#also ask had a typo I meant *wouldn't

[cesarescabinet]

No problem! I'm curious to check it out myself--the dub has Christopher Lee as Drosselmeyer, which also tempts me to watch that version as well!

If you're curious about the video essay, I'll drop it here;

Recently watched a video essay about Nutcracker Fantasy (1979), which looks like a weird blend of Rankin-Bass meets 70s Shojo (honestly a pairing I thought would work, but it looks interesting). Wondering if you've seen it before--if you have, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

I've never heard of that before!

I'm going to have to see this! It looks great. I love stuff with this kind of fairy tale vibe and of course, I adore the Rankin-Bass specials, so anything reminiscent of them is going to appeal to me!

Thanks for putting this one on my radar.

[zentraex]

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 

_

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened. 

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 

"The keys?" 

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him. 

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  

What were you going to do now? 

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped. 

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

_

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

_

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

...

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

Shit. 

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol? 

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again. 

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 

You pressed the green button.

_

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

_

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened. 

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

_

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 

But honestly? 

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 

[angelicsjn]

I was the one that submitted the form and it had Hayden as my favourite with the passing comment that I made mad money just so he can have his career.

I know in the Domestic Life ask, he fears settling down due to the fact that he'd need to give up his photography for something more stable. But ha! Sike! His darling makes 6+ figures and is willing to support him fully. The cutie is gonna get the house husband treatment but hey, he gets to pursue photography with a big safety net. If anything, his photography profits is their play money for vacations and getting pampered together.

So, how would Hayden react to that? Would he enjoy it and settle down sooner?

- ✨ Anon

HAYDEN WEST.

A N: I love this so much. When I read your answer, something lit up inside of me. This is so real. Honestly, the dynamic sort of reminds me of Levi and William on tiktok. Their relationship are my actual goals... ps. If you see any typos and mistakes, no, you didn't. Look away, it never existed.

A B O U T: Hayden is apprehensive about settling down, but you have funds to do so. How does he feel about it? Read to find out.

W A R N I N G S: None. Other than Hayden being a sweetheart.

As stated in an old post, Hayden's only setback in settling down is his career path, and he knows that it's not sustainable in the long run.

Hayden isn't the type to sacrifice his passions to make life comfortable; his passions are his life. He would be nothing without them.

But he knows that at some point he will have to decide on what path he will take because he doesn't only have to pay for himself now, he also has you in his life.

But! Maybe there's another solution...?

Hayden's obsession with you grew in a short space of time, he went from watching you; hoping that you'd look his way one day to sleeping in your bed feeling more loved than he has ever been loved before. He takes care of you, you take care of him and even though you don't know about all the things he's done behind the scenes, you know how deeply he loves you. He just has a way of knowing you, understanding you like no other.

One thing that he never found out was how much money you had in your bank. Really, Hayden doesn't care much for that kind of thing. Whilst stalking you, he never pressed much attention into what jobs you did, where your money came from and how much you had; money is just a thing to survive to him. He wanted to know the silly and deep things about you.

He never questioned it either due to the fact that you live humbly — sure, more well off than him, but that wouldn't be hard, Hayden didn't grow up in the best of areas. To him a home cooked meal each day is a privilege and reward, so he knew you were rich in sense of. But not in the way you actually are.

When the conversation of moving in together comes up he sort of freezes. He didn't see how you'd both survive. Besides his general insecurities of you growing out of love for him — he saw how his parents were growing up — he was also shitting bricks over how to get a place and keep it without sacrificing everything and living unhappily.

A huge part of him felt that insecurity riddle it's way into his system over the fact that he, a man, can't provide. That's his job... right? How can he be considered a good man. A good boyfriend. If he can't even look after you?

But you were adamant. You knew he was the one, you've never felt so seen by someone before. He understands you, respects you, loves you for who you are. And that's when the conversation comes up...

"We can do this, Hayden." You said, watching him as his eyes scan across the screen. He was gobsmacked. How the fuck did he miss this? After all that time watching you he missed out the fact that you're loaded, maybe you landed the job yourself. Maybe it's a family thing. Who knows. He didn't know if he was meant to be impressed with you. Or pissed off that you didn't tell him. Or pissed off with himself for missing out such a big detail in your life. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just wanted to be seen for more than what I can offer." You finished, and he understood — not from personal experience. But he got it.

"I know." He mumbled, pushing the laptop away. "I understand, it's okay. I'd have done the same." Hayden meant it, you could tell as he flashed his usual lopsidedely shy smile, his eyes soft and warm. He took your hand and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. "But I want to help out."

You knew how he felt, it was clear as he looked away. He felt small. It wasn't a secret that you lead the relationship, it was natural. The pants fit you better and you both prefer it that way. But you understood how he felt in that moment, what can he give back when he doesn't have much to give.

"Focus on your studies. Continue with your photography and make a business out of it." You said, squeezing his hand in yours. "If you want, you can help out around the house, keep your part time job, I don't know. Anything. It's fine."

Hayden needed some time to think about it, let it roll around in his head until he finally made his decision...

Ultimately, you both knew what would work best. So you tested it out.

Pushing aside his initial insecurities, he realised that the dynamic between you both worked perfectly and if anything you had both never been closer.

Half a year later you're both happy and thriving. The house is beautiful and Hayden even has the space for his own room thats dedicated to his interests and photography, with the saved up money he's gained, thanks to you for being the main provider, he was able to set his business up more professionally and buy better equipment! He's able to turn his dream into a job and he's so grateful and happy for that.

The two of you live happily in your own bubble, Hayden being the homebody that he is, he thrives in his peace and space, even better when you're home with him. He's picked up on new hobbies in the meanwhile, mainly things to make the house a home.

From DIY to crochet, he's making things for the house left right and center and the place feels so cosy and happy.

"I noticed the new pillow covers." You said, something he obviously made, and it looks cute. "Thanks. I'm doing a selection for the different seasons." He shrugged, eating the meal he cooked for you both not long ago.

He cooked you your favourite meal, something he's always cooked for you. You enjoyed it, especially after a hard day at work.

Later that night you would watch movies together in the comfort of your living room, cuddling and eating snacks before accidentally falling asleep.

At first he was hesitant, he didn't want to feel like he wasn't giving you anything back. But in reality he had given you so much more than the both of you realised. Due to you being so busy making the money, he made the house a home and gave you a reason to love going back home to feel loved and secure.

[whoiwanttoday]

Yesterday I did not post. I meant to but it didn't happen because I made my post. I wrote my post. I created said post. Then it sat in drafts. I compose all my posts in drafts because I don't want to accidentally hit post when I am just saving the pictures and making sure it looks good ot me but also because I want to give it a once over. I am dyslexic and what makes it to public consumption is already a typo ridden mess anyway so you should see it before I go through it and realize that words are wrong and sometimes a completely wrong word is there because autocorrect is my nemesis. Anyway, it is the second time I have ever done this, the first was an Emily Ratajkowski post that happened to be on her birthday. That was not why I posted her but I remember that tidbit because I decided to post her and then saw it was her birthday and thought, "Well, what a coincidence I posted her earlier today". I had no posted her earlier that day. It was a Saturday and in this era of my life there was a girl I was into which is the best I can define our relationship because I have a habit of being in that kind of relationship but there was a girl because there is always a girl and we always hung out on Saturdays and it was getting very close to her arriving and I was moving slowly because I was in the middle of getting my own business going and it was a tough road to hoe so what she never knew was I was often up until about 3 or 4 AM doing what I couldn't do during other hours when I was desperately trying to make money so I would see her on almost no sleep, a fact I did not let her know because one I didn't want her to think I was a loser but also she might suggest we not see each other and we were ill defined so I felt any misstep would cost me all of that. Which is dumb because she's gone now and going into anything with that attitude will always doom it but here we are. So I wrote the Emily Ratajkowski post and I thought i posted it but I didn't and I hurried and you know, we had a good evening and I enjoyed it and never once thought about tumblr until the next day. I don't remember anything about that night specifically but I remember that post and missing it. I remember the next day when I realized what happened I posted about it and @thunderstormofoblivion replied with, "Oh no, you've ruined everything". She was joking and teasing me for being dramatic but fuck if that wasn't how I felt. I remember that. I remember missing the post. When I missed this post @femalecelebrityoftheday asked me did I not post yesterday. I realized he was right, Aubrey Plaza was sitting in drafts. He told me today I should write a post about my younger self meeting me and being disappointed in me for botching the post. It was a funny reference sort of to My Old Ass but that wouldn't really happen. Or it might, the me who made this blog might be disappointed in who I am but I don't think it would be about the post. But that is 12 years ago. Older than that though, that me might be surprised I am here. I have a problem where I focus on the negative and when I remember the past it's always the bad things, it's what stands out, everything else fades away but I need to remind myself sometimes that many people, myself included, did not expect me to make it to 30. I was self destructive and the phrase was used that I was "passive aggressively committing suicide". It was a weird thing for my grandparents to write on my birthday card but they weren't wrong. I made it past 30 though.

Which brings me to the point of this post, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Potentially a very rough one this time out. I know they can suck in general. That same 20 year old who one some level wanted to die? Thanksgivings were not fun for that 20 year old because it was full of that 20 year old's abusers and tormentors as well as their enablers. This is, sadly, not something that was unique to my life. Which is why I don't attend those thanksgivings anymore. It's one of the great luxuries of adulthood that I no longer have to do that. I am going to thanksgiving with one elderly relative, my one uncle, and from what I can tell reading between the lines, the 3 different men my uncle is currently sleeping with, which sounds like it could be awkward but last year taught me is somehow not. It's crazy that's the one that's free of drama, not the nuclear family one. Anyway, my point is the holiday is about being thankful, which can be hard when everything feels bad and I am not here to tell you to you're lucky things aren't worse because fuck any person who ever tells you that. I will never take comfort in the fact that somehow it isn't even worse than it is but remember the best victory is surviving past them and the power they hold. It can be tempting to dwell on the fact that you forgot to hit post on a post about Emily Ratajkowski in 2016 but it's better to focus on the fact that you can post her today. Which is what I am doing. Today I want to fuck Emily Ratajkowski.

[scarlettsandmaroons]

slow motion love potion | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter six | chapter seven: full of cages

chapter summary: had she been intentionally haunting you, you wouldn't know. but for someone who doesn't think of you, she's been showing up more and more in your life. she's not just your professor who has it out for you, or the woman who's been haunting your dreams every night, she also live under the same roof as you now.

warnings: slight smut; masturbation, unedited; lots of typos, long.

a/n: oh my god, the last chapter was chaotic T T. i received so many feedbacks (which super super appreciated, thank you) BUT HAD NO ONE REALLY READ THE SERIES SUMMARY? the "plot twist" has been there forever! i've been trying to foreshadow it even though i explicitly wrote the whole gist of it on the summary, but i really thought it was obvious.

"you have to come back."

there were only ever two people who ever dared barge into natasha's office to demand her of something. she'll be damned if her students, knew that they were two freshmen who are barely five months into college. "mr. maximoff, you have to go," she says. removing her hands from the desk, and instead re-aligning the stack of papers she had on top of it as a subtle mark to end the conversation.

"mrs. romanoff," billy sighs.

"it's a little too early for this and you have class. so if you would just—"

billy's shoulders drop. "natasha...,"

"i'm quite busy, mr. maximoff," she insists.

but so did he. "mom..."

she was grabbing everything she could find on her desk, tucking them away, moving them across the table, fixing what hadn't needed fixing; from rearranging her stack of papers by putting a page from the back to the middle, or repetitively opening and closing her drawers for everytime she finds absolutely anything she can stash away.

billy only watched her. when natasha's desk had way more than enough space for her to rest her elbows on, and clasp her hands together against, she sighed almost defeated when she looked at billy.

billy had brown eyes; nothing like the ocean greens of her mother's. he'd gotten that from his father. in fact, billy looked so much like his father. he resembled vision so much that he became her constant reminder that while all of them favored scarlet over maroons, she had green eyes and they didn't. while they always win the argument over what to have for dinner, she was allergic to the tuna wanda puts in her famous maximoff casserole. while they made a hobby of providing food for the homeless, or volunteering in community outreach programs, she used to be a criminal.

while she'd always wanted a family, she also became the permanent line that would forever seperate one in half.

"billy," she says. she didn't know what she was going to say, but billy did.

"you need to come home."

what could she possibly tell a boy who's asking her to come home?

"my mom's crying," he said. "when i come home to pick something up for lunch, or when i'd acidentally left something at home, and i walk through the door, and i hear her, and i see her...," he paused. he swallowed on what almost made him choke. "and she's on her side of the bed, crying over you."

in people's minds, she was mean. sometimes, it amuses her knowing that when she walks inside a classroom, her students would each have a different version of what monster she'd look like if she took off her "disguise". and more times than not, she loves it. she loves that she's feared. she loves that they're so afraid of her, so much that they'd drawn such vivid images of what kind of horns she'd have in their minds.

she should be offended. disheartened. but knowing that she was nothing like the monster people think of her to be, knowing that once, she used to come home to her family; dance, and kiss, and spin, and dip her wife in the entryway; laugh and throw food around during movie nights with the two people who meant the absolute world to her; make sandwiches and play videogames or go to the gym with her son. knowing that she was a lot kinder; that she looks after her best friend's family because he continues to be in a dangerous line of work, that she still helps out her scientist friend with his experiment because only she can bring him out of a jam. it made it all the more special; knowing that she remained unseen. knowing that she was something she had complete control of giving to the very few people she trusted. it made it more intimate.

but in those rare moments when being depicted as such a terrible person didn't come so much with pleasure, she wondered if maybe it's because people misunderstood her. maybe if she smiled more? maybe if she talked slower. maybe if she was softer. maybe if she was gentler. maybe she wouldn't seem so bad.

"billy, this does not concern you," she said, regret immediately dawning on her the moment she saw billy's face contort in disbelief. she cleared her throat. for what has felt to be such a long time, she finally dropped her shoulders. she let herself slouch against the desk, she let her brows raise in comfort, she let a lump pass onto her throat for the sheer hospitality of the terrible feeling it came with. a feeling that she finally welcomed. she let her stoicsm break, and her pride falter. "billy, sweetheart," she says, almost in a pleading whisper. she reached out to him, inviting him to come closer which he did so by disallowing any space to be between him and her desk. then she holds his hands inside hers as he slowly sat down. "whatever happened between me and your mother, whatever will happen to us, you need to know that we love you very much, and that will never change," she says.

he shakes his head. "i'm not twelve anymore, natasha," he says, withrawing his hands from her hold almost abruptly. "i just need to know that my mother will be okay."

she didn't say anything though they both knew she should've. though they were both waiting for her to say something, she didn't.

"you promised me. you promised me that you'd be there. when you married her, you promised me you'd never hurt my mother the way that my father did. you promised you'd never be like him. you promised you were different...," he choked on the lump in his throat. he was spiralling. his sentences slur into a string of words that come out like a gush of waterfall. he was shaking his head, "you promised you'd love me...," he looks at her.

"and i do."

billy was nothing like his mother. maybe that's why they got along so well. the got along the same way natasha did with her; being complete opposites.

billy got most of his father's genes. not just his mannerisms, or his looks. billy was his exact replica. from the way he acts, to the way he brushes his fingers through his hair. billy is calm. he's collected.

billy spiraled the way he did. his anxiety works the same way his father did. how he acted through it, how he choked on his words, how he panics through his sentences,

"no, you don't understand. i need you to come home."

something in her cracked. and she was unaware of everything he said next, though she were sure it was something about his mother, about how she yearned for her. about how he wanted his family back. and the next thing she knew, she was writing a letter to her next door neighbor to look after the place she'd made for herself as she won't be coming back anytime soon. and then someone else was in the room.

she went home that night. because after a long day of answering students who deem it comfortable to barge in on her; billy's friend right after he left, grading papers, teaching, and erasing the life she'd created for herself so she can try to disregard the past few months to sit in their driveway, her new car behind her wife's, unable to fathom her return.

should she come in? if she did, it would be wanda, billy, and her again. it would be the maximoff's and a romanoff. it would be reminders of the family she felt like she broke and stole half of for herself, it would be their memories in what once was the home of vision, and tommy maximoff.

in the house with too many windows and green pannels; a brick porch and a gray roof, was the very home she used to stare at wanda a little too long in; it was the very house wanda would sneak longing touches in, disguised as accidents during friendly game nights.

it was the house she watched billy grow from a tween whose voice was much too high for his age, into a man who knows what he wants, and demands for it.

she spent a lot of her nights, sleeplessly caring for billy when he was sick. she already spent too much time on his projects, she already took him on too many motorcycle rides, she already suffered through too much of him complaining about you. she already spent so much of her time falling in love with billy. he's her son. what kind of mother would abandon her son?

"i missed you so much, mama," he tells her, his face nuzzled in her neck and his arms wrapped tightly around her arms.

her heart melted; its love and warmth swimming through her every vein. she hugged him back. it was like when he used to run out of the school bus to hug her, or when he'd kiss her cheek after she'd come home from work.

she felt at home.

that was until her eyes met with yours—a girl standing just right by the arch into the dining room. and suddenly, she felt like she was back in school.

she sighed, subtly. she can't seem to catch a break from you. and it doesn't do her any good. but she ignored you, still. she passed by you as if you weren't there at all. and the way she so closely ignored your very presence—not in class, not in a lecture hall full of people, but in the walls of her very home, the way her eyes passed through you as if you were some ghost, you shrunk. and you froze. if it weren't for billy who naturally put a hand on your waist to lead you inside following his mother, you would've stayed frozen.

you grabbed billy's arm the moment you snapped out, "billy!" you pulled him into the hallway. "god, oh lord, please explain this to me!"

he was a little agitated, too eager to enter the dining room to speak to the mother he never told you about. nonetheless, after stirring his head back and forth, for a bit, he stood straight and gave you his undivided attention. "what is it, dear?" something in your skin crawled.

"you never told me mrs. romanoff was your mother?!" you exclaimed, your whisper getting louder. "since when was this?!"

"a few years ago?" he said, his palm brushing against the back of his neck.

"a few years ago?!" you repeated, your voice now above a whisper. "how can you not tell me!"

"it never came up!" he returns your energy.

"for god's sake billy, she's the very professor i spend my every day complaining to you about!"

"and i tried telling you she was my mother but you never listened!" he exclaims. neither of you were whispering now. your voices were nothing but a little less than how you'd normally talk. "i thought you knew, it was pretty obvious!"

"boys, what's--" you hear wanda's voice from the dining room. "billy, y/n, what's the noise all about?"

neither of you answered. you were not but a wall apart, yet the silence from the other room made you think they can not hear you too.

"when?!"

"well, just last week you asked where my mother was, and when i asked which one you said, 'mrs. maximoff' so i just thought you knew...," it was the day after you got drunk. you remembered. never had you wanted to scream at yourself for not noticing, for not hearing it. maybe because you were too focused on yourself again to notice anything billy says.

god, if you'd only listened.

if you'd only put anyone above yourself.

"well, i was stressed. i didn't notice...," you defended, a little calmer now in slight defeat.

"any other time, you'd interrupt me."

"what?"

that was actually a slap on the face. a slap that left a, "if you would just take one second to look at anybody else other than yourself, maybe you'd realize" mark on your cheek.

you were certain that he might have told you, tried to at least, and every time you did interrupt him.

"i thought he was just your auntie nat...," you say quietly now, calmly, almost apologetically.

"yes," he says in a mere breath of air. "but i tried telling you she did become my mother after that."

"had you..."

yes. he did. you remembered because you assumed he'll only say that they'd gotten even closer eventually so you interrupted him. you remembered because for a moment you hoped you'd be as close to her as he was, and then you went on theorizing what made her so bad.

he was defending her so often, and you'd assumed it was because mrs. romanoff was wanda's friend. but who would scream like that to his mother's friend? what kind of child would barge into his mother's friend's office. how could you not have noticed?

"where did you two meet?" you ask.

you were looking at neither of them as your eyes were trained to the knife you were cutting through the steak. you didn't really want to look up. you didn't want to see mrs. romanoff and the way she couldn't see you; she didn't want to see you. but you'd grown tired of hearing billy's never-ending stories to catch his mother up. you didn't care how they met. you just couldn't stand the stolen glances, and the silent chewing between mrs. romanoff, and mrs. maximoff. the tension, you could cut through with a knife but billy couldn't tell. her never could.

"through a friend..." they say in synch, pausing upon the realization to look at each other for a little before looking back down.

you caught a glimpse of that simple interaction and thought it be best if you just let billy speak. you couldn't see something like that again. that simple strained interaction was enough to make your teeth hurt.

you made sure to keep your eyes on your plate too. the shrinking feeling of being unseen by mrs. romanoff when you're right in front of her, not because she chooses not to but because you hold zero value to her life that she can't actually see you, to see that is unheartly. she wasn't just your professor anymore, she's your boyfriend's mother who you're beginning to assume is moving back into the home you just moved into. even in her home, she couldn't look at you as if your of no worth.

you can't forget now, she's your professor, and your boyfriend's mother.

even when your skin burns from the imagery of her hands on you in your dreams, she's still your professor.

even when you pulse, and ache, in want and need at night, resist, she's your boyfriend's mother.

even when your hand travels down to your very core, and you vibrate in the irresistable desire the darkness of your room allows you. with every bit of her hands on your neck, and her body on you, engraved in your memory. forget about the dreams, she's mrs. maximoff's wife.

don't let her distract you, don't let your dreams decieve you, your body's just changing, your aching not for her but for the imminent desire to be touched, to be loved, to be wanted.

don't think about her. you don't want her.

don't think about her.

don't think about her.

but how can you not when she so gracefully writhes on top of you? how can you not when she's holding a handful of your hair and pushing her front against your back?

it's an illusion from your brain, a signal from your body of your sexual deprivation. but the way she kisses you, the way her fingers play with you very being, she's wanda's wife. she's mrs. romanoff.

"oh, god, yes! please mrs. romanoff...," you covered your mouth the moment you heard your voice be slightly louder than it is safe to be. but the fear someone might have heard you did not make you fingers falter. "please, god, i'm cumming, i'm cumming, i'm cumming..." you were chanting mrs. romanoff's name a few more seconds before you'd made yourself see stars, and your body errupted in pure euphoria.

it took a while before the stars faded into your ceiling, and you were panting. your chest was heaving, and when you brought your fingers from the gap between your legs, it's almost like you coudn't believe what you'd done.

"i did it...," you smile, seeing your fingers dripping in juices.

it was the first time you had done this. and somehow, all the tension, and the bottled sexual frustration all ceased upon your release. and a part of you hated that you hadn't done it sooner.

and then a creak snaps you out. and there it was, shame. the reminder that you did not only dream about your professor and bestfriend's--boyfriend's mother, but you got off on the thought of her. you weren't new to the feeling, it welcomes you every morning when you wake up realizing you had been haunted by her again.

"i need water...," you sigh to yourself as you got up.

you didn't realize your door was slightly open, but you didn't really care. the entire house was asleep, so much so that you can even hear your own breaths.

you looked at the hallway where the rooms are. it was dark but you still saw the bathroom door open at the end of the hall. your room was right by the stairs. it was originally a guest room until you stayed here as a kid. you still have a very vivid memory of vision painting your walls pink, and wanda painting flowers on a part of the wall. the room hadn't changed one bit.

billy's door was right in front of yours, and wanda's near the end of the hall. you wonder if natasha and wanda are sleeping on the same bed now.

something inside you stirs.

"you're still awake," you hear a familiar voice say and something inside you shifts. wanda usually keeps the kitchen light on. you didn't see mrs. romanoff until you looked up almost in shock.

she just humiliated you in her office earlier. then she complete disregarded your presence in her home. and then you got off on her.

you could never look at her without all these feelings eating you up. she scares you, and infuriates you, but still you want her to look at you, you want her to be nice, you want her validation.

"so, you're billy's mom," you say casually, walking up to the fridge.

she hummed. she opened her bottle of beer before tilting her head up to take a brief glance at you. "hadn't you known?"

it wasn't as much of a question as it is a tonal accusation that you had known, you're just pretending not to.

but you didn't.

"no. actually, i didn't," you say, finally opening the fridge which handle of you've been holding the entire time.

"hadn't you," she chuckled, then she took a sip of her drink while leaning against the counter.

this was the most you'd seen of her. outside of school, outside her profession. she wasn't mrs. romanoff. she was a normal woman who drinks beer at 1 am in the morning with wet hair and a gray shirt.

"i always thought you had all that courage with me because billy was your friend," she says.

this was the longest she looked at you. the only time when you felt like she can see you other than when she's trying to humiliate you, or you're asking for her attention.

"i...," you were at lost for words. not because you didn't know what to say. but because she distracts you. because she's distracting you again.

she wasn't looking at you, she'd only take glances, or brief looks. she seems comfortable enough looking at the kitchen island rather than you. and her lips, they twitch. the end of her lips twitch and stretches out into a small smile, especially when she chuckles. or when she quips your responses.

you're down here, staring at her as if you hadn't just moaned her name while fucking yourself.

but she... she was unlike the mrs. romanoff who would stare at your very soul, unmoving, unbothered, uninterested.

maybe, billy was right. she was nicer at home. but who would've thought you'd see her stoicsm break inside her home, at 1 am, while getting water in your pajamas.

you break out of your thoughts when she looks at you, waiting for you to speak, "i don't...," you speak aimlessly, unaware of what you're trying to get across. but then you look away. you open the fridge, sticking your face in so the door covers her. and you could speak. "what courage?" you say dryly.

"well, i'd told you already," she straightened her back, going around the island where she'd sat on one of the stools. "you have the courage to demand i be nicer to you, or that i let you go from my class. if you'd taken the time to ask me the right questions, maybe you could've done better."

"let's not talk school," you groan. "you're at home. i'd like to have a break from professor you."

"well," she grins to herself. "i think you won't be getting that much break from me."

she was gentler; kinder. you wanted this at school.

you finally bring out a bottle of water from the fridge, meeting her by the island where you stand across from her, opening your drink.

"it wasn't courage," you say. "i was asking you all that because i was afraid of you."

"isn't it courage to stand in front of something you're afraid of?"

you didn't say anything for a while. the both of you were on pause, not even moving.

"why are you being nice?" you say abruptly. "you weren't even acknowledging my existence until three minutes ago."

"didn't you ask me to be nicer to you?"

"when i got drunk, yes," and you asked her to fuck you. "i still mean it. but still. why?"

you see her lips twitch into what you noticed was a manneristic grin. and then you hear a small chuckle. "i think, y/n, that you blur out the lines between being professional, and being personal. i am a college professor, and i am not expected to be nice to my student, and neither am i required to," she slipped into being mrs. romanoff so effortlessly, professional after being personal in a snap. you'd think, she was the one who had her professional personality far too intertwined that she's starting to confuse the two. "just because i'm strict and a disciplinarian at work, doesn't make me a bad person in real life."

she was right. when was she not?

and had always been easier to blame her being mean when really... really, she was just so distracting.

her lips are moving, and you could feel something inside of you from the way her tongue rolls off the roof of her mouth. and her eyes... they flutter, and they close, and they stare at you, and you're so instantly drawn, you could feel yourself actively trying to pin your entire body down from being sucked into whatever gravity pulling you into her that science could never explain.

she's distracting you. everything she is, her very being distracts you.

"try harder, miss y/l/n," she says, again, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"what?"

"i think you're really smart. so try harder," she says. "and stop being so distracted,"

you feel it again. aching.

you could never try harder, because everything she does, everything she does to you, and says to you, it pulls you further away from what you should be focused on.

"are you distracted again, miss y/l/n," she said your name differently this time. it wasn't sharp, or harsh. you couldn't point it out, all know was how it sent chills down your lower back.

you're going to lose this tomorrow. the moment when she finally sees you would dissipate into tomorrow when she'd humiliate you again, call you out, or worse, ignore you. you couldn't.

"teach me," you say, slapping your hands against the surface of the counter.

"what?"

"you told me if i just asked you. so i'm asking you," you stared at her, looking directly into her eyes. "teach me where i got it wrong. tell me what to do, help me. guide me."

"is that what you want?"

"i want to do better," for you. "you should be asking me if that's what i need, shouldn't you?"

"what do you need?"

"you," you whisper. "i need you to help me."

[ckret2]

“He'd memorized the constellations outside of his plain when his starblind species didn't even have a word for ‘constellations.’” This is such a good line. (I think you meant to write “plane,” though.)

Did Bill’s dimension have a word for “star,” as in the shape? And did he connect it to the ones up-but-not-north before he left?

aprofessionallurker asked: Ah, never mind about the typo, I just saw the other ask about it. Innnnnteresting…….

Yeah lol. But I do appreciate that I've had two different people point out the plain/plane thing! Like sincerely—I'm always worried that my ADHD and I are missing a TON of typos and that everyone is too polite to point them out, but I want folks to point them out so I can fix them! This specific one happened to not be a typo, but the fact that y'all have pointed it out means you'd probably point out other typos too, which I'm always grateful for.

Star the shape as in ⭐️ the five-pointed one? They probably have a word for it, but since they can't see it from the top, the visual effect of the shape wouldn't have the same significance to them.

The word probably means something different depending on if they consider a star "five points like a pentagon, but with lines connecting each point to an opposite point instead of a neighboring point," or "ten points like a decagon, but half the points go in instead of out":

(they wouldn't be able to accurately draw the shape on a paper like we can, since their papers look like a line; but, to be fair, WE can't accurately draw a cube, since our papers look like a flat surface. And yet somehow we can make drawings we understand to be cubes so I'm sure they can make drawings they understand to be stars.)

If they're going by definition one, whatever word would translate into English as "star [as in the shape]" probably has a definition to them like "simple spirolateral pentagon." If they're going by definition two, it would probably translate like "isotoxal concave decagon." After all there's nothing innately celestial about a pointy five-pointed shape, it's just a geometric figure.

They also had a word for "stars" as in the celestial body: even though they couldn't see the third dimension, theoretical physicists measuring the effect of light on their world recognized the possibility that light emanated from a specific point outside of the visible world, in another dimension; and also the possibility that there were a multitude of diffuse weaker light sources that contributed minutely to the light they experienced.

They came up with words for "the primary singular source of most light" and "the multitudinous weak sources of the rest of light" that would be translated into English as "sun" and "stars," but in their own language they were considered terms for abstract unproven concepts. Like the way we use "graviton" and "dark matter" to describe thing physicists think might exist but haven't observed or proven.

Their words for "star [as in the shape]" and "star [as in the weak light source]" are completely unrelated. Bill did correctly figure out that the things he saw in the third dimension were the sun and the (light) stars, but he didn't associate the (shape) star with the celestial bodies.

Bill thinks it's kind of cute that humans named simple spirolateral pentagons after the distant light sources they see at night, even though the celestial stars don't look anything like that—either from the humans' perspective OR in actual fact. But he doubts they're gonna rename spheres "stars" now that their astronomy has advanced enough to know how stars really look. Still, the symbol they've named "star" is sorta romantic—gives the sense of something radiating out from a central point, like light from a star—kinda like how their "heart" symbol doesn't look like the organ but does look like two halves squishing together to form one whole. Visually poetic. Humans are good at that sort of stuff.

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - CHAPTER TWO

As promised, here's chapter two! Revised, with some additions to some places, and hopefully no more typos.

I have a good part of the next one planned, so hopefully it won't take too long to update!

And, as promised, here's Mizi's extra;

Mizi is aware she sometimes doesn't have the best notion of how famous she is.

Her mom was one of the few who tried quite hard to shelter Mizi from the media while supporting her dream to be a singer. She's always kept Mizi humble, showed her how to budget and where all the money from her commercials went to.

Also, Mizi met and fell in love with Sua quite early, when she barely knew what love meant. She's never had to deal with people lying and manipulating their way into her circle; Sua has always been there by her side, looking over her contracts, giving advice, steering Mizi in the right direction, her own lodestar.

It all means that she's still a little bit uncertain of the effect she has on people. She still sees herself as that girl with glasses and braces, too shy to speak up unless she was in the middle of performing.

So, when she walks into the recording studio, cheerfully greeting Till and saying she's got his coffee order, she's a little bit surprised by how surprised and flustered he gets.

Mizi has to admit, Ivan has good taste; she doesn't like boys, but Till is plenty cute, especially when he's all flustered with that shy smile on his lips. It's endearing.

They go over their greetings, say all the pleasantries, and sit down to discuss the song in more depth, since she quite enjoys hearing about the creative process of a piece before recording; it helps her get the right sentiment for it.

Till finally sips his coffee as she's looking over his annotations for discarded lyrics.

"Oh, this is…" He's looking at the cup, surprised. Mizi tilts her head.

"It's how you normally order it, right?" She asks, thinking back to try and remember if she asked for the wrong order. It was quite a complicated one. "That's what Ivan said, at least."

He startles, a blush overtaking his face before he shakes his head and leans forward. She can see his hand closing in a fist over his knee.

"Oh, uh did… Ivan tell you to order this?" He asks, and she nods, before a thought strikes her. Ivan actually gave her something else for Till!

He was trying to act nonchalant about it, but Mizi knew him well, Ivan was excited when he handed it to her a week ago. She'd always remember him as Sua's little brother, peeking around a corner to watch the both of them, running to hide when Mizi looked over but always coming back.

She'd invited him in to sit with them as they made flower crowns, and Ivan pretended reluctance, but sat beside Sua, as far away from Mizi as he could. He'd just listened as they talked, somehow always surprised if Mizi addressed him. He'd worked quite hard on his own crown, eyeing Mizi as she taught Sua, and scampered away the moment Sua's father's voice echoed from the house, signaling his arrival.

(She remembers seeing the crown on Sua's nightstand, Sua telling her with wry smile that Mizi never saw directed at herself that he'd waited until she was outside the house to leave his gift.

She remembers Sua, already eighteen and the loveliest person Mizi had ever seen, holding Mizi's hand below the comforter, whispering that Ivan was such a brat, that he refused to be nice to his classmates, how he'd make friends if he'd just stop biting before anyone had the chance to get close.

It took years of constantly being by Sua's side, years of reaching out and asking his opinion, years to prove again and again that she wouldn't crack down on him if he said something she didn't like. She always felt so warm, glad that Sua's important person trusted her so much.)

He was a little odd, Sua's little brother. He'd grown up with some ideas about how socializing worked, and she would blame it on Sua's father, the asshole, except when they were all living on their own and Ivan was confident enough in her to speak his mind, he had some truly terrible ideas that she was sure were all his own.

He'd break into her and Sua's apartment by the window on Sua's office – she was sure Sua picked that bedroom exactly because it was closer to the fire escape – instead of using his key, leave gifts on Sua's bed like a cat dragging a dead mouse to their owner. He'd hear from Sua that Mizi had a bad day and spent close to one hour filling their chat with cat pictures, but he'd never reach out to actually talk to her. He remembered Mizi's drink and takeout order, and always brought some gift with him everytime he came to visit, like he wouldn't be welcome without it.

Mizi was sure that whatever Ivan had her bring to Till was similar in its thoughtfulness and just as deranged in motivation, but she'd decided long ago that questioning him just made him more likely to close off.

"Here, this is from Ivan as well!" She chirped, digging around her purse for it. It's a thin, rectangular package wrapped in nondescript brown paper. Till puts his coffee down, still flushed, and flicks his eyes back at her. She smiles and makes a shooing motion; she's curious! "Open it!"

Till bites his lip, but smiles back at her, carefully tugging the paper free. Oooh, he's so cute, she'd just have torn it open. Soon enough the gift reveals itself to be a leather-bound journal, the kind that has a tiny metal clasp to keep it shut. It also has Till's name engraved in a beautiful looping cursive that Mizi happens to recognize as Ivan's.

Till's eyes are huge as he runs one hand over the leather, reverent, and then opens it. She can't see what's inside, but whatever it is, makes Till's face erupt in a blush. Ooooh, what's that!!

She doesn't have the time to say anything, he mumbles something about needing a moment, and basically flees from the room. Mizi shrugs, she has no idea what that was about, and she's more than happy to take the opportunity to message Sua about how weird her brother is.

As always, Sua answers readily, teasing and warm and kind, asking how Mizi is, if she remembered her snacks. Mizi says she's fine, and Sua sends a picture of their cat, Nabi, which just happens to include the tentalizing view of Sua's thighs on the backdrop. Nabi is kneading Sua's belly.

Mizi is so jealous, she sends back a picture of herself pouting.

By the time Till gets back, she forgot all about the journal, soo distracted by her girlfriend. He asks if she's ready to record, which fills her with enthusiasm again.

The session goes well, they run through the song twice before heading into the booth; Mizi has more fun than she's had recording in a while. The song is just so good, and Till is a delight to work with, he doesn't try to outshine her, or let himself fade into the background. They sing together, to each other, shaking their heads to the beat and even dancing in place. They grin and feel the beat together.

It's such a nice time, Mizi leaves the session in better spirits than she'd been in a while. She doesn't even notice Till's serious expression as he collects his things, including the journal.

She just wishes him goodbye, tells him they need to get lunch after the photoshoot next week, and leaves, eager to get back home to Sua.

[armpirate]

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 14

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit. 

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 20 minutes

Y/n: I already arrived!

San: Nice

San: By the way, sorry for the way Mingi showed up

San: He sometimes doesn't know how to read the room.

San: He doesn't know when he's interrupting others

Y/n: What did he interrupt tho?

She clearly knew what he meant. The environment in her car was too heavy not to know, and she was sure she'd have given in if Mingi hadn't reached her car to greet them. She liked his friends, but at that moment she was hating him with a passion.

It was funny messing with San, waiting for him to come up with an answer as he typed, and stopped, a few times before actually sending anything.

Y/n: Were you planning on doing anything?

San: Huh? No, of cuorse not.

San: Nevrmind

San: Have a good night!

He typed so fast, that he didn't even stop to double check whether there were any typos or not. He was so desperate to find an escape, that he didn't care about anything else.

Wooyoung huffed at the way San was hysterically shaking his leg at the corner of his eye, making his whole body squirm as he tried to hold back from calling him out for the constant move.

He was getting on his nerves.

—Can you stay still? You're making me want to rip that leg out of you —Mingi finally interrupted, huffing as he leaned to look straight at San.

—Gosh, you already met her father. You already went through the worst part. What's the big deal? —Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

The big deal was that it wasn't going to be a two against one like the last time, it'd be them two against absolutely everyone who attended the barbeque. One wrong word, one weird move, and they both would be done.

He couldn't disappoint Y/n that way.

—Just stay glued to Y/n if the problem is meeting new people —Mingi suggested, shrugging his shoulders—. I doubt she'll be annoyed with that.

—What if I'm left alone?

He didn't think about it when he agreed to show up at her father's house; that thought didn't cross his mind until Y/n mentioned it a few days back.

—Act like you're in a job interview —Wooyoung shrugged.

—But he's never been in a job interview —Mingi answered for him, confused at that advice.

—I know, I was going to explain myself before you interrupted —momentarily, he turned to Mingi, who instantly sat back in his seat, before he continued—. Keep a neutral face, don't talk. Just wait for the questions, and answer what they ask.

—You do that in job interviews? —Mingi interrupted again— Isn't that the opposite of what you should do? I've always been told you should speak and keep it as dynamic as possib...

—Who has a stable job, and who's an intern? —Wooyoung asked to get back at him, getting complete silence on his side— That's what I thought.

With that advice in his mind, San hopped in Y/n's car as soon as she sent a text to let him know she was there. On their way to her parents' house, his head was a bundle of different thoughts and tips, confused at how he should be behaving, except for the main information Y/n asked him to remember in case he was asked.

It'd be just that day. She only needed him to make as much as possible that afternoon, and then they'd break up.

He was definitely able to do that for her.

Y/n looked at him as she drove, hearing him answer back to all of her questions that were testing him. She was calm, it was only another day in her office personality, with all those same people she faked it for, but she was worried that it'd be a bit harder for San.

—I like your jacket —her comment worked to make some of that pressure vanish, making him raise his eyebrows surprised as he touched the zip of his black bomber—. Not the t-shirt though, I bet the whole outfit would look better without it.

It took her a second to realize what she said, suddenly stopping to press her lips together and try to correct herself. She wanted to say she hated that blue navy Patriots shirt with her whole soul, and it ended up sounding like she was hoping to see him shirtless. Although, after seeing him in that dressing room, she wouldn't really mind it.

His cheeks started burning after that comment, which he knew wasn't with that double intention he thought of almost instantly. It wasn't the idea of being shirtless in front of her, but that sweet and casual compliment coming from her.

—It's right, though? —he tried to know, looking down at himself.

Since it was a barbeque, he chose to keep it his style, mixing his style with that mature vibe she wanted from him. He wasn't quite sure the mix of jeans, team t-shirt and black bomber were a good mix.

—Hmm yeah —she quickly nodded—. What would you wear for a barbeque if it isn't that?

Just like him, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with a black leather jacket. They'd be completely twinning if it wasn't for the horrendous Patriots shirt she thought he was wearing. It almost seemed like they did it on purpose.

San just looked around after silence slowly invaded the small space of her car, appreciating how beautiful the brown leaves looked on the trees that surrounded the road. He loved that kind of chilly weather, it always helped him to zone out as he went back to visit his parents at the outskirts of Boston.

Y/n turn right, getting inside one thinner road that allowed him to see the big house after she drove for a few meters past the tall trees that kept it hidden. He wasn't expecting the cozy familiar house that his parents had, but he also wasn't expecting that big palace, with a Victorian style.

Her car surrounded the small garden right at the entrance, managing to park her car in front of the few steps that led to the entrance of the place.

—Hey —she called him, aware of the small details that gave out how panicked he suddenly was feeling—. Just be yourself, and say what we talked about —her hand found a spot right at his knee—. They won't mess with you as long as I'm there.

Her joke seemed tougher for him, as she gave him one last skin over his jeans, making his skirt jump so high that he thought it'd escape his throat at any time, feeling relieved when she moved it away.

Before they started their way to the house, Y/n stopped next to him, offering her hand to him, opening and closing her fingers so he'd understand what she wanted. It was a tiny smile, almost imperceptible, but his eyes slightly squinted with that small curve, encouraging her to move her hand to his and intertwine their fingers together.

—We can do this —she assured him.

—We can do this.

His hand felt so warm as it covered hers, that it gave her that little push she needed to start walking. Unlike what he first thought, Y/n surrounded the house, following the stone trail on the side that led to the backyard.

His stomach squeezed at the sound of several masculine and deep laughs from afar, and the smell of braised meat.

It was real. They were actually doing that.

Her hand squeezed his the same way he tried to give support to her, trying to let him know that she was there whatever he needed -and whatever bothered him-, before they turned the corner and met with the big group of people reunited around the table.

—Here they are! —her father mentioned, excitedly.

They only let go of each other's grip when she moved to greet her father and mother, giving them a warm hug before she went back to standing next to San. Her father looked more relaxed and approachable, and it probably was because he wasn't wearing that three piece suit. Instead, his outfit was similar to the one San was wearing, with the only exception being the jacket that Harry wasn't wearing. Her mother looked elegant, but not because of her clothes. Her aura. As she approached him after her father shook his hand, her mother gave him a welcoming hug.

—I'd love to say my daughter was the one I heard about you from, but it was actually my husband the one who talked non-stop about you.

—Mom —Y/n scolded her.

—Come here, I'll introduce you to everyone.

It was incredible what football could do in the way people behaved around each other. From being skeptical of her relationship, to totally being all over San after they found out they both supported the Patriots to death.

It was better for her though. That should make things easier.

San scanned the table, trying to get familiar with all of the faces that were there. They all seemed to have that fake nice facade on their faces as they greeted him, and Y/n knew what those poisoned tongues were planning to say as soon as they got the chance. Although there was a particular person that wasn't hiding his intentions.

Tim looked at San from head to toe, examining his clothes, his body language, his gestures, even the way his bangs covered his forehead in a careless style. He looked even more mediocre in person.

—So this is the secret boy, Y/n? —one of the ladies, sitting at the other side of the table with the rest of the wives, asked.

—He's here. And considering you all knew about it, I don't think calling him a secret is accurate.

Her father turned to her, giving her a soft scolding look before she faked a smile right after. Time to start the act.

Her arm suddenly linked to San's, gluing their bodies together as her head rested on his shoulder.

—How could I even think of hiding him?

San smiled at that sudden cute act, looking down at her. Her head slowly turned in the opposite direction, hiding her face from the people sitting on the table.

—Hold my hand or something —she asked him.

When she turned back to the initial position, San's hand moved hesitantly over her, brushing her hair away and tucking it behind her ear. His fingers felt soft and delicate on her skin.

—Well, you didn't have a problem hiding other boyfriends before —Tim attacked as soon as they both joined them on the table.

—I wasn't serious about them, I think that's quite simple to understand —she answered.

Before the conversation could scalate, her father interrupted to let everyone know that some of the meat was ready for them to eat. San got up with the two plates, letting her get engaged in the conversation they were having across the table about the last product they were planning to launch. Although her father's attention was on the young man, and the way he asked for a knife to take the muscle fiber away from one of the filets. At first, he thought he just had that same hangup as his daughter had, only to realize he was cutting them for her daughter, handing her the plate of the cut meat before he sat next to her again.

—I think it'd be quite interesting to know how you two met —Lina, one of the supplier's wife suggested as they kept eating.

—I love those stories —Mark, her husband, seconded.

—We met through a blind date that a common friend organized —Y/n answered—. The moment I saw him, I knew it —her hand reached to his under the table, moving her arm exaggeratedly so everyone would guess—. We went to that restaurant on the bay, right? It was really romantic. He showed up with a big bucket of flowers... I'm not a big fan of those things, but I could tell he was genuine about it.

—How long have you been dating? —Miranda asked.

—A month —Y/n turned to her—. We hit it off since we met, and we haven't been able to move away from each other ever since.

—That's so sweet —Miranda fawned—. Are you also working in this industry?

—N... no —San finally answered—. I'm an engineer. Since I was younger I was always drawn to that —he laughed nervously—. I spent most of the time on the computer, so why not use it to earn money?

Y/n squeezed his hand tighter, trying to let him know that he was doing fine.

—That sounds like a tough job though —Tim scoffed—. I doubt it's way more than just sitting in front of a computer. Harry told me you've worked in Vancouver for a year, and I've always been curious about what engineers do. Can you tell us a bit of your daily work there?

—I don't think it's necessary to talk about work now —Y/n tried to get in between.

—And I don't think you're San, let the boy speak if he wants —Tim clapped back.

Right what they thought they wouldn't be asked about, came up on the conversation and on the hand of the man Y/n tried to warn him about. His brain was working hard to get through the sudden block he was going through out of nervousness.

—I worked as a web developer with .Net Core and Webix framework at two projects at the same time, I created a solution for multi-class text classification problem using SVM and Random Forest, Implemented Speech to text, optical character recognition, and face detection on the app of the company, used NLP for recommendation system, implemented full-text search with Apache Lucene... —he gave a quick stop— It's alright if you don't understand half of what I'm saying, and I hope you understand I can't explain any easily what they all are. I think you'll understand I can't give much more details because it's all confidential.

Y/n looked at him with wide eyes, getting lost in what he was saying after the second sentence, surprised by how convincing and serious he looked about it. Too surprised by his speech to even notice the way her father proudly smiled.

—Y/n is right —he turned to her—. It isn't time to talk about work now —after smiling at her, he turned to her father—. Sir, the meat was great, so delicious and tender.

He was in such a hectic and motivated mode, that he thought he'd explode.

After the lunch had gone by and they were finally alone at the other side of the yard, with the excuse that they wanted to be alone, Y/n finally took the chance to congratulate him for the good work he did during lunch, hitting his upper arm.

—I didn't understand a single thing you said, but it was amazing —she excitedly mentioned—. Did you see Tim's face? —she cackled— God, where did all that come from?

He didn't know himself.

He just didn't like the way he was feeling judged, and the way Y/n was almost being judged as a consequence. He was aware of that man's intentions with his question, and couldn't come up with any other way of shutting him up that wasn't that.

—I just used some things I've heard in class —he shyly answered.

—It was great —she answered back, trying to recognize his merit—. I didn't think they'd be so low to dig into your job like that, but you saved it so well, and you came up with something so fast... You left the standard so high.

More than proud of himself, he was smiling at how excited and fulfilled Y/n looked as she bounced on the spot. While, from afar, the same men that tried to interrogate him about his job were looking at them.

—I still think there's something off about him —Tim clicked his tongue—. They don't look like a couple that are crazy in love and haven't been moving away from each other for a month.

—Don't tell me you're still butthurt over Y/n dumping your son —Josh mocked him.

—What do you want them to do? Make out in front of me? —Harry joined them— I really think he's a good guy, and I'm really happy about my daughter settling down with someone like him.

His daughter seemed happy, San seemed to take good care of her... why would anyone, especially his own father, think ill of their relationship?

After watching the match at her parents' living room, basically pushed to be sitting apart when her father hooked his arm around his shoulders so he'd sit next to him, Y/n got ready to drive him home.

It had been a long day, and it was about time to get all that to an end.

They both were in silence all the way back to his place, with Y/n too deep in her thoughts. She didn't want to drop him off, she wanted to spend more time with him despite spending almost all day together. But she was unsure of whether he also wanted to be around her more than needed.

—You were great today —she commented, quickly shifting her eyes to him before moving them back to the road.

—Was I? —he sighed— I don't really know. But it does seem like everyone ate it up, right?

—Yeah. Linda was so into our date. I don't know what more details she wanted me to tell her. Maybe what color my panties were, or I don't know —she rolled her eyes—. But it turned out better than I expected.

San nodded with a smile, allowing silence to slowly kick back inside her car.

—Hmm, do you have something to do? —her question took him by surprise— I mean, it isn't that late. And since it turned out well, I thought we could celebrate we won't have to do this again.

But would it genuinely be a celebration?

—Yeah, sure —he nodded—. Why not?

It took her less than a minute to come up with somewhere where they'd be comfortable and calm. She had been there before a few times, with one of the several failed dates. She loved the place, to the point where it made up for the awful company she chose to have.

Except for that day.

The other times, there weren't that many people. And maybe it was because it was during weekdays. She should've guessed that showing up there on a weekend, right after a football match, wasn't the best choice. But they both still went inside, walking among the crowd until they found a free small tall table.

San went for the drinks and some chips before she could even think of standing up from the stool, thanking him after the hard time she had to manage to sit up there. Despite being noisy and crowded, it all turned calm and silent around them when he came back with the two bottles and the small plate, joining her back at their table.

—So, any feedback about today? —Y/n asked first.

—It was nice —he simply answered—. Everyone was quite... normal —he shrugged—. Except for that bald man that kept interrogating us.

—Ah, Tim —she nodded—. He's always been an asshole, don't worry. I bet he's still bitter after his son broke up with me, and I didn't want to take him back when he regretted it —she rolled her eyes.

—You were dating his son? —His eyebrows raised in amusement.

—For three years —she answered, eating one of the chips—. He is an unfaithful asshole addicted to crack, and Tim just tries to hide it by burying the others' achievements. That's why he picked it up against us two. I guess he was still hopeful that I'd take his son back one day. And I guess my father was also expecting that, at some point.

—That's why you did this whole thing?

—Well, it's a bit complicated —she tried to explain—. Tom is an asshole, but his family has stability and power. And I guess that my father wants to be sure I have that stability and power for the moment he retires —her lips grimaced—. In part, he does it because his partners will give him a hard time in regards to what I choose to do before he passes the torch to me, and I also think it's just a basic worry of a normal parent. But my dad seemed to miss the point that power and stability aren't just money and a name —she shrugged, moving her eyes up to him.

—If it makes you feel better, I think you'll be a great director one day —he assured her.

—Uh-hum, that's right —she agreed, smiling at his comment—. What about you?

San frowned at her question, not understanding where she was coming from with it.

—I opened up about why I do this, now you need to open up, too.

—Well, I lied and told my friends you were my girlfriend.

—I know that —she interrupted him—. But there has to be something deeper than that.

—None of my friends know about Soundleasure —he admitted—. I was sure they'd have searched up for you online or something, and I guess I was scared you'd tell them how we met.

—Tss, do I look like I'd tell strangers that I used to pay to listen to dirty audios?—she clicked her tongue— I rather keep that perverted side hidden as well —she softly added—. Do you enjoy doing those videos?

—I guess? —he shrugged— It's good to know I can do and say anything behind that name, because no one will judge me or look at me differently. It's like a shield. I manage to dig in on what I like or not, I do things that I wouldn't dare to do in my regular life, and behave in ways that would never cross my mind.

—But you're Soundleasure —she puckered her lips—. You're stopping yourself from doing that. I mean, it's not that your alter ego is a serial killer or a psycho. He's just more confident and eager to do things. You clearly find yourself comfortable in that position, but at the same time you stop yourself because you're scared of that change —her head tilted to the side—. You need to stop yourself from avoiding risks. You think too much about what others might think.

Before he could even answer, an elbow hit the back of his head, making it bang forward before he rubbed his hand against the spot that was hit.

Y/n had seen that group of men being overly loud and annoying, getting way too close to their table without being aware of it, because they were the type to think they owned the place and the people next to them only had to deal with it.

—Hey! I know it's weird for a gorilla like you to be around people, but you need to watch out —Y/n called him out.

—Excuse me? —the man was shocked at her comment, turning to their table again after hearing her voice over the chants.

—You heard me —she snapped back, annoyed—. You hit him, apologize.

—Doesn't he have a mouth to speak? —he turned to San— Does your girlfriend have to speak for you? —the man tilted his head— Why don't you just do what you're supposed to? Sit back on your seat, and keep your pretty mouth shut —he looked back at Y/n.

Something didn't sit right with him with the way that man was speaking to her. He could deal with someone being rude to him, and disrespecting him. But his blood boiled when he dared to look down at Y/n as if she was worth nothing.

—And why don't you take that big fat ass out of this place and do all of us a favor? —San suddenly spoke.

—Big fat ass?

—Yeah. You and your big foot complex are ruining the fun for all of us here. So get the fuck out —and suddenly, he was aware of who he was speaking to, and where—, please.

—The little princess knows how to speak —the man mocked him—. Let's see how you speak without teeth.

But before that man could approach him any closer, San's leg moved faster, hitting the heel of his white sneakers against the chin of the tall man before he could even take a step in his direction. Y/n was so impressed by the sudden move that she didn't realize the moment San rushed towards her, gripping her wrist and dragging her out of the bar as soon as all that confidence disappeared and he was aware that it was an eight against one kind of situation.

Y/n didn't doubt, she didn't stop to think anything, she just ran behind him, while he pulled her tight while those men chased them down the street.

—Where the hell did you learn to do that? —she suddenly asked.

—I did taekwondo when I was younger, I didn't even remember I could do that.

The smile on her face quickly dropped when she looked back and was aware of the men getting closer to them, momentarily losing them as San turned left at one of the streets, before he pulled her body abruptly to one of the nearest dark alleys.

Their breaths were shaky as they both hid in the darkness, with his body completely covering hers while the wall worked as a support for her back. It was all so rushed, it all happened so fast, that neither of them seemed to realize how close they were until the eight men ran past the same alley they were hiding at.

It was only then that he looked down at her to make sure she was okay.

Her parted lips were the most dangerous invitation, and their warm breaths mixing in the small space between them worked like the tightest pull between them. Once their eyes were linked among the heavy air, it was over for the two of them.

—You told me to take some risks —he whispered—. Let me take another risk tonight.

His lips felt soft against hers, even more than she imagined after seeing his pictures. They were definitely better than she could've imagined.

His pull was addictive, dangerous... to the point that it had her hooking her fingers around his neck, as she stood on her tiptoes, to make the kiss deeper. It went from a soft peck to a lip sucking experience that had her head running in circles due to the intensity. His mouth was clumsy, barely managing to keep up with how she was moving, despite him pinning her against the wall to glue their bodies even closer together.

He was inexperienced, the kiss was messy, but it was the most electrifying kiss she had ever had. They didn't even need to dig their tongues on the other's mouth to have her toes curling and her mouth gasping for air due to the intensity of her heartbeat.

It was the best kiss she had ever had in such a long time.

[n3ptoonz]

'Hot Springs'

wlw fic on the first day of pride month?! hold your applause 😎😎

Pairing: Falin Touden/Marcille Donato

Fandom: Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, PWP, underwater activities, cunnilingus, Falin can hold her breath for a long time, Falin isn't a monster yet but she got that DOG in her, finger riding, confessions, multiple orgasms, finger sucking- DAMN you get the idea. might be typos

Word count: 1.2k

"I'm so glad you're back with us! I was afraid we would never see you again." Marcille said, nearly clung to Falin's side. The water was nice and warm, and they both knew they could use a relaxing evening away from the chaos in the dungeon. Falin smiled and put her hand over Marcille's when she noticed she was more pale than usual.

"Marcille? You're paler than I am..." she said.

Marcille sat up straight and scratched the back of her head, chuckling sheepishly, "Yeah...I used up a lot of my mana in the last hour alone..."

Falin just blinked and leaned closer to inspect her face. She noticed how a faint tint of red painted her cheeks after being startled. Before Marcille could finish her sentence, Falin grabbed her hand gently to give her some of her mana.

"Relax." she whispered. "You are probably drained from saving me, let me help you." Her voice was still so soft and welcoming as it always was, but her tone was slightly more demanding than usual, and Marcille was starting to like it.

"What do you me- Falin!" Marcille exclaimed, watching Falin submerge herself under the warm water. After letting go of her hand, Marcille then gasped at the feeling of Falin's soft hands grabbing her thighs. On one hand she was worried about Falin not being able to breathe...but as soon as her lips and the pad of her tongue met her folds, her mind surely went blank.

Marcille's legs instinctively started to close when Falin spread her legs further and delved into her like she hadn't eaten in weeks (I mean technically-). Marcille had to cover her own mouth so she wouldn't be heard on the other side of the wall where the guys were bathing.

Who knew Falin had this in her? The strangely skilled woman seemed to have been on a mission the way she swirled her tongue and let her nose brush against the sensitive nub that drove Marcille mad.

Not having much sexual experience, she naturally would start to reach her climax fast. The way Falin lapped at her was too much to bear, but she also still didn't want Falin to be underwater for much longer. Her eyes shut tightly as the pit of her stomach tightened and that unraveling coil had finally snapped. While she came, Falin tried her best to take it all in so it didn't spread far out into the bath water...although it may be a little late for that!

Above the surface all that could be heard was the faint echoes of Marcille's muffled whines and huffs as she trembled in her post-orgasm glow. As she attempted to calm herself Falin came back up with the same small smile on her face. She leaned closer to Marcille again as she saw some of her mana return around her.

"That should replenish some of your strength." she said so casually like she couldn't feel Marcille's legs shaking under her palms. Marcille managed to catch her breath and let her eyes slowly open to the sight of Falin up close and personal, yet still not invading her space.

"I...When the hell did you learn to do that?!" she asked, seemingly back to normal.

Falin tapped her chin in genuine thought, "Err...I was always able to hold my breath for a long time-"

"That's not what I meant- Hey!" she said as she felt Falin's hands pull her into her lap. "...You have got to stop surprising me like that..." she added, but soon quieted as Falin entered one finger inside her. She used her other hand to caress her cheek and brush her hair behind her ear.

"You still seem stressed, Marcille. I wanna help," she said softly this time. "Yes...you are clenching onto my finger-"

"Maybe because it's inside of me!" Marcille blurted out, but her feigned irritation faltered as soon as she realized she was subconsciously riding Falin's fingers. Marcille buried her blushing face into the crook of the other's neck, wrapping her arms around her as her goosebumps became more apparent. She slowly lifted herself again and shyly whispered, "...Could you add another one...?" in reference to another finger. Falin's hands were always so soft and delicate, and Marcille could never forget about that fact.

"Of course," Falin whispered. She was now two fingers deep inside of the shy elf clinging onto her shoulders and trying her best to keep her composure while she rode her fingers. Strangely enough, Marcille's mana was rejuvenating quickly this way. She might have to start purposely using up her energy more often if this is how she can get it back in due time. She became less and less worried about Falin using hers up by this point, she was feeling way too good.

"Mm...please-" she softly moaned desperately. Falin put her free hand on Marcille's hip for more balance since it was clear she was getting lost in the moment.

"Would you like a third finger?" she asked, caressing her cold yet warm wet skin. She watched as Marcille shyly nodded as she kept going; her eyes shut tight and her whines getting louder.

The sound of the water splashing against their skin was beginning to drown out from the pants, hums, and moans filling the room. The steam was no longer there. Only the heat emitting from their skin. The tips of Marcille's ears began turning bright red as Falin added one more finger. She lifted the hand placed on her hip to her freshly washed hair, stroking it to soothe Marcille as she shamelessly regenerated her energy back.

As her soft cries crescendoed, she had no other choice but to muffle herself by biting down onto Falin's shoulder. It wasn't too hard, but it wasn't too soft either.

It was perfect.

Falin let out a soft hiss at this sensation and decided to lift her thumb to rub slow circles around the small nub that was sure to send Marcille off the edge. She let tears flow from her eyes as she reached climax, and Falin didn't intend on stopping her movements.

"Let it out, pretty girl~" Falin mumbled into her ear, and as Marcille rode out her high, she quickly unlatched her teeth from Falin's shoulder and kissed her. She held her face like she could disappear again right here right now. Every groan and cry that escaped her lips was taken in by Falin's, and she didn't mind one bit.

She then backed away and slowly brought her movements to a halt, resting her forehead on the other's. Falin gently removed her fingers and looked at the slick left behind in awe, which prompted Marcille to take the three fingers into her mouth and suck off the extra with a tired, yet cheeky smile.

She finally collapsed into Falin's arms. She just laid her face on top of hers with a soft chuckle and a sigh of content, taking a mini note of how her breasts comfortably rested atop hers.

"I really like you, Falin." she confessed rather quietly. Loud enough for her to hear. Falin glided her hands down her back before pulling her closer, letting the slightly cold water still its movements following hers. She smiled as she nuzzled against the elf's spent form--luckily she would be able to bounce back quickly with her new mana wink wink.

"I really like you too, Marcille."

[ventithedrunkbardehe]

Hello hello

I'm baackk~

Warnings: English is nkt my first lanuage so there might be grammar errors, also typo's mighz happenen here and there, also swearing

So let's get started shall we?

Streamer!reader accidentaly revealing their relationship with the Xsoleil boys ft.Nina!

You were just doing an ordinary drinking stream, or so you planned to. You didn't realize how much you got caught up in drinking and started answering the questions in the chat. You didn't realize how much of a bad idea it was beacuse of your drunked state. You took a sip of your drink as you read out the next question

'Is there anyone that has your interest in NijisanjiEN' - you rewd the question out lous and without even thinking you answered to it. "Mhmm... And I'm so glad that he's actually my boyfriend..." - you said as you took another sip.

Ver

"I mean who wouldn't love Ver... He's just so perfect, and handsome, and cute, and everything else you could ask for..." - you continued babbling about your boyfriend as the whole chat turned into a mess, both hate and love coming from fans. You would've kept going unless Nina called you up that you should stop the stream since you were so drunk and you didn't realize what were you talking about. You argued a bit with her ws she tried to convince the fans thru the phone call that you were saying nonsense and it was just beacuse you were drunk. But everyone knowing that you're one of the most honest streamers out there, why would you be babbling lies about being together with Ver. Nina luckily got you to turn the stream off and go to bed, but you weren't ready what would happen tomorrow.

As you woke up the next day, you're phone was blown up by how many notifications you got from Twitter. As you opened the app you saw several clips about you talking about how much youlove Ver and so glad that he's your boyfriend. You saw how many other streamer friend of yours tried to protect you, as you got embarrassed from reading all the tweets about your mistake, you finally got yourself together and wrote an apology tweet saying that you were sorry and that too drunk to even know what were you talking about, you didn't mean to say boyfriend as in a relationship but as a good guy friend. After ypu posted the tweet out you immediately called Ver up.

"I'm so sorry about everything honey, I was just-" -he cut into your sentence

"It's okay, but next time make sure that you don't get caught up in drinking and start spilling tea about our relationship okay? Anyways I'll go over to your place in a few minutes okay?" - he said

"Okay, love you" - you said as you giys put the phone down.

'This will be hurting for a while...' - you tought as you looked at the screen of your monitor that had twitter open.

Hex

"I mean who wouldn't like Hex... Just look at him... He has such an attractive voice... His humor... Ahh I could talk about him all day." - you said. You continued talking about him as you took several sips from you drink. You didn't ralize thst you were talking about him for like 5 minutes straight untill Mom came to the rescue and called you up to stop the stream which took her like almost 10 minutes beacuse your drunk ass didn't realize what was going on and you guys ended up arguing untill she finally got you to end the stram and to to bed.

When you woke up your head was hurting like hell, as you remembered back what did you do last night's stream and immediately went up on twitter to see clips about you talking about you dear boyfriend Hex, and others trying to protect you. When you got yourself together you wrote an apology tweet, saying thst it was just a big missunderstanding that the word boyfriend you meant was not the 'in realtionship' term but it was as 'guy friend' term. Hoping that people will belive you as you posted it. After a few minutes of continuing reading the tweets about your mistake your phone buzzed. It was you boyfriend Hex. You immediately pickee upand started apologizing to him about the accident.

"It's okay... Hopefully it will go down in a week or two..." - he said as you were on the verge of tears. "But to be honest... I never imagined that you love me this much" - he chuckled at your reaction as teased you.

"Oh shut up... This is embarrassing" - you said as you huffed and joined to laugh with him.

Doppio

"Pio-chan is just so cute... He's like a giant baby... His laugh... ahh so cute. Everything about him is so cute..." - you continued babbling about your boyfriend. Some of your streamer friends in the chat tried stopping you, writing to you on social media, but Nina saved the night. She called you up talking you down from continueing the stream as you were drunk drunk. After a few minutes of talking and arguing a little she finally got you to stop the stream and get yourself together and go to bed.

The next day you woke up with a terrible headache from being drunk yesterday night.

"Fucking hangovers..." - you said as you tried to get out of bed and get some painkillers. After ypu took them, even tho your head was still hurting you went up on twitter to see everything about your mistake that was clipped and posted everywhere. Everyone was talking about your little tea spilling. You saw some of your friends trying to stop the people from talking about these matters, but everyone knew that they won't die down from just these tweets. You were reading the tweets about yourself as the phone buzzed on your desk. It was Doppio. You didn't really want to answer it being a bit scared how he would react to it. But you eventually picked it up.

"Good morning darling~" - he said lively.

"Good morning" - you said back to him, it was hearable on your voice that you were nervous and embarrassed.

"Are you worried about yesterday night?" - he asked in a softer tone.

"Mhm... I'm sorry" - you answered.

"It's alright it's alright! My company might kill me but let's tell the fans ye? I mean it won't die down until they get to know the thruth yea? So why not make it easier for everyone?" - he said in a reassureing voice.

"I-... Pio-chan... Are you okay? Are you drunk? As I know I was the one drowning myself in drinks and not you." - you asked worriedly laughing a bit.

"Yepp a 100% sure!" - he answered immediately.

The two of you agreed to announce your guy's relationship and after tweeting it out the both you turned your social media's off. Soon enough he arrived at your place and you guys went and played games.

@lonelysimpfor2dmen thank you for the request ❤️ sorry thst it took this long 😭🙏

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Have a nice day! Byeee!

[milkmily]

Recrate [Simon Riley]

Part 2 of Dream

<- back| request are open :)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem reader

Wooo smutttt. Also, I suck at writing smut so forgive me. Also typos cuz I haven't edit it or anything so sorry 🙏also thank you all for sm love. And ik, code name is funny af bit here is the meaning behind it. I was listening to this while I wrote this.

No use of y/n use of codename(Eggs) and being called Sargent, sweetie, sweetheart, and love(British accent added).

"Do you have dreams of me?" Ghost had asked. "W-What?" You asked, shocked. "Do you have dreams of me Sargent?" He says, repeating himself, only saying it this time much slower for you to understand him better.

You thought that things were good. That He didn't hear you in your sleep and he did not know at all. You were wrong. The looks he'd give you while training, the way those intimidating yet so sexy eyes looked at you. But it didn't mean anything, right?

Ghost had called you to his office, and wanted to discuss some important things. You started to get worried when you asked what it was, but all he said was "It's important. See you at 9 here." And he excused you.

You felt as if you were getting in trouble for something that you probably didn't do, or did. You thought and thought for hours when it hit you, the dream. The fucking dream. You must have talked in your dream, he must have heard you moan his name or something.

And here you are.

"Answer my question." He asked harshly and walked up towards you. "I-I- w-" You couldn't. How could you? How could you answer a simple question that meant so much?

"You aren't making me proud right now Eggs."

"You Wanna make your Lieutenant proud, Eggs?"

Fuck, fuck…

You bit your lip as you remembered the dream. "Yes." You admit. You could hear Ghost chuckle. He was face to face with you, but you were looking down at the floor. You couldn't make eye contact with him. He knew you wanted him. He knew you wanted his hands all over your body. "Are you nervous or something?"

"No."

"Then look me in the eyes, Sargent." You looked up at his eyes and your heart beat faster than it was before. He then cups your face with one hand and says, "heard you moaning my name."

"It was a dream, I'm sor-"

"No, no. Don't apologize." He says and gets closer to your face. Fuck, you wanted him to kiss you. Even kiss him through the mask. "I want you to tell me what happened in the dream. Describe it." Your whole body was hot, beating, sweating. There was a pool that was starting to form in between your legs.

"I-I don't think I can, Lieutenant." You whisper and he tilts his head to the side and gets even closer, feeling his breath on your lips. "It's not an ask, it's a demand, Sargent." He says and you no longer could hold it. You got closer and felt the cloth touch your lips. It startled Ghost, but he closed his eyes and kissed you back. It was weird when the cloth was in between you two, but you didn't care. He pushed you away, making you whine.

"Now did this happen in the dream?" You shake your head and he says, "I told you what happened in the dream, don't you want to make it real?" You squeeze your thighs together and nod. "Good, now tell me." He whispered and rubbed his thumb on your lips. "Tell me all of it, love."

You don't exactly remember how it started and you were sure that Simon wouldn't really care about the backstop behind it. So you went straight to the point. "I was riding you, you were-"

"No foreplay? Hmmm, that's boring now." He interrupts and runs his freehand under your shirt. He was inpatient, and you kind of liked that. "You wouldn't mind me changing it up, would you now, Eggs?" He asked, looking you in your eyes.

"N-No." You whispered and closed your eyes as you felt his hand move to your breast, moving the sports bra up and gently squeezing your breast. "Fuck, you look so gorgeous right now." He whispered and helped you remove your shirt and bra. He made you sit on the table, not caring about whatever there could be. Ghost gently lifts his mask, only seeing his lips. You smiled and cupped his face. You've seen his face before, but only once. Yet, he still looked attractive with his mask like this.

You moved your hand to his jaw and pulled him closer towards your face. "We'll get in trouble." You say. "I don't care." He says and pulls you into a rough kiss. The kiss was hungry, he was hungry. It's almost like he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You moved your hand under his shirt and slowly moved the shirt up, making him shiver. He pulls away from the kiss and takes the shirt off, going right back to kissing you.

You moaned in the kiss as you felt him pinch your nipple. He pulls from the kiss and makes you lay on the table. The cold table makes you arch your back. He hurriedly undoes your pants and pulls them down with your panties. You were now fully naked, in front of your Lieutenant. "Fuck… if only you could see yourself, Love." He whispered and kissed your stomach. He continues to go down and goes to your left thigh. He kisses it and opens your legs, hearing how wet your cunt was for him.

"Fuck, you're dripping." He says and spreads them. You whined and felt his warm tongue lick you. He grins and moves his index finger up and down between your lips, feeling how wet you are. "Your pussy tastes good." He says and moves your thigh on his shoulder. He soon starts to eat you out, making you moan. "G-Ghost, fuck…." You threw your head back and buried his face deeper into your dripping cunt. He teased your hole and pushed in his finger. He arched it up and your eyes went wide. He moves his fingers while sucking on to your clit. You cried and gasped.

He keeps moving his finger as he goes up to give you a kiss, forcing you to taste yourself. "I-I need you." You beg in between the kisses. "Wait, we can't hurry stuff." Oh but you knew he wanted to be inside you any second. He kissed your neck and sucked on your nipple while he fingers you. He went to the other one and sucked it, gently biting it. You moaned and said, "Almost there!" You cried and he stopped. He pulls his fingers out of you gently. "Want you to cum on my cock. Wouldn't you like that instead, hm?" You just nod and he smiled. "Atta girl." Fuck, this man will be the death of you.

Ghost sits on his chair and pats his thighs. "Ride me." He says and licks his finger that was covered with your juice. You could see the huge tent he had. Fuck, is he really that big? Your dreams were not lying to you at all. You walked up to him and unbuckled the belt, unzipped his hands and pulled them down with his boxers. Your eyes go wide as you see it bounce out. "Like what you see, Sargent?" All you could do was nod. "Call me Simon or Lieutenant. Any is fine." He says as he lifts your face to make you look at him.

You nod as you give the tip of his cock a kiss. He shivers and runs his fingers through your hair. You smiled and brought the tip to your mouth, doing small circles with your tongue. You could hear his loud pants. He was trying to cover his moans with his hand, but he would let some slip. This didn't happen in the dream, but he wouldn't mind. He's enjoying himself. You started to take him in the best you could, he was huge and long. You gagged as you felt the tip reach the back of your throat. "F-Fuck, you think you can take it all?" You hummed and continued. You finally reach the end, your nose hitting his blonde pubes. Simon throws his head back when he feels your head move up and down. It was slow at first, trying to get used to the size, but continued and soon sped up the pace. "H-Holy shit, just like that!" He moans and moves your head to the side. Your free hand goes to his balls and gently squeezed and played with them. He gasped and moved your head with his hands. You looked up at him with teary eyes and moaned, sending vibrations.

He pulls you away with a 'pop' sound coming. "Come and sit on his cock sweetie." He says and you nod, panting. You position yourself ok his cock. He runs his cock in between your lips, mixing your saliva and his precum with your wet pussy. That's when he pushes it in, making your eyes go wide. "You do the rest, love." He says and you nod. You start going down on his cock, slowly. "That's it, t-take it in nice and sloww…fuck…" Simon says as he holds your hips, helping you sink into his cock while he throws his head back. You bit your lip and kept going down till you reached the end. He was huge, and fuck, he stretched you. The pain even felt good. You looked over your shoulder and gave him a nod. He kisses your back. He was kissing it all over. You were starting to get important when you slightly did circular motions. Simon grins and tightly holds your hips, stopping you from moving. "Now did this happen in the dream? Hmmm?" He makes you turn to look at him. "I want you to tell me what else happened in that dream of yours, yeah?" You nod. You felt embarrassed to really tell him, but you didn't want to disappoint him.

"Your hands move to my breast." You grabbed his hand, seeing how much bigger they were from yours, and placed them on your breast. "I'm guessing I squeezed them, eh sweetheart?" Fuck, those nicknames. You nod and he pinches your sensitive nipples. He gently rolls and pulls on them and squeezes your breast. You cupped your hand on top of his and said, "You start moving."

"Explain better, Sargent. How?" He whispered in your ear. "You held my hips and fucked me good, so good Simon. Please Simon, fuck me."

"That's what I like to hear sweetie." He says and holds your hips as he lowered himself on the chair and slowly moved his hips. You tried to help by holding on to his thighs and moving with him. Simon moaned as he would shove his cock in you. It would first be gentle and nice but would harshly thrust in. He grabbed your chin and made you turn to look at him. "Kiss me."

"Y-Yes." You say and try to kiss him. The kiss was sloppy, saliva everywhere, but it was the best fucking kiss you've ever had in a long time. He started to get tired so pulled from the kiss and held your hips. You moved your ass up and down, giving him a perfect view of your ass. Seeing how your pussy would just suck his cock in, so good. Hearing how wet and perverted it was. How yours and his skin slapped. "That's it, k-keep going."

"Y-Yes, yes yesss…" you moaned as you closed your eyes and moved. Simon harshly holds onto your hips and slaps you onto his cock, making your eyes go wide. He started to move his hips fast, harsh, deep. "Fuck! Like that! Oh my- ah!" You moan as your eyes roll back. Simon grins and lets out a groan as he keeps thrusting into you.

As Simon seemed kept thrusting, it seemed that he has gotten bored of the position and got up. You yelped and pushed your head onto the table. "Wanna be deeper in you." He says and spreads your legs. He rubs his dick in between your abused lips and gently pushes his dick back inside you, making you let out a low groan, eyes rolling back. "S-Simon, please, just fuck me."

"You wouldn't mind me changing up your dream a bit, right?" He moves his hips and slaps your ass, making you push back on to him. He kisses your back and bites your shoulder. "You f-feel good? So d-deep in you fuck…" He moaned while all you did was nod and moan. "S-So good! So big!"

"Yeah sweetie? Your Lieutenant making you feel g-good?" All you did was move your head and moan loud. That's when you started to feel a naught in you. "Pussy sooooo fucking good..." Simon groans and you push yourself further on to him. He speeds up his thrust when he feels your hand move to his arm, squeezing it. "C-Close!" You yelled. He moves his hand and puts his finger into your clit and starts to rub it, making your eyes go wide. The pleasure was so good, too good.

That's when you rolled your eyes back and covered his cock with your juice, reaching your high. "Fuck, already came?" He grins and pulls out. He spreads your ass and licks your wet cunt. Your legs were already giving up, but Simon holds your thighs, reminding you to stand still while he eats you out. "So good." He said and sucked your clit. He spits it and gently pushes his fingers in you. He holds your ass and moves his fingers. "S-Simon, god! So good!" You were so sensitive, his tongue and fingers felt so good.

That's when he made you gently turn around. He stands up and says, "Make your Lieutenant proud and suck on it, yeah." He says and you nod, going on to your knees.

You put his cock in your mouth and bobbed your head back and forth. "Going to- ugh fuck, fill that pretty mouth up." He says and holds your hair back. He pulls on to it, making you moan. He moans and moves your head with his hands. He was getting close, you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth. So you deep throat his cock, making him arch his back. "Holy shit!" He bit his lip as you stayed there for a while and pulled away, going back to bobbing your head.

You gave him one last deep throat and felt his cock twitch in your mouth, finally feeling the warm cum go down your throat. Simon moaned and left the last drop down your throat. He gently pulled away and you pant like crazy. "You did good." Simon says in-between pants and helps you stand up. You pulled him in a passionate kiss. He could taste himself in your mouth, but he didn't care. He pulls from the kiss and sees the time. "It's late Eggs, get to your room." He says as he grabs his coat and hands it to you. You hold his tattooed arm and say, "Come with me."

Simon stood there for a moment. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to hold you close, your breast against his chest. Maybe another round could happen and this time, you had to be quiet. Covering your mouth with his big hand. But he looked over at his desk and said, "I have paperwork to do.

"I don't think they matter." You say as you grabbed your pants and shirt and put on Simon's big coat. Simon looks over at the papers and sees some paper on the floor and some were wrinkled. You were putting on your clothes when Simon sighs. "Fine, I'll go." You smiled and helped him with his clothes. You kissed his cheek as you ran your hands on his chest. "Maybe we could do a bit more in the room." You whispered and bit his lip. He chuckled and you touched his mask. You gently lift it and stop mid-way to see if he'd stop you, but he didn't. You removed it and looked at his messy blonde hair. You chuckled and held his mask. "I never made it this far in the dream. You interrupted it." You say and Simon smiles. He moves his hand to your face and you say, "You came in this one, and it was real." You laughed and say, "I'll wait for you, Simon." And you walked out of the office. "We should do this more often LT."

Tags: @mentallynot-here @nyaajeez

[laiamadej]

I need to write this down wait

Ok, so, basically, my railao getting married when they're 30 au. They definitely got married, and like i said, one stayed single for a reason, and one got no game. The latter is Lao, but we know that lmao. But here's the thing after they got married, everyone except their friends didn't know it was a bet they made, so now they have to act cutesy in front of other people. Which didn't change much, cause guess what? Raiden had always been sweet to him. And then, one day, Johnny as always can NOT keep his nose outta ithers business. And he asked if they're for sure not have any sorta feelings for e/o? And told Lao that he should have seen the way Rai looked at him. N Lao was like 'nah u think too much' but he thought about it anyway. Then, after a while, he realized what Johnny said were true and started to panic (my boy😔) and accidentally asked Rai how long this has been going on. Raiden then was like, 'Oh shit.' But told him anyway. Now, he told lao, it's been 15 yrs. Lao of course, was flabbergasted. I mean, who wouldn't? You just found out your best friend has been in love with you for 15 yrs. Skip skip skip, things got awkward. Rai said he was sorry. They didn't talk much tho. Still, Lao got time to himself and started to think back to the past. Which, 💥 he realized how stupid he was and that he, in fact love Rai too, but he was in 'denied'. Cause why would everytimes he talked to someone, he will compare them to Raiden all the times. He would think something like, 'Rai would never do this' , 'Rai would definitely do this for him' blablabla. But here's the thing, they hadn't talked in weeks, how was he gonna do this? Well, he went to talk to him anyway. He told rai to wait for him for a bit. Rai, of course like a wholesome man that he was, told Lao even if it meant his whole life, he would wait for him (rah I'm so down for cliche dialogue hehehe) time skip, they back to normal, and it had been 6 months after that conversation. Whoop whoop. They were training together when Lao looked at Raiden, and thought to himself 'wow, I'm so in love with him'. He didn't know he said it out loud, Raiden did tho. And he was like, what did you just say? Lao got confused before it hit him. Goddamn if he didn't get flustered, they both turned into a mess. Eventually, Lao told him he loved him(finally ong) Raiden on the other hand, turned into a waterfall. Yes, he cried because why not? The love of your life for 15 yrs just told you he loved you. Raiden also said he loved him too. N they kiss yay!

That's it, i can't do this anymore. I need my afternoon nap. I just got my second day off after working and studying for 28 days straight thank you very much. So please ignore all the typos and grammar errors bye

[creoterative]

We've met before - Chapter 2

Rook, Paper, Scissor - Part One

Hello guys!

It's been a tough year so far and I didn't really have the time nor energy to write a lot. My semester ends in a few weeks and then I'll come back to writing more, I definitely realized once more, how much I still need this.

As always, a little snippet of the next chapter and I hope you enjoy reading it!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55281388/chapters/158785843#workskin

Traveling on a cruise ship was no longer unusual for Dawn. Even as a small child, she had dreamed of being able to travel the world, whether by ship, plane or automobile. Since she came from a good home, at least a few visits to relatives in different regions of Canada had been possible, but she had not been able to gain any experience outside her own country in her younger years.

That's why it was so important to her to find a proper vocation that would allow her to broaden her limited horizons. The world had so much more to offer than she had realized back then, when she had lived in her modest childhood room. Her dear mother was the one with the relieving message. She found a job ad in one of the daily newspapers, which Dawn read through with unruly attention, a little disappointed at first.

It was for a position as personal secretary to a chess player. His name meant nothing to Dawn at the time, which is why she was so disappointed and didn't expect much from this job despite her mother's hopes. So for the time being it was supposed to be just a stopgap, a transitional job until Dawn found the right position. Perhaps she could develop her language skills and hone her writing talent a little while working for this ominous chess player, thus preparing for further job interviews in more prestigious establishments.

At her first interview, which surprisingly enough took place not in an office but in a secluded area of a luxurious café, Dawn was immediately put to the test. She was received by a well-dressed gentleman whose dark eyes looked kindly at her. The small, dark moustache gave him the look of a typical gentleman of the 1930s, and his white gloves gave a certain impression of good hygiene.

As it turned out, however, this man was not the one Dawn was supposed to be working for. He would merely assess her typing skills and put her communication skills to the test. Then, if she performed her work in a manner that convinced the man, he would send her a letter asking her to report again.

Dawn didn't really expect much from this test, but she did her best to write the dictated words as fast as she could, taking great care not to allow a single typo. Then came the language test. Dawn was proficient in French and English, and she also knew a little Dutch. Whether the man was impressed or not, she couldn't tell from his expressionless face. In the end, she left the café with a more or less strong feeling of uncertainty.

It took only three days for an elaborately decorated letter to reach her, reminding her of her interview and indicating to Dawn that she would definitely get the job if she could now convince the actual client, the chess player mentioned in the newspaper.

A meeting was arranged and it wasn't long before Dawn was back at the café. This time, however, there were two men sitting across from her. She knew the friendly man who had tested her skills and language abilities. The other figure sharing the room with her, however, radiated a completely different energy than his butler did.

He had shoulder-length hair, with strands that shimmered in an unusually bright violet. His face was angular and sharply defined, with an unchanging, stony expression that made it seem as if the young man hadn't laughed in years. Dawn wouldn't be surprised if that were the truth. Most fascinating of all, however, were the eyes of her new counterpart. They were pitch-black, as dark as night, and stared incessantly at the noble glass table that stood between them.

He didn't greet her, merely introduced himself as Mr. Hayato, and then sat down in that large, red, velvet-covered armchair, from which he seemed to stare fixedly at the beautiful engraving in the table. It was only much later that Dawn learned that this constant, empty stare had a very specific reason. At that point, however, the stare seemed extremely inappropriate to her, when his attention should have been on her to assess whether she was suitable for the job.

Instead, however, it was the man with the dark hair, apparently really his butler, who asked her further questions, this time about her person and her characteristics. While Dawn gave direct answers and naturally adopted her open-hearted, polite manner, she occasionally tried to catch a glimpse of her counterpart and, if necessary, observe his reaction to her statements.

She was bitterly disappointed. The tall man in the dashing black suit didn't move a millimeter, as if he was stuck to this oversized armchair and his thoughts had fallen prey to an endlessly long train leading into the yawning void. The conversation, or rather the interrogation, ended after about ten minutes and the butler leaned a little towards his master to ask him for the decisive answer.

Slowly, as if he were moving in slow motion, the man with the violet hair raised his heavy-looking head and looked long into Dawn's sapphire blue eyes. It seemed to her as if two black holes were opening up before her, gradually threatening to swallow her whole. Until, after a good half a minute, the man opened his tight-lipped mouth and made his decision.

“You start tomorrow at 6:00 in the morning. Bring a pen and paper.”

Hayato's voice was lighter and softer than Dawn had initially expected. It wasn't any less intimidating, as he spoke with such cold monotony that it sent shivers down her spine, but she had expected a much rougher tone from someone who had apparently lost his manners. Usually, you looked at them when a potential employee asked you questions – or had it asked!

The fact that Dawn had been accepted and had withstood his critical gaze caused her to give a brief, pleased smile, to assure him of her presence the following day and to thank him for the time the conversation had cost. Once at home, however, her joy at her new job quickly faded. It would certainly not be a fulfilling job, carrying piles of papers for a chess player who had become dull to human emotions and getting him his, certainly black, coffee.

It turned out that Mr. Hayato actually resembled an automaton more than a human. His daily routine was always the same and followed an extremely rigid schedule that had to be adhered to under all circumstances. If he was not awakened punctually at 5 o'clock in the morning by his butler, Dawn got to feel his bad mood for the rest of the day and had to endure his grumpy humming. Since she couldn't prevent the butler Harrison, who was actually a perfectionist, from delaying his early rising by thirty seconds after a long day, Dawn wanted to at least make sure that she could perform her own tasks with the utmost precision.

It took her a few months to get used to her first job and to become familiar with the daily routine of this chess player. During this time, she also realized from the many documents she had to sift through that Mr. Hayato was by no means an ordinary man who had become rich and had a chess obsession. She didn't condemn herself for not having found this out before; after all, chess had never been one of her interests. But it turned out that Mr. Hayato was the reigning world chess champion.

Harrison brought Dawn up to date in the few free minutes they had together, telling her the story, omitting a few details, of the events that had ultimately led to these special circumstances.

Paul Hayato had grown up in a small village surrounded by dense forest in the middle of Germany, and had lived in poor circumstances for a long time because his mother was a housewife and his father a shoemaker. Although shoemakers were still needed, industrialization meant that many jobs were in danger of disappearing. Unfortunately, this was also the fate of Paul's father.

One day, Paul stood at the gates of the village church wearing nothing but a pair of hole-riddled trousers, a dirty grey jacket and a pair of old leather shoes. His mother had died of pneumonia and his father had worked until the end with the frayed and worn-out shoes until his body gave out and the old man suffered a heart attack. The only one he had left was his older brother Reggie, as Harrison told it.

A clever boy with an intellect that significantly exceeded the average of the villagers. But at twelve years old, Paul was just seven, he was too young to do hard labor and had not yet been able to learn his father's trade. The two boys had no choice but to ask for safe shelter for at least one night, because there were no other relatives nearby.

Fortunately for them, the local pastor took the two of them into his care and put them up in the church. He also made every effort to ensure that both of them could at least attend elementary school, which ultimately brought Reggie's hidden talents to light. The boy had an extremely keen mind, was a fast learner and easily found his way among his peers. The terrible circumstances in which he had previously found himself were in no way apparent in him.

Paul, however, caused the pastor concern from the very beginning. He hardly ate, didn't speak a single word, and the grades he showed the pastor at the end of each semester were simply miserable. The pastor could not fully explain this difference in expression, behavior, and indeed in his entire being. He merely speculated that the trauma of the early and sudden death of both parents was processed differently by the two sons.

The younger of the two brothers avoided contact with other people, shut himself off, and would rather carry snails hundreds of times from one place to another and back again than bother with learning the German language. No matter how hard the pastor tried, he couldn't get a single word out of the boy. The only one who could understand what was going on inside him was Reggie. The pastor never heard him talk to Paul either, since he certainly expected just as little of an answer as everyone else. But it seemed as if the two had developed a kind of secret language to communicate with each other. It started with small hand signals, unobtrusive gestures, blunt pointing at an object. The older they got, the more complex their secret language became, and in the end it almost seemed to the pastor as if Paul had a much better command of this invented language than of his own spoken mother tongue.

Since he could not get through to the younger of the two and the older one did not want to teach him the secret language, after all, his brother was using it to tell him things that he no longer dared to say, he gradually began to despair. What options did a child have who could neither read nor write nor speak? What place was there for him in this world, which could be so unjust and cruel to the disadvantaged?

To take his mind off his worries, the pastor liked to play chess in the garden. Sometimes the baker from the neighboring street offered to play, sometimes the sexton, sometimes the butcher's wife, and other times a police officer whom the pastor knew well took on the black pieces. The boys were not normally particularly interested in what the priest did, although they always did the tasks he gave them immediately and without argument. On this day, however, it was Paul, of all people, who seemed to be watching the unfamiliar game from a distance.

After a whole game, which the policeman just won, Reggie joined him on the wall, from where they could easily observe the garden, and asked by means of small signs whether his brother would be interested in the game that the pastor was playing there. The younger of them nodded briefly and a few moments later they looked on at the next game.

When the policeman also managed to win this game, they both actually wanted to stop and go back to their respective duties. That's when something happened that ultimately set the ball rolling. Paul raised his hand and pointed at the board, his pitch-black eyes fixed on the wooden square. Surprised, the pastor had Reggie fetch two chairs and allowed the two boys to join them.

This time, Paul played against the policeman, who seemed to be vastly superior to him at first. However, when they started the third game, they noticed something unusual. Paul began to make his moves much faster, much more determined, much firmer, until he had a clear advantage from about halfway through the game, without the policeman realizing it. He finally managed to checkmate the king and won his first chess game in a few moves.

It didn't take long for the priest to realize that Paul seemed to have a talent for this game. Over the next few days, they played the game non-stop, with other opponents constantly stepping up to the plate, but the boy defeated them all. Only the sexton managed to achieve a draw, because Paul was not at all familiar with the theory of chess and therefore did not recognize a particular move at the beginning of the game as such. He was only later introduced to the various opening tactics, but he quickly mastered them and gradually made a name for himself.

After a few major tournaments, for which the pastor even dragged the boy to the barber, Paul was so well known in the surrounding villages and even the next small town that the press took notice of him. More tests of his intellect were demanded, more tournaments to put him to the test. He mastered them all with flying colors, never once did Paul really get into trouble.

Even when he was aiming for the world championship title years later, he was called the Undefeated, although by then he had actually lost a few games. Nevertheless, his victories outweighed his defeats to such an extent that the defeats received very little attention and were virtually ignored. Every time Paul suffered a defeat or a draw, it had more to do with the fact that it was impossible for him to thoroughly study chess literature and the knowledge of his confidants was only sufficient up to a certain level. When he encountered new positions, unknown moves and possibilities, he initially found it difficult to adapt. But Paul never made the same mistake twice.

[rottenzombrainz]

How would your ocs act in a commuted relationship?

I've been getting so many questions about Yichén and Alli lately thank you guys so much <333

I'm assuming you meant "committed"? It's okay, typos happen to the best of us!

The question is a little vague, so sorry if I don't answer this the way you want! I'll start with Yichén like last time.

A committed relationship with Yichén would be pretty simple, to say the least. To him, a partner is someone who can do the things he loves with him side by side and vice versa. Someone to go walking in the woods with him or to binge Sherlock with him. Someone he wouldn't be worried about upsetting because he knows the communication in the relationship is reliable.

Yichén wouldn't be the type to parade around going "Look at my S/O!" (unlike Alli) but he would hold their hand in public and stick close by to them. He wouldn't constantly gloat about them, but he'd mention them every so often. "Me and * went to the movies the other day. They enjoyed it a lot more than I did, but it's okay. I'm glad they had fun".

Despite how much he hates confrontation, he wouldn't be shy about letting his partner know how he feels about things. To him, communication is everything and he'd never be serious with someone he felt he couldn't communicate with. That's part of what would make a relationship with Yichén so special to him- that he has someone he feels he can talk to about anything. Whether it be his excitement about an upcoming event, his discomfort from a previous interaction, or anything else.

Yichén doesn't get jealous easily. And when he does, he has no issue being open about it. Because, like I keep mentioning, communication is everything to him. If his partner was feeling jealous because of him, he'd comfort them and sort things out immediately. He'd never want his s/o to think he didn't like them anymore.

Family is also very important to him so he'd want his partner to meet his family as soon as things start getting serious (and as soon as he and his bae are allowed to leave Darkwick). He wouldn't care much if his family didn't like his s/o. To him, what's more important is the act of getting to know your partner's family. But it'd be all the better if his family did like his partner.

Overall, a relationship with Yichén would be pretty chill and mundane - in a good way. He'd probably be the worst protagonist for a soap opera- no drama, no conflict, just a regular, happy relationship.

How Alli acts in a relationship really depends on if she's getting what she needs: validation and reassurance. In a healthy relationship, she'd adore her partner dearly and her mood would brighten every time she thinks of them. She'd love to tell people about them and post about them on her socials. She's a very cuddly person too, but she'd tone it down if her s/o wasn't into PDA. As long as they can cuddle in private.

Alli needs someone who can be patient with her. Who won't get angry no matter how many times she asks "Do you hate me?". Someone who can elaborate on their actions and intentions. "You seemed mad at me last night... did I do something wrong?" "No, you didn't do anything. I got into a fight with a friend and was a little upset, but not at you. I'd tell you if I was mad at you.". Reassurance means the world to her.

Alli enjoys buying and making things for the people she loves, so her partner would be receiving a lot of gifts. This doesn't mean she expects something in return, it's just her love language. She'd want to always show her s/o just how much she loves them and make sure they never doubt her love for them.

As a Jabberwock girly, Alli is pretty busy, so she'd understand if her partner was busy too. Even if the two plan a date but things keep coming up, she'd just be happy that her partner is trying. She'd be perfectly fine with giving them space too, as long as she's reassured she's still loved and wanted.

Along with someone who can regularly reassure her, she also needs someone she feels safe around. Someone who she can be herself with. Someone she can ramble and open up to. Someone she can communicate with. You may be thinking "rottenzombrainz, that's basic relationship criteria!!" and you'd be right! But not for Alli. She'd settle for anyone who can even just pretend to love her.

Her idea of romance is twisted and warped. She doesn't know what a healthy relationship is. All that matters to her is that she at least feels loved sometimes. Because that's what a romantic relationship is to her. Doting on someone who sometimes gives her love in return. Poor Alli needs a lifetime supply of therapy and then some...

Overall, she's not as "difficult" as she seems. She doesn't expect grand gestures of love or for her partner to agree with everything she says or whatever. She just wants someone who can be patient with her, her trauma, and her BPD. And who at least half of her animals like.

Hopefully this answers your question, anon! Thank you for wanting to know more about my OCs! I always love answering asks about them!!

[vxnillite]

Khro'a birthday drabble!!!

THIS IS FOR @99-kroi !!! The man who sent me down this path of insanity, and I will be eternally grateful for that.

HAPPY 20TH BIRTHDAY DUDE!!! Just want to say that you're an amazing person, a fantastic artist, and a really fun person to talk to! Really, really glad to have met you and to be able to share all this fun sh*t with you! (I'm a writer, why is my vocab so limited)

Also this is not a ship fic, 100% platonic bc Noah and Khro'a are besties 4 life <33 yippee hAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN KROIIIII

(if there are typos, i'll get back to it. i haven't [edit: HELP ME WHY DID THE REST OF THE SENTENCE DELETE ITSELF I MEANT TO SAY I HAVEN'T PROOFREAD THIS LKSDJFKLSJF])

Sunlight filtered through the wooden planks of the treehouse, shining tiny spotlights on an unusually empty bed.

The owner was in the middle of the room, crouched on the floor. Khro'a whistled as he fixed his travel packs. Today was going to be uneventful, but he'd decided to go flying—didn't know where to, exactly. Khro'a would decide on the way.

He'd just tied up the last pack when he heard an ikran cry. Weird—that wasn't his, though. It cried again, sounding much closer to the treehouse this time. Khro'a had a second to recognize that particular call when—

"INCOMING!!"

Something crashed straight into Khro'a. It knocked out almost all the air inside of him, and, had he not been bigger than the intruder, they would've crushed him.

"Ay, puta—you were fucking right under it! Sorry!"

Khro'a felt himself get yanked up onto his feet, then into a tight embrace. From over the person's head, he processed first the rapidly swishing tail, then the triple braids—one black, two an unnatural purple.

Noah was jumping on their toes as they exclaimed, "Happy birthday, Khro'a!!"

Excitement rose like magma in his chest at the realization. Khro'a grinned and hugged them back. "Noah! I thought you wouldn't be back until a few more weeks?"

Noah pulled away to look up at Khro'a, and their arms went from his waist to his hands. "And fucking miss your birthday," they scoffed playfully, "You think I'm gonna be stupid like that? Of course, I was gonna come home early!"

Finally, confusion arose as well, and Khro'a asked, "How is it my birthday—wait, how are you keeping track of this?"

Fangs bared, Noah giggled through their teeth. "Well, it's been exactly one Pandoran year since you got transferred to your Avatar by Eywa. I did the math some time ago, and turns out your terran birthday happens to fall on the same day this year," they explained, "So, technically, two birthdays!"

It took a few seconds for Khro'a to process, and he chuckled as he did. 

Noah cocked their head to the side. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just," he stifled a laugh, "You really counted all that?"

"What, like it's supposed to be hard?"

Khro'a couldn't hold it in anymore, the affectionate laugh he was caging in his chest. "Spoken like a true nerd."

Noah slapped him on the chest. Their lips scrunched into a pout. "Gago, it's simple fucking math!" Then, infected by Khro'a, they started laughing, too. "Of course, I've been counting. It's your birthday, after all. I keep track of everyone else's, too."

Khro'a let his laughter dwindle down first. "So, it's been a year, huh," he mused. Then, he looked back down at Noah. Their bright eyes looked up at him curiously, waiting on his words. He sighed contentedly, "Thank you, Noah."

Noah's lips curled into a softer, still toothy smile. A little chuckle wisped through them as they pulled Khro'a in for another hug. It said everything that couldn't be put into words.

The moment passed in comfortable silence until Noah spoke up. "Oh, also, I stopped by the village, and I told the entire village and the other RDA people. They're all waiting for you at High Camp."

Khro'a sighed, placing a hand on their head. "Of course you did."

"But you seem to have plans." Noah peeked behind him from under his arm. "Going somewhere?"

"Meh, I wasn't really planning on it," Khro'a shrugged, "I was just bored, so it's a 'wherever the wind takes me' kind of plan."

The reaction to that was somewhat violent, as Noah pulled away only to grip Khro'a's arms, eyes glinting with excitement. Their tail was whipping like a tornado behind them. Teeth that bit down on their lower lip caged their words flimsily. Khro'a had a feeling he knew what those were.

"Go on. What is it?"

"Can I come with you," Noah asked giddily, like a child, "It's been months since we went somewhere together!"

"I don't know~ Didn't you say there are people waiting at High Camp?"

"Yes, and we can go after that! C'mon, don't fuck with me, Khro'a."

Some things just never change, he thought. Then, Khro'a smiled. "Alright, but I really had no plans of where to go. Do you?"

"'Wherever the wind takes us' sounds like a good plan. Now, come on! I'll help you with your things."

Khro'a perked up as if a switch had been flipped in his head. "Wait, Noah, you've been travelling all night—have you had any sleep?"

"Shhh! That's not your problem to deal with, okay?"

"That's not my po—Noah!!"

Too late. They grabbed two of the biggest bags in their hand, jumped up onto a large branch—an exposed structural beam of sorts for the treehouse—then flung themselves through the roof chute. They looked down at Khro'a, jerking their head as if to hurry him up. Fortunately, he'd already followed suit.

Khro'a emerged through the chute mere seconds after Noah did, throwing the other two bags onto the roof as he pushed himself up. With his tail, he flipped the chute door shut. Khro'a put his arm out just in time as he saw a familiar stingbat coming to land on him.

"Hey, Kev!" Khro'a chuckled as the stingbat pecked him affectionately. It shrieked as he scritched its neck. He dug a fruit from one of his bags and gave it to Kev. It cawed gratefully as it flew back to hover over its owner.

Then, the two avatars mounted their ikrans, but before they took off—

"Oh, and Khro'a?"

He turned to them innocently. What he saw was a figure cast in the morning light and a delicate smile. Noah's gaze softened as their eyes met.

"Happy birthday ulit." Their eyes smiled, too, pushing a few tears through the corners. "Thanks for everything. I'll never forget any of it."

[newt-and-salamander]

Okay, time to go and overshare online because that's a very healthy coping mechanism and also impeccable internet safety.

Soooo, I had this job as a student assistant for 2.5 years. I worked for a professor (lets call him Mr. J.) and we got along quite well and I am very sure I carried out my tasks very efficiently and well. He repeatedly told me so.

Last year in January I received an offer as a student assistant for a different project (with Mrs. S), and also a different Professor (Mrs. Y) asked me if I would be interested to be her PhD student after I finished my degree. I was overjoyed because I was extremely interested in Mrs. Y's work and had meant to ask her myself but couldn't muster the courage. As Mrs. S worked in the same field, it was clear I would take her job as well.

So I talked to Mr. J and told him I would take a second job and I would need to lower my work load with him from 40 h/month to 30. He was ... not happy. I remember him literally saying "If Y wants to throw her hat into the ring, who am I to stop her", and in what I considered to be honest career advice, he told me not to go into her field as it was not very promising for a university career atm.

Fast-forward to June: It became clear to me that I wouldn't be able to work 60 h/month while writing my Master thesis starting in September, so I went to Mr J. and told him I would need to quit in autumn. It made sense, because the project I worked on with S was very much adjacent to the topic I chose for my thesis. Again, J was not overjoyed to hear this and told me it was "hard to find good people", but I took that as a compliment.

I finished all my tasks in time and I spent several hours in September showing my successor how to take over from me.

I then wrote a long email to J, thanking him for the 2.5 years we had worked together and everything he had taught me - because it was true, he had been a good boss and I had learned a lot and I knew he had made sure to give me interesting tasks. He had even sent me to a work trip to Paris to do some research in some archives there. I appreciated that a lot and I told him (and I had told him before), and wroteI regretted that I had to leave the job, but that I had had a great time. I also asked him if he could write me a employer's reference as it was pretty much my first proper job.

I didn't expect a bouquet of flowers or anything, but I thought he might write back with something like "thanks for your work, good luck with your thesis". All I got back then was a one liner saying he would write the reference.

I already had the feeling back then that he was sulking, but I brushed the thought away as him being very busy. I met him once on the corridor since then, where he very obviously had no time for me. And today I got the employer's reference, 3 months after I had asked him to write one.

It was a generic text about the university, then a list of my tasks which I provided and then 2 paragraphs, of which the first one said also the very generic things about my work behaviour, including 2 typos, and the whole second paragraph was dedicated to how I quit the job because I got another attractive offer and how he regrettet to let me go.

And ... I get it. These things are always very gerenic and maybe I'm reading too much into it. But tbh reading this, I feel very bad, because I think the only effort he put into it was to make sure I knew he was not happy about me leaving, and also this sounds like I left on a whim, while I told him 4 months prior. I am also very disappointed because he never once said thank you or good bye to me, and - as a person who is generally not very sure of herself - I think this letter understates my actual performance. All the time I thought I was overinterpreting his behaviour, but now I think it's safe to say that he's offended. And I don't understand why. I was only his student assistant. I think I did my job very reliably, but at the end of the day it still was scanning books for his seminars and going to archives to take photos of documents for him. I did not betray him in any personal way. I don't see why he would react in such a way. (And I can't stop thinking about the "throwing the hat into the ring" comment. If he felt I should in any way be more loyal (???) to him and IF he had maybe thought of offering me a PhD position, he could have done it then and there. I can't read his thoughts. I am suffering from impostor syndrom anyway, I don't think anyone would willingly want to take me on for a doctorate.)

Anyway, I'm confused and hurt and I wrote him an email asking very nicely to correct the typos. Let's see if that takes him 3 more months.