#he takes his sweet time thinking about his life and deciding what he wants to do

[letsgobarbs]

YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND

Tommy Miller drops to his knees in front of you and places his warm, calloused hands on the back of your fishnet covered thighs. Your skin is so soft, he thinks, and he has to fight against the urge to lean forward and bite the supple flesh. Instead, he looks up at you through his lashes, noting the way your laughter stops and your breath stutters. And because his inhibition has been shattered by his need for you, he says lowly, “Is this what you want, sweetheart? You want me to beg for it?”

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE BAR??? RIGHT ON THE STREETS. OMFL TOMMY.

Tommy leans forward, eyes never leaving yours, and presses a wet kiss to the soft flesh of your thigh. He can’t resist his smile when he feels goosebumps break out across your skin, and so he does it again. This time his lips are much greedier, much closer to the inside of your thighs, and he daringly decides to taste you. He can feel the rough edges of your fishnets across the flat of his tongue and wonders how he’s gone thirty years of his life without ever dating a goth girl, wonders how he’ll ever go back. He wonders how the fuck you’re so magnetic, how just existing this close to you makes his cock throb in his jeans.

I AM UNWELL YOU HEAR??? UNWELL AT THIS. THE WAY YOU WROTE THIS HAS ME RUNNING IN FUCKING CIRCLES MY MAN TOMMY IS SO FUCKING SKDJDJSUSNRBDOAHRBEJAHFBF

Tommy undoes the button of your denim shorts. He hooks one arm around your hips and jerks you down the hood of your car. “This what you want, pretty girl? Don’t want me to ask for it. You want me to take it. S’that it?”

Damn just out in the open in the fucking parking of her workplace I'M DYING

His cock has never been this hard, Tommy thinks. It’s pressed against your thigh still, and every one of your little movements makes it worse. It makes him near delirious. He wants to bury himself inside of you but knows to save it for later. When he knows more about you, when he knows what it looks like when you cum. He’s got his fingers hooked upwards, caressing that sweet, soft spot, and his pace is unforgiving. He wishes your shorts weren’t in the way, but he does what he can with the clearance you’ve granted him. “Dirty little thing,” he says. “Wanna be touched so bad you spread your legs out in the open.”

I— no fucking words

Fishnets & Old Fashioned's

Summary - Tommy Miller wants a big titty goth gf and isn't above begging on his knees to get one.

Pairing - Tommy Miller/goth!bartender!Reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, begging, dom/sub undertones, switch!Tommy and switch!Reader, tongue piercings, nipple play, dirty talk, semi-public, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, kneeling, body worship

[crossposted on AO3]

There are very few things in the world better than a nice, strong drink after a long day at work. In fact, it tended to be Tommy Miller’s favorite part of the night. That—and chatting up the prettiest girls in his favorite bar.

Tommy and Joel would often go together after a particularly rough day in the unforgiving Texas heat, and the best bar in town was the best for no reason other than the bartender. Frank was a mean, old bastard—but Christ could he mix a perfect Old Fashioned. It was exactly what Tommy craved after a day like today, where everything went wrong and nothing went right and his calloused hands were marked up with cuts and splinters.

Except Frank, apparently, wasn’t working today. And you stand in his place behind the rickety mahogany bar. A small slip of a girl, nearly half Frank’s size but somehow no less intimidating. In fact, Tommy finds himself even more intimidated by you, with your dyed hair and ripped fishnets beneath a tight, black tank top that sports the white skull of the Misfits logo.

He sits at the bar beside Joel, but his eyes never leave you. Your fingernails are painted black, thumbs sticking through the netting over your hands, and Tommy thinks you look terrifying and captivating and lethal and beautiful all at once. It’s rare to see girls like this in the deep south—girls who embody the shadows as a fashion accessory, girls who look like they may sprout horns or claws at any given moment, girls with siren eyes and fatal lips and switchblade curves.

Tommy Miller will be the first to admit that you scare him. Tommy Miller will also be the first to admit that yeah—he’d definitely let you eat his soul.

You’re mixing a cosmopolitan for some uppity lady at the other end of the bar, and he watches your nimble fingers as you place the lime garnish and slide the glass to the customer. You give her a pretty smile, and Tommy admires the crimson stain on your lips and wonders if it’s possible to seduce a succubus.

When you walk over to them, he can’t help but attempt to immediately create rapport. He doesn’t know the Misfits well but has heard their new song on the radio once. He leans in and asks, “You gotta name, vampire girl?”

You don’t laugh, but it doesn’t deter Tommy in the slightest. You brace your hands against the bar and say, “Depends on who’s askin.��”

“No one special,” he says with a casual shrug. “Just the man of your dreams.”

The cutest snort leaves your nose, and it feels like a win. “Let me guess,” you say, pointing a finger at Tommy. “Old Fashioned. And for you…” For a moment, you narrow your eyes at Joel. “Either Jack and Coke or Johnny Walker on the rocks.”

It’s like witchcraft, he thinks. Because you’re completely right and Tommy’s only ever known Joel to order a Jack and Coke—and suddenly he’s fumbling, trying desperately to turn your attention away from his brother. “How did you do that?”

“Experience,” you say. “You need a double? You look like you need a double.”

He does—but Tommy isn’t sure whether to take your words as an insult or not. He finds that he doesn’t really care either way, because you're looking at him now and he’s grinning like a madman and desire creeps up his spine as you lean over and fill a glass with ice. Tommy’s always been an ass man, swore up and down once he always would be—but holy fuck, he feels himself changing. “A double would be great, darlin’. Maybe I can get a little something on the side, too,” he says with a playful wink.

“Jesus,” Joel huffs.

You set to work on mixing their drinks—Joel’s first, and then Tommy’s. When you set his on the bar, there are two glasses—one that looks like his normal Old Fashioned, and a shot glass filled with a clear liquid. “A little something on the side,” you tell him. “You guess what it is and I won’t charge you for it. Guess wrong and it goes on your tab.”

His first instinct is to say it’s vodka—it’s still like water, completely crystalline. But when he tries to pick it up to smell it, you put a black-painted finger up.

“Nope. That’s cheating.”

“It could be anything,” he argues. “What if it’s gin and I guess vodka?”

The corners of your pretty mouth turn up into a smirk. “Is that your guess? Vodka?”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, no—uhm…,” he stutters. Tommy has no goddamn idea and knows he’ll never be able to guess correctly, but you seem to be enjoying his struggle, so he flounders a bit longer than necessary.

But then you raise the stakes.

You lean forward, layered silver necklaces glittering in front of your god-blessed cleavage, and he has to try not to stare too long. He definitely stares—but not enough to be weird about it. “Guess correctly and I’ll give you my number, casanova.”

It feels a little like gambling. Tommy knows he has a way with women, knows a flash of his dimples and a little southern charm goes a long way around here. But something tells him it’s just not gonna work with you, and he wants you so badly that he’s willing to make himself look like a fool if that’s what it takes. “How long ‘til the offer expires?”

With a glance at an imaginary watch, you say, “I’m here until two. After that…who’s to say?”

Tommy sits there and watches you walk away, watches you give that pretty smile to another man who orders a shot of tequila.

When he takes a sip of his Old Fashioned, he wonders what the fuck is in it because it’s the best goddamn drink he’s ever had. Better than anything Frank has ever made him, better than any he’s gotten at that fancy bar in Houston he went to a year ago—smokey and bitter and strong and delicious.

Joel calls him stupid, says he’s insane for even looking at a girl like you, mentions how much younger you are and how you’re likely just entertaining him for tips. Tommy orders another drink anyway and promises to get a cab home when Joel insists he’s ready to leave.

The crowd dies down the longer the night stretches on, and you keep placing drinks in front of him moments after he finishes the one in his hands. Once, when you have your back turned, Tommy dips the tip of his index finger into the shot glass.

But before he can bring it to his lips, you’re suddenly standing right in front of him. Your hand flits across the bar and encloses around his wrist. You click your tongue and his gaze is transfixed on the flash of metal in your mouth. “Cheaters don’t get prizes,” you tell him.

Tommy watches dazedly as you bring his finger to your lips. “Cheating? I would never do something…” he loses his train of thought, because you suck the tip of his finger into your mouth, cleaning up the clear liquid, and he can feel the metal barbell pierced through your tongue. It sends a jolt of electricity dancing along his spine and he wonders how it would feel against other parts of him. When you pull away slowly, Tommy clears his throat and blinks a few times before he can resume his sentence. “…I’d never do something like that,” he finishes.

Two in the morning approaches way too fast, and while it may seem a little strange that he’s sitting here all alone for so long, pondering over this clear liquid, he finds that he loves watching you move. You’ve got some kind of dark magic about you, he thinks. Men throw themselves at you, some even more so than Tommy, but you never give them half a chance. He watches as you turn those siren eyes on them and take the words right out of their mouths, watches as you state clearly and silently that while their attempts interest you, none of them ever hold you.

He thinks about the phrase god is a woman, but wonders if the devil is, too.

After the last call, Tommy remains the last person in the bar. You graciously allow him to keep seated even as you clean the sticky bar top and turn the chairs upside down and lay them on the tables. You emerge from the back room a little after two-thirty with a black backpack shaped like a bat and a ruby leather jacket. “Last chance, casanova,” you say. “Got a guess yet?”

Tommy licks his lips. “I need a hint.”

“No hints. Time’s up. Guess.”

There’s the faintest smile on your face, and Tommy hopes that even if he guesses wrong you’ll take pity on him and give him something. He gives it his best shot; “Tequila?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you lift the shot glass to your mouth and swallow half of it. You slide it to him, and even though Tommy is more of a dark liquor person, he drinks the remaining liquid and cringes at the taste. “Should’ve followed your gut instinct,” you say.

Tommy hates vodka. Even more so now than he did the morning after prom. Still, he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, come on, darlin’,” he says. “I guessed it once. That’s gotta count for something.”

Through a soft laugh, you ask, “Why are you so determined? It’s just a game.”

Because he’s spent the last three and a half hours fantasizing about what a great lay you would be. Because he knows deep in his bones that you’d do some shit that’d make a man fall in love. Because he wants to unravel your pretty mystery and drink in that hypnotic poison. Because yes—it’s just a game, but Tommy Miller is no fucking loser. “I like to win.”

You let him walk you out, even let him walk you to your car at the back of the dark lot. Don’t you know how dangerous a situation this could be? All alone with him, beneath the cover of night…he isn’t a bad man, but something tells him you wouldn’t mind it even if he was. You say goodnight, and Tommy calls a cab and fights the urge to return to the bar the following night.

He waits until the weekend, like a normal person, despite the fact that he thinks of nothing but dyed hair and silver necklaces and fishnets and tongue piercings until then. He doesn’t carpool with Joel to work Friday morning, because he has every intention of staying at the bar and playing his hand until the early morning hours again.

But before he arrives, Tommy decides to turn his charm up a little. He stops at a local florist on the way and spends probably too much time deciding on which ones you’d like best. He settles on a half dozen roses whose color reminds him of that crimson stain on your lips but stops short at the checkout. Behind the counter, a bouquet of the very same roses is set in a half-empty vase—except the petals are dark and wilted. Tommy knows immediately that those are the ones he needs.

The florist raises her eyebrows in concern when he asks specifically for the dead ones, and Tommy promises he’ll pay full price for them if that’s what it takes.

He walks out of there with a bouquet of dead roses and sits on the same stool at the bar as last week. You’re serving someone across the room, a tray of margaritas in your hand. Tommy admires your long legs, thinks fishnets look even better on your thick thighs than beneath that one Misfits top. Your leather boots shine beneath the low lighting, and he has the sick desire to be crushed beneath them. When you finish serving the group of girls in the booth and turn back to the bar, his heart races in his chest.

You make him nervous, Tommy realizes. He wants to please you, wants you to like his gift, wants you to give him that pretty smile you always give everyone else. But when you set the tray behind the counter you don’t even look up at him before you start mixing another drink. Tommy thinks about how that makes him feel, how dissatisfied he is without your attention. But then you slide an Old Fashioned over the bar and give him something even better. “You miss me or something, casanova?”

Tommy hands you the dead roses and nods. “Like hell, vampire girl. You gonna let me take you out or what?”

You inhale the sickly sweet scent of the flowers, and when you look up at him through those dark lashes all the blood in Tommy’s head rushes straight to his dick. “You don’t wanna go out with a girl like me,” you say.

He folds his arms over one another and leans across the bar. “And why’s that?”

You laugh like God, Tommy thinks. And for a second he’s lost in the sound, the cluster of clinking glass and murmured voices fading into the background of his mind. But then you give him the sweetest, most innocent smile and say, “Because I’ll break your heart.”

“So?” The question is paired with a shrug, and it comes out of his mouth before he can stop it. But Tommy, once again, is more than willing to look like a fool to have you if only for a night. “C’mon, sweetheart. Give an old man a chance. I swear I’ll make it good for you.”

“Would you now?”

He nods once. “The best date you’ll ever have.”

“You don’t even know what I like to do outside of here,” you say. It’s a reasonable concern, and a true one. But he wants to know.

You snort and shake your head when he suggests playfully, “Picnic in the cemetery?”

“Right next to dear old grandma?”

“Be the first woman I ever bring home to meet the family, baby.”

Another man at the end of the bar snaps his fingers in the air to get your attention and Tommy suddenly feels like fighting. He doesn’t, though—and reminds himself when you giggle at someone else’s joke that you’re just working, just doing your job.

Friday’s are slower than Saturdays, it seems, and by midnight the only people left in the bar are you, Tommy, and a guy in a booth half passed out. You emerge from behind the bar with your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute. Keep me company?”

It’s the most exciting thing he’s heard all night. Tommy jumps to his feet, the bar stool scraping noisily against the sticky floor. He lifts the partition up for you to walk through. “Ladies first.”

The midnight air is cool against his skin, and he notices as he leans against the siding of the bar that you smell like cherries. Cherries with poisoned pits. You pull a little metal box from your backpack, and Tommy watches you pull out a joint, place it between your lips, and light it. He watches you inhale deeply, watches you lick your lips, watches that metal barbell in your mouth like it’ll grant him his salvation.

Tommy can’t help himself. His words spill out of his mouth. “You are so pretty,” he says.

You laugh lightheartedly and turn those siren eyes on him again and he’s weak in the knees. He takes the joint when you offer it. Tommy hasn’t smoked weed since he was twenty-one, but the taste is nice, somehow earthy and fruity at the same time, and your eyes are searing him to the bone. “Thanks,” you say softly. “You’re pretty too.”

He chuckles and passes it back to you. “Well ain't you a peach,” he says. “If I’m so pretty why don’t you let me take you out?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before you answer. And for a split second, Tommy thinks you might actually give in to him. But then you ask, “Have you ever been with a girl like me, casanova?”

No, he hasn’t, and maybe that’s a part of the appeal. All he knows is that he wants to slip his fingers underneath your black tank top and fill up his hands with your softness. He flashes you an award-winning smile and answers, “First time for everything.”

A soft snort leaves your nose. “So, no, then,” you say, the smallest bit of disappointment laced through your tone. You take another long drag from the joint and smoke swirls around your pretty hair. “Probably couldn’t even handle it.”

His mouth falls open in mock astonishment. “And how do you figure that?”

“Call it intuition,” you say. “Or experience.” Tommy takes the joint from between your fingers and his lungs ache as he inhales. Your eyes stay there, right on his mouth, even as he slowly exhales and licks his lips.

It’s right then, as he watches your siren eyes darken, that he knows he’s made a dent in that black heart of yours. Or at the very least, he knows he’s making progress. The thought excites him so much he can’t hold back his smile. “You ain’t ever experienced me though, darlin',” he says.

“You’re persistent,” you say. “I’ll give you that.”

The weed is going straight to his head, creating an airiness in his limbs. Tommy asks playfully, “What’s it gonna take to convince you? A fancy date? Maybe dinner and a movie? Maybe we’ll take a day trip to San Antonio and visit that old school gothic cathedral they have down there. You ever seen it?”

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “It sounds cool though. I’d probably like it.”

Tommy nudges you with his elbow. “Name the time and place and I’ll take you, vampire girl.”

“That wasn’t a yes,” you tease.

He hangs his head between his shoulders and quickly decides he’s not above a little groveling. “Come on,” he says. “Just one chance. What’s it gonna take? Name your price, baby. Want me to pick up some roadkill and set up a taxidermy date?” You let out a pretty laugh, and it feels like such a victory that he keeps going. “How about I build you a haunted house? A personal one all for you—I work in construction, you know. I could make it real nice. Ghost hunting? There’s an abandoned building just up the road, looks creepy as shit.”

You’re smiling so hard the apples of your cheeks are flushed the sweetest shade of pink. “That old apartment building? You wanna find the ghost of the maintenance man?”

Tommy shrugs. “Hey, if that’s what you wanna do, I’ll grab my wrenches for a summoning circle. Go all out for you,” he says. You shake your head, and he continues. “I mean, anything you want, I’ll do it. Sell my soul? Tell me where to sign. I gotta pen in my back pocket. You wanna drink my blood?” He pats the side of his neck, right above his jugular vein. You let out another laugh, and it brings so much joy to him that Tommy can’t help but laugh with you. “I’m all yours. Swear it. You want me to beg on my knees?”

“Now there’s an idea,” you say through your giggles.

And he knows it’s a joke, knows you’re not serious, and maybe it’s the weed making him feel so carefree and blithe but he fucking does it. In the front of the bar, where anyone could pull in and see him, Tommy Miller drops to his knees in front of you and places his warm, calloused hands on the back of your fishnet covered thighs. Your skin is so soft, he thinks, and he has to fight against the urge to lean forward and bite the supple flesh. Instead, he looks up at you through his lashes, noting the way your laughter stops and your breath stutters. And because his inhibition has been shattered by his need for you, he says lowly, “Is this what you want, sweetheart? You want me to beg for it?”

He watches your tongue dart out to wet your lips and swallows the low groan at the back of his throat. “Maybe,” you say, breathless.

Tommy leans forward, eyes never leaving yours, and presses a wet kiss to the soft flesh of your thigh. He can’t resist his smile when he feels goosebumps break out across your skin, and so he does it again. This time his lips are much greedier, much closer to the inside of your thighs, and he daringly decides to taste you. He can feel the rough edges of your fishnets across the flat of his tongue and wonders how he’s gone thirty years of his life without ever dating a goth girl, wonders how he’ll ever go back. He wonders how the fuck you’re so magnetic, how just existing this close to you makes his cock throb in his jeans.

His mouth nears the edge of your black denim shorts. Tommy expects you to stop him, expects you to laugh or shove him away. But you don’t. You instead slide pointy, black painted fingernails through the thick curls of his hair. Your touch is gentle, and lazy — such a contradiction to his desperate movements.

“Let me take you out,” he says. “I can make you feel so good, sweetheart.” And to prove his point, he does the one thing he’s wanted to this whole time; Tommy Miller softly bites the inside of your thigh, delighting in your sharp inhale. He kisses the sting away, tasting you again, taking your scent deep into his lungs. He wants to devour you, he thinks. He wants you to devour him. “Please,” he pleads, sliding his hands upwards to rest on the decadent curve of your ass.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling at the dark curls lightly. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” you say. There’s a too-long pause, and Tommy’s grinning like a hopeful idiot, and then you tilt your head and whisper, “No.”

He lets out an exasperated breath and presses his forehead against your abdomen. He can feel his cheeks warm from embarrassment, but then he looks up at you again and the mischievous glint in your pretty eyes makes the chagrin worth it. “Goddamn, girl,” he says. “You are mean.”

There’s no argument to be had from you, but your siren eyes stay fixed on him even as he stands from his knees and Tommy swears that dark desire still lingers in them. Especially when he straightens to his full height, towering over you, and places both palms against the brick wall of the bar. He cages you in, and you’re trapped, and more than ever before Tommy thinks he sees that demeanor falter. “Just a little bit,” you reply.

“Wanna know somethin’?” He leans his head down, presses a kiss into your hair, and says, “I can take it.”

You take your crimson stained lip between your teeth, biting so hard the matte color smudges the smallest bit. Tommy knows he’s getting to you, he can see it. But you still resist him and say with a shake of your head, “Break’s over.”

He lingers at the bar until close and asks one more time as he walks you to your car if you’ll go out with him. Still, you say no again and as he’s laying in bed that night, Tommy Miller decides to cut his losses. He still wants you — Christ he wants you, but he’s not willing to beg anymore. He’d done all he could do, and he doesn’t want to make your workday miserable. He doesn’t want to be one of those guys.

Still, when he comes back for a drink with Joel after work on Tuesday, he can’t hide his disappointment when he sees Frank standing behind the counter. They talk about you, though, when Joel tells Frank that Tommy ‘has it real bad for that scary chick.’

They go to a different bar that weekend instead of their usual. Tommy still has fun though, and chats up a pretty blonde girl who’s real nice to him. He doesn’t have to beg her on her knees, and it’s a nice change of pace. She even kisses him and moans into his mouth when he grabs a handful of her ass.

Except she’s got glossy pink lips, and her legs are bare beneath her white, pleated skirt, and Tommy wants the feel of fishnets in his hands. He wants the softness of your body, wants the warmth and the curves and the fucking chase. He wants to work for it.

She offers, but Tommy doesn’t go home with her. Instead, he sleeps alone in his bed. And the next night after work, he goes to see his very favorite bartender.

He walks in alone—Joel’s at home, helping Sarah with some art project—and it’s still early in the evening, but the bar is packed full of people. Tommy catches a glimpse of those fishnets that haunt his every thought, and watches you bend over to pick up straw wrappers from one of the booths. His usual seat at the bar is taken by some college kid, so Tommy sits at the very end.

Immediately, he can tell your nerves are shot. It must be overwhelming, he thinks, to be the only person working on a night like tonight. So when you walk past him, smelling of poisoned cherries, he snakes a hand out and wraps his fingers delicately around your wrist. You startle at first, but your whole body deflates when you see him. “Oh, thank God,” you say. “Come help me.”

Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He stands to his feet and lets you tug him back to a room with a padlock on it. While your fidgety fingers work in the code, he asks, “What’s the occasion?”

“Beginning of summer break,” you answer with a sigh. “And word got out about our new buy one get one deal on specialty drinks. It’s been busy all day.” The lock clicks and the door swings open. You flip the light switch and point to one of the three kegs beneath the shelves of sealed liquor bottles. “I can’t lift it,” you say. “And the one out there is empty.”

With a curt nod, he lifts the keg easily — it’s not any heavier than the steel beams he’s been carrying around at work. But he still sees the way your shoulders sag in relief, and tries his damndest to keep his eyes away from your low cut top. It’s a failed attempt, but Tommy thinks it’s gotta count for something. “Where d’you want it?”

The corners of your mouth turn up just slightly, and he can hear the innuendo on the tip of your tongue, but you never say it out loud. You just tilt your head, and Tommy follows you behind the bar to help you replace the empty keg. When he lifts up the partition to let himself through, you stop him with a hand around his bicep. “You’re staying a while, aren’t you?”

It hadn’t been the plan, truthfully. Tommy had just wanted one of those perfect Old Fashioned’s and to resign himself for the night. But your eyes are wide, and your dyed hair is pulled into a disheveled pointy tail, and the fishnets underneath your shorts have sequins on them, and you’re just too goddamn pretty. So he touches the tip of your nose and says, “Anything for you, vampire girl.”

Your answering smile is worth sitting in all this chaotic energy, Tommy thinks. It reaches those bright eyes made up with all that black and silver eyeshadow. “I’ll buy your drinks,” you say. “As payment.”

He nods, even though he pulls up the calculator on his phone to keep track of his drinks tonight and decides to put the cash into the tip jar the moment you’re not looking. Tommy settles into his stool and watches you flit around the room, watches you take orders and make fancy drinks and uncap beers. It’s so busy, but you’re juggling it all impeccably and he finds it admirable.

Somehow, even with the mass of people, you never fail to place another drink in front of him the moment he finishes one. You thank him way too many times, explain that having him here just in case is comforting, and Tommy’s glad to hear it. He keeps his comments and those dirty thoughts to himself, even though they push behind his teeth, sitting on the tip of his tongue. He and his whiskey and orange peel are perfectly content to sit in the corner and eye fuck the bartender, thank you very much.

He has to replace the keg one more time, it’s that busy, but he doesn’t mind it at all. Especially when you bend over to pick up a case of some hoppy IPA before he can grab the keg. There’s next to no room in the closet, and your ass is less than a hand’s width away from his jeans, and he has to close his fucking eyes. He wants to ogle you, goddamn does he want to—but Tommy Miller knows himself. Knows that if he starts looking, he’ll want to touch, and if he starts touching, he’ll want to fuck.

So he clenches his eyes shut tight and follows your orders. The night dies down slowly, and when you make the last call and start taking dishes to the back room, Tommy wipes the peanut shell dust from his fingers and holds his hand out to you.

At first, you stare at it, confused. And then when he points to the white rag in your hands you shake your head and say, “No. That’s like, illegal, isn’t it? Working for free?”

“It’s hardly free, darlin’. Give it here.” He reaches for it again and nearly loses his train of thought when you bite your bottom lip in contemplation.

But then you nod, and hand him the cotton towel, and watch him for just a moment as he turns and starts wiping down the empty tables. He creates a pile of watered down, half empty glasses on the bar, saving you an extra trip, and turns the chairs upside down when he’s finished. Everyone slowly filters out, and when you emerge from the back again the bar is empty save for Tommy and all your tables are bussed and clean.

He’s sitting at the bar, finishing his last drink, and your shoulders sag in relief that the night has finally, finally come to a close. He sits in silence as you count out the register and take the extra cash to the back room. When you start counting out your tips, you split it and push half to Tommy. “Here,” you say. “For all your help. I made more than I planned for, anyway.”

“I didn’t earn those,” he says, pushing it back toward you. “Keep it.” And he means it—he truly, truly does. Tommy would like to think he’d do it for just anyone, which is partially true. That southern charm is deeply rooted in him. But you’re…you, and apart from the fact that he wants to fuck your brains out, Tommy Miller also just straight up likes you. You’re funny, and kind hearted when you’re not putting on that mean-girl front. He can tell you’re good. And it makes him feel good, helping when he can.

But despite all that, he’s still Tommy fucking Miller. And he does, very much, want to fuck you. So he crosses his arms across the bar, leans in close and whispers, “You can repay me another way.”

A cute little snort leaves your nose, and you laugh and shake your head, but you don’t reject him. “Oh, yeah? And how’s that?”

“Guess,” he prods.

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Tommy can see the outline of that silver barbell pushing against the inside of your cheek. “A date?”

His mouth pops open in mock astonishment. “Oh, my my! I thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” You’re laughing, and Tommy’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, and he wonders when the last time was when he felt excited about a date. A date with no promise of sex, just a simple, clean date. He takes your hands in his and presses a kiss to each of your knuckles. “Yes, of course I’ll go on a date with you, vampire girl.”

Your giggles die down, and the silence is comfortable but..heavy. He can tell something’s weighing on you, and he wants nothing more than to grant you ease.

“What is it, baby?”

Those pretty eyes of yours flicker down to his hands, calloused and rough and huge around yours. “Seriously,” you finally say. “Thank you for all your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “No big deal,” he says. “Really. Should be a crime to not help a pretty girl in need.”

The corners of your lips turn up into a smirk, and he can see that you’re fighting it, but the joy is so plain on your face. You pull your hands from his and say, “Let me grab my bag. You can walk me to my car.”

Tommy nods once. “Yes ma’am.” He waits patiently for you to grab your things, and after you guys leave and you lock the door he tosses his arm around your shoulders. “You don’t work on Tuesday’s or somethin’?”

You stop in front of your car—black, and shiny, and he can see through the windshield that you have a glittering bat-shaped air freshener hung around the mirror. “You stalking me now, casanova?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just missed you is all,” he confesses. And it’s the truth, the god damn truth, and it’s so fucking weird for him to miss a girl he barely knows but here he is doing it anyway. It makes no sense that he’s had more fun watching you work than he did kissing that blonde girl last weekend. Tommy takes his arm from around your shoulder and gently takes your chin between his fingers instead, forcing you to look up at him. He notices the way your breath hitches, the way your pretty eyes are swallowed up by something dark. “That a crime?”

It’s a stark contrast, how different you look right now. All innocent and starry eyed and not at all mean. You look sweet, Tommy thinks. And he wonders if you taste that way, too. His mouth waters at the thought, and he runs his tongue along his teeth. “No,” you breathe, gaze following the movement. “N-no, just…”

“Just what? Hm?”

Your cheeks burn, and Tommy loves the pinkness against your skin, and he knows you have nothing to say. He knows you’re getting nervous. Eventually you exhale and say, “I don’t…know.”

Tommy likes that he makes you nervous. He likes you like this, all trembling fingers and honeyed eyes and sugary lips. But even more than that, he likes it when you look up at him through your lashes and softly, so fucking softly it’s barely audible, say, “You can kiss me if you want.”

He doesn’t waste a fucking second. He goes easy, at first. He presses his lips to yours firmly and discovers he’s right in his assumption of your saccharine. You taste a little like cherries and a little like moonlight and a little more like home. It reminds him of hot Texas nights under the stars, and being a little too drunk, and he kisses you deeper. Allows his tongue to swipe over your bottom lip, and you reward him with the sexiest little sound.

Your lips part for him, and Tommy is nothing if not a man starved for you, and so he drinks you in. That metal in your mouth feels even better against his tongue than he’d ever imagined. You’re so soft and his hands are on your hips and he can’t stop himself from squeezing the supple flesh, from pulling you closer, from pulling back for a wretched breath of air. “Goddamn, baby,” he grumbles, grinning from ear to ear, and then your mouth is on his neck, and his morals are somewhere on the floor.

Because he wants to do this right. For once in his life, Tommy Miller wants to take a girl out. He wants to do it real classy, too—wants to get to know you, wants to take you out to a nice dinner and tell you how beautiful you look in your fishnets, wants to take you to some uppity museum in San Antonio and show you fancy paintings and that gothic cathedral that made your eyes glitter when he mentioned it.

But your mouth is so hot, and your hands are tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, clawing at him for reprieve. His heart is beating so fast. He swears it almost stops when the words tumble out of his mouth because he really, really does not want to ruin this. He sounds desperate because he is. “Can I touch you?”

“You are touching me,” you quip. He can feel you smile against his neck, and Tommy’s head falls back in frustration. You know that’s not what he means, but you don’t say no, and so he decides to show you.

Tommy hooks his arms around your thighs, grinning at the little gasp you make, the way you cling to him with all your might. He lays you back against the hood of your car and wraps his hand around your neck, and kisses you like he’ll never get another chance to.

And this time, you let out more than a whine. You’re moaning into his mouth, breathing fast, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pulling him in. It takes him by surprise, and Tommy laughs softly.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“No,” you immediately say, defiant. “I just know what I want.”

His heart hammers behind his ribcage. He wants to keep hearing your voice, wants to ingrain the sound of it into his skin like a tattoo. “Tell me, baby.”

The low flickering of street lights illuminates your face just enough for him to see the deep, dark flush of your cheeks. So dark it nearly matches that crimson color on your lips.

When he realizes what’s happening, Tommy shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “Don’t go all shy on me now, vampire girl. After all that talk?” He clicks his tongue and leans in close. His breath is warm against the shell of your ear. “Now, I know you can use the word no. I know you’re real good at it, too. You gonna say it now, baby?”

Despite the way his cock throbs in his jeans, pressed against your thigh, Tommy hopes you know he’s not one of those guys. He won’t do anything you don’t want him to do. He won’t even make you feel guilty for saying no, if that’s what you choose.

And when you open your mouth to speak, he half expects some smart remark to come out. Something like in your dreams or you wish. But your words are breathy and your siren eyes are wide as you whisper, “Touch me.”

His fingers curl around your neck—not squeezing, though. Tommy’s real gentle with you. “I am touching you,” he parrots.

And then you fucking beg. Literally, beg, and Tommy Miller feels like a teenage boy about to cum in his fucking pants at nothing but the word, “Please,” in your mouth.

He inhales a shaky breath, willing himself to calm the fuck down. This isn’t about him, he thinks. This is about you. It’s about showing you just how much he likes you, about proving himself a man worthy enough to touch you. And Tommy’s not sure if he is, not yet anyway, but he knows he can make you feel good.

The metal of your silver necklaces are cool against his palm. He moves his hand down your sternum slowly, over the curve of your breast, and stops just below the end of your cropped shirt. It’s black, of course, and modified—cut to shreds, really, only covering the most intimate parts of you. The fabric is soft and billowy and a size too large. He’s thankful for the extra room, though, because it makes it a little too easy to slip his hand beneath the curled edge and shove it over your breasts.

Your bra is black too, made of silky lace. Tommy takes one of your breasts in his hand, and it spills out between his fingers, and he silently confesses to himself that, yeah—he’s definitely not an ass man anymore. He leans down and presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to the flesh, and he can feel your nipple harden through the sheer lace. He hooks his thumbs beneath the band around your ribcage and pushes that up too, to join your top.

And bared to him, you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. And he tells you as much. “Such a pretty little thing,” he murmurs against your skin. Tommy holds both of your tits in his hands now, and slides his thumb over one nipple while he surges forward and takes the other into his mouth.

A shudder leaves you, and your hands fist themselves in his hair. He can feel your heartbeat against his fingertips, pace picking up when he swirls his tongue around the hardened peak. And when he bites down gently, you let out a gasp and push your hips up against his.

You don’t utter a word, but Tommy thinks suddenly he has you all figured out.

He kisses a trail to your other breast, spreading his spit lingering on the first with the pad of his thumb. He’s rougher this time, sucking harder, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin.

“Oh, God,” you moan, fingernails scratching at his scalp. “You’re so…”

The words go unfinished, because he presses a hand to the seam of your shorts and all the breath seems to leave your lungs. All the thoughts seem to leave your brain, even—and Tommy thinks you look real fucking cute right now. “So what, baby? Hm?”

You’re shivering, wiggling your hips to generate some kind of friction, but Tommy doesn’t give it.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Use those words of yours. I know you can.”

“Surprising,” you admit. But he takes it as a good kind of surprise because you're pretty putty in his hands.

Tommy undoes the button of your denim shorts. He hooks one arm around your hips and jerks you down the hood of your car. “This what you want, pretty girl? Don’t want me to ask for it. You want me to take it. S’that it?”

You don’t answer, but he knows. He knows. Tommy unzips your shorts real slow. And he’s a little surprised to see that beneath all that black exterior, you’ve got baby pink panties on. Not crimson, not seductress red—pink. And they’re the sweetest things he’s ever seen. He trails his fingers along the edge and watches you squirm. “Please,” you say, begging again. Begging for him. “Touch me. I need you t-to, right now. Please.”

He slips his hand beneath your shorts, beneath your fishnet stockings and the pink cotton. And what he finds surprises him. “Aw,” he cooes, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “Guess you really do need me, huh? You’re so wet, baby.” He runs the tip of his middle finger through your slit, exploring you, memorizing, gathering your slick and bringing it upwards. When he circles your clit, he laughs at the way your back arches off the hood of the car.

“Oh, fuck—yes,” you tell him. “Right there.”

Tommy presses harder, begins to move his fingertip faster. “Here, baby?”

You’re nodding, eyes squeezed shut. “Yes, fuck, yes yes—mmh.”

He closes his mouth around your nipple again, using his free hand to keep your legs spread as far apart as possible. When he snakes his finger down and presses it into your sweet pussy, it takes a significant amount of strength to keep your legs open. You fight him, and your moans echo in the empty parking lot. Tommy is only vaguely aware of the passing cars on the freeway, and finds himself thankful you parked in the back of the open space. “Feels good, hm?”

“So fucking—mm—so fucking good,” you say. The praise is enough to convince him to slide another finger in, and it’s met with a pretty moan of approval.

His cock has never been this hard, Tommy thinks. It’s pressed against your thigh still, and every one of your little movements makes it worse. It makes him near delirious. He wants to bury himself inside of you but knows to save it for later. When he knows more about you, when he knows what it looks like when you cum. He’s got his fingers hooked upwards, caressing that sweet, soft spot, and his pace is unforgiving. He wishes your shorts weren’t in the way, but he does what he can with the clearance you’ve granted him. “Dirty little thing,” he says. “Wanna be touched so bad you spread your legs out in the open.”

Your nails are sharp, leaving indentations at the back of his neck. It only spurs him on more, that little bit of agony. “Don’t stop,” you tell him. “Don’t stop, please—yes—oh God.”

Tommy presses his thumb against your clit, sliding it through your dripping pussy with each rough thrust of his fingers. He can feel you squeezing around them, sucking him in even deeper. “There you go, baby,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw. “You gonna cum for me? Hm? Pussy’s so fuckin’ wet.”

When your legs start to tremble, Tommy keeps his pace steady. He wants to tip you over that edge, wants to see the way you look when he makes you feel this fucking good. He leans back, breath coming fast, and admires how absolutely fucked out your look. Mouth hanging open, moaning his name, brows knitted together in concentration. Your hands bury themselves in his flannel, desperate for a tether to keep you grounded. Tommy grins, hand on your thigh leaving to instead wrap around your neck.

“Such a pretty girl,” he says through his smile. “You look so good when you fuckin’ behave, sweetheart.”

Your back arches off the hood of the car and your knuckles turn white in his shirt. “Oh, fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, I know. Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers—yeah, just like that.” Wetness flood between your legs, filling his palm, and it’s so fucking hot that Tommy moans in response. “Yeah, there you go,” he says, cock throbbing in his jeans. “Good girl, such a good fuckin girl, baby.”

It’s even better than he imagined; you look ethereal. He traces the arch of your body with his hand around your neck, moving it down the slope between your breasts, between your ribs, down to your hips. You fit so perfectly in his hands he starts to wonder if you were tailor-made for them.

When your fingers loosen and fall away from his flannel and your breaths begin to slow, only then does he slip his fingers out of you. He caresses your pusy in his hand, chuckling darkly when he slides over your clit and you let out a sharp gasp, thighs clamping closed around his hips at the sensitivity. When he finally pulls his hand from your denim shorts, his fingers come away glossy and covered in your slick.

Tommy locks eyes with you, raises his hand to his mouth and moans as the heady taste blossoms across his tongue. “Mmm. Better than bourbon,” he says through a low laugh. He licks his fingers clean, and you watch with rapt attention.

He takes a step back, adjusts himself, and holds his hand out for you to take. You let him pull you upwards, off the hood of the car, and he can feel your siren eyes on him as he pulls your bra and t-shirt back into place and buttons your jeans. Your legs are still shaking the smallest bit, and it feels like a victory. “Uhm…thanks. Again,” you say.

A smirk tugs at his mouth. “Turn around,” he orders. He’s a little surprised with how quickly you obey, as if any defiance that once existed within you had been snuffed out the moment he existed within you. Tommy watches your shoulders shake with anticipation, but all he does is pull your cell phone from your back pocket.

He calls himself, saves your phone number under 🦇🖤Vampire Girl🖤🦇, and tucks the device back into your pocket.

“Tuesday at ten,” he says, gathering your hair in one hand and laying it over your shoulder. He leans down, lips less than an inch from your throat. “Let me know where to pick you up.”

You nod softly. “Uhm, I—uh…yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Tommy kisses your jaw and leaves without another word, feeling like a goddamn king.

[PART TWO]

[masterlist]

[tarohugs]

a million things i didn't say (l.jn)

► When Jeno proposes to you as a joke to get free ice cream, you can't help but begin to feel the butterflies in your stomach. You don't even have time to process the feelings before he's on one knee for someone who isn't you.

��� childhood best friend!jeno x reader

► angst and some fluff (you know the drill)

► w/c 1.8k

► toxic jeno, very very sad ending (prepare your tissues), jeno is a bit insensitive at times, jeno proposing, reader ignoring feelings and being a bit dumb, annoying character stereotypes, jeno and reader making you want to rip your hair out, not proof read.

►a/n haven't posted in a while so hope this makes up for it. plz send recs i need inspo for writing.

When Jeno first proposed, it was to you. As a joke, of course. The typical things teenagers do in their free time. Right?

You met Jeno in your high school chemistry class and had clicked since. Some would mistaken you as a couple but you were always quick to deny the accusations.

Considering that most saw you two as a couple, you had decided to take advantage of your relationship spontaneously to get free ice cream. The idea wasn’t well prepared at all. Jeno had planned to propose in your local ice cream parlor and be rewarded with a sweet treat.

Well the two of you were clearly not aware how the plan would go.

“Are you sure this will work Jeno? Your ring doesn’t even look real.” You knew the plan was a dumb idea but you always listened to Jeno. 

Yes, he was your best friend. Yet, you knew he meant more to you. He was one of the most special people you had met. You just couldn’t put a finger on what he was to you.

He laughed at you, his infamous eye smile sending butterflies to your stomach. “Don’t worry, y/n. I got this. Even prepared my special vows for you.”

You didn’t have a response to his sudden confidence, only a blush that scattered your cheeks. When he reached over you to hold the door entrance to the ice cream parlor, your stomach only dropped further into your stomach.

Has Jeno always been this attractive? How had you not noticed how tall he was before? 

With all the thoughts rushing through your head, you had forgotten the main objective: free ice cream. That was all you were here for, not to develop feelings for your best friend. 

By the time you had come to your senses, Jeno was propped on his one knee, fake ring in hand.

“Y/n l/n.”

Well here goes nothing.

“I’ve waited my whole life for this moment. I know it’s not the most romantic but this is where we first met and I developed my love for you. There are so many hours I’ve spent thinking about you, yet they all stemmed from a couple minutes within the walls. I would do anything to spend the rest of my life with you.” He continued on for minutes reciting his script. Never stuttering once, it was as if he was speaking from his heart.

It was safe to say Jeno had a way with his words - even if they all met nothing.

You hadn’t realized it yet, but you had fallen in love with Jeno.

When you had finally recognized your feelings for Jeno, it was high school graduation.

In your mind, it was like the weddings that never commenced from your fake engagement. Walking down the same aisle, wearing expensive gowns, celebrating the start of a new chapter in your life. 

These scenarios would all seem fresh in your head if it wasn’t for the fact that Jeno had just begun a relationship with a girl in the year below. All you had known was him for the years prior to graduation. Now, you were clueless as to what would develop as you moved on in your life.

“I’m serious about her. I think I’m going to stay back a year before I head to college. I really think she’s the one.” Jeno had told you one of your sleepless nights on the phone. 

You took a deep sigh, clearly signalling you were not following his ideas. “Look, you have dreamed of moving away for years. Why change your mind for a girl you just met?”

He was clearly losing his patience with you. It was only a matter of time before he snapped after his numerous hours of convincing you he loved her. You would never agree with him, though. As long as he was with someone that wasn’t you.

“You just don’t get it. Maybe you’ll understand when you finally find someone that loves you.”

When he heard the immediate hanging up of the call, his emotions were too high to apologize. Jeno knew his words hurt you but he wasn’t in the right sentence to justify his actions. Time didn’t allow him to correct himself either, only progressing through the rest of highschool by never addressing him again.

But here you were at graduation, finding yourself after the ceremony looking for your parents talking to Jeno’s family. He stood beside them, his new girlfriend pressed tightly by his side. When your eyes flickered to make eye contact with him, he reflected a gaze of sorrow. You never returned the sorrow, your gaze only remaining lifeless.

After Jeno had uttered such nonsense to you, you had deemed him as nothing to you. Even if you had recognized your feelings for him, you couldn’t keep waiting. 

When you had finally let go of the petty teenage drama, an invitation to Jeno’s wedding had arrived at your front door.

You had come to the conclusion that you were in love with him. After continuously convincing yourself you needed to get over him, it was becoming more difficult to let your feelings for the boy go unnoticed. 

With the emotionless response you had given to Jeno after graduation, you had thought your relationship with him was over. And you were proven correct when you found that he had blocked you on every social media platform to ever exist.

You decided it was time to rekindle with your childhood best friend your senior year in college. But to no avail, you still remained blocked and found no new accounts.

So to find the invitation to his wedding - when you had moved far from home and started a new job - was a shocker, to say the least. Even if you hadn’t communicated in years, you were still on the backburner.

Now, you find yourself sitting in an assigned seat in the corner. Far away from any of his family, not needing a reason to explain why you had cut off all communication with Jeno, or rather, how he had done such. 

The only other person sitting by you was his youngest cousin he had always explained as a nuisance at family gatherings. She was sweet and you had told him he needed to treat her nicely considering her young age, but teenage Jeno didn’t know better. Even adult Jeno didn’t know better.

You had done a good job holding off any conversation for the first hour of the wedding, but you couldn’t stand the awkward silence and dwelling going on inside your head anymore. 

Why had you come just to realize you hated him? You had no clue. All you knew was that you wanted to talk to your best friend. He may not have earned his respect back but it was clear he felt the same way. There is only one reason he would even think to send a wedding invitation your way.

When you finally excuse yourself from the table for a drink, his cousin mutters something under her breath.

“What did you say?” Not sure if her words were meant for her.

She looks you in the eye, “Why did you leave Jeno? He was so happy when he was with you?”

Well clearly she was not in the loop. You dreaded talking about your past with Jeno. But you dreaded even more reminiscing on how close you used to be with him. 

“Me and Jeno were never together. I have no idea what you're talking about.” You tried to escape but her words only drew you in.

“Well, I know you weren’t dating, but you should’ve. He was so happy with you. He hated me but you made him realize his indifference. Now here you are with me, the least favorite family member, sitting in the back when you deserve to be down the aisle.”

It was clear her words were leading to the verge of your tears. Time was the only thing that stood between your face full of makeup being ruined. Before she could even allow more words to escape from her mouth, you found yourself making a run for the bathroom. 

You had managed to find a new seat along with some of your high school friends in another far corner. You couldn’t face the emotional damage that was Jeno’s cousin. Your friends knew better than to ask any questions about you two, instead opting to treat the experience as a reunion. 

As much as you didn’t want to, you had thought about her words. Did you really have an effect on Jeno?

He never told you he loved you, except in his vows. You remember every syllable that came from his mouth. Most importantly, “I love you.” They weren’t real, but they were the closest symbol of reciprocation Jeno had ever given to you.

Even if the words were never truthful, it was only a matter of minutes before you heard his real vows come from his mouth. Watching him walk down the aisle, all you could picture is what your wedding with him would’ve looked like.

If you had ever told Jeno your real feelings that day. Maybe if you were truthful, maybe if you had listened to his cousin, maybe if you hadn’t cut him off, you could be descending down the aisle. 

Instead, here you are, sitting isolated from your best friend, wondering what he even thinks of you. Does he know that you're here? Did he invite you or had he been forced to by his parents? All this clouds your mind as you watch the bride approach Jeno, joining hand in hand.

Jeno stood tall on the altar. His black suit defines his build. It was obvious that he had grown into his body well since you had last seen him. As he took a deep breath, you knew it was ready for him to begin his vows, for real this time.

“The love of my life.”

Tears began to blind your vision. You couldn’t stand hearing what was about to come from his mouth. All you could make out was the movement of his lips as ringing stormed your ears. 

If you weren’t so scared you would’ve told him how you felt. 

If you had been mature you wouldn’t have let him give up on his dreams.

If you cared more about yourself you wouldn't have allowed him to let you burn on the backburner after all these years.

If you had listened to his cousin you would understand that you were important to him.

As you watched him slip the ring on to his now wife, you knew time was up. There was no reversing what you hadn’t done, only reminiscing on what you could’ve.

Jeno was now no one to you. Just a friend in the past who you would tell others you don’t talk to now.

All the years of unreciprocated love would never rekindle. Maybe one thing you should’ve done was listen to him. “Maybe you’ll understand when you finally find someone that loves you.”

It was time to find someone that loved you. Even if it wasn’t him.

[hex800020]

Fic Rec (GEN):

Most of these are Jason or Tim-centric (bc I play favorites), and almost all (if not all) are tagged angst/comf and happy end.

The ones with a 🩷 are my faves.

Series:

Displacement — GEN • Ongoing series (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “Highly recommend reading this in order.”

How Jason makes his way back to the family and, later on, how Damian joins.

Shutterbug — GEN • Series (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Tim makes a living “selling” intel and crucial clues to Batman—until one day, he gets caught in the middle when his parents’ criminal activities come to light.

Jason & Dick:

how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Jason passively tried to off himself, but Dick got there in time.

🩷The guilt never left, you know — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

While patrolling Crime Alley, Nightwing finds Red Hood being tortured. He saves him and takes him to one of his safe houses, but the newspapers pinned to the walls stir up some old wounds.

Sickening Succession — GEN • 2 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “If they just said what they were thinking, 80% of their problems would disappear.”

Two scenes:

• Dick is down bad, and Jason!Robin helps him

• RH!Jason is down bad, and Dick helps him (fever, hallucinations, the works)

Reciprocation — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Dick calls Jason because he got food poisoning and needs help. (From the Displacement series.)

citrusy sweetness — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Dick peels oranges for Jason because Jason sucks at it.

Under The Shadows — GEN • 8 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “Loved the drama and the resolution, but some parts were kinda meh.”

Jason is going feral through Gotham looking for revenge, but he doesn’t want to hurt Tim. Fear toxin gets involved. Dick attempts a self-killing

Two Years Dead — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Grave Pretender but from Dick’s POV.

Two Robins in the Hand — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Dick and Jason turn back into their younger Robin selves.

I’d give you my lungs (so you could breathe) — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “God, I just want world peace and for everyone to be happy.”

Dick randomly shows up at Jason’s place one day, and Jason realizes there’s a lot of stuff he doesn’t remember from his past—like how they once went skiing together.

Glue the wound, my suture’s split — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Dick finds out Red Hood is Jason.

Jason & Tim:

🩷 Red Hood’s Guide to Adoption — GEN • 46 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “I’m gonna vomit hearts.”

Red Hood tries to kill Tim for being “corrupt” (Tim is a fresh “orphan teenage CEO”) but ends up getting attached and starts looking after him like a little brother. (Later, he makes up with Dick and B)

And I Will Be Your Safety — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “Who hasn’t kidnapped their sibling at least once?”

Tim is overworking himself (CEO life) and straight-up asks Jason to kidnap him.

🩷 Robin is Magic — GEN • 3 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “I cried like 100 times.”

RH meets civilian Tim (photographer mode), then later attacks the Tower and realizes that Tim (the photographer) is actually Robin/Timothy Drake.

The Moment After — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “It’s the ending.”

Part 2 of Robin is Magic

A Meditation on Railroads — GEN • 5 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “It’s good, has some slow parts, but the last two chapters are gold.”

Tim’s dad leaves him in Atlanta, 800 miles away from Gotham, so he just starts walking because he thinks no one wants him… Jason finds out and tags along.

Middle Children Must Unionize — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “I wish it had another chapter.”

Jason realizes no one gives a damn about Tim, so he fixes the problem himself.

Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Wake Him Up — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Robin!Tim falls asleep, and RH won’t let anyone wake him up (they’re in a warehouse where RH is planning some raids).

Finding the Line — GEN • 36 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “Some plot moments are amazing, but it gets kinda heavy at times.”

Jason (learning to control the Pit) notices Tim has bruises (post-Tower, post-recently deciding not to kill).

Tbh, there are like four different arcs—at one point, Tim has selective mutism.

Green-Eyed Monster — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)“It’s good, but we go from pure hatred to eternal love in like five seconds.”

RH finds his replacement (Robin!Tim) in Crime Alley after he got hit with Scarecrow’s fear gas… friend or foe? (Part 2 of An Excuse.)

Displacement — GEN • 5 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Tim almost kills a man, but Jason makes sure he is the one to do it so Tim doesn’t have to carry the guilt. (From the Displacement series.)

Aftershock — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “I love how Tim is even more messed up than me.”

Tim is deep in PTSD mode after shooting someone and ruining the “no killing” truce between Jason and Bruce. (From the Displacement series.)

Tourniquet — GEN • 5 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “I love how Tim is even more messed up than me x2.”

Tim realizes Jason, Dick, and Bruce are getting along well enough that he isn’t really needed anymore. (From the Displacement series.)

🩷 Combustion — GEN • 5 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)“10000/10, I’d read this forever.”

Jason gets hit with fear toxin and ends up trapped underground in a vault with Tim… no signal, no one knows where they are. (From the Displacement series.)

Battered But Loved — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Tim tells Jason he’s happy he’s alive—because literally no one else has said it since he came back.

Buttercup — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Tim gets buried alive, and only Jason hears his calls for help.

Bruce Trying to Be a Good Dad:

Don’t Look Back, Them Days Are Gone — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Jason returns to the manor with Damian, and Talia tries to kill him for kidnapping her baby bird.

A Grave Filled With Books — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “Oh, I’m gonna cry.”

Batman is late to patrol with Red Hood because Bruce was at a parent-teacher meeting… Jason realizes Bruce has changed.

Collar Bones Begin to Crack — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Batman and Robin!Damian return to the Cave just as Jason is working on a case… brings back some memories.

🩷 Fallback — GEN • 4 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “Dick yelling at a sick, childish Jason is peak comedy and comfort.”

Jason has an absolute nightmare of a night—on the verge of hypothermia, multiple injuries… and Batman finds him. (From the Displacement series.)

An Excuse — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “It’s so cute.”

Tim gets hit with fear gas and takes the chance to ask for affection without seeming weird or childish.

Aces High and Cigarettes — GEN • 2 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “It’s so sweet… and concerning.”

Jason hires people to kidnap and bury him alive… sort of a shock therapy thing.

Bury Me Face Down — GEN • 7 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Every time Jason dies, he wakes up in his grave (as his 15-year-old self) and tries to do things differently.

🩷 Five Stages of Immeasurable Anguish — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “I have to recommend this, it’s a gem.”

Jason wakes up buried alive (again), but this time he has comms with the Batfam. ‘Who’s panicking more?’ the one-shot

Grave Pretender — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “LMAO, this is amazing, they’re all dramatic as hell.” “It’s Under the shadows , but a comedy.”

Jason, full theater kid mode, pretends to be his just-crawled-out-of-the-grave self to haunt his family

Other Recs:

A Bespoke Tuxedo His Only Armor — GEN • 1 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “It’s angsty but cute.”

Tim gets shot by Damian while they’re both in civilian mode and is lowkey on his last breath.

Tim Drake Spoiled Brat. (I’m sorry dad) — GEN • 16/? (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “Bro, is therapy illegal in Gotham??”

Tim dies at 17 and reincarnates into his younger self. This time, he tries to save the Bats from most of their trauma so they can actually be a family… but he is screwed because he thinks everything is his fault or some shit

🩷 Burning Ashes - The Rise of a Phoenix – GEN • 10/20 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “Only downside? It’s not finished.”

Jason reincarnates (as what seems to be Dick’s bastard kid with some random lady), and at five years old, he kills the Joker. Batman catches him and takes him in… but Jason remembers everything, is pissed about it, and also super traumatized (bc, y’know, he has the psyche of a five-year-old)

Cards on the table – GEN • 30 (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️) “This is hilarious.”

Tim’s parents faked their deaths and just ditched him, so, in his totally mature 16-year-old wisdom, he starts scamming Gotham’s elite by pretending to be a “psychic” (he just stalks people and makes probability guesses based on the profiles he built on them).

The Waynes hire him, and dude just keeps digging himself deeper (he knows their identities)

“When Tim went out to do what he liked to call research, but what was probably legally classified as stalking, he had to be careful” (Ch. 4)

[nkogneatho]

high school was boring as it was when you were the class nerd. you never got bullied but a part of you wish you did so you had friends to defend you. yeah. friends. you were also all alone. i mean who wants to be friends with a girl who is the class topper. basically everyone else's competition. so when everyone mass bunked the class for a party, it was just you sitting by the window. your professor suggested you leave to since he cannot just teach an entire syllabus to one student, but you insisted to stay.

you popped your earphones, playing mazzy star's fade into you as you revised your notes. your eyes wandered to look at sky through the window. the trees swaying. it was early spring so the air was still a bit chilly. but the sun shone on everything, tall trees casting shadows on the ground. just then, you spotted this boy outside. dark haired, tall and muscly. you couldn't make out his expression. or the color of his eyes. suddenly, he looked up making eye contact with you. you quickly looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks, heart beating faster.

shit. he must think i am a weirdo for staring at him.

but you couldn't resist. curiosity is one son of a bitch. so you look back and you found his eyes still on you. it was awkward. what the hell was this situation anyway. so to ease it, you gave him a small warm smile. he didn't reciprocate it.

great. i am definitely a weirdo now.

but then after a few seconds, his lips stretched into a thin line before he walked away. you have no idea what happened but for the first time your heart felt warm.

when you got home, you found yourself replaying those few seconds like a tiktok edit.

he was cute. wait what? fuck. i should get back to studying.

the next day, the professor was babbling on about a chapter that you already studied in advance. so you once again found yourself looking outside the window with a hope of spotting the same guy. but he wasn't there. maybe that's the most of interaction with him you'll get in life.

when the bell rang for break, you decided to have your lunch somewhere quieter. like on the school terrace. you plopped yourself on the ground, back pressed against the wall. before you could take the first bite off your taiyaki, you heard a familiar faint melody. your legs were drawn to it, following the soft hum, to meet the same guy you saw yesterday. a part of your heart blossomed. he looked peaceful under the shadow of the wall, his phone playing the same song you were listening to yesterday. fade into you. you still couldn't see his eyes. but he did have a scar on the corner of his lips. you don't know what ad gotten into you but you got closer to his face to inspect it further. and in a second, you felt a strong grip on your arm, pulling you closer and making you lose balance as you fell on him.

"it's rude to stare a stranger, you know?" his voice wasn't too rugged but wasn't sweet either.

"i—i wasn't staring. just...curious."

"yeah? haven't you heard of that saying? curiosity killed the cat." he purred. you took a deep breath. and that's when you noticed he wasn't wearing the school uniform.

"where's your uniform?"

"there we go. curious again?" he waited for an answer but he knew he wasn't getting that until he gives you one. "i don't study here. jus'like hanging out cuz it's quite." the sentence surely held a lot of context but you noticed he didn't seem like he wanted to go there. "how long are you planning on lyin' on top of me?" oh shit right. the school bell rang once again. break's over.

"sorry. i didn't—anyways i should go." you apologized as you got up, fixing your skirt.

"in case you get curious again, the name's toji." he smiled, hands in his pocket as he watched you walk towards the door. you turn around.

green. his eyes are emerald green.

"see you around, toji."

[cheekytv]

Can I request a fic with Chrismd? Something that's angsty and ends in fluff and smut pls <33

hiii, here you go <3 i hope this is to your liking!!

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

synopsis: you feel neglected by your boyfriend. so, you take matters into your own hands and he makes up greatly for the hurt he caused you. word count: 2.4k genre: angst, fluff, smut MDNI! warnings: chris comes off as a real bad bf in the beginning i apologise lol, mentions of breaking up, mentions of feeling neglected smut warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, praise, slight dirty talk (like one line fr), unprotected sex, creampie this was beta-read by the lovely @lovetaroandtaemin, thank you ally dearest <3

dating someone like chris was a challenge sometimes.

not because he wasn’t sweet or kind or wonderful. 

no, chris was all of these things. sweeter and kinder and more wonderful than anyone you had ever met before.

it was just that, sometimes, he wasn’t really present in your relationship. he was on shoots most days, was playing football with his mates, was not home when you came back from your “normal” nine to five. 

you missed him. a lot. and he just wouldn’t listen to you. whenever you brought up wanting to spend more time with him, he would always make up a new excuse as to why he couldn’t - at least not this week. but soon, he’d promise. 

as much as you wished you weren’t, you couldn’t help but be fed up with him and his constant apologies that weren’t any. fine, he’d send flowers to your office or leave a sweet note on your bedside table for when he was doing an overnight shoot for a new footy video. 

it wasn’t enough. no matter how hard you tried to deem it such, you just couldn’t.

which was how you ended up here.

chris had his preferred football field booked for the whole day, and you had decided to look for him there. since he wasn’t coming to you, you might as well go to him. 

it wasn’t chris who spotted you first, but george, his eyebrows shooting up. all of his friends knew you, but none of them had ever really seen you around sets before. 

“y/n?” he jogged over to the fence where you now stood with your hands in the pockets of your warm coat. 

“hi george. uh, any chance there is a break soon and you could call chris over?” you tried a small smile, but failed. george checked your face, trying to see if he could somehow figure out what was going on, but when he couldn’t, he nodded and told you to wait just a bit. 

shifting on your feet, you went over the words in your head again. you hated doing this. hated giving him an ultimatum. you hated him putting you in this situation much more, though. 

“babe?” not even five minutes later, chris hurried over to you, worry spread all over his face. you wished his presence didn’t immediately put you at ease. it would be so much easier if you did not still love him so bloody much. 

“hi. sorry for interrupting your shoot, i just- i really needed to talk to you.” 

chris nodded slowly, finally coming to a halt in front of you, his own hands buried in the pockets of his sports jacket. 

“is everything okay? you’re worrying me, love.” 

you swallowed down the urge to simply tell him you missed him. 

“chris, i-,” you took a deep breath, averting your gaze from his handsome face to the floor, “i don’t think i can go on this way.” 

“what do you mean?” chris’ worry turned into confusion, honest and raw, and you hated it. obviously, he would never even think of you breaking up with him. but then - were you really breaking up?

“i mean, chris, that i can’t do this anymore. not like this. i love you so much, but i rarely ever see you. you aren’t home when i’m home, and you don’t make time for me when i need you to. i miss you every single day, and you- you just,” you sighed, finally bringing yourself to look at him, “and you just continue doing whatever you want and don’t even take a second to think about me, about us. i feel like i don’t matter in this life of yours, that i am not a priority and i- i can’t do that anymore, chris, i can’t feel like this anymore.”

it was safe to say chris had not expected this. his face fell and his heartbeat rose, the cold air around him suddenly suffocating. 

“fuck, y/n.” he breathed out, pulling a hand through his blonde hair, “fuck, i- i’m so sorry, i-,” he didn’t even know where to begin. he wanted to go on his knees and apologise, wanted to turn back time. never had he ever wanted to make you feel this way. he knew he was busy with work, knew his youtube channel was his main priority - but so were you! but, apparently, he had failed at showing you just how much he loved you.

“i don’t want to do this, chris, but i- i need you to change, i need you to put me first, put this relationship first. you told me you want to spend your life with me, so please, spend it with me, chris.”

tears were now welling in your eyes, and chris took one big step, his hands finding their familiar place on your face.

“oh my love, i am so fucking sorry,” he wiped away the first tear that spilled with his thumb, shaking his head, “you’re right, i wasn’t- i wasn’t the best or even a good boyfriend these past few months. i took you for granted. i took us for granted, my love, and i am so beyond sorry. of course i want to spend my life with you, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” his thumbs caressed your cheeks and the sincerity in his eyes just made more tears well up. 

“chris,” you sniffed, interrupted only by him leaning down and pressing his lips against yours.

“i’m sorry. i will do better; i promise i will.” 

he kissed you again, and you felt relief wash over you. while it did still hurt a little that it had to come to this for him to really understand, you gladly accepted his words and kissed him back, your cold fingers finding their way into the curls at his nape. 

kissing him felt like home, felt like warm honey in ginger tea, felt like a blanket wrapped around you on a cold winter day. chris was your everything, your heart and your soul, your now and your forever. 

“let me tell the guys i’m taking you home. we were almost finished anyway.” he parted from you, his eyes sparkling, and you nodded, smiling lovingly up at him. 

“okay.” you said, slightly giggling when he pressed another kiss to your cheek before hurrying off to his friends, telling them the shoot was gonna end earlier. all of them were happy to go home, and chris’ team was kind enough to offer packing everything by themselves so he could be with you. apparently, they had all kind of seen the spectacle. 

chris and you went home then. the whole way, your fingers were intertwined. and even when he unlocked the door to your shared home, he wouldn’t let go. 

you didn’t let the possibility of him acting this way just for tonight cloud your mind. you felt it, felt him realising what he could lose if he didn’t put more effort into your relationship. 

when he kissed you, his fingers were still laced between yours. just that his other hand was now on your cheek, cradling it lovingly as the kiss deepend. his tongue carefully entered your mouth, licking against your tongue. electricity shot through your body right then, just like it always did. chris’ touches still felt like they did the first time; exciting and new and addictive. 

your arms found their way around his neck, knowing this kiss wasn’t going to end anytime soon and would most likely transform into something the two of you hadn’t done in quite some time. 

being this close to him again, feeling his heart beating against yours - it almost brought tears of happiness to your eyes.

chris’ kisses wandered from your lips down to your neck, and he led you into the bedroom, your shoes and coats left by the door. you let out a whine when he sucked on your skin, when his fingers dug into your nape. his only response was a chuckle. if anything, chris was a tease, but right now he was eager to get you onto the bed, eager to get your clothes off and to show you just how much you actually meant to him. how sorry he was and how he was going to make it all up to you. 

even without the words being spoken, you knew the second you were on your back with your boyfriend kissing down your body, your sweater and shirt and falling off your body and onto the floor. next was your bra, his lips worshipping your bare breasts, your nipple stiff against his nimble tongue. arching your back against him, his hands shoving down your jeans and panties in one go, leaving you naked and waiting for him to take what was his. 

“you’re so beautiful, you are perfect, and you are mine.you  will forever be mine, love.” his breath was hot against your belly, and you could only respond with a moan. there was nothing that could ever come close to the feeling of chris between your legs, of him tracing his fingers along your sensitive skin, the inside of your thighs becoming his canvas and his lips becoming the brush. marking you the way he did when you first got together as if to make everyone aware you were his - even when he was the only one who saw them. 

“oh chris,” your fingers found the top of his head, nails slightly digging into his scalp when he leaned down further, his lips still on your skin, sucking until you cried out, another breathy chuckle hitting your core. you were aching you needed him to touch you, to love you, to-

his tongue licked against your swollen bundle of nerves, your hips jerking forward and a gasp escaping you. chris wasn’t patient today. not anymore at least. he licked over your folds, nose bumping against your clit, his forefinger finding its way to your dripping entrance. 

“missed this so much.” his voice was raspy, feeling heavenly against your folds as his finger pushed into you inch by inch. oh, how much you had missed him, missed his touch, how he felt inside of you. how he instantly knew what to do, where your sweet spots were. chris was your perfect counterpart in every way.

chris continued to fuck his finger into you, slowly at first, but with every passing second he sped up, opening you up for him. his tongue licked circles around your clit, leaving you a breathless mess on the sheets. both your hands were clawing into his hair and you let out a deep moan when he pulled his finger out, only to push in with one more. scissoring them inside of you, knuckles deep and right where you needed them. your tummy tightened, toes curling, the delicious feeling of release suddenly so close. 

“are you gonna come for me, darling?” chris kissed your bud, smirking up at you, his own arousal getting more and more pressing. while he watched you nodding desperately, he moved his free hand to shove down his own trousers and briefs, freeings his erection. 

“god, chris, don’t stop.” your hips were basically riding chris’ face by now, chasing your first high of the night. chris was more than willing to give you anything you wanted. and when he pushed into you the next time, you felt the tightness within you snap, a flush of pleasure washing over you and cries of chris’s name leaving your lips as you enjoyed every second of the intense orgasm. chris led you through it, fingers hard at work and tongue licking over every bit of cum you had gifted him. 

“so good for me. my perfect girl, i love you so much.” chris’ lips moved up, fingers leaving your still throbbing core. he trailed kisses up your body, over your tummy and chest and finally back to your lips, a heated kiss erupting between the two of you. your own taste was on your tongue, and you pulled him closer, hands eagerly moving to the hem of his shirt. he was quick to rip it off, his bare defined chest making you bite down on your lip.

“i missed you so much.” your words made his heart break a little again, reminding him of the pain he caused you. he dipped forward, kissing you again with every bit of remorse he felt. oh, how badly he wanted to take back the hurt he caused you. how badly he wanted to heal the wound that had opened up between you two. he loved you so much, and he hated how he had treated you.

“i love you, i love you so fucking much.” 

his hand grabbed his cock, jerking it off a few times before aligning it with your cunt, pushing in quick and perfect as your legs wrapped around his waist. the long moan you let out was like music to chris’ ears. 

his first thrust was slow but deep, and your whole body tingled. nails dragged along his muscular back, his hips beginning to move fully now. slowly, deeply. driving you crazy. all while his lips chased yours, tongue and teeth and spit mixing together, making both of you feel hot all over. your breath melted into one just like your hearts did and with every second that passed, chris lost more and more of his control. his thrusts became quicker and harder, and both of your moans stopped you from kissing. 

“want you to come inside me, chris, will you please?” 

“fuck, of course i will. whatever you want, baby.” 

fucking you even quicker, his head thrown back, chris knew it wasn’t going to be long until he fulfilled your wish. when you clenched around him, his name like a prayer on your lips when his cock threatened to bring you over the edge any second - that’s when chris felt his own release. burying his cock as deeply into you as humanly possible, he let it wash over him - ropes of white hot cum released within your clenching walls, your second climax hitting you hard, milking chris’ cock for all he could give you. 

“i love you, i love you so much,” he kept on whispering into your ear as he fucked both of you through the highs, finally collapsing on top of you. chests heaving, you let your fingers caress his slightly marked back, feeling a sense of pride when you felt the traces you had left. he was yours. forever and always.

“i love you too, chris.” you finally whispered back, and when he kissed you this time, you fully believed everything was going to be okay.

[schlattslambo]

neighbor schlatt being really loud one day, you guys have NEVER talked or spoke once and when you knock on his door and see a big huge man with mutton chops looking down at you, you literally feel like disappearing and feel extremely awkward asking him to politely keep it down, he’s just standing there kind of staring and apologizing and when he sees you suddenly another day he gets a really good look at you and finds you being his exact type and goes in for it and asks you on a little date as a ‘apology’

omg stop this is so cute!!! also i know schlatt doesnt live in an apartment but it works for this so shush

————————

“that’s a stupid card! how could that have won?!”

“fuck you mika! you cheating son of a bitch!!”

the words are slightly muffled, but they’re loud enough that they’re able to distract you from your book. it’s your only day off this week, and you just wanted to relax and read. but your neighbor decided that it was time to yell at his friends.

you had never even met the guy. you moved in about six months prior, and your schedules have never aligned for the two of you to meet. he was never loud or had any extravagant parties or anything, so you didn’t mind. even if he was kind of loud you probably wouldn’t have minded. but this was crazy.

it had gone on for hours, and when you still hadn’t finished the chapter that you started at 7pm, you decided to take matters into your own hands. the wine glass you were drinking from is slammed down, and the fuzziness that it gave your head was swimming with confidence.

you slip on your shoes and walk to the door, knocking loudly. the yelling stops abruptly and you hear footsteps. the confidence you have is slowly dissipating. by the time the door opens, you’re shaking. you have no idea who this dude is or what he’s capable of.

looking down at you is a large man with brown hair and mutton chops. his hoodie is slightly wrinkled and he has a yankees hat on. in all honesty, he’s quite attractive.

“yeah?” he asks.

“i, um, i live next door and,” you pause, swallowing. “and i was wondering if you could maybe tone down the yelling?”

as you stumble over your words, he looks at you. he had no idea someone lived in the place to the left of him, so he hadn’t even thought to put the soundproofing tiles on that wall. he’s silent for a moment before realizing that you’re done speaking.

“oh, yeah, sorry,” he says as his cheeks grow flushed. “i didn’t realize anyone was livin’ over there, so i didn’t put soundproofing up. i’ll tone it down just for you.”

a playful grin breaks out on his face and you can’t help but smile too.

“thank you,” you reply.

before either of you can say anything else, you walk back to your apartment, grabbing the wine bottle and taking a long drink from it. you absolutely hate confrontation and this will probably put you out of commission for a week.

***

its been about about two weeks after you had talked to him, and schlatt cannot stop thinking about you. how shy yet determined you looked. that sweet little smile that you gave him. a knock on his door makes him perk up slightly. he looks out the peephole and realizes that it’s his doordash order.

schlatt opens the door and grabs his bag of chinese food. just as he’s about to turn back and close the door, he spots you. you’re walking back in from the store with a few bags.

you have your sweatpants on and an oversized hoodie that has a wine stain on the collar that you just cannot get out. your hair is back in a bun that looks like it’s close to giving out. and he can’t stop staring. your cheeks are slightly pink from the cold and you’re fishing for your apartment keys in your pockets.

you’re completely his type. even with the dirty hair and baggy clothes. you look adorable and schlatt watches you, butterflies fluttering to life in his stomach, something that has never happened before. you eventually find your keys in your pocket, just as your eyes meet his.

schlatt’s heart stutters. he needs to find his words, and quick.

“hey there,” he smiles.

“hi,” you reply nervously.

he hasn’t been loud at all since you last spoke to him. he’s made sure to talk quieter because he doesn’t want to bother you.

“i never got a chance to formally apologize for the whole yelling thing,” schlatt starts. “is it alright if i take you out to dinner as an apology? i know this really good steak place!”

the smile you give him nearly makes his heart leap.

“i suppose you can,” you say, sticking your key into the lock. “when are you free?”

schlatt fights the urge to say right this second but instead goes through his schedule in his head. he can probably push his stream to sunday if he wants to.

“how’s saturday?” he asks. “i’ll knock on your door at 6pm.”

“sounds good.” you smile. “i’ll see you then!”

you turn into your apartment but schlatt stops you with a large hand on your shoulder.

“wait, i never got your name.” he says. “mine’s jay.”

you smile and tell him your name. the way it comes off your tongue like honey makes him smile. its perfect, just like you are.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Reversed cat AU where Ford is the one who gets cursed into a cat. Maybe for the premise of it, in this one Stan is hiding from various mobs and cartels that want him dead. Going hardcore into the hiding because he’s realized no matter where he drives to or how fast he runs, they keep finding him. So instead he goes off grid entirely and fucks off into the woods of some backwater unknown town. Decides to rough it for a while (literally since he has nothing) until hopefully the people after him give up or think he’s dead.

So Stan just happens to be living in gravity fall’s woods. He doesn’t really know where he is, and has no idea he’s near where Ford is. But one day while he’s trying to scrounge up something to eat, he comes across a cat.

Ford, having been cursed into a cat, is wandering around the woods searching for a potential way to uncurse himself, and happens to bump into his brother. Something both crazy and concerning because what the fuck is Stanley doing out here?? And also why does he look so starved, unwashed, and homeless? Also is he trying to eat that mushroom? Doesn’t he know that one is poisonous??!!

Ford the cat angrily stops Stan from eating a potentially deadly mushroom, and then tries to get Stan to help him with the curse problem. Something that takes more effort than Ford hopes for. Ford ends up following Stan to the spot in the woods he’s been living in, and spends the next while trying to get Stan to come with him.

Eventually he gets Stan to realize that Ford wants him to follow him, and Stan, curious, trails along behind his new cat friend. Cat friend leads him to a cabin that’s decently far from the rest of the town, and while Stan is unsure at first, he perks up when he realizes no one is there.

Ford is relieved that he finally got Stan to come with him, and now all he has to do is get his brother to go to his study and read out the anti curse spell and all will be fine.

Except Ford turns around to find Stan is no longer following him, and is in fact going through his house and taking his stuff.

Stan: Sweet! No one’s home! Time to loot this sucker!

Cat Ford: 😑

God. The beautiful relationship between a cursed man and his brother who is looting his house.

Ford spends the first few days alternating between trying to get Stan to follow him and making sure Stan doesn't accidentally kill himself out here. Stan is convinced this cat is the universe sending him a sign that he's finally doing something right in his life, since this cat is making sure he doesn't die and also brought him to a looters paradise.

He names the cat Chompers, on account of how many times it's bitten him.

Even cooler when he realizes the guy who owns this house hasn't come back once! And all the books are full of stuff about the creatures in the woods that terrify him!

He could make so much money off it!

Now Fords battling to make sure Stan doesn't sell his collection and actually read the very obviously written spell that's sitting on the desk. It's right here Stan! Read it Stan! Stop trying to steal my things Stan! You're right it's expensive but stop!

[rose-maidenn]

Jupiter and ketu : an incomplete love story or is it a love story ?

Disclaimer : My observations not a road map , if you liked it please like , reblog and comment your opinions and takes

Would like a reading dm me :

Masterlist , Paid readings

Jupiter is the planet of expansion spanning in our cosmos , it is associated with luck, our beliefs, education, marriage etc . Ketu is a shadow planet born from the moon , represented as the tail of the dragon , ketu is a hidden weapon a holder of secret knowledge that can be accessed only through proper seeking of it and dwelling deep into oneself

Jupitarians and ketuvians have long been cast together in TV and media one such example would be

In the movie Babylon Nelly la Roy played by Margot robbie (Jupitarian) and Manny played by Diego Calva (Ketuvian ) , Manny he becomes infatuated with the free nature of nelly how silly she is yet how good she is at work he finds a sense of freedom in her , as the story proceeds there's a moment where nelly is to be presented to the other high ranking guests as a person of honour nelly dresses up on the accord and guidance of others and Manny tells her that she can do this and that she can be perfect , which is like ketu telling jupiter to contain themselves the statement shows that ketu extracts from jupiter to cut off excess but now nelly is faced with a problem she's now being chased by goons she owes money to she decides to run away and nelly decides to leave manny protecting him from her mess and the goons that could also be seen as an act of defiance from perfection.

Another movie about lost lovers is portrait of a lady on fire where Heloise is played by Adele Haenel (Ketuvian) and Marianne played by Noemie Merlant ( Jupitarian), they engage in love and romance over the making of Heloises portrait , they can't think of staying together as it was seen as socially unacceptable and Heloise was getting married , for one last time Marianne turns around to see the bride in white as they part, this is compared to the parting of Orpheus and Eurydice , there are instances when they see each other but they never interact yet keep their love alive for each other.

But what if they were just girls ?

In the season 2 of why women kill Alma and Rita played by Allison Tolman(ketuvian) and Lana Parillia(Jupitarian) are two women based in the 60s, Alma tries to fit in to the garden club of the rich ladies by parading as rich and trying hard to fit in as much as she can whereas Rita is a lady who married for money, Alma takes it a step further and goes to a killing spree she kills Rita's husband many other people and finally Rita too because she wanted to be the best and takes up the position of Rita when people find out and Rita accuses Alma her act is to kill Rita as her last act of defiance , shows the final cut of ketu is to destroy jupiter itself one thing to note is jupiter is expansive it's not infinite , neighter is jupiter sun that it's all giving to others so jupiterians are definitely not a great source .

Now what if they got married

I assume this is the sequel to what would happen if nelly ended up with manny. Anora played by Mikey Madison ( jupitarian ) and Vanya played by Mark Eydelshteyn ( Ketuvian ) , Vanya goes to the club and falls for Anora who is a stripper he calls her on private parties and encourages her to go on a trip with him and pays her now Vanya gets an inclination to marry Anora so yes they do but when Vanya is faced with his overpowering mom (saturnian) and father he runs away leaving her stranded and says that she was just a joke for him he never intended to marry her she was past time for him , he gave her hopes and took it all away that's what happens when jup and ketu gets close you may wonder now but vanya was rich what would he take from Anora , Anora was life Anora was hope she was glamour and sweet escape for him but his overpowering mom was more important that that he ends up leaving her .

Inferation:

Ketu cuts away excess from jupiter but excess has limits jup isn't infinite and jupiter isn't sun , sun is happy to give away it's light to us , jupiter isn't happy to give btw , they're self destructive yes but once the taking happens they lose compass of themselves and end up in the situations as above death , departion, heartbreak , this isn't to say ketuvians or jupitarians are bad people just that jup and ketu aren't a great match , ketuvians are more suited with mercurian , rahuvian or venusians whereas jupitarians with Martians, saturnians and sometimes solar individuals. I say this with irl observations so yes I know people who have experienced this , jup and ketu hold love for each other but sometimes love is just not enough and that's what happens in this case well that's all from my side if I observe more will add more

All rights reserved ©rose-maidenn 2025

Thank you for reading 💙

[cheollollipop]

Fragments of Us - a perfect day. (misc.)

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: angst, fluff, smut (minors fuck off, in the nicest way possible) warning(s): fluff. just fluff. summary: two years after a messy breakup, seungcheol and yn reconnect unexpectedly. word count: 1.4k start date: nov. 20, 2024 end date: -

A/N: more random thoughts. this takes place during the beginning stages of cheol's and yn's relationship. just a little insight on how their friendship was. more jeonghan and yn teasing moments. i really want to touch on their friendship a bit more so you all can understand why he seems to be hurt the most (aside from jihoon of course).

The sun was warm against my skin, and the breeze was just enough to keep the heat from becoming overwhelming. It was one of those rare, perfect days—the kind that made everything feel lighter and easier. The park stretched wide before us, with lush green grass dotted with wildflowers—the sound of kids playing and birds chirping blended into an easy, peaceful atmosphere.

I sat on the picnic blanket next to Seungcheol, our shoulders brushing occasionally. It wasn't much, just a simple touch, but it sent little jolts of awareness through me each time. We weren't exactly official yet, but something was happening between us, something new and exciting. I could feel it in how he looked at me and leaned just a little closer when I spoke.

"Alright, who's in charge of snacks?" Jeonghan asked, stretching his arms over his head lazily.

"I brought chips, but someone—" Jihoon shot a look at Dokyeom, who was currently chewing with a guilty expression, "—decided to open them early."

Dokyeom swallowed quickly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Listen, they were calling my name. You can't just bring chips and expect me to wait."

Jeonghan scoffed. "Typical. What about drinks?"

"I brought some," I said, reaching for the small cooler beside me. Seungcheol beat me to it, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to me first before passing others around. It was such a small gesture, but it made my heart skip a beat.

"Thanks," I murmured, glancing at him.

His lips curved into a soft smile. "Anytime."

Jeonghan, who had been watching us with sharp eyes, let out a dramatic sigh. "Ah, young love. So sweet. So innocent."

I felt my face heat up. "Oh my God, shut up."

Seungcheol just laughed, shaking his head. "Jeonghan, don't start."

Jihoon, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly leaned back on his hands and stared at the sky. His expression was thoughtful, and his usual sharp eyes were a little softer. "You guys ever think about where we'll all be in ten or twenty years?"

The group fell silent for a moment. It wasn't often that Jihoon got like this, so when he did, we listened.

Dokyeom was the first to speak. "Hopefully, we're still stealing each other's snacks."

Jeonghan chuckled. "And annoying each other to death."

Jihoon smiled, but there was something deeper in his gaze. "No, but really. I hope we're still like this. Still friends. No matter what happens, no matter how busy life gets."

Something about his words hit me harder than I expected. I looked around at them—Jeonghan with his effortless charm, Dokyeom with his bright energy, Jihoon with his quiet depth, and Seungcheol, steady and warm beside me. These were my people. My safe place.

"I hope so, too," I said softly. "I don't want to imagine a life without you guys in it."

Seungcheol reached over, his fingers brushing against mine for a moment before he laced them together. It was the first time he'd held my hand like this in front of our friends, and I knew without looking that he was watching my reaction. My heart pounded, but I didn't pull away. Instead, I squeezed his hand gently.

"We won't let that happen," Seungcheol said firmly. "No matter where we end up, no matter what changes, we'll always have each other."

Jihoon nodded, his expression determined. "Promise?"

Jeonghan held out his pinky. "Pinky promise."

Laughing, we all linked pinkies, sealing the unspoken vow between us. It was a silly gesture, maybe, but in that moment, it meant everything.

Eventually, the sun had almost disappeared beyond the horizon, casting long shadows over the park. The warm twilight glow wrapped around us, painting the sky in soft purples and oranges. The day had been perfect—full of laughter, teasing, and quiet moments that reminded me how much I loved being with these people.

But something in the air shifted. I felt it before I even turned to look at Seungcheol.

He was sitting beside me, his posture more confident than before, his fingers lightly drumming against his knee like he was gathering his thoughts. But when I met his gaze, there was no hesitation—only certainty.

He exhaled once, steady and calm. Then, with the same confidence that made him the natural leader of our group, he spoke.

"YN."

The way he said my name sent a quiet thrill through me.

I turned toward him fully. "Yeah?"

He didn't look away. If anything, he leaned in just slightly as if making sure I could feel the weight of what he was about to say.

"I've asked you this before," he began, his voice even but laced with something deeper, "but it never felt like the right moment. I always felt like we needed more time or that I needed to wait until I was sure." His thumb grazed my hand, a touch so soft I almost didn't notice it. "But today, sitting here with you, with them—" he gestured toward the others, who were pretending not to eavesdrop "—I realized I don't want to wait anymore."

My heart pounded as he shifted, turning to face me completely. His dark eyes were warm and unwavering.

"I like you. More than just in the way I've been acting. More than just as a friend. And I don't want to keep skirting around it." He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. "So, YN, will you be my girlfriend? For real this time?"

It wasn't a question laced with doubt. It wasn't nervous or hesitant. It was a statement—a choice he had already made.

And the best part? I didn't have to think about my answer.

A slow smile spread across my face, my chest feeling light and warm all at once. "Yes. Of course, I will."

Seungcheol's lips curved into a full grin, the kind that made his dimples appear. Without missing a beat, he tugged me closer, wrapping his arms around me in a strong, secure embrace. I hugged him as tightly, letting myself get lost in the moment.

And then—

"FINALLY!" Jeonghan's voice rang out, full of exasperation.

We pulled apart just in time to see him dramatically flop onto the picnic blanket. "Do you guys know how painful it was watching you two dance around each other?"

Dokyeom clutched his chest. "I almost lost faith in love, waiting for this to happen."

Jihoon smirked. "Speak for yourself. I always knew it'd happen—just a matter of when."

I groaned, covering my face. "You all knew?"

Jeonghan snorted. "YN, please. A blind man could see it."

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but didn't let go of my hand. "Alright, alright. That's enough."

Jeonghan smirked. "Oh, it's never enough."

Seungcheol groaned, “You guys are the worst," he muttered, but his voice had no real annoyance—just amusement.

Jeonghan leaned back on his hands, grinning. "I mean, we did have a bet going."

I blinked. "A bet?"

Dokyeom nodded eagerly. "Yep! I said Seungcheol would confess first, but Jihoon thought you would!"

I turned to Jihoon. "You bet against me?"

Jihoon shrugged. "I thought you'd get impatient waiting for him."

Seungcheol scoffed. "Wow. So much faith in me."

Dokyeom nodded eagerly. "Yeah! We need to set ground rules. Like, no excessive PDA around us lonely people."

"Speak for yourself," Jeonghan muttered. "I think it's adorable. Just, you know, not in front of me."

I laughed, feeling my cheeks warm. Seungcheol just squeezed my hand, glancing at me with a smile that sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Jeonghan, ever the mood-breaker, smirked. “Alright, since we’re making promises and getting all sentimental, should we make it official?”

Dokyeom’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Like a blood pact?”

Jihoon groaned. “Why is that your first thought?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “We are not doing a blood pact, Dokyeom.”

Seungcheol, still holding my hand, gave it a light squeeze before letting go to stretch. “Let’s do something more fun. Like… a game.”

Jeonghan’s grin turned mischievous. “I like where this is going. Truth or dare?”

Jihoon immediately protested. “Absolutely not.”

“Jihoon,” Jeonghan sighed dramatically, “this is why you have no fun.”

“I am the reason I have no fun?” Jihoon shot back. “I have plenty of fun—just not with games that involve embarrassing myself.”

Dokyeom patted Jihoon’s back. “We’ll go easy on you. Maybe.”

I laughed. “Okay, okay, let’s do something safe. How about… ‘Most Likely To’?”

Everyone nodded in agreement. It was a simple game—someone would say a scenario, and we’d all vote on who was most likely to do it.

Jeonghan smirked. “I’ll go first. Who’s most likely to accidentally marry a stranger in Vegas?”

Before anyone could speak, everyone pointed at Dokyeom.

“HEY!” Dokyeom pouted. “Why me?!”

Seungcheol chuckled. “You literally almost signed a contract once without reading it because the guy seemed nice.”

Jihoon snorted. “We had to physically stop you from agreeing to a ‘lifetime subscription’ for free samples.”

Dokyeom huffed. “Okay, fair, but still. I’d like to think I’d know if I was getting married.”

“Would you, though?” I teased.

He muttered something under his breath about betrayal, making everyone laugh.

Seungcheol sat up a little, looking at me. “Your turn.”

I pretended to think for a moment before smirking. “Who’s most likely to cry at a rom-com and pretend they didn’t?”

Jihoon immediately pointed at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“Don’t ‘excuse me’ me,” Jihoon said, crossing his arms. “I saw you wipe your eyes during that one movie.”

“It was dusty!” Seungcheol defended.

Jeonghan grinned. “Right, because the movie theater was so full of dust right when the main character confessed their love.”

Seungcheol groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You guys are the worst.”

I nudged him with my shoulder, teasing. “It’s okay, Cheol. I think it’s sweet.”

He glanced at me, something softer in his gaze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He held my gaze for a moment before nodding. “Fine. I may have teared up a little. But only because the soundtrack was really well done.”

We all burst into laughter, and the game continued, each question bringing more teasing, more memories, more laughter.

The teasing continued, but I barely heard it. Because right now, with Seungcheol beside me, his fingers still intertwined with mine, and our friends surrounding us, everything felt exactly as it should be.

Perfect.

[elvexen27]

🐠Cove Holden Aquarium/Fish Tank Headcannons🐠

STEP 1

- I think in step one all Cove has for an aquarium is just a 10-15 gal freshwater aquarium

- Aka the standard for most 8 year olds

- Cliff does 99% of the work at this age, it’s one of his ways of showing Cove he cares

- Cove doesn’t really care about the fish. Not in a bad way!! I just think Cove wouldn’t be as into it as his older counterparts are.

- Not to say he doesn’t want the fish, he just doesn’t think of them as top of his priority list

- Has the world’s most gentle and calm male betta EVER. It’s actually crazy how chill he is.

- His tank is a mix of real plants and colorful decor, but it’s overall not bad.

- This fish lives for like 4 years

Walking into Coves room for the first time was a really big moment for you. It was made even more important by finally being able to meet the smallest member of the Holden household.

As Cove opens the door to his bedroom, you’re immediately met with the crunch of the sand on the floor and the trickling of the water from the hang-back filter of his aquarium.

Sitting across from his bed sits a 15 gallon cube aquarium, housing the prettiest blue betta fish you’d ever seen. Well, you hadn’t seen many, and none in person, but you could just tell it was the prettiest.

“What’s his name?” You look over at Cove, but he just shrugs “Does he not have a name?”

“Not really” He replies, moving closer to look at the tank. “Dad’s been calling him Reef, so I guess if you want to call him something, that would work.”

STEP 2

- After the passing of his Betta, Cove goes to Cliff and asks him for a saltwater tank.

- Cliff is, naturally, apprehensive at first. A 13 y/o with a saltwater tank? Risky

- Cove is able to prove to him he’s done his research and they slowly acquire what they need for Coves new tank

- They decide to upgrade the tank to a 30 gallon, keeping the 15 gal as a temporary tank or hospital tank if they need it

- They get 2 clownfish and a medium anemone

- Cove absolutely adores them, and such the fish love begins in its truest form here.

- If provoked he is fully willing and able to go on an hour long rant about how they should be cared for and how they behave in their natural environment, it’s sweet.

- Does eventually get more fish in the tank, perfecting his setup during school that year

“I can’t believe someone kept an adult yellow tang in a 40 gallon aquarium. That’s wildly irresponsible and just bad for the fishes overall health.”

Your lips curve into a small smile as you listen to Cove rant about fish ethics. You’d learned a lot, but the only thing you could focus on was him.

He was pacing back and forth in front of his bed while you sat on it. You look over to see Coves clownfish tank, the two swimming idly around the anemone.

It’d made all the sense in the world that the ocean boy you grew up with started taking care of saltwater fish. His love for the ocean penetrated all aspects of his life, from his hobby’s to his pets.

STEP 3

- Cove now has 3 different saltwater tanks in his room: a 75 gallon and two twin 55 gallon tanks

- The 75 gallon tank is nothing short of a show stopper, and it’s been made into a focal point of Coves room.

- It’s filled with coral, anemone, and saltwater fish. Coves ensured it’s not too overcrowded though.

- Its got 6 blue-green chromis, 1 royal gamma, and 5 cardinal fish

- The twin 55 gallons are nothing to turn your nose up at either

- One contains a pair of ocellaris clownfish and a large anemone, he couldn’t resist after his last pair passed.

- The other contains only coral and a single adult dwarf lionfish

- Anyone who goes over to Coves room is pretty much guaranteed to make at least one underwater or aquarium related joke

Walking into Coves room was second nature to you, it was your home in the Holden household. Feet crunching over loose sand, you pass the threshold.

Coves three large tanks illuminate the room in a soft, cool light. Each unique, joined only in the fact that they were Coves and they were saltwater.

He himself is standing over by his clownfish tank, his personal favorite, features gently lit up by the tanks light. His inspection is quick and methodical, something he’s clearly done hundreds of times before.

“It’s so natural to see you like this” You smile at him “Hovered over a fish tank, checking to make sure all is well. It’s like you were meant to be there.”

All he can manage is a sweet smile, and that’s all you need.

A/N: AAAAAAAAAA I love this so much it’s not even funny. I’m an avid fish keeper myself, though I’ve only got space for one tank at the moment. I learned so much about saltwater tanks while writing this, it’s not even funny. I feel like if MC was a freshwater fish keeper debates would definitely ensue over which is the superior type (it’s blackwater/botanical tanks, it will always be).

[wildsaltair]

not enough words in the English language to explain how much I need him right this second

[martianbugsbunny]

I don't love Alexsandr Kallus because he's some precious, perfect paragon of a man; that's not what he is. I love Alexsandr Kallus because he was absolutely horrible and he changed. He made amends. He uprooted literally his entire life out of remorse for what he'd done in the past and determination to do better in the future. He sacrificed everything he'd ever built because it was built on the pain and death of others and he didn't want that to be the sum of his life anymore. He went into a future where all he knew he could expect was to be hunted because he was once the hunter and he wanted to make up for it. He opened his damn eyes and he looked at what he'd done and he said this isn't right, I'm going to be different from now on if it kills me. I love Alexsandr Kallus because he changed.

[charmedimsure]

Hello! Can I order a Dae Ho one-shot? about the reader who comes to the game pregnant and meets Dae Ho there and they have some kind of connection and he tells her that when they get out of there he would like to be with her and the baby.

thank you and happy new year <3

*slams bell* ORDER UP! (im sorry that was so cringey)

THE THREE OF US || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader

summary: Trying to make it out of the games with both you and your baby's lives, you meet a man who is determined to help.

word count: 6.3k (i did not expect it to be this long thats what she said)

warnings: pregnancy, guns, death, blood, squid game stuff

A/N: i love jun-hee, but the reader replaces her in this fic. reader has no connection to myung-gi (333). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

Part 2: After the Games

The second game is about to start, and time is running out for you to find a team. You've approached a few groups, but have been turned away by all of them. Turns out most groups don't want women on their team.

Out of the corner of your eye you spot the man who had won these games before, along with the man who beat up those other players the day before. Figuring you might as well take a shot, you approach them.

Just as you get to them, a handsome man comes running over, pulling a player along behind him. "Sir! I got someone! He'll definitely risk his life to win."

The man he brought salutes the others. "Victory at all costs!"

The shorter man in the group, player 390, smiles and salutes back. "Hey, were you in the Marines?"

"Class 946, sir!"

Player 390 laughs. "Boy, with three ex-Marines, we'll be invincible." He turns to players 001 and 456. "What do you think? I like him."

Great, you think to yourself. Now they get to pick between an ex-Marine and a woman who can barely stand for more than 20 minutes at a time. Still though, this is a good team, and you'll be damned if you don't at least try.

"Excuse me," you say, getting the group's attention. "Please let me join your team."

Player 390 speaks up. "Sorry, we've already got five people."

Fuck it. Time to pull out the big guns.

"Please help me," you plead, leaning back a bit and putting your hand up to your swollen belly. "I'm pregnant."

All five men grow silent as they look down to your stomach.

<>

"Time for team selection is up."

You can feel the stares of your new team on you as the second game is announced. You just look forward, trying to listen to voice.

"The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each player will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the mini games. Number one, Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gong-gi. Number four, Spinning Top. Number five, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide players for each mini-game."

Player 390 turns to his friend. "It's good that we got a woman." He turns to you. "You can play Gong-gi, right?"

You give him a sorry look as you shake your head.

His smile falters. "Don't girls play Gong-gi anymore?"

You look down at the sand. "I've played it, but I was never good at it."

You can see the disappointment on his face as he nods.

Player 388 takes a deep breath as he turns toward 390. "Actually, I can play Gong-gi."

390 gives him a confused look. "You? And ex-Marine?"

You give 390 a weird look. Is it really that hard to believe that a military man has played a kid's game before?

388 gets embarrassed. "I grew up with four older sisters. I used to play it with them from time to time."

You smile, thinking it's sweet that he used to play games with his sisters.

390 claps him on the back. "That's right. There's nothing a Marine can't do."

Player 456 leans forward to look at all of you. "Everyone else, what game are you confident playing?"

You take a deep breath. Jegi was the game you were best at growing up, but you don't think you'll be able to play it in your condition. You lean forward as well. "I can play Ddakji. At the subway station I flipped the guy's on my first try."

390 nods. "Okay. Miss 222, you can play Ddakji. I'll play Flying Stone. I was a pitcher for my baseball team. I'm good at throwing."

As 456 and 001 decide who will play Jegi and who will play Spinning Top, 388 turns to you.

"Did you really beat him on the first try? It took me at least eight."

You breathe out a laugh and give him a small smile. "Yeah. I probably could have paid off my debt if he had let us keep playing." Your smile falters as you rest your hand on your swollen stomach. "It would have been safer for the baby."

388 frowns sympathetically and scoots a bit towards you. "We will get out of here. And after that, we will go home. You and your baby will be safe."

Although you don't completely believe him, you still give him a smile and thank him for his kind words.

You feel movement in your stomach and let out a small yelp at the unexpected feeling, looking down towards your hand.

"Are you alright? What happened?" 388 asks, concern clear on his face.

With a smile, you lift your head to look at him and the others who have directed their attention to you. "I felt the baby kick."

Player 388 breaks out into a smile as he looks to your belly, seemingly fascinated by what is happening inside of you.

Player 001 lets out a loud laugh. "The baby wants to play Jegi."

You let out a chuckle as the men laugh. You made a good choice asking these players for help.

"All right guys, bring your hands together," 390 says, sticking his hand out in front of him. "All together now."

You need to scoot over a bit, but you put your hand on the pile on top of 388's, who gives you a shy smile.

"On three, we go, 'Victory at all costs.' One, two, three..."

"Victory at all costs!"

<>

The walls open and forklifts are brought in holding boxes with pink bows on top. You watch as the bodies of both teams are separated from each other and placed into each box. One team had made it past the fourth mini-game, while the other had only just finished the second. Both teams were executed.

The bodies are eventually cleared out, but the blood remains on the track. The second team lines up and you recognize the sweet old lady who had given you her egg this morning, as well as her son. Shit, you really hope they make it.

The gun fires and they're off. The first girl, player 095, looks so nervous I'm worried she won't be able to throw the Ddakji. Her first three attempts fail, and she looks as though she won't be able to continue. Player 120 whispers something to her and she nods. She picks up the Ddakji, turns in over in her hand, and smacks it to the floor. Success.

The group celebrates as they move on, and you make a mental note of that little trick for when it's your turn.

Next is player 007, the son. He throws the stone and misses. Instead of panicking like the past groups, they quickly grab the stone and move backwards to the line, saving lots of time. As 007 is preparing to throw the stone again, his mother whispers something to him. A look of anger washes over his face.

"That asshole ruined my fucking life!"

A perfect hit. The entire crowd cheers as they advance to the next mini-game. You smile to yourself. They can do this.

Next is the mother playing Gong-gi. She drops her first two tries. You're guessing it must be at least a few decades since she last played.

"Old hag! What are you doi-"

Player 120 puts her hand over player 044's mouth to shut her up.

You watch as 007 speaks to his mother. With a new look of determination in her eyes, she blasts through Gong-gi until she needs to make the final catch. You and player 388 sit on your heels to get a better look. Her son speaks to her again, and face turns to one of rage.

"Rotten bitch!"

All five pieces end up in her hand.

"She did it!" Player 390 says, getting to his feet, 388 following after him. You try to get up but fall back as you lose your balance. Player 388 notices and holds your arms to help you up, keeping a hand on your back to keep you steady as you stand to watch the next game.

044 fumbles the top as she's wrapping it, but quickly retrieves it and tries again. She fumbles a few more times before stopping. Her team freaks out as she stands there mumbling to herself.

A gasp rings out through the crowd as 120 slaps 044 twice, picking up the fallen top and pointing it threateningly at 044's eye.

"Oh shit," you say under your breath.

Player 044 wipes away the blood streaming from her nose and tries again the wrap the string around the top. She gets it on her first throw and the crowd screams in joy as they move to the next one. Everyone is standing now to watch, chanting along to each step.

Player 120 is handed the Jegi and requests that everyone turns around. Not wanting to mess them up, everyone turns without hesitation. The room is silent besides the sound of the Jegi hitting 120's shoes.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five times.

It's done! They did it!

The rooms bursts into screams as the team crosses the finish line at the last second. You turn and hug 388 in pure joy as he jumps up and down. He quickly pulls away so he doesn't do anything to harm the baby, but keeps his arm around you as he celebrates with 390.

The teams keep going, with everyone celebrating the wins and wincing at the gunfire until it is finally your turn.

As you walk to the starting position, a hand gently grabs your wrist and you turn to see player 388. "Make sure to be careful. Take it easy and don't strain yourself."

You nod with a small smile and thank him, taking your spot in the outer ring of the small track. You take deep breaths as the harnesses are secured around your ankles.

"It's a little sad that we have no audience, isn't it?" 390 says, worry in his voice. He nudges 388. "Hey, are you scared?"

"No sir!" 388 yells, making you jump a bit as you were not expecting it. "It's quiet and easier to focus without anyone watching."

390 looks towards the other team. "Hey guys! We'll see you again at the finish line! Victory at all costs!"

The other team yells back their thanks and support before the pistol is fired and you're off.

When you approach the first mini-game, you take the blue tile and turn it over in your hand to match 095's. Throwing it hard at the floor, you yell in delight as the red tile flips over.

You move on to the next game, holding your stomach as you walk.

As 390 takes the stone, 388 yells out "Let's get this done the first time! I believe in you!"

"When I played baseball, my pitches might have been slow, but I had excellent ball control." You watch as the stones collide and yell out in victory as you move to the next one.

388 takes the Gong-gi pieces and you all crouch down.

390 faces him. "Dae-ho, stay calm. Even if you mess up..."

Player 388, or Dae-ho, puts his finger over his mouth to shush him before facing the board, rolling his wrist a few times and dropping the pieces. As quickly as he can, Dae-ho flawlessly gets through the game and catches all five pieces. You and your team members look at each other in awe of what you just watched. It seems that even Dae-ho can't believe he did it.

He lets out a scream as the guard confirms that he passed.

"That was amazing!" Player 390 yells. "Dae-ho, my boy!"

As you move to the fourth mini game, Player 390 looks down at you. "You're expecting, so be careful."

You nod but try to keep your pace, leaning on the small green table once you get to where you need to be.

As player 001 wraps the string around the top, Dae-ho bounces excitedly. "We might get through everything on the first attempt!"

Player 001 throws the top and it falls lazily to the floor as you all frown.

"It's okay, we have enough time," 456 says. "Let's go pick it up. Ready, go."

You all move forward together to grab the top. "No fun passing everything without a hitch," 390 says.

"That's right," 388 confirms. "You can't grow without failure, right?"

You guess he's right, but it would've been nice to pass everything easily. At least you still have three minutes left.

001 grabs the top and you move back to your spots. On his next throw you watch helplessly as the top flies behind your group. You would have laughed in any other situation.

Player 001 apologizes and you move back to grab the top, with 001 taking his sweet time to pick it up. To save time, he tries wrapping it as you walk forward again, but he breaks out of the arm link in frustration. This time he throws it as soon as it is wrapped. It doesn't spin, but at least it lands directly in front of him so you don't have to move again.

Player 456 picks up the top as 001 sighs in frustration. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He screams and you gasp when he starts slapping himself and calling himself an idiot.

456 takes his arms to stop him. "Try to remember the times when you had fun playing this."

001 nods and takes the top and string again. You take the time to look at the clock and feel a wave of worry wash over you when you see that you have less than a minute left. This time, 001 throws the top with his left hand and it spins perfectly on its axle.

You yell in joy as you quickly links arms again and move to the last game. Player 390 checks on you again as you move, and you just wave him off. The stress can't be good for the baby, but it's definitely not as bad as a bullet.

456 grabs the jegi and moves the pink soldier out of the way. He throws it up.

One hit. Two hits. Three hits. Four hits...

You watch in horror as the jegi flies in front of 456. Quickly, 001 kicks his foot out, making you all almost fall as the jegi lands on top of 456's left foot.

"Pass."

You all yell out victoriously and quickly move, crossing the finish line with a second to spare.

As you're all hugging each other, you flinch at the sounds of gunshots coming from the other side of the room. The other team didn't make it.

The main room is oddly quiet as you walk in. As happy as everyone was to see people pass while watching the games, they don't seem to be very happy about it now. Player 390 next to you waves at someone, and you look in the direction to see the woman and her son.

"That sweet old lady," he says with a smile. "I miss my mom."

You smile at the lady and bow your head to her as she gives you a big smile and two thumbs up.

As you sit down to rest and wait for the pink soldiers, 001 speaks up. "I'm sorry about earlier, everyone."

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made the last kick," 456 says and you nod.

001 looks at you. "Player 222, are you feeling alright?"

You nod. "Yes. Thank you all for letting me be on your team."

Dae-ho smiles shyly and nods.

"She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try, that was impressive," 390 says, making you smile at the praise. "She did great, even while carrying a baby. We were lucky she joined our team."

Dae-ho nods. "What about your Flying Stone play? You hit it with one shot! With an underhand pitch at that! Bam!" You let out a small laugh as he reenacts 390's throw. "You were like Kim Byung-hyun."

"And you?" 390 says. "Was Gong-gi the only game you ever played?" He quickly moves his hand around to imitate Dae-ho. "I could barely see your hand. It was like a martial arts movie."

Dae-ho laughs. "I'm the only son for two generations. My mom only let me play at home with my sisters."

"And yet they let their precious son join the Marines?" 390 questions.

Dae-ho hesitates. "My father's idea, he wanted me to be more of a man. He fought in the Vietnam War, you see."

"He sounds like a great man," 390 says and Dae-ho nods. "Was he a Marine, too?"

You can see the discomfort on Dae-ho's face and he quickly excuses himself from answering the question, instead standing up to face everyone. "Listen. Perhaps we should learn each other's names. I still don't know your names, gentlemen." He smiles a bit more when he looks to you. "Or your's, Miss. I'll start. I'm Kang Dae-ho. 'Dae' means 'big', 'ho' means 'tiger'."

"'Big tiger.' Cool name," 390 says. "My name is Park Jung-bae. 'Righteous' and 'twice'. My parents wanted me to be twice as righteous."

You go next, stating your name for the group. "I don't know what it means, though."

001 says your name, getting your attention. "When you get out of here, go see a doctor right away. You've been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out."

You nod. "Okay."

"I'm Oh Young-il," 001 says. He points out how it sounds like his number and the group laughs at the coincidence. Young-il turns to 456. "Oh, Gi-hun, what's your last name?"

"My name is Seong Gi-hun," Gi-hun says.

"'Seong' literally means 'last name'," Young-il laughs aloud by himself.

A loud buzz is heard and the guards enter the room. After revealing the results of the game and announcing the next vote, your team turns to each other.

You look down at the red X on your track suit, and look up to see the blue 'O' on Dae-ho's. He sees your gaze and frowns down at his patch.

"I'm telling you, we'll get out this time," he says to the team, though he is mainly looking at you. He looks down at his patch again and curses under his breath. "A Marine should think strategically and know when to retreat." He puts a hand on Jung-bae's shoulder. "Isn't that right, brother?"

"Yeah, you're right," Jung-bae says weakly. "Marines aren't invincible. We should get out." Despite saying this, the look on his face and the nervousness in his tone contradict his words.

"We have to end the games here," Gi-hun says. He turns to look at you. "I will help you guys when we get out. Please trust me and support this vote."

You smile and nod in thanks.

"Guys, all huddle up again," Dae-ho smiles as he sticks out his hand.

"Victory at all costs."

<>

You frown as the buzzer goes off one last time. There had been some... complications during the voting. This lead to the final vote being 116 for X and 139 for O. Standing next to Dae-ho, you don't miss the look of betrayal on his face as he looks over to Jung-bae with the blue patch on his chest.

Dae-ho lets out a loud sigh as you eat your bread. "Brother! Brother Jung-bae!"

You can see Jung-bae tense up from his spot behind the beds.

With a sigh, Dae-ho stands up and approaches the man. "Hey, just come back here."

"No, I'm good here," you hear Jung-bae answer. You roll your eyes.

"Oh, come on." Dae-ho grabs Jung-bae and drags him to face the group.

He stops and stares at you all before speaking. "I'm sorry. I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I'll be able to settle my debt."

"Jung-bae," Young-il addresses the man sadly. "You of all people shouldn't have done it. It's not twice as righteous." He sighs before continuing. "But, looking at the results, even if you had voted against, we would still have been outvoted."

Jung-bae jumps at this. "Right? It's not entirely my fault."

"Alright," Dae-ho steps up. "To be honest, I understand why you did it. The money isn't enough for me either, so when I went up to vote, I did think about playing one more game."

Jung-bae hugs the man. "You did?"

Dae-ho pushes him away. "I said I get it."

The shorter man turns back to the group. "Thank you for understanding. But I voted in favor partly because I feel confident. We did so well as a team, didn't we? If we stick together one more time, I'm sure we'll be fine." He turns to you. "I'll make sure we survive the next game-"

"'The next game'?" Gi-hun cuts him off. "In the next game, we might have to kill each other."

There is silence before Young-il speaks up. "Gi-hun, that's a bit much. There's nothing we can do now, so let's try to stay positive. We should eat, pull ourselves together, and try our best again." He picks up his milk and hands it to you. "Here, you can have mine too. Hang in there until the next game."

You shake your head. "No, that's okay."

"Take it. I don't drink plain milk."

You thank him as you take the milk.

Jung-bae takes the bread out of his pocket. "Have my bread, too. I don't deserve to eat."

You smile as you take it. You have been feeling hungry and one piece of bread would definitely not be enough for you, so you're grateful for the men around you.

"I'll take your milk then," Dae-ho says to Jung-bae.

Before you can stop yourself, a loud laugh escapes from your mouth. The others smile before laughing along as well. You look over to Dae-ho to see a blush covering his face as he smiles.

<>

"Pass it to me."

The guys hand each other mattresses as they move them to under the beds. You had been put in charge of collecting blankets and pillows so you wouldn't strain yourself.

"Is this really necessary?" Jung-bae asks. "I don't like sleeping under there."

"Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us," Gi-hun says as he pushes another mattress under a bed frame.

"What?" Dae-ho asks. "Who?"

"The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It's part of the game they designed."

"Gi-hun, I think you're overreacting here," Young-il says. "Even if that were true, people wouldn't do that."

Gi-hun turns to face him. "In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here. You have no idea how people can change in this place."

Young-il apologizes and you hand the blankets in your arms to Jung-bae.

"We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out," Gi-hun says. "I'll take the first, you should decide the order for the rest."

The order decided was that Jung-bae would take over after Gi-hun, then Dae-ho, then Young-il would be last. You tried to volunteer to keep watch but they immediately shot you down, saying you needed the rest more than them.

<>

After a trip to the bathroom with players 149 and 120, whose names you still did not know, you come back to find Dae-ho keeping watch. You try to quickly wipe the tear stains from your cheeks as you walk back to the makeshift shelter. You give a quick nod to Dae-ho before trying to move past him, but he calls out your name, making you stop and turn to look at him.

He looks up at you with concern. "Are you okay?"

You put on a smile and nod. "Yes, I'm fine." As you try to walk away you feel his hand gently grab your wrist to stop you.

"No you're not," he says. You sigh, upset that you've been caught. He moves to the side to give you space and you sit next to him, figuring you're not gonna get out of this. "What happened? Was it the baby?"

You shake your head, feeling tears start to well up again. "It's everything." You put your head in your hands. "I never should have played Ddakji with that guy, I never should have called the number, I should have just stayed at home and prepared for the baby."

Dae-ho gently rubs your back as you cry into your sleeves. Even though you really only just met, he feels connected to you. Maybe it's just because you survived the second game together, but he cares for you and doesn't want anything bad to happen to you. He was stunned when you had walked up to the group before the game and asked to join, immediately regretting picking anyone besides the beautiful stranger that was standing in front of him.

"What about your husband?" Dae-ho asks. "Does he know that you're here?"

You shake your head. "I don't have a husband. I don't even have a boyfriend. It's just me and the baby." You turn to look at him and although he's too kind to ask you how you got knocked up, you can see the question all over his face. "My ex-boyfriend is the reason I got into so much debt. He made a lot of bad investments and when he ran out of his own money, he started using mine. When I told him I was pregnant, he freaked out and left. Didn't even say anything, his stuff was just all gone one day."

Dae-ho feels himself getting angry at this. If he found out a man had done this with one of his sisters, he would do something to him that would probably land him in prison. It takes two people to make a baby. Just because the mother is the one that carries it doesn't mean that the father isn't responsible for the child.

"He's a fucking coward," Dae-ho says, making you snort a small laugh. "And he's an idiot to leave you."

"It's for the best, though," you say. "He wasn't a good boyfriend, I knew that even while we were dating. But he was my first love, and we all do stupid things the first time we're in love." Dae-ho nods, watching as you bring your hand to rest on your stomach. "I only wish that my child would have a father in their life."

"They will have an amazing mother, though," he says, making you smile.

"I hope so," you rub your swollen belly. "Hey, Dae-ho, can I ask you something?"

Dae-ho nods, looking at you with intrigue.

"Earlier you told Jung-bae that you had thought about voting to stay. Why didn't you?" You ask.

The man takes a deep breath. "Honestly, I thought of you. You and your baby. When you told us that you're pregnant, it really hit me that I'm not the only person in here, that there are other lives at risk. If you died, it wouldn't just be the end of your life. Your baby doesn't deserve that. You don't deserve that."

You can't help the smile that blooms on your face at his words, as well as the small blush. "Thank you for thinking of me. You're a very sweet person, Kang Dae-ho." You watch as he gives you a shy smile, a light dusting of pink on his face. "What about you? Do you have a girlfriend waiting for you back home?"

He shakes his head. "No, just me." You give him an incredulous look and he chuckles. "Dating wasn't easy while in the Marines, and I guess I just never found anyone that interested me enough after."

You let out a small laugh. "Sounds like you have high standards."

He chuckles. "I'm just waiting to find the one. They say that when you know, you know."

"That's going to be one very lucky girl," you say, watching as the blush on his face deepens. "I hope you find her soon."

"I can't explain why, but I feel like I will." He smiles down at you with a look that makes your heart skip a beat. After a few moments he takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I've kept you up for so long, you should get some sleep. You'll likely need your energy for tomorrow's game."

You nod, standing up. "You're right, I've been up too long." You start to move towards your mattress, but stop. "It was nice talking to you, Dae-ho."

He smiles at you. "Goodnight."

You smile back. "Goodnight."

For the rest of his watch, Dae-ho sneaks peaks at your sleeping form, a warm feeling running through him when he thinks about your words.

<>

You awake to the feeling of someone shaking you. Groggily opening your eyes, you see Dae-ho leaning over you.

"The next game is starting soon, we need to get up," he says.

You hear the classical music that has played before every game and nod, allowing him to help you get out of bed. "Nothing to start the day off like a sadistic game and fearing for your life, huh?"

Dae-ho lets out a chuckle as you make your way to the doors. He walks behind you on the stairs to make sure you don't fall, and stands right by your side as the curtains are opened to reveal the game room.

"Welcome to your third game. The game you will be playing is Mingle. All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh, this game?" Jung-bae says. "We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging."

"I played it too," you say. "But we would hold hands instead."

Together you set up a strategy. If the number is five, you'll all go together. If it's more than five, you'll grab however many people we need. If it's smaller than five, you'll break off into groups. When your strategy is done, you put your hands in the center.

"Victory at all costs."

<>

"Let the game begin."

The platform jerks as it starts rotating, and you almost lose your balance, but Dae-ho is there to grab you and steady you on your feet.

"Ten."

Everyone starts looking around like mad as they try to find ten players.

Gi-hun looks to a player behind him. "How many are you?"

"Four," the woman replies. You recognize her as one of the women who came to the bathroom with you last night.

"That makes us nine!" Jung-bae says.

A man from another group comes running over. "Are you five? We need five!"

Before any of you can answer, another player yells back. "We have five people! Come with us!"

The two groups go running off towards a door.

"We have to hurry!" Gi-hun says.

"There's no time, Gi-hun!" Young-il tells him.

"We need one more!" the tall woman yells. She spots someone by herself near the center of the platform and grabs her. "We have ten!"

"Room 44! Green door! Hurry!" Young-il yells, already running off in the direction of the door.

You run as fast as you can towards the door as Young-il holds it open for everyone to get inside. You feel Dae-ho's hand on the small of your back the entire way to the room. Before you get the chance to even think, the clock runs out, and the lock clicks on the door.

Screams and gunshots can be heard from behind the door, the sad fate of those who didn't make it in time.

Dae-ho turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. "How are you feeling? Is everything okay?"

"A bit out of breath, but I'm okay," you say, and he nods. Taking the chance to look around the room, you see that the other five is the first group that passed the pentathlon the day before.

"You're alive thanks to me!" Player 044 yells out, making you jump. She looks over everyone before stopping on you and stepping closer, making you take a step back. Dae-ho holds you close to him as the woman looks down at your stomach. She then looks up at Dae-ho and gives him a knowing smirk before leaving to speak to Gi-hun.

You look up at Dae-ho, who is still holding you to his chest. He watches the woman walk away before look down at you, your faces so close that your noses are only a few inches apart.

Once the bodies are removed from the playing area, you're let out of the room and make your way back to the center platform. The next round is four people to a room, and Young-il goes off on his own to find three more as the rest of you run to a room with a purple door.

Once you're let out, Dae-ho and Jung-bae yell for Young-il before a voice calling Gi-hun's name grabs your attention. You look over with relief to see Young-il jogging up to your group.

"I knew you were going to be okay!" Jung-bae smiles as he pulls Young-il in for a hug. "I knew it. You're not just anybody."

"I was worried," Gi-hun says. "I'm glad you made it."

Young-il smiles. "I'm a likable guy, so I'm good at games like this." He turns to you. "Are you feeling alright?"

You nod with a smile. "Yes, I'm alright. I'm glad you're back."

Young-il gives you a smile, but his face turns serious. "Wait a minute," Young-il says, "if the next number is six, we won't need anyone else, will we?"

"Why not?" Dae-ho asks.

After a moment, Jung-bae laughs. "Oh, in her tummy?"

Dae-ho lets out a loud laugh. "Right, that makes six."

You smile as they joke around, looking down to your swollen belly.

The next round is three, so you, Dae-ho, and Jung-bae run to a room with an orange door. With every round, you can feel yourself growing more and more tired, and your feet are begging for relief from so much standing and moving.

Once you get out of the green room with Dae-ho and players 120, 095, 007, and 149 (you make a mental note to ask for their names once you're back in the main room), you feel exhausted. As you step onto the platform, Dae-ho grabs your arm to support you.

"Now, the final round will begin."

The platform begins to rotate and you lean on Dae-ho to keep yourself upright.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Jung-bae leans forward to ask Gi-hun.

"Two," Young-il answers, getting our attention.

"Why?"

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only 100."

"Are you alright?" Dae-ho asks you, concern on his face.

You shake your head. "I don't think I can run anymore."

The platform stops and the lighting dims.

"Two."

Before you can tell what's happening, you are lifted off the ground. You hold on tightly to Dae-ho as he sprints to the nearest door with you in his arms. Once inside, he places you on the ground and moves toward the door, pushing his weight against it to keep anyone else from getting in and pushing you out.

You keep your gaze on the man. He saved your life. He saved your baby's life. Without hesitation. Hell, he even voted to leave for you yesterday. This man who only came into your life a day ago has shown you more unwavering loyalty than anyone else has before.

Then the realization dawns on you: you don't want to do this without him. You don't want anything to happen to him. You want to protect him, just as he is protecting you. Not just in the games, but always.

The lock on the door clicks into place and screams are heard from the other side of the door. Once the screams finish, Dae-ho kneels beside you.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, still in awe of the man in front of you. You examine his face and a surge of confidence rushes through you.

"Can I do something really stupid?"

Dae-ho gives you a confused look. "What?"

You grab his zip-up and pull him to you, planting your lips against his. You feel him stiffen and worry that you've made a terrible mistake, but before you can pull away, you feel one of his hands slide into your hair as the other moves to cup your cheek.

For a perfect moment, you're not in this crazy place. There's no debt, there's no death, there's no fear. There's just you and Dae-ho.

You pull away first but Dae-ho chases your lips, giving you a peck before resting his forehead against yours as you both try to catch your breath.

"I promise you that I am going to get us out of here," he whispers to you. You feel his hand move down to your stomach. "The three of us. If you'll let me."

You gasp at his words, tears forming in your eyes as you nod. This time, you believe him. Dae-ho pulls you in for another kiss and you smile against his mouth, feeling him smile as well.

The sound of the door unlocking gains your attention and Dae-ho pulls away. Voices can be heard beyond the door.

Dae-ho stands up and holds out his hands for you to take, helping you to your feet. He wipes the stray tears from your cheeks and plants a kiss on your forehead before lacing your fingers together and leading you out of the room.

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck

Lmk if you want to be added to the Dae-ho taglist!

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY TWO: taking choso's virginity.

kinktober masterlist

virgin!choso who, at first, lied to you about the intactness of his 'innocence'. he didn't want you to think him unworthy of your body because he didn't quite know what he was doing. so when you asked? of course he's had sex before.

virgin!choso who knows you're not stupid, who knows you pick up on the way he mewls with white hot need every time a kiss turns to a heated make-out session. he knows you pick up on the hitch of his breath each time your hands roam over that delicate chest of his. he knows you know that he's a fucking liar.

virgin!choso who still doesn't come clean until one night when he's sure you're too needy to keep your hands to yourself. when you're laid underneath him because he's finally gathered the confidence to push you into the mattress of your bed, and your hands start to roam down to the waistband of his pants.

virgin!choso who is rock hard from a few kisses, and can't bear the thought of you knowing just how desperate he is for your touch, your scent, your whole being. so he pulls back, sits back on his heels as you sit up on your elbows to give him an inquisitive look. you ask him if he doesn't want you touching him there—he knows you'd respect it if that were the case.

virgin!choso who can't deny his want—who can't help the blush that colours his cheeks as he shakes his heads and manages the words to tell you that it's not a lack of want, but rather a lack of experience. his voice is small, delicate, when he tells you, 'I've just never done it before."

virgin!choso who can't figure out why you're laughing when he's just opened up to you. you're not laughing at him, he knows you'd never do that, but the sweet giggles that fall from your lips indicate nothing other than the fact you already knew. you tell your sweet boy as such, that you'd be concerned if he had been with anyone before you, considering the logistics of your relationship.

virgin!choso who, when he asks you if it bothers you that he's got no experience, feels his achy cock twitch in his pants when you tell him that it actually turns you on. to know you're the only person to feel him inside of you—the only one that ever will—is beyond an aphrodisiac for you. it only feeds into the possessive streak you have, and god does choso find he likes being the subject of your staked claim.

virgin!choso who decides he'd like to set the pace for his first time. which is more than okay with you, because god the sight of him hovering over you with his eyes squeezed shut as you reach down and pull his cock out of his pants is heavensent. he's unsurprisingly big, and offers to prep you with his fingers first, but you decline—the notion of taking your sweet boys virginity is enough to soak you.

virgin!choso whose vision blurs once he's got your panties pulled off and he's rubbing his fat tip up and down your folds, choked for breath at only a taste of your heat. his hair is loose, hanging over his face and falling into yours as he steadies himself above you—he's beautiful, his virginity in your hands, trust struck between you as he takes a breath and pushes into you, inch by gorgeous inch.

virgin!choso who has to busy his mouth with kissing yours, because his gasps come in quick as he bottoms out inside of you, pushes to the base as he tries to acclimate to the feel of you wrapped around him. you take him perfectly, and choso often wonders just how handmade his design is, but can't deny he was made with you in mind, what with how perfectly you fit together. he moans against your lips, loud and unashamed, because he's never in his life felt so good.

virgin!choso who reels when you wrap your legs round his wait, use your hands to grab at his shoulders, trace your nails down his back, grab his ass as he jolts into you. who, when he starts moving, can't stop. the drag and pull of his cock inside of you is hypnotic—choso would swear this is a cursed technique of yours, sending him dizzy after only a few thrusts.

virgin!choso who, understandably, can't hold on for very long once he finally finds a nice rhythm. he's sent so stupid with all these new sensations that he's a babbling mess, barely comprehensible as he complains about the taut band in his abdomen that's going to snap any moment—thankfully you're right behind him, the intimacy of cho's devout lust is more than enough to justify both of your early orgasms. you decide that his first orgasm with you would be a waste anywhere besides deep inside of you, and spur him on to finish inside.

virgin!choso who cries when he cums. hot tears prickling at his eyes, rolling down his cheeks in salty drops that you kiss clean. his hips stutter, and he's simply unable to keep himself supported above you—he collapses on top of your body as he twitches and jerks with rapt pleasure. you pepper kisses all over his face, from the tip of his nose to his fluttering lashes, right before you follow in his climax and tip over the edge yourself.

virgin!choso who becomes fearful of losing this sensation. who, once you're both back in reality, refuses to pull out of you. hopefully you can handle cockwarming for a long time more, because frankly, your sweet choso has quickly become an addict.

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of Emiko, Emi and Mina, Ultraman form, Kenji being a little needy (once again), fluff, a little something to warm our hearts and minds so dreamy.

── word count: 683!

⭑.ᐟ Underneath, and sometimes over, tight-fitting t-shirts and extremely expensive fabrics, wear a necklace; however, there is something special there. — His promise ring hangs on the gold chain; like a talisman, something that surrounds he with luck and passion. — Staying attached and close to you, even with a small object.

⤷ If he needs to think or try to decide something dramatically important and you're not around, Sato will take his fingers to the necklace and hold the ring; looking for guidance. — Oh, and waking up, before him, and contemplating that shiny and significant piece, which rests on his broad chest, is angelic.

⭑.ᐟ It's not uncommon to feel, in the middle of the night, Kenji's face trying, persistently, on your neck; readily, wanting to harness the huge and strong body between your. — He doesn't care about the grotesque difference in size, just at that moment, and he doesn't give up.

“Kenji, be careful…!” — Your voice, fully, drunk with sleep and maintaining stillness, murmured between the boy's black and shiny locks; who only responded with a snore, more like a purr and clinging even tighter to you.

⭑.ᐟ Sato can't keep his hands off you, no matter what's going on, what you're doing or what simple task you're performing; hands on your waist, kisses on every exposed and revealed part of your body, thin and wide fingers catching on some part of your clothes. — Don't be upset with him, this poor man is in love with you.

⤷ One day, Mina compared him to a sloth and obviously got a frown of disapproval and the adorable Emi observes how her “father” remains so attached to her “mother”. — Even laughing and grunting when he saw a completely sleepy and desperate Ken crawling towards you.

⭑.ᐟ Please, we have, we need to talk about all the times Kenji and Emi train together, most of the time, being just leisure moments, you sit in the stands, virtually, scheduled and cheer for them; accompanied by Mina. — The feeling of nostalgia, remembering an incredible part of his life, is exposed in Ken's chest; remembering his mother.

⭑.ᐟ I can easily imagine Ken pressing his nose against your cheek or neck wanting your attention; also, when he wants to show you the way Emi is sleeping, enjoying the baby's sweetness. — And, together, pressing his forehead against yours during countless moments of the day and night, when you get home after confronting some creature and every time he want to say "i love you" to you.

⭑.ᐟ This man knows you like the back of his hand; no one can disagree or dispute this fact. — Kenji pays attention to your gestures, noticing your body language and, for a matter of seconds, he knows that something is bothering you; and, there he is, dedicating himself, with all his attention, to doing his girl well.

⭑.ᐟ Funny situations, for Ken, between you and his Ultraman form are included in your lives. — Once, while chasing Aboras, he ended up finding you on the street, wanting to go home, and clearly he was distracted by wanting to cause a provocation. — Mina gave the boy a long, and rightly so, scolding.

“Go back to the house, young lady.” — The robotic voice filled a part of the city's environment, wanting to convey an authoritarian image. — “You know…” — He pointed one of his gigantic fingers in your direction, then towards the place he was. — “The streets have been very dangerous lately.” — Oh, you stopped yourself from answering him like you really wanted to.

“Thank you, so much, for the advice, Ultraman.”

⭑.ᐟ There are nights — many, many nights — that Ken spends watching, contemplating you sleeping, peacefully; your face remained full, without signs of tiredness, exquisite and messy locks spread out, this was adored by the player's eyes. — Between seconds of fascination, Kenji longed, dreamed, deeply and painfully, of his mother meeting you; this way, she would have the chance to know the light that raised her dear son.

⤷ Kenji prospers, sometimes praying, that one day his mother will return, safe and sound, and be able to achieve what he wants so much in his life.