everyone was painfully used to losses... this one was different, it felt more heartbreaking.

Ghost hated to admit it but his mind wandered to memories of his mate, of that accent that he repudiated and now tried to reproduce in his mind, of the jokes that did make people laugh but he never allowed himself to laugh, which felt bad now. He was a nostalgic man, he lived in the past although he did not like to relive those moments.

And he felt alone, maybe that's why he was encouraged to open the letter you sent him under another name with fingers numb from the cold and assumed that the person writing had already sent letters to members of the army, his full name was written next to his unit. He ran his fingers all over the paper that had been crumpled a little from the stack of other letters, it was kind of cliché but it was the best way to communicate when there was no signal.

“I don't really understand how to start a letter, in fact I have never known, even though I have written so many, I didn't study the reason very well either.

Maybe I feel alone, I don't know, what I have known for quite some time is that I am sad and writing makes me forget a little how monotonous and gray my life has become.”

Ghost looked at the window for a moment, his hand reaching for the old wood of the cabin where they spent the night, thinking for a moment that the feelings of the person who wrote to him coincided with his own, his vision was lost for a moment in the darkness and the snow before returning to the letter.

“Is the army as depressing as they say? I can't come to grips with the reality that blood and death is a lifestyle that people choose by choice, it's selfish, your loved ones worry and fear for your well-being while you flee from the tranquility of a comfortable life."

Simon had to stop to chuckle. “I have no loved ones, darling.” He muttered as he shook his head slowly and settled on the floor as best as he could, his back resting against the wood that creaked with every movement and the musty smell was seeping through his mask into his lungs, how was it possible, with so much snow?

“What I want to say is that I don't understand how you can carry the weight of death on your shoulders without it driving you crazy, it's too much and I get exhausted just thinking about it.

Maybe I need help, for you to allow me to see with your eyes to see if I learn to cope with what I feel now.”

He bit his cheek, his eyes lowered to the end of the letter, where there was a mail address just in case he wanted to respond and the initial of a letter that he deduced was random.

Ghost let out a sigh, it was early morning and his eyes hurt, burning from the amount of time he had spent awake, his body was numb from the cold despite all the layers of clothing that covered his skin, however he managed to stand up and lazily look for a piece of paper that was in decent condition to answer.

It didn't matter who he was, what mattered was that he had an address to send the response to and that he too felt the loneliness eating away at his brain like a virus, he felt exhausted and hopeless, Soap's death had been so unexpected... well, like everyone else's, it was part of the job.

There was a piece of paper in one of the kitchen drawers and he grabbed  it along with a pen that looked about to give in, but trying was what he should do and he doubted it, he had not written a letter for a long time and although he did not consider himself a bitter old man, he never had much to say.

“The army is often not only an obligation but also an escape for many who do not find a home in their house, it is sinister at first, I am not going to lie. There are daily situations that make you wonder if you want to continue there and even if you feel like you are made of iron, many things change you forever.

Time gets you a little used to all the mess and you find yourself unable to feel the same level of terror that you felt as a newbie, which is worse because it often led me to wonder what was I becoming.

I could never spend too much time thinking about whether I feel alone or scared, it's probably what caught my attention the most about the job, it doesn't stop for anyone, it doesn't let us stop to think if it's what we want or not".

His hand hurt from writing so fast and he dropped the pen once he finished, it was a little short but he wasn't used to sending letters, he didn’t have a big family, he wasn't a lover, a son, a father, he wasn't anyone, just a ghost.

He walked slowly back to the window and collapsed on the floor, letting out a sigh and feeling the heaviness of fatigue, closing his eyes. He would sleep badly and wake up sore, but that was better than not sleeping.

The next morning they all left the cabin to a place a little fuller of civilization and he was able to send the letter by mail to the address you left him. He didn't know when it would arrive as it was never a quick process, but he found himself longing for the response. It was the only way he had to feel connected to the outside, so he limited himself to asking questions that might make you simply not answer anymore.

And just as Simon imagined, the letter was in your hands fifteen days later, you read it with tears in your eyes because although his personality and Johnny's were not even remotely similar, he reminded you of your brother, because the 141 was part of him and his essence.

That was precisely the reason why you were talking to him through letters, because you needed to feel connected to someone who was no longer there and your only connection right now was Simon, it was strange, not him but this whole situation, you had met Ghost only once and you felt intimidated, his cold gaze under that mask was so hard and emotionless, he really lived up to that nickname, he was like a ghost.

You sighed, sitting on the kitchen chairs and looking out the window, the weather outside was merciless, the snow was destroying everything in its path and you could no longer see the floor, that weather reminded you of your childhood, the layers of thick snow covered the cars and yet the discomfort of humidity was more present than the cold.

You got lost in thought with the letter in hand before looking at it again, praying that this mysterious man would return safely from deployment, you imagined that he, like you, had felt the loss, so now part of you and of your pain was with him.