#progress tripped at the finish line

[marlynnofmany]

Urban Fantasy Microfiction

Airhoof steered through traffic with the ease of long practice, adjusting the shape of her seat with a thought. It obligingly gave her more back support, yellow sand shifting quietly, while she focused on the road. A couple smaller vehicles up ahead were edging into her lane. She could have slowed or honked, but instead she checked that the central aisle of her sandworm bus was clear. It didn’t take much of a turn of her head to be sure; a minotaur’s range of vision was to be respected. One of the many reasons she was the best at her job.

When she was certain that no passengers were in the way, she instructed the sandworm to narrow, bringing the seats closer to each other and letting the bus pass without so much as grazing a fender. None of the passengers commented.

Airhoof widened the bus again when the road was clear, just in time to glide to a halt at the next bus stop. Right on time.

Passengers walked down the newly restored aisle and out to the sidewalk. Some even said polite goodbyes.

Then a new passenger got on, and he wasn’t polite.

“This bus is falling apart! Look at that! You should offer free rides to make up for the inconvenience.” The mysterious figure in the cloak held up a handful of speckled grains, which had theoretically come off when he grasped the railing.

In response, Airhoof stood and stared him down, fists on hips and muscular arms flexing. The little man was still on the top step, and significantly shorter. The face he was trying to hide under his hood looked like he was only now beginning to realize this.

“That sand is the wrong color to come from my bus,” Airhoof declared. “Apologize and pay the fare or get kicked to the curb.” She adopted a battle stance while more than one passenger murmured in excitement.

Disappointingly, the troublemaker dropped the sand with a barely audible comment about wanting to walk anyway. He stepped back off the bus without any new hoofprints in his chest.

“Smart choice,” Airhoof told him. With a flick of her wrist, she undulated the steps to fling his impostor sand at him.

While the jerk exclaimed and flinched away, Airhoof closed the doors and sat back down. There were no other passengers waiting to board.

“Everybody in your seats; we’re taking off,” she announced. It wasn’t really necessary, since she could see that the well-behaved passengers were ready, but it was only polite. As befitted the best bus driver in the City.

Her bus accelerated away from the curb in a hiss of sand, leaving the troublemaker to brush his cloak clean and regret trying to lie to a minotaur.

~~~

Happy day seven of February Fiction Fight! This is a snippet from one of my characters destined for a very cool anthology that got stalled before making it off the ground. I live in hope that it will happen someday. In the meantime, this is Airhoof! She's great.

[spaghettito3]

It's always been Curly (Pre-crash Curly x Reader)

Captain Curly, the dependable captain of The Tulpar. That's who he was and will ever be.  ... Until you joined The Tulpar.

---

Or; a small look into Curly and his relationship with his name and title, with sprinklings of fluff.

ao3

It's always been Curly. Cur–ly; two syllables, a trip up and down the steps, the natural progression of things, finishing off a dance with a bow. It's Curly from the hiring manager of that fast food place when he'd made it just in time for his interview when he was 18, dressed in a suit; It's Grant from that awkward girl in middle school who decided she liked him after seeing him score a goal, then Curly once she knew him a bit more; It's Captain from his crew, and back to Curly again when they want to get on his good side. He was Curly.

He doesn't know how it all began, but eventually people started to favour his last name. It made sense, though; a name like Curly fits the bill for a dude with golden curls. He didn't mind that shift, either—two syllables always sounded better, together, than one, alone. He was Curly.

Grant is that one person sitting on the seat closest to the pick-up area of a coffee shop that you'd see for half a second when you go to get your drink. Curly is that dependable captain of The Tulpar with a crew that relies on him. Grant is that flower pot bought at a market years ago, left sitting at the back of the closet. Curly is a bundle of flowers packed perfectly in paper from that same market, just a few, more-populated stalls away. He was Curly.

So if that's the case, why do you insist on holding onto Grant so tightly?

When you introduced yourself to him and the crew last minute—courtesy of the Pony Express—you referred to him as Grant. Grant; one syllable, an unceremonious fall down the stairs, an abrupt stop, finishing off a dance with a trip. He'd been so used to everyone referring to him as Captain or Curly that a single word alone felt similar to when the wind back on Earth would sometimes suddenly pick up and make a mess of his perfectly styled hair. And despite seeing the mess you've made, you'd continue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Grant this, Grant that. No mention of that blond curly-haired captain, save for the one you were choosing to call Grant at the moment.

It didn't bother him; he didn't let it bother him, not when he had a job to do and bills to pay and a freighter to man. Hell, it wasn't even about your usage of the name as well; just the reasoning behind why when everyone else called him Curly. Though it was starting to become less like a small gust of wind and more like a rocky, thorny, bordering-on-uncomfortable bump in the road, and his brain soon added that train of thought to the things he'd think about when he'd try to sleep.

He eventually cracked one sleepless night down by the kitchenette with you.

There wasn't anything special that triggered it; no mocking tone he'd sooner expect someone like Jimmy to use back at home, just a simple:

“Hey, Grant. Couldn't sleep as well?”

“Why do you call me that?”

He remembers the slight falter in your smile when he’d lost himself. Curly wouldn't start the conversation with that if he decided it was even a good idea to have that conversation at all. Your act wasn't hurting anyone; it was just a name. There was no need to confront you.

Though as much as he hated ever asking and wanted to take it back, to his dismay, you took it on the chin and chuckled. “It's your name.” Your eyes remained on his, your mug clink-clink-clinking as you stirred on it.

“Everyone calls me Curly.”

“Everyone calls you Curly,” you repeated. That's when you dropped your gaze, and he hated how his eyes immediately followed the line of sight down onto your mug, as if desperate to chase it. You continued stirring on your coffee—surely it's at a drinkable temperature by now—and he debated on getting his own cup. It'd be a waste of time to try to sleep now; no way that he wouldn't overthink and repeat this conversation ad infinitum in his mind.

Eventually, you looked up and he met your eyes at an embarrassing speed. His gaze flickered onto your lips when they quirked into a smile, as if you remembered something funny. You then, with a gentle hand, slid your mug over to him.

“What if Grant gets lonely?”

That was the stupidest thing you could've said.

After all, weren't Grant and Curly the same person? Why the need for that distinction? That's when he realised your eyes were still meeting his; unwavering, curious. You weren't looking at the curly blond hair, the Pony Express uniform, or the body he'd worked so hard to get—just his eyes.

Grant wanted to laugh—actually, he did laugh, it seemed, when a chuckle bubbled out of him.

“That makes no sense.”

He reached for the mug you offered and took a sip. Then, he lowered his cup to speak, his voice softer this time:

“...But I'm sure Grant appreciates the company.”

That was the stupidest thing he could've said. You told him as such with your own chuckle.

“I'll keep on sticking by Grant, then.”

His eyes flickered onto your lips again, and it became abundantly clear that you’d grin every time you said the name Grant; first, an ‘o’ shape with your mouth for the ‘gr’, then you'd widen the shape for ‘an’—before finally grinning to enunciate the ‘t’. Grant; one syllable, a hop down the stairs, a period in a sentence, finishing off a dance with the last step. He teared his eyes away and brought the mug to his lips again, a faint heat rising to his cheeks, but it was too late; now he wouldn't be able to stop noticing your smile every time you said his name or the way you said it.

Ever since then, every time he'd hear a “Grant!” he'd turn his head that way—no longer out of a sense of obligation, but because he wanted to. Because maybe if he turned fast enough he'd catch a glimpse of your smile mid-Grant… But then he'd probably turn his head right back, eyes wide in a panic, because oh god he's not supposed to be anticipating his crewmate’s smile like this.

He’ll think about the implications of his feelings as the captain of The Tulpar later, but for now… It's not so bad being Grant.

[onelittlespiral]

Hey dude, I'm just a lil bro looking for a big bro to take care of me in all sorts of ways but all I'm stuck with is my lousy nerd of a roommate. Could you help me out?

FML: Fraternize

My roommate was… chill all things considered. I don’t know, he was just the random guy that I got stuck with when all my bros decided to move into the house and I needed someone to take the lease with. Scruffy, for sure. A bit out of shape. He said he used to play soccer in high school. Cute, but that was about it. Nowadays he was just getting his degree in English. Just a guy. But I didn’t want just another guy.

I tried to be friends with the guy, but he always just blew me and my boys off. He would just say he was too busy studying or playing some video game to come out to the gym with us or hang at the frat. I finally decided I was fed up. I needed my roommate to be more than a rando in my house. I needed a bro. And the fraternity had some resources to make that happen.

They usually keep this kinda stuff for pledges who start stepping out of line, but my buddy slipped me the files that they show to help guys get in line. I don’t remember if I ever saw them myself… what ever. It was a series of videos that promised to turn any guy into a bro in no time flat. So, one night, I put the tapes on when my roommate was home:

“Hey man, I’ve gotta watch these for class, mind if I slip them on?”

“No problem, I’ll just hang out in my bedroom.”

“Actually, it may be something you would like. You should stay. Here, you chill here and I’ll listen while I cook. I’ll make enough to split.”

I turned the first tape on and went to cook up some chicken and rice. In the other room, I heard the video beginning. It wasn’t long before I started hearing my roommate responding to the commands:

You are loyal to your bros.

“I am loyal to my bros.”

When you are around them you feel relaxed.

“When I am around them I feel relaxed”

The gym feels like your second home.

“The gym feels like my second home.”

The frat is life. You are made to be loyal to the frat.

“I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

They kept pushing him in the background while I finished cooking some food. When I walked back into the room, static filled the screen as my roommate stared into space, drool dripping from his mouth. I turned of the TV and he seemed to come to his senses.

“Hey, sup bro? Got the fuel?”

Already he was much better, “Yeah man, chicken and rice.”

“Hell yeah, gotta get a good workout in before getting my homework done.”

We ate quickly and started getting ready for the gym.

“Hey, bro, you think they are still taking new pledges? I’ve been meaning to apply to your frat!”

I was shocked at how quick the progress had been, “Yeah man. I’ll hook you up with my peeps tomorrow.”

“Sweet, let me finish getting ready and we can go.”

Dang those videos were quick. Even the way he carried himself was so different. This is the bro I needed.

The week went on and we kept working out. I hooked my roommate up with the pledge master and he quickly started falling in with the bros. We worked out, partied, did almost everything together now. I gave the rest of the tapes back to my guy who gave them to me. He said he needed them for a few guys who had gotten a little hands-y with some girls at the last party. I was fine to get them back, I didn’t think there would be any more issues with my roommate.

The year flew by until it was time for spring break. I had opted to be my roommate’s big and done all the usual hazing and shit with him. Had to keep him on his A game, I wasn’t going to go east on him. The spring break frat trip was a rite of passage for the incoming pledges. As much as I wanted to go, I had plans to visit California with my partner. We were having a great time, chilling at the beach, shopping through souvenir stores, and hiking parks. But I made sure to get updates about how my roommate was enjoying his week. It was from one of these progress reports that I got word from the pledge master:

Hey, bro. Just letting you know. Your little bro was making some girls uncomfortable at the bar. Can’t have that causing issues for the frat.

Shit man. I’m sorry. Lemme talk to him.

Nah dude, it’s good. We have a protocol for these kinds things. Just letting you know so you aren’t surprised. We’ll make sure he won’t bother any girls again.

Thanks dude. Lemme know if you need anything.

Nah bruh, relax. Enjoy your vacay.

Well as long as they have shit handled. I went back to my vacation and forgot about the whole situation. I would give him crap for it when I got back. The rest of our trip was great. I didn’t hear anything more from my bros so I assumed it all went according to plan. I was eager to get back to my roommate and prep him for full brotherhood when I got back. It wasn’t till I walked into the apartment I knew something was awry:

“Sup, bro, welcome back.”

A deep voice echoed from the balcony. He stepped inside and was greeted by a stranger. His arms were as thick as a football, his legs as thick as tree trunks. The smell of sweat, sex, and stale beer followed him into the room. He had a fresh tattoo on his arm with the number 86 boldly displayed. The stranger walked with swagger up to me, like he owned the place. As he approached, his musk only grew more intense. It wasn’t until I noticed the glasses it all clicked into place:

“Bro… is that you?!?”

“Bruh, who else would it be?”

My roommate stood proudly in front of me. He had been going to the gym steadily but no amount of protein powder could explain the progress he had made in a week. He was also easily 3 inches taller. And the smell. I don’t know how to describe it but he smelled… virile. Like just being around him was starting to get me excited. He certainly had never been like this before.

“Looking good, right? Like the new tat? Year of our chapter’s founding, 1986. After all, I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

That line made it all click together. The tapes. They said they would handle the situation, I didn’t know they would use the tapes.

”Speaking of which, dude. I can’t believe you flaked on the frat and went on a trip with your partner. You’ve got to be loyal to your bros.”

His scent, his words, my mind was swimming in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He stepped towards me, grabbing my head. I was pulled into his pit. I tried to pull back but a hand on the back of my head held me firmly in place. I felt so aroused and so scared as I was forced to huff the scent of pure frat bro. I was… fading. I couldn’t… resist… my… my… bruhhhhh.

“I think that you should sit through the next set with me bro.”

My mind was blank as he told me to sit down on the couch. Of course, I would do anything for my frat bro. He put on a video and sat behind me.

“They said we could watch this one together.”

The video whirled to life as my roommate held me in place in his lap. A flash of color and a brief intro played. It explained that it was the last in a series of videos for brothers who were trouble makers in the frat. This last one was the most extreme. I felt a wave of guilt, knowing I had betrayed my brothers and the chapter. I wasn’t sure what I did but I knew it must be bad. My behavior had to change.

You will conform to the standard set by the frat, whatever it takes. You will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood.

“I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood,” we both repeated, in unison.

Good. Since you have proven you can’t be trusted with making good decisions, your brothers have decided to make those for you. You will become the ultimate frat bro.

“I will become the ultimate frat bro.”

Let’s start on the outside. A brother works out daily, at least. Strong muscles make for a strong foundation.

As I repeated the words, they became my reality. I had certainly never been a scrawny guy before, but this was something else. My muscles convulsed all at once, then seemed to shred and burst. My muscles ached as pecs, biceps, abs all were pulled out of my body. I sweat under the effort as legs bloated and toned, bloated and toned. My back stretched out and shoulders mounded on muscle.

Good bro. Now, a brother should be cocky, with a cock to match. All the other fraternities should know how superior we are.

‘Shiiit, no other frat could even come close. We threw the best parties, had the hottest girls and… fuck the hottest guys. With a bod like this, just about no body could resist.’ As those thoughts echoed in my head, there was a sharp pain in my balls as they started to swell. My cock snaked down my shorts, throbbing with newfound power and size. A moan escaped my mouth as my cock swelled thick as a beer can. Anyone would beg for a cock like this.

A frat bro with a cock like that just needs to fuck. Your libido keeps your mind so full that you hardly have time to pass your business classes.

My swollen balls began to churn as my cock came to life. As my mind was thrust into a deep sexual haze, any aspirations I had on my pre-law track were pushed out, draining right to my balls and slowly leaking out my cock. At the same time, I felt my roommate begin to shift behind me. I felt his cock press against the small of my back, throbbing as it was thrust into overdrive. He began slowly humping against my back, and I leaned back against that massive cock. I wanted to help my bro however I could. He wrapped his arms around me and slowly started jacking me off. My mind was in pure bliss as I was kicked into overdrive. His arms felt so warm and strong, and he was pushing all my buttons till I was thrusting into his hands.

The frat is a part of you. You live, breath, and sweat the frat. Everyone who meets you will know exactly what you’re about and submit to you, an alpha bro. You put the reek in Greek.

My mind processed for a second until the smell hit me from behind and I understood. My hormones shifted as sweat poured out. It was hard work being a fraternity brother, and everyone would know that. I worked overtime as the smell of straight frat filled my nostrils. The apartment changed in response, filled with leftover beers, used tank tops, and soaked underwear. Anyone who entered would fall into an immediate haze, the smell of bros clouding their mind. My mind was… so… slow. Just… needed… FUCK.

You will keep it simple, keep it stupid.

“I will keep it simple, keep it stupid.”

My head felt like it was filled with fluff. No thoughts, just instinct.

You will listen to your pledge master, follow all he says.

“I will listen to my pledge master, follow all he says.”

It was so much easier to just trust my bros. Whatever they said went.

You will live for and serve your bros, live for and serve the frat.

“I will live for and serve my bros and the frat.”

I would do anything for my bros. Gotta keep ‘em happy.

The frat is life.

“The frat is life.”

My roommate’s cock was still rock hard behind me. His grip was edging me as moaned for release. I could dedicate my life to men like him.

Thank you for your cooperation. There will be no further issues. Now cum.

And I did. Ropes shot across the floor as all the changes were set in stone. I was just another frat dude, struggling through Business classes and fucking through the night.

And with that the video ended. It took a sec for me to regain my senses. I slowly refocused my eyes and… fuck bruh my head is pounding. Musta partied too hard last night. Shit, I was drooling all over myself, lol. I mean, I’m hot but not that hot. And fuck, I made a mess. Bro, what happened? It’s already late, I’ve got to get ready to go out tonight.

I was going to throw on a polo and some shorts when my roommate put a hand on my shoulder. This man must’ve got a double dose of whatever I got. Bro, he was on another fucking level. He pulled me in tight, cupped my ass in his hands, held my chin, and slid his tongue in my mouth. All at once, my world shifted as the fraternity’s motto rang in my head, I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood. An aching in my balls told me that I wasn’t going to make it out tonight. I had my frat bro… no, my big bro right here. And he will take care of his little bro. He pulled down his sweatpants and a thick rod popped out from the waistband. He gently guided me to his cock, the true source of his musk. Our scents mingled as my thoughts were consumed by sex. The salty taste of pre coated my tongue as the tip slid down the back of my throat. My mind faded as the smell of the frat filled my nostrils. I was lost in bliss as my bro started pumping, pumping down my throat. Gone was the nerdy roommate I had:

There was nothing left but frat bro.

[ambiguouslady42]

Pairing: Latina! Fem Reader x Nanami Kento (they're in their 20's)

WC: 3.3K

CW: Fluff. It's a meet-cute after all.

Summary: You travel to Japan after finishing school. You're homesick and journey to find tacos, as they're your reminder of home. You get lost, and the dashing Nanami Kento is there to help you. Soon, your worlds collide and it becomes a memorable meet-cute.

Note: I made an honest effort with the accents and the Spanish language. If you see an error, no you didn't. <3

Dividers from @/saradika-graphics

You recently graduated from university. From the minute you walked that stage, you wanted to live on your terms; you chose to study the degree of choice, despite the protests from your family. “Que vas hacer con tu vida?” or “Hace lo que te de la gana” were the common phrases you heard within days of having your diploma in hand. It would sting your heart, but at the same time, you’re in your 20’s. The best days of your life are ahead of you.

While you were in school, you took a number of odd jobs to have money for food, coffee, or textbooks. Whatever money you had leftover, you would put it in the “Japan Savings” jar. Unfortunately for you, you took a little longer to finish your degree than most of your peers, but the silver lining is that you had two extra years to save for your trip. Your mom told you that you’re out of your mind when you told her that you’re going to Japan. “Y con permiso de quien?” You gave her a look that you swore screamed “redrum”, but she knew that she couldn’t hold you back from doing what you wanted. “Bueno, ve a ver a tu Naruto o lo que quieras. Yo no te voy a impedir.”

Just like that, you were on a plane to Japan. You couldn’t sleep during the long flight. Your best friend who had gone the year prior told you where to start your trip. They warned you in advance that Tokyo might be overwhelming for your anxious heart, so they told you to land in Tokyo, but make your way towards Osaka or Kyoto. You had no idea what to expect from this trip. There was an excitement for new experiences, an understanding of a different culture outside of yours, and most of all, just have that adventure you worked so hard for. 

You spent time in Osaka for a few days, absorbing the sights like a sponge. You read that Osaka was more down to Earth and it was also known for its food. You tried okonomiyaki and takoyaki at Shinsekei. The sights felt nostalgic to you from reading the history of the place, but above all, you’re pleased with the texture and flavours. You embrace how food connects you to the culture and it made you want to attempt to talk to people. You carried cards in your bag that had phrases that would be helpful like “where is the nearest washroom?”, “which direction towards the train station?”, and “i’m allergic to shellfish.” You spoke to locals with the very little Japanese you knew, but there was still a certain disconnect that you felt. You wonder if what you’re feeling is loneliness, as you have no one to share this adventure with. However, you march on as you still have a whole journey ahead of you. 

After 4 days in Osaka, you move towards Kyoto to visit the temples. You’re not typically a praying person, but you felt it appropriate to pray towards something. There was a calm in the air whenever you took a step. Yet, that lingering emotion you felt in Osaka followed you here. You didn’t know if you should pray to meet someone or really pray to find a job immediately when you get back home. It wouldn’t hurt to meet someone, but at the same time you didn’t travel thousands of miles to find love. You just didn’t anticipate to feel lonely throughout this trip. 

At the rate you progressed, a week had gone by. You ate various noodle dishes, sushi, and the onigiri from the convenience store; you felt homesick. You long to taste something familiar to home, but you have no idea if you’ll find it here. Your travels through two cities felt easy compared to your time in Tokyo. However, the idea that you must have something familiar to home grew like a weed in a garden.  

Using your phone, you made the choice to search for tacos. You felt silly, but you knew this is what would comfort you and make you feel better. Searching and scouring the internet for 2 hours, you decided on place. After resting comfortably in your lodge, you went out that evening looking for home. The only problem, you’re not good with directions sometimes.

You made your way to Shinjuku, but you were walking in circles. What you didn’t notice as you walked around was that you had caught the attention of a blonde. You weren’t aware of him because your stomach grumbled as you kept running in circles to find this location. After maybe the third time walking to the samep place, the blonde couldn’t ignore you any longer. You clumsily bumped into someone as you weren’t looking up. When you felt the thud against your chest, you apologize and bow your head, when you look up. 

He knows right away that you’re a foreigner, so he asks you, “are you alright?” 

“Y..yeah…i’m sorry about that. I should’ve been paying attention.” you shyly say. You start your circular journey again when he interjects, “Do you need help getting somewhere?” 

Your face beams up as you look at him, “Yes, I do! Wait, I apologize for being so excited. You’re just…nevermind! I’m actually looking for…a taco spot.” 

His brows furrow, looking at you as if you’re telling him a lie. “That’s not possible to find that here.” 

You proceed to frown at him and show him your phone. “This is what i’m trying to find. Can you please help me find it, or I’ll be moving on.”

He notices a switch in your temperament and is quick to apologize. “I’m sorry about that, it wasn’t meant to sound accusatory. I just never really had…tacos.” 

“Well, if you help me find the place, it’ll be my treat.” You look at him with earnest eyes. “I’m sorry about my tone, sometimes… I can have a short fuse.” 

There is something refreshing in the way you act. It’s not everyday that he runs into someone who is immediately very bubbly, but also with a temper of a firecracker. There’s a small curve that develops on his lips. You notice it right away. 

“Is…that okay? If not, you can just point me in the right direction and…”

“It’s fine, i’ll just take you there. Besides, I guess I could eat”, he cuts you off.

You giggle and wait for him to assess in which direction you’re going to walk in. He hears you, and it tugs at his heartstrings. “Is she usually this bubby?”, he thought.

He motions to walk in a specific direction, and you follow. You observe that he’s very tall in contrast with your height. You try to keep up with his pace, but you fall behind. “Excuse me, but could you slow down, please?” He quickly notices that you’re trailing behind him. “Oh, my apologies.” 

“I know you’re probably eager to get away from me, but could you at least wait till we get our food?” 

“That’s preposterous. I wouldn’t be walking you to your location if I didn’t want to”, he retorts.

“Oh, sorry”, you suddenly tense up and remain quiet. 

“No, I just felt I had to defend myself…”, he stumbles on his words.

“Could…we start over? We never even introduced ourselves and it’s just two strangers struggling here.” You stop walking and look at him. You tell him your name and extend your hand.

He bows out of politeness and extends his hand to you. “Nanami Kento, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

His handshake is firm and you try to match yours. Due to the lack of human contact on your trip, there is a blush that develops. He is quick to notice it, but tries to not give attention to it to further avoid any mishaps between the two of you. 

“So why do you want eat tacos?” he asks.

“Long, story short, I’m really homesick. I felt if I ate the food i’m familiar with, it would make me feel less of that. I know i’m going home soon…but.” 

“Oh? How long have you been here?”

“Well last week I was in Osaka, then moved towards Kyoto. I’m finishing the trip in Tokyo to make it easier on myself to go home.” 

He takes a moment to process what you just told him. People come and go all the time to Japan, but it’s not often that he gets to interact with a tourist. At this moment, he is enjoying your company. He just had a long day at work. He can tell by the way you open up to him that you’re not afraid to tell him about yourself. He’s hopeful that he can continue to keep talking to you. 

“I see. What do you plan on doing during the last leg of your trip?” he questions.

“Well, I know there’s Tokyo Tower, which reminds me of this anime I grew up watching, and…maybe walk around Shibuya. I didn’t really plan this last part out well, if I’m honest.”

“Oh, which anime?” 

“Promise not to laugh at me?” you ask with a giggle.

He chuckles. “I promise.” 

You mumble, “Sailor Moon.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks.

“Sailor Moon. There, I said it.” Your face feels hot suddenly, as he looks at you. You can feel his gaze on you as you try to look away. 

“Ah, I see. I didn’t watch that growing up.” he says flatly.

“It’s not for everyone” you shrug. 

There is a silence that now looms between the two of you. Suddenly, you smell something familiar. You smell grilled meats and onions. There is no doubt in your mind that you’re close. 

“We are close!” you state.

“How could you know?” he asks you.

“I recognize this smell. It reminds me of a place near my block at home. It really does feel like home a little,” you express with joy. You’re smiling now and he can’t really ignore it. He wonders what he could say or ask that will make you smile like that again.

You reach the location. When you enter, your eyes light up. You notice that the menu is in a language that you recognize: Spanish. Interestingly, the menu has it in both Spanish and Japanese. You feel your heart light up as you feel a small pocket of home here in Japan. Nanami does take notice of how your face changed. You quickly go up to the counter and he soon follows.

“You can get whatever you want, like I said, it’s my treat.” You beam up at him.

He just looks at you, unsure of what to get. You boldly take his hand and guide him what to get. Your heart starts to race, but you try remain confident. “Well, you could get the asada, it’s a good safe choice, but suadero is really good! OOH! You could get carnitas.” He sees stars in your eyes, but it doesn’t answer his question on what he should get. You attempt to let go of his hand, but his grip tightens as you attempt to let go.

“Oh…I wasn’t sure you’d like that.” 

“It…doesn’t bother me.” he expresses.

The person at the counter starts to speak in Japanese, assuming that Nanami was going to place the order, but then you interject in Spanish. 

“Buenas noches, podría ordenar…” 

Suddenly, the man at the grill looks over and starts talking “Hablas Español?”

“ !Si! Bueno, no a lo máximo, pero lo que yo pueda!” 

“¿De dónde eres?”

You tell him shortly where you’re from, and he' s all smiles at this point. “¡Qué bueno! ¿Qué te gusta hoy?” 

“Me comería todo aquí. Voy a ordenar cinco tacos. 1 de asada, 1 de suadero, y 3 de carnitas.” You turn around and Nanami just looks lost. He continues to notice how you beam and smile. The man switches to Japanese, and you see a look of relief on Nanami’s face. They seem to be having a conversation, and you have no idea what they’re really saying. The mood changes when Nanami begins to laugh. It’s a deep laugh, and then you notice they’re looking at you. You turn to look at Nanami with a slight frown, and he just smiles at you. “I’m not laughing at you, but we are talking about how I ended up here and met you.” 

“Oh.” There’s that warmth on your face again. It’s kind of difficult to hide now in the well-lit room. Nanami completes his order, and just as you’re taking out your wallet, his arm extends out in front of you.

“Hey! I said I was going to get it!”

“Nonsense, it’s not very polite for a lady to pay.” 

You shrug and start to walk towards the grill. There’s a comfort in watching someone prepare your food, as it’s familiar to something you know. 

“¿Dónde aprendiste a hablar Español?

“En un pueblo en México. De ahí es donde aprendí cómo preparar tacos y decidí abrir mi propia taqueria.” 

“¡Qué bueno! Me da felicidad verte. Nunca creí que iba a encontrar un lugar así.” 

He goes on to explain that there are a lot of tourists that come from various places, but a lot of them have that same sentiment that you do when they want to have something familiar or that reminds them of home. You feel comfort in knowing that you’re not alone. He hands your food over and you start to walk towards a table. Nanami follows after you. You decide to sit outside on a bench. 

At this point, Nanami watches how you prepare your tacos. You like to pinch the lime all over them and proceed to add your salsa generously. 

“You can just sprinkle the lime and then you can just add the salsa to your heart’s content.” 

You take a big bite before you realize that there’s a man sitting in front of you. 

“Oh shit! I mean, crap. Sorry, I didn’t mean to let you see that side of me.” You quickly grab a napkin to wipe your face. 

He chuckles again, “It’s okay, you really must be hungry.” 

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, yes. It makes sense. Without me, you’d be lost.” 

“Hey! And without me, you wouldn’t have known about this place. Remember, you didn’t even think it could exist.” 

“That 's true.”

You proceed to eat in silence, but this time, you try to be mindful of the fact that you cannot inhale your food. You feel self-conscious that a man is looking at you. Your bites get smaller to show him that you can be a lady. 

He observe a change in your behaviour, so he decides to be bold and eat his taco in one bite. You suddenly start to laugh.

“Why did you do that?” you question him.

“I’ll be honest, I'm just as hungry too. Besides, eating with your hands is never meant to be neat.” He eats another in a single bite.

“I never expected you to be able to eat in one bite.” 

“I just don’t do it often,” he states.

There is an air of silence as you eat. You fret that your night with him is coming to an end. You assume that you’ll likely part ways after your meal. 

“What are you going to do after this?” he asks. 

You look at the time. It’s 9 pm. “I’m not sure, probably head back to the hotel I'm staying at.” 

“If you don’t mind, I'd like to walk you there.” 

He also feels a sense of wanting to keep trying to talk to you. He is often very methodical in what he has to say, but you bring out something in him that makes it difficult to think about everything he has to say.  Although, right now, he is enjoying being playful with you. 

“Do you feel less homesick right now?” he quizzes.

“I do, actually. Although, most importantly, I feel less lonely. This is the most I've spoken to anyone on this trip.”

“Really?” he ponders.

“I could’ve easily called my parents, but my mom can be overbearing, so the most I do is send her a quick message where I’m at, and then she leaves me alone. I’d really rather have the space to think about my next steps.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I just finished school and then I used my earnings to come all the way over here.” 

“Ah, I see. So this is a reward for you?” 

“It is. I felt it was in my best interest now to come explore here, and then when I get back I could focus on finding a job.” 

“Do you know what line of work you want to get into?”

“Not really. I’ve never seen myself as a corporate person, if I had to be honest.” 

There’s a slight change in his expressions. “He’s wearing a suit, so he might be a businessman”, you think to yourself. “I’m sorry, I wasn't trying to insult your profession. I just feel very…lost right now.”

“No, no. I understand. I didn’t have much of a choice in my career track. I just went and studied business and economics, then just got a job at some corporation. To be honest, sometimes it feels grueling.” 

“I’m sorry, that sounds challenging.” You’re sympathetic , but you cannot connect with him further as you feel you’re yet to have a real job like he does.

“This is actually the first time I’m able to talk about it. I was pushed to get on this track to study this degree and get this job. I was told that I'd be happy. Sometimes I feel miserable.” 

“Well, if you could choose to do anything you want, what would it be?”

“If I really had an option, it would be to operate my own bakery.”

“I think that sounds wonderful. I know a thing or two about baking, but I'm not the greatest sometimes.” 

“You bake too?” 

“Yeah, from time to time, when I'm allowed in the kitchen.” 

Your conversation continued to the point when the shop began to close. “We should leave”, you motion towards the street.

You clear the trash and start walking towards the street. “Hey, wait for me.” he scolds you.

He walks alongside you as you stroll back to your hotel. You’re walking slower than usual as you don’t want this night to end. He matches your pace, but he knows that he can change the trajectory of your trip without hesitation.

The sights start to look familiar and you fret about your meeting with this man.

“Well, Nanami, this was really nice. Thank you for dinner earlier.”

“It’s Kento, you can just call me that instead.”

You two look at each other and stare in silence. 

“Well, good-bye then.” you start to walk inside. “Wait, actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” he boldly blurts out.

“Yeah?” you stare at him.

“About Tokyo Tower, if you’d like, I could take you and maybe, do a repeat of tonight.” 

He sees stars in your eyes as you smile earth to earth. “I’d love that.” You turn around and walk towards him. You tippy toe yourself to find his cheek, but you stumble, and your lips stumble to find the corner of his lips. You are mortified.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t trying to do that, I was actually going for your cheek.” Your face is in pain.

He says nothing and leans down to press the softest kiss on your lips. He often isn’t this bold, but this is something new; he doesn’t know where it will end, but he knows that right now, you do make him feel excited. 

“I’ll meet you here at 6 pm.” he says cooly. “Don’t be late.” 

“I won’t.” 

Suddenly, you don’t want this trip to end.

[bugflies00]

cTommy is SO fucking persuasive he gets people he gets emotions. during the debates Wilbur comes across as condescending, frightened by and stuck in the past, and like hes advocating for violence and harsh control. He doesn't seem very. aware? of how to deal with the people in the debate. Quackity paints Wilbur as elitist and corrupt and Wilbur ends up playing right into it. Karl is very open to bribery and Wilbur doesn't notice. Tommy is trying to buttress his arguments and criticize Q and Wilbur shushes him only to do the exact same thing. He loses the support of his own fucking son. He pulls rank and starts shushing his opponents when he gets annoyed. He worries about even bringing Tommy because he thinks George will wipe the floor with him (for some fucking reason) while Quackity is trying to prep George for how overwhelming of a debater Tommy can be.

Meanwhile Tommy does things like:

-suggest that they encourage Fundy to run because he'll be inconsequential and shouldn't have attention focused to him instead of Quackity

-telling Wilbur to stop killing George and Quackity

-saying that they shouldn't interrupt during the debate, and saying that when George is up they just need to wait him out (which is a good strategy because George is good at arguing but doesn't have much substance to his actual points)

-identifying Bad and Karl as the people to try and bribe out of anyone in the court

-Bringing up the material and emotional losses of the War for Independence (the embassy, the discs, Eret) and George's part in it when debating him, which makes the walls and laws seem more sympathetic and reasonable while casting doubt on SWAG2020, while Wilbur only referred to "laws written in blood"

-immediately obfuscating when he's accused of bribery and then trying like five different strategies to defend himself and going with what sticks

-portraying George as impatient, violent, and petty after the first half of the debate, letting him talk before down talking him when he's finished which progressively irritates him which further benefits Tommy

-following George on an arguably irrelevant tangent about youtube titles, yes anding it, and guiding it back to how L'Manberg is innovative

They have very similar talking points, but Tommy seems a lot more fluid and like he's recognizing his opponent's strengths and weaknesses and changing how he acts accordingly where Wilbur acts more like those things are an issue to be bulldozed.

P.S. I forgot that Dream showed up mid debate to get in a shouting match over the originality of Minecraft Manhunt its so fucking funny. Man does not give a fuck about anything else happening

LITERALLY!!!! LITERALLY THIS IS WHAT I MEAN. also when he came up with the idea of letting everyone who votes for them pick 1 policy. he absolutely won them that election !!!

the thing about cwil is he gets sooooo in his head about this stuff that it completely shoots him in the foot. he’s so tripped up about people’s expectations of him and whether he should adhere to them that, like you said, he ends up playing into them. he cares about lmanberg in a really desperate way, and it makes him way too emotionally unstable to actually lead a debate in a productive way lmao. essentially he puts too much of himself into lmanberg and the election and he ends up being really clumsy and single minded.

whereas ctommy doesn’t!!! ctommy also cares about lmanberg obvious but his entire self identity isn’t on the line. he’s much more level headed, he knows how to play along with these people bc he Knows them, he knows how to subtly undermine them. he’s not obsessed with his own shortcomings like cwilbur is and he’s actually a great fucking debater

[henrioo]

If requests are still open would you been interested in writing some domestic Mihawk with his husband and their baby? Maybe reader teaches the kid their languages, and Mihawk gets the baby little sword plushies. Idk man but there's no way that man isn't secretly mushy 😭

°•*⁀➷ OUR LITTLE PEACE: MIHAWK

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "All Mihawk ever wanted was a peaceful life in his castle. But a perfect peaceful life is not complete without you, his husband, and now his little baby to fill his days with joy."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : Male! Reader (can be cis or trans), MLM, homo relationship, homo marriage, Spoilers to the two years separation! (Zoro and Perona are in the castle and this is post Marineford), the author doesn't know anything about babies and children, almost nothing of Spanish because I couldn't think of one cute dialogue so sorry, not too many mentions of the reader gender like my others stories but still clear the reader is a men, also no mentions of the birth of the baby, no name or appearance to the baby so you can choose if is biology, adopted, imagine what you want.

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,8k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Another story! Another male reader! Hehehehe, I skipped one day of posting but here it's the new one, another ask because I'm really trying to finish them to give more attention to another project and maybe write other stories idk. Thanks for the ask, I love writing family stuff hehehhe, this one was not that good because I'm having some struggles with my writing style but I hope everyone likes it! Byee

You yawned as you tested the milk in your hand, warm but not enough to burn your baby's tongue, perfect. Zoro was in a bad mood in the kitchen eating something, he had been beaten by Mihawk in the last training session and you suspected it was because the pirate was always lost in the castle and opening the doors with great force, which made a huge noise and always it made your baby start crying, irritated when awakened from his sleep. Which also made the older man a little irritated that someone was disturbing his son's sleep.

You made a mental note to try talk to your husband, although to be honest you were uncomfortable too. His son was a needy little boy and when he started crying he would stay like that for hours, until his throat got tired and he went back to sleep, so having to deal with it several times because Zoro kept waking him up was really frustrating.

You walked through the hallways, now with furniture all prepared to be baby proof, no furniture with pointy ends, no sliding rugs, doors in front of the stairs and other changes. At first you thought that Mihawk would be uncomfortable with the changes, to his surprise he took responsibility for changing everything without you even talking about it first. He spent weeks moving furniture, buying or making objects to close doors or round edges, he even made himself available to remove carpets and pictures, even going overboard with the protection.

Your husband has always been a very protective person, even before he was your husband or boyfriend. When he was just flirting, or courting, he was always very concerned about your ntegrity. If you were traveling, would he always give you the best accommodations, extreme climates? He has everything prepared, clothes and even medicine for illnesses, that is if he doesn't change the entire route of the trip to prevent inconvenience.

As you progressed in your relationship, the more protective Mihawk became, he would never be possessive or controlling, he was just genuinely concerned about your comfort and safety and felt it was his obligation as a lover to provide you with the best. Of course he respected you, after all you were also a man and a fighter, you were not weak in any way, it was your strength and intelligence that made Mihawk attract and fall in love with you in the first place. But living a life as a "pirate", an ally of the navy or just someone very strong in the grand line meant that your loved ones and even you were at risk of death at all times. He would never want to lose you and that's why he never let his guard down.

It was no different with his son, he wanted to give him a safe and as normal childhood as possible, thus arriving at this extremely careful point. He was already planning his son's diet and he wasn't even eating so many solid things yet...

"Almost there dear, it's papa, mi hijo, papa" You heard through the half-open door, there was an area of the castle that was closed just for the three of you. Even Zoro and Perona knew to stay away from that part, it being your private wing.

There was the bedroom where you two slept, a common room with the fireplace where you two usually stayed, a bathroom, a library next to the balcony and of course, your son's room. It was almost a complete house, except that it was inside a huge castle with many other rooms.

You stopped watching your husband next to your son, Mihawk was now wearing casual clothes although his shirt was more open, contact with the parents' skin was good for babies, he had told you. The baby laughed in his arms, trying to touch the adult's face with his chubby little hands. He wore thicker baby clothes to protect himself from the cold on the island, as your husband insisted that just the fireplace wasn't enough. The outfit was dark red with bat symbols, Perona had given away saying that the cute baby needed to maintain one parent's vampire reputation.

"Baba!" Your son exclaimed excitedly, laughing again, your husband's affectionate look and smile made your heart melt and your stomach feel strange.

For many, Mihawk was a cruel and merciless man, who could effortlessly cut through ships and defeat thousands of swordsmen at the same time without breaking a sweat. For you? Ah... To you, he was a loving man, a man who always brought gifts from every island he visited, who always had fresh flowers to give you, a man who would kill anyone who dared to offend you for being in a relationship with another man. For you, he was your husband.

"I'll only forgive your terrible pronunciation because you're too cute," Your husband said, shaking his son again.

"I think baba suits you a lot" You smiled entering the room, your husband had been trying to teach Spanish to your little baby for some time. Although this turned out to be a much longer task than he imagined.

"Of course I do" He mocked looking at you smiling, it's not like he could contradict you.

"Papa!" Your baby said excitedly and soon his attention was all on you, his little hands stretched out trying to reach you as quickly as possible.

"Why can he get the pronunciation right with you?" Mihawk looked at you confused and envious as he passed the child to you.

"Because he likes to annoy you" You smiled, rubbing your face with the chubby and soft face of your baby who laughed at the contact.

"Well, he got it out of you then..." Mihawk teased as he adjusted the chair so you were comfortable breastfeeding.

"Of course yes" You sat in the chair and then placed your son next to the bottle, he quickly held the bottle as he began to drink the milk. His eyes soon started to get tired and he relaxed against you, after all it was close to time for him to fall asleep.

"I should order a painting of you two like this, it would be the most beautiful work of art I have ever seen..." He sighed looking at the two of you with love, for him it seemed like a dream, so much peace with the people he loved most.

"He wouldn't be able to stay still for that long" You laughed, your baby used to be quite energetic, which had created some good confusion with you guys losing him in the huge castle.

“It would be worth a try” He chuckled and walked closer to you, caressing your cheek and then placing a kiss on your forehead. "I can put him to bed today, you should take a shower and rest."

"You already did this yesterday, I don't get that tired taking care of him, you practically do everything." You sighed, your husband always wanted to take the weight off your shoulders since he used to travel a lot. However, your son really wasn't that big of a job, now with Perona and Zoro here and the instability of the world government, you doubted that Mihawk would travel anytime soon, so your job was even easier since you shared it with your husband.

"Humpf" He huffed, he always sulked when you didn't allow him to take care of everything.

"Let's put him to bed together... Then after that we'll have some time just for the two of us" You suggested smiling, your baby had now let go of the bottle and was yawning, showing that he was ready to end the day.

"You know how to convince me, don't you?" Mihawk smiled, taking the empty bottle as you stood up with your baby.

"Of course, how do you think I got you to marry me?" You played with him. Soon you were running around the baby's room to rock him, your son clung to you yawning and finishing digesting the warm milk you had provided. Luckily he didn't give much work on that part.

When he had calmed down enough to be practically asleep, Mihawk had already prepared the crib, also carrying some stuffed animals and blankets in case you decided to add something else. You walked over with your baby and gently placed him in the crib, then he stretched out completely and then curled up again in a ball, grabbing a sword plush and messing up the blanket there.

"Sword?" You said looking confused at the plushie of a sword, you didn't remember having one of those. You then asked your husband.

You only met a proud, red-faced Mihawk if you had seen your son doing the most graceful thing possible.

"We have to start familiarizing him as soon as possible," he said, smiling to disguise that he had bought the plush hidden from you.

"Oh yeah? Familiarize our baby with his father's swordsmanship legacy?" You said, crossing your arms and smiling at him, you even wanted to pretend to be angry but you couldn't, not with him being so cute like that.

"Of course, he will be a great swordsman in the future" Mihawk said proudly, you raised your eyebrow.

"Of course, then he's going to beat Roronoa and then come kick his own father's ass, it seems like something my son would do" You said proudly leaving the room, knowing that Mihawk would now be thinking about the fact that one day he would fight seriously with his son, knowing he would never be able to hurt his own child.

It didn't take long for Mihawk to come up behind you with a thoughtful face as he too got ready for bed.

"Well... He's still young, we can't say if he'll actually be a swordsman" He said coughing embarrassedly as he sat next to you on the bed.

"Of course, maybe he's something else" You said smiling knowing you had hit the nail on the head. Mihawk would never be able to seriously fight his own son.

"Of course... Another thing" Mihawk said with flushed cheeks, he also knew that you knew. It was shameful for him to know that his husband knew him so well.

"Yeah, another thing where he doesn't have to kick his dad's ass" You laughed giving him a kiss on the cheek, knowing he would sulk at the idea for a while.

“You really like teasing me…” He sighed as the two of you cuddled together on the bed, ready to spend some time together before bed. And well, you couldn't deny it, your biggest fun was seeing the merciless and cruel Dracule Mihawk, the strongest swordsman in the world, reduced to a soft-hearted, caring husband and father who would do anything for his husband and son. Sometimes love also came with provocation.

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 4 progress

Now with 200% more bat!

masterpost

“Alright, have a good day.” Tim handed the clipboard back to a stone-faced delivery guy and took the package from Miss Fox back to his technology lair. He got a glass of water on the way down and then went about reproducing the experiment that Tam asked for.

She wouldn't give him details. But from the instructions and reported results, Tim was pretty sure that some employee had misrepresented their process. To what end, he didn't know. He was just the science guy, not a detective guy.

Although if he had to guess he'd say that they had switched out a needed chemical to hide that the supply was lower than recorded.

But whatever. That wasn't his business.

Tim happily went about science, recreating a corrosive liquid that would supposedly eat through reinforced metal. He had to make the Wayne tech protective coating for the metal as well to do the experiment properly. When he finished that he carefully dipped metal sheets in it and set them to drip dry. Then he turned back to the acid project.

Supposedly, the acid had been a failure. Tim thought it should work. Apparently Tam did, too.

The screens around the room all went black. He wasn't even using them but it was a hard thing to miss in your peripheral vision.

Tim groaned. “What now?” He asked the room. He clanged a piece of metal to the tabletop. “I am trying to finish this.”

Had he tripped some kind of security protection? Maybe they had all gone to sleep without getting a password at spaced intervals?

To be perfectly clear, Tim did not expect any kind of response.

Therefore he was startled halfway out of his skin when a female laugh came barrelling out of the speakers of the largest mounted screen.

He crossed his arms in a sulk.

“Tim?” She asked, after she caught her breath. “You're tiny.”

His face was catastrophically cranky: he could see it reflected back in the black screen. It was a perfect replica of Janet Drake discovering after she had formatted her latest paper in Chicago Style that the publication required the savagery of MLA formatting.

She laughed again. It ended with a hiccup.

‘Whoever this is, she can see me. She must be someone who knows me if I gave her that kind of access.’

“I'm not sure we're friends,” Tim announced, because it was time to face the facts: these people all knew a version of him, and that Tim was bigger. At least like, three inches. “I'm aware that I am small. I am working on it.” He glowered at the computer she seemed to be using.

It would take what, two years top for a major growth spurt? They could just chew bubblegum until then.

“Is that what you're doing now?”

Tim sighed. “No, I'm doing something for Tam,” he admitted. He scrubbed at his face with a hand. “Probably a good time for a break.” He started to tidy up.

“Yeah, so, I guess I can tell Dick that you haven't been kidnapped by lions or whatever it is he's talking about,” the lady said. The line turned to static for a second, then back just as quickly. “You, uh, need some help?”

“Absolutely not.” Tim shook his head in a sharp, decisive Jack Drake movement. “I don't need to be babied.”

“...I can see why you think you're in danger of it.” She snorted again. “Unblock Dick, please, he's got delicate feelings and I think we both have plans for tonight that don't involve him scaling your walls to find a way in.”

“....I'll unblock him,” Tim took the L gracefully. “I appreciate your silence on this matter.”

She snorted again. “Sorry.” She didn't sound very sorry. “It's just- your little businessman voice is so funny. I'm sorry, Tim.”

He looked up at the ceiling for patience.

“Oracle out.”

All the screens returned to normal. Tim let out a big long sigh and went back upstairs, taking his empty water class with him. At least he had a name, right? Oracle. He'd gotten a call from Oracle.

He mentally arranged the facts as he trudged up the stairs.

Fact one: he had replaced a Tim, who was Tim Drake-Wayne. (Upsetting information).

Drake-Wayne had to be fundamentally the same Tim as he was, given that both Tam and Oracle had immediately recognized him.

Fact two: Tim D-W was a vigilante.

Fact three: That was really cool.

Tim reached the top and made a mental note to enroll in some martial arts classes when he got back home. If he had potential to fight crime, of course he was going to do that. He unblocked Dick: oh no, Dick Wayne. He'd blocked Robin. He felt mortified. It was so obvious in retrospect. He put the phone down on the table, stomach twisting in social agony.

The phone immediately lit up with messages.

Well. Robin should be less annoying, if he didn't wanna get blocked.

He clambered onto the counter to search through for anything that would make a good lunch.

“... I'm terrible,” Tim complained. He stuck his head fully into the cupboard as if there might be something good at the back. “This sucks!”

Alright. Something had to be done. Tim decisively climbed down, using an open drawer as a step. He shut it with his heels and then went in search of a wallet. He needed a credit card and to find a delivery service.

He was going to act on faith that big Tim D-W wasn't going to ruin his life, even though he was a loser. Tim was doing a great job keeping Tim D-W’s life afloat. That merited some payment.

He converted that payment into a huge order to a grocery delivery service. He referenced Tam’s package to get the address.

The order was simple: fruits, breakfast meat, lots of bakery bread, and sandwich fillings. He was going to have tuna salad with cucumber and lettuce. He was going to learn to make egg salad. Optimistically, he even added melty cheese to the order and a can of tomato soup mix: grilled cheese couldn't be that hard, right?

He rounded off the order with lots of individually packaged drinks: milk and juice boxes, cans of grape Zesti, and hot cocoa powder.

"…This is so exciting,” Tim said to his empty apartment. His. In a very real and meaningful way, it was his apartment. He was totally unsupervised. Neat!

The phone buzzed again. When he picked it up it said “Jason.”

Tim blue screened. Tim dropped the credit card with a clatter. It disappeared under the table and he didn't even think to look for it.

Jason. Omigod, Jason. Jason was a person who existed. He'd forgotten.

All the pieces came together in a beautiful flash of light. He wasn't in a troubled huge age-difference relationship with Bruce (21 year difference) or Dick (9 year difference) . He'd gotten married to Jason Wayne, the kid that Bruce had brought home like a day ago according to the Gotham Gazette. (3 year difference: normal.)

The phone was still ringing. Tim picked it up with numb fingers. “Hello?”

“Hey, Timbers,” said a male voice. It was low, rough, and impatient. “You freaked Dickiebird out and he's been squawking at me all day. Tell me how many pieces you're in.”

Tim looked down at his body. “Just the one,” he said, voice coming out breathy. It felt like his being was floating outside his body. Wow. This was his boy- no, husband? Holy moly. He couldn't cope with that, he had to stick with boyfriend. He bit his lip. He had to make a good impression.

“...You sound about 10 years old there,” Jason said. He didn't hide his amusement. “You been huffing helium, babybird?”

Tim went bright red at the pet name. Painfully red. His face was on fire.

Jason took his silence as a response. “Alright, alright, keep your clothes on. You must be sick as fuck, poor thing. No wonder you didn't come out to play last night.”

Tim slapped his hands on his face and tried not to hyperventilate.

“I wasn't calling for Dick, don't get it twisted.” Jason cleared his throat, tone a little odd. “I picked up on something - I think one of my ongoing cases dips into your patrol area. You gonna come out on patrol tonight?”

“...No,” Tim said. There was no way that would go well. He didn't know martial arts yet.

Jason cursed, but he didn't sound mad about it. “Fair enough,” he muttered. “Uh, think you could do some surveillance for me?”

Tim nodded. Then he felt dumb and cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

…He felt even dumber. What should he say? This was his boyfriend. The stakes were so high. He had never wanted anyone to like him more.

Jason rattled off an address. It, like everything Jason had said, was going to live inside Tim’s head forever in perfect clarity. “Thanks,” he added after, a bit begrudgingly. “This guy's real fucking sick, been making human sausage.”

Tim… wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it sounded really bad. “I'll do my best,” he promised.

“Yeah…” Jason trailed off. “Maybe you should take a nap, some meds. That's a terrible hoarse throat. Don't kick your own ass on my account, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim helplessly echoed, and hung up. He sat in silence for a solid minute afterwards.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Guardian Angel, ft. ICHILLIN' Joonie

tags: cum-in-mouth, deepthroat, quickie, creampie (both type), anal, rough, daddy kink

word count: 8k+

warning: mention of firearms and depiction of use of firearms; reader discretion is advised.

author's note: I saw this picture of Joonie holding a toy gun and said "fuck it", so here we are. I wanted to get this fic out ASAP so that I could start working on The Outing Trip 3 and the ideas that are currently sitting in my inbox. Joonie is referred to as Junhee in this fic, btw.

-

“Excuse me, Mr. Director”, Mr. Kang, your chauffeur, calls out to you, waking you up from your peaceful nap, “we have arrived, sir”. “Hngh? We have?”, you say, rubbing your eyes to speed up the process, “can I ask what time this is?”. Mr. Kang looks at his watch, “it is 8:09 pm, sir”. You look outside the window of the car and see that it is dark out there. “Any news about the Guardian Angel, Mr. Kang?”, you ask. “The Angel is in position, sir. I was asked by the Angel to tell you to mind where you stand and not break line of sight—I’d also like to remind you that I’m keeping an eye on you as well, Mr. Director”, Mr. Kang explains as he shows you the gun on his hip. “Thank you, Mr. Kang. Be safe, okay? We can’t afford to lose you. I’ll see you in less than an hour”, you say to him before putting on an earpiece and getting out of the car.

“In case you forgot how you’ve ended up in this situation, let’s do a quick recap”, your brain says before starting. “You, Han Jinwoo, are the founder and director of a handful of companies, one of them being a nickel mining company that mainly operates in a developing country that is known for its messy politics. Over the past few years, you’ve been receiving extreme threats and defamations from people all over the world, including your own countrymen, for, and I quote: ‘destroying both the environment and the people of the country by ways of exploitation for capitalistic greed'. Those threats have led you to getting armored cars and extra security to keep an eye on you in public”. “Thank you for reminding me, brain; that was super helpful”, you say to yourself.

So here you are, standing in front of an empty lot that you’ve bought for an ungodly amount of money. You’re planning to build a new office building so that you can house 2 of your smaller companies here because the rent on the current building is getting ridiculous, and you’re here to meet some architects and engineers to talk about the construction.

Before you get closer to the construction site, you want to make sure that the Angel has eyes on you. You turn around and scan the buildings across the street, hoping that you’ll see the Angel. “Looking for me, director?”, you hear the Guardian Angel say in a calm but serious tone from your earpiece, “you don’t have a sniper scope like I do; you’re not seeing shit, love”. You bring your wrist closer to your mouth and speak softly into the mic, “don’t let me die, okay? I love you”. You don’t hear a reply, but you see flashing lights that spell out “ILY” in morse code. That’s your Guardian Angel, Park Junhee, a spec-ops-turned-private-military who also happens to be your beloved fiancé.

You turn towards the construction site and see some people with hard hats talking among themselves while seemingly waiting for you. “Good evening, ladies and gents. I apologize for being late”, you greet them. “Not at all, Mr. Director. I’d say you’re perfectly on time”, Mrs. Hwang, an architect, says as she shakes your hand. “Can I have a recap of our progress, Mrs. Hwang?”, you ask her. She shows you the site plan and some blueprints and explain to you that they’re planning to build the first 4 floors as soon as the materials arrive and aiming to finish it in 40 days. “Sir, I regret to inform you that the steel beams have been in transport longer than they should’ve been, thus slowing down the progress”, she says, “we have also been seeing protestors gathering here and harassing workers, sir. If I may, Mr. Director, I suggest having security here”. She is correct; while you may not have the cleanest hands and be the kindest businessman around, you certainly don’t want the innocent workers to be harassed or potentially be put in danger. “I’ll contact Nighthaven and see if they can help. Thank you, Mrs. Hwang—anyone else?”, you say.

An engineer asks for your attention, so you turn to him and listen to him. You’re deep into his speech when you hear Junhee warn you, “sir, there’s a man holding a knife running towards your position. Permission to engage, sir.”. “Don’t kill him!”, you yell out, and the people around you look at you in confusion. “Engaging”, Junhee calmly says, and you immediately hear a scream of pain from behind. You and everyone else walk towards the source of the scream and see that there’s a man lying on the ground with a butcher’s knife next to him. To your surprise, the man pulls out a gun and aims it at you, but instead of dying, you hear the man scream again; Junhee has shot him in the arm, forcing him to drop his gun. “Nonlethal, sir, as you asked. Wrap this up quick, please”, Junhee says, and you can hear the worry in her voice.

“I can’t risk losing you, ladies and gents. We’ll meet again at my office tomorrow morning, okay? Scatter, please, and be safe”, you tell Mrs. Hwang and company. Mr. Kang jumps out of the car and opens the door for you, “Mr. Director, get in, please”. “Mr. Kang, call an ambulance and make sure the man gets help, okay?”, you say as you get in the car. Mr. Kang calls his contact as he’s driving to make sure the man can be attended to with no questions asked. “We’re done, Angel—see you at home”, you say to Junhee over the mic. “Yes, sir”, she says.

-

“I’m home”, you say as you open the door and enter the house. You see that Junhee is pacing back and forth nervously while waiting for you. “There you are”, she says, “are you okay, love?”. “Yes, I am. Thank you for covering me, baby; I would’ve died otherwise”, you tell her before coming in for a hug. “You’re much more than a client to me, love”, she says, her voice shaking from the emotions. “I know, baby. I’m still alive because of you, you know that right?”, you say. Junhee was a spec ops personnel and all that, but considering that you’re her fiancé, she feels way more attached to you. “Please don’t die, love. I don’t know what I would do without you”, she says as her eyes turn to a waterfall. “I’m here for you and will continue to be, love. You’re there for me as well, aren’t you, my Guardian Angel?”, you say. “Why did you ask for non-lethal, though? I-I had perfect line of sight, love”, she asks. “We’ve caught enough flaks, baby; we don’t need more”, you say, pressing your lips on her head. “But you could’ve died!”, she screams, “please don’t die, I’m begging you”.

You let Junhee cry to her heart’s content in your arms for a few minutes while offering words of comfort and assuring her that you’re fine. Junhee breaks the hug and tells you to take off your clothes; “I need to make sure you’re not hurt—not even a scratch”, she says. You do as she says and start by taking off your shirt and trousers, revealing the bulletproof vest underneath; “thank you for listening to me and wearing a vest”, she comments with a smile, “continue, please—wait, actually”. She cuts herself off and runs towards the bedroom, leaving you with only a bulletproof vest and boxers on.

She walks out of the bedroom while singing Happy Birthday and holding a cake, and only now do you remember that it is your birthday. “Did you actually forget that today is your birthday, love?”, she asks. “Time flies, love. I was so occupied with work”, you admit. Junhee tells you to make a wish, so you close your eyes and pray for your and Junhee’s safety and prosperity before blowing the candles. “Hurray, happy birthday, love!”, she excitedly says. “Are we eating that, or?”, you ask. “Later”, she says, putting the cake on the dining table. Junhee begins taking off her Agent 47-esque attire and vest and throwing them to the side before approaching you and helping you take off yours.

She pulls you towards the sofa and tells you to sit down, “I want to suck your cock”. Junhee likes sucking your cock to celebrate both your and her birthdays, so this is nothing new or odd to you. Junhee pulls down your boxers and immediately take you in her mouth. “Oh, so good, baby”, you moan, “always so good to me”. Junhee gives you a wink and go down on your cock until her nose touches your pelvis, making her gag slightly in the process. You throw your head back and pet Junhee’s head as you bask in the sensation of her wet mouth and the sounds she’s making.

You feel your cock twitch in her mouth, and you know Junhee feels it too, proven by how she bobs her head faster on your shaft. “Ah, I’m about to cum, love”, you announce to her. Junhee moves up and leave only your tip in her mouth, ready to accept your cum. With a groan, you finally blow your load and flood her mouth with it. Junhee yelps a little bit when your cum hits her throat when she wasn’t ready, but keeps her lips tight around your cock. She closes her lips after pulling away from your cock before swallowing your cum. “Tasty as usual. Thank you, love”. You shake your head weakly, “no, thank you, love”.

Junhee helps you put your boxers on again before sitting next to you on the sofa. “Love, I want to buy firearms tomorrow”, she says. “Plural, baby?”, you ask her. “I want to sell my handgun, get a new handgun and rifle, and buy some ammo for them”, she explains, “you want to come along? We can practice shooting after”. You rub your chin and think about tomorrow’s agenda, “I have a meeting with the people from earlier so you’ll need to be with me first and then I’ll come with you—can I come with you, though? I’d hate to find out that the gun shop people hate me while I’m there with you”. Junhee laughs at you, “so what? C’mon, love, come with me, please”.

-

“Good morning, everyone. I apologize for ending the meeting abruptly last night”, you say as you enter the meeting room and see that everyone has come to the meeting, “is everyone okay, by the way?”. Mrs. Hwang answers for the group, “we’re okay, director. With respect, it was you that he wanted, not us”. “That is correct, Mrs. Hwang. Let’s start now, okay?”, you say as you press the button to roll down the blinds. Obviously, they notice Junhee’s presence in the room as she sticks out like sore pretty thumb, but no one dares ask you about her and jump straight to the conversation.

Since you have let the architects come up with the design, the engineers have little trouble following it since nothing is out of the ordinary or defying the laws of physics. Instead, they offer you ways to shave off some expense by “making the construction process less redundant”. You have no idea what this man is talking about, but since he assures you that it won’t compromise with the building’s quality and strength, you decide to agree. “We have received news saying that the steel beams I mentioned last night will arrive in 2 days, director”, Mrs. Hwang says. “Understood, Mrs. Hwang; please make sure we can continue the construction soon”, you say to her with a nod.

The meeting ends after about 40-something minutes, and everyone leaves together as a group, filing one by one out the door. Junhee drops the cold front and approaches you for a kiss. She takes your hands and put them on her tits, encouraging you to play with them. “Your tits are so soft, baby. Are you sure you’re wearing a bra?”, you comment as you juggle and squeeze them. “I’m wearing your favorite sports bra but no vests”, she says, “love, I’m wet; touch me, please”. You press a button to lock the doors and take off your trousers and boxers, “come to me, baby”.

Junhee pulls her trousers and panties down to give your cock access to her pussy. She jumps into your lap and immediately impale herself on your erect cock, letting out a soft moan in the process. “You-you’re filling me up so well, love—ah, hngh”, she says with heavy breaths. You want to cum so bad, so you thrust up and meet her in the middle, “Fuck, I want to cum for you, baby”. Junhee’s heart is palpitating like crazy, “ah-ah-ah—yes-yes, cum for your fiancé, love—ah, fuck—I’m so close, love”.

You keep thrusting up while Junhee keeps going down as the both of you are chasing your own orgasms. “Love, love—oh, please”, Junhee calls out to you, “I’M CUMMING!”. The way her pussy is squeezing your cock forces you to blow at the same time, and nothing beats the feeling of cumming together with your fiancé. Junhee leans forward for a hug, and the two of you stay silent while catching your breaths. “The—hah, God—the cum will drip down if you stand up”, you say to her. Junhee tells you to lay her on the table and get ready to scoop up the leak. Thankfully the leak isn’t too crazy, and she licks it off your hand. “That’s one pew-pew down, wanna move on to the next?”, you ask her. “Ye-yeah, help me put on my pants, please”.

-

 Mr. Kang drops you off in front of the gun shop, and Junhee leads you into it. “Good afternoon!”, Junhee says to the staffs. “Good afternoon to you as well, Miss Park. Can I help you?”, a female staff says. “Yeah, I’m looking to trade this in for a G43X MOS”, she pulls out her handgun and unloads it before putting it on the counter. The staff picks it up and inspects it, “G19, hey? Anything else?”. “No, that’s it—oh, some 9mm ammo, please”, she says. The staff then leaves you two alone and do whatever he needs to for the trade-in. “I thought you were buying a rifle?”, you ask. Junhee shakes her head, “on second thought, I don’t think I need a new one now. The one we have now still works well—you saw it last night”. You have little clue about firearms, but Junhee knows her stuff, so you trust her judgment on the matter.

The staff comes back outside and invites you two to the range to test her new handgun. The staff hands each of you some headset and safety glasses and asks you to put them on. Junhee then hands the gun to you and asks you to load it yourself, “do not put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to shoot—you don’t want to kill us, do you?”. You shake your head and take the gun from her hands. “Aim at that target, love”, she says. You’ve shot a gun before (under Junhee’s supervision, obviously), so you know how to unlock the safety switch and get ready to shoot. “I’m ready”, you say to her. “I know they’ve fired this gun multiple times during production to test it, but technically it’s a virgin; take her cherry like you did mine, love”, she says as she steps away from you.

You steady your aim and start firing one bullet at a time until you’ve shot all 10 of them. “Not bad”, Junhee comments, “you missed one, love—that might hit a bystander, you know?”. You apologize for missing, but she rejects it, “you can apologize by getting better, okay? You need to be able to handle a gun well in case I’m not there to protect you. Come, let’s get out of here”.

Junhee leads you to the front and pays for her new pistol and a box of 9mm ammo. “Sorry for being pushy, but is he your client, Miss Park?”, the staff asks. Junhee looks at you and chuckles, “yeah, something like that. Alright, we’re leaving. See you soon!”. You open and hold the door for your fiancé, earning a cute smile from her; “who would’ve thought a girl this cute was spec ops? Looks can really fool you, huh?”, you think to yourself.

“Love, can we go home, or do you need to go back to the office?”, she asks. “We can go home, yeah. We need to talk”, you say, keeping things vague for Junhee. “Oh, um, okay, love”, she says nervously. She tries asking you what you want to talk about, but you wave her off and tell her that she’ll know soon enough. “Excuse me, sir”, Mr. Kang says, “the news of Miss Park’s work last night has broken out. Personally, I would like to commend her for not killing him”. “It was my fiancé’s wish to shoot him in the leg, Mr. Kang; I was just following orders”, Junhee says. “That is good thinking, sir; the public might dislike you, but not killing him will make you look not as bad”, Mr. Kang says. “What do you think if I pay for his medical expenses?”, you ask your fiancé. “Yeah, I guess we can do that. I’ll call someone and have them take care of it”, she says.

-

“So, what is it you wanted to talk about? I’m not in trouble, am I? Please say no, oppa”, Junhee asks as you enter the bedroom with her. Junhee stopped calling you oppa after you two got engaged and nowadays she usually calls you that when she wants something. You laugh at her as you hold her hands, “no, you’re not in trouble, baby; I just wanted to say that I’ve booked a restaurant this weekend for our anniversary”. Junhee falls forward limply into your arms, “aaaah, you scared meeeee—I thought you were going to scold me or something, aaaaah”. “Ahaha no, of course not. Can I ask you to wear a dress, though?”, you say to her. Junhee huffs: she doesn’t like wearing a dress because she can’t keep her gun on her hip, “ugh, fine—please keep in mind that I’m only doing it for you”. You put on a confused face, “if not for me, then who are you dressing up for?”. “Nobody, oppa, I promise”, she says in a low voice, “if it was up to me, I’d not wear anything when I’m with you and just let you do whatever to me”. “One day, baby, okay?”, you peck her forehead.

“Baby, aren’t you hungry? Want to ask the cook to make you something?”, you ask your fiancé. “I’m hungry for your cum”, she says with a naughty smirk, “but honestly, I am. Can we have fettucine, love?”. You ask her to sit on the bed while you call the cook, “good evening, Miss Ahn. Can we have two fettucine alfredo, please?”. You hang up the phone after getting an answer, “she’s making us some right now. Do you want to do anything while we wait?”. Junhee moves to the center of the bed and rests her head on a pillow, “cuddle, please”.

You join her in bed and Junhee rests her head on your shoulder, the rest of her body hugging you from the side. “I love you”, she says. “I love you too, baby”, you answer. “No, no, you must’ve not heard me; I love you”, she repeats with a pout. “I love you more, baby”, you correct yourself. “There you go—wasn’t so hard, was it?”, she pecks you on the cheek after. You hear Junhee yawn, so you pat her on the back softly and encourage her to get a quick shuteye. She’s private military and all that, but deep inside, she’s just a girl who wants to love and be loved—Junhee doesn’t like being referred to as a girl, by the way; “you turned me into a proper woman, oppa—your woman”, she said after her first time.

-

The buzz from your phone shakes you awake, so you reach over to the bedside table and see the text from Miss Ahn saying that the food is ready. “Junhee, my baby, the food is ready, love”, you poke her in the cheek repeatedly to wake her up. “Hng, carry me, love”, she whines cutely. You carry her on your back and head towards the dining room.

Miss Ahn is waiting for you at the table when you arrive and welcomes you to dinner. “Your dinner is ready, sir and madam”, she says. “Wow, thank you, Miss Ahn. You’re the best!”, Junhee praises Miss Ahn with two thumbs-up and a gleeful smile. Miss Ahn then excuses herself to go home, since it’s almost the end of her working hours.

“Thanks for the meal!”, Junhee exclaims as she picks up some fettucine noodles with a fork and puts it in her mouth, “oh my, delicious as always”. “Apologies, sir”, Miss Ahn returns to the dining room, “your parents sent you a bottle of wine this morning, would you like some as company?”. You see that Junhee also wants some, so you agree to Miss Ahn’s offer and she disappears once again to get the wine and some glasses. “Oooh, a Chateau Margaux”, you say as she brings the bottle to the table. Miss Ahn pours some wine into each of the empty glasses and fills them halfway. “Is that expensive, love?”, Junhee asks. “Yeah, I think so; my mom is a bit of a wine connoisseur, so I’d like to guess that it is”, you tell her. Junhee takes a sip and smacks her lips after, “that’s really good, love”.

You send Miss Ahn away so that she can go home before digging into your fettucine and wine. “This is really good, wow”, you comment. You look at Junhee as you’re chewing and see that she has finished her fettucine. She leans back in her chair and lets out a tiny burp, “oh, sorry, love. It was too fucking good”. “Which one tastes better: the fettucine or my cum?”, you tease her. Junhee’s cheeks are red thanks to you, and she can’t come up with an answer; “you’re not comparing an apple to another apple, though, love; you’re comparing an apple to a banana”, she argues. You shake your head and laugh, “sure, baby, whatever you say”.

-

“It’s Saturday, isn’t it?”, you think to yourself as you’re waking up in the morning. You look around in the dark and see that Junhee is still in dreamland in your arms. You move her arms and legs softly and set them on the bed so that you can get off and stretch your body.

After stretching, you decide to check out Junhee’s gun shelf in the bedroom. You open the shelf and see an unloaded rifle with a suppressor attached to the end of its barrel and two pistols, presumably Glocks, since Junhee likes them so much. When you look down, you see a bunch of magazines lined up tidily and a few boxes of ammunition. You pick up the rifle and rotate it around to inspect it; “feels like a very solid rifle—what is this big ass scope, though?”, you think to yourself. “Looking for something, love?”, Junhee comments as she wakes up. You put the rifle back in its place, “sorry, baby; I was just curious”. “I’m glad that you’re not scared of them”, she comments, “it’s helpful to not be scared of guns, especially when they’re used to protect you”. You turn your attention back to the shelf, “did you modify these things, baby?”.

Junhee gets off the bed and stands next to you. She grabs the rifle from the rack and shows you what part she’s swapped out, such as trigger, charging handle, and bolt carrier group; “obviously you can see the scope and suppressor”, she says. You can hear the enthusiasm in her voice whenever she’s talking about firearms, and you want to keep going for now. “Can you tell me about the pistols? Are these the MOS thingy?”, you ask. “The right one is, but this one isn’t”, she says as she picks up one of them, “this is a Glock G45 with an Omega 9K suppressor and extended mag—Nighthaven gave me this gun as a parting gift”. Junhee puts it back after inspecting it and closes the shelf, “that’s enough gun talk for today, love. Let’s do something else”. “Such as?”, you ask. “Such as giving me your cum before breakfast”, she bites her lip naughtily.

She asks you to sit on the edge of the bed while getting down on both knees in front of you. You pull your boxers down to help her get what she wants, and she strokes your cock immediately; “do you never get tired of having sex, baby?”, you ask. “How can I get tired of sex when my fiancé has such a perfect cock? Not to mention that you were my first and my only”, she says. You keep your eyes on her as she does your favorite thing: tying her hair into a ponytail, even going as far as bending backwards slightly to show off her tits. “God, you look so hot every time you do that”, you comment.

Junhee unbuttons her pajama top and throws it to the side, her tits now free from their restraints. “Love, I know I’ve asked you this before, but what do you think about my tits?”, she says as she holds them with both hands. “If it was up to me, love, I’d carry you in my arms and just suck your tits all day everyday while my cock is deep in your pussy”, you lick your lips at the thought, “would you let me do that?”. Junhee reaches down and starts touching herself, “oppa, I need you so bad—ah, oh—please, oppa”. You pull Junhee onto your lap, your cock pressing against her stomach while your hands are busy fiddling her nipples, “what’s the password, baby?”. “Ah, nghh—please, daddy”, she says with a moan.

You wanted her to say “love”, but “daddy” works just as well if not better. You lift Junhee up by her thighs and impale her pussy with your cock, earning a loud moan from her. “Daddy—ah, fuck, hng—daddy, I love you—ahhh—I love you so much”, Junhee says between noisy moans. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight”, you praise her as you grit your teeth, “wanna cum for your daddy?”. “Yes, yes, I—AH, FUCK”, Junhee cums as soon as she lets out a scream, and you’re trying your hardest to not bust despite the tight squeeze.

You pull out and ask Junhee to lie on her stomach on the edge of the bed, and unsurprisingly, she obeys right away. You hold your cock and push forward until you feel the warmth of her pussy again—Junhee’s moan is even louder this time, “God, how are you even tighter, baby?”. Junhee screams very loudly at the first contact, seemingly in pain, “tha-that’s my ass, daddy; you-you’re in my ass”. You rub your eyes in disbelief and take a closer look: you are indeed in her ass; “but how did I get in your ass so easily?”, you ask. “I-I’ve been training it, love”, she admits, “I-I wanted to give you my last cherry—ahng, so big, fuck”.

You pull out to process her words, “do you want to say it again?”. Junhee stands up and hugs you, falling limp in your arms like she usually does; “I-I wanted to give you my last cherry, love. That way I’ll be yours entirely”, she says in a weak voice. “But it hurts, no? I don’t want to hurt you, baby”, you say to her. “It did hurt, but it’s only right that I give you my anal cherry”, she says, “please, let me be selfish this one time”. You ask her once again and you’re met with her unwavering determination, so you decide to play along.

Junhee returns to her previous position on the edge of the bed and spreads her cheeks for you, “please, daddy, grant me my wish; I want to be yours enti—FUCK, GENTLY, DADDY”. Your cock is halfway in her ass when she screams it out, “God, baby, you’re so tight”. “Ah-ah-ah—I’m yours, daddy. I’m yours—oh, fuck”, she chants as you fuck her ass at a slow tempo. Once you feel like her rear muscles has relaxed and is stretched enough to accommodate your girth somewhat comfortably, you start fucking her faster. Junhee screams as she feels the increased pace, “YES, YES, I’M YOURS, DADDY”. Her loud chants rile you up even more, and you quietly wish that a household assistant doesn’t happen to be outside the bedroom right now.

The tightness of her ass is different than her pussy’s, and you feel like it’s trying to milk your cum out of your cock. “Baby, I’m about to bust”, you announce to her with a groan. “FUCK, YES, GIVE IT TO ME—GIVE IT TO ME IN THE ASS”, she yells, straining her voice cord—you hope that she won’t lose her voice after this and promise yourself that you’ll give her some water. “AH, FUCK”, you scream out as you release your load in her ass for the first time ever, and you feel splashes on your thighs—Junhee is squirting from anal sex, isn’t that crazy?

You try to pull out, but Junhee tells you to stay inside. “It’s so hot, daddy”, she says, “now I belong to you entirely”. You bend forward and peck her on the nape, “thank you, baby. It was an honor to be your first. I love you, darling”. Junhee then asks you to pull out, citing the pain from the stretch, so you do as she asks and inspect the result of your work. Your cum is dripping out of her gaped asshole that is trying its hardest to return to its original shape. You keep an eye on it until it closes perfectly, and pecks Junhee in the ass, making her gasp in surprise. “Did you like it, daddy?”, she asks. You pull her into a hug before answering, “yes, baby, I liked it a lot. Thank you so much”. “I’m yours now, daddy—like, yours yours, you know?”, Junhee says before pecking you in the cheek. “I know you mean well, but you’re not my property, love”, you say with a smile, “I love you, baby”. “But you get what I mean, right? I’ll do whatever for you, daddy”, she says. You chuckle at her words, “can you eat well and stay healthy for me, love?”. “Aaaaah, you’re not cooperating with meeeeee”, she whines, “you’re so lucky I love you”. You hold her head with both hands, “I know, baby; I’m grateful for you every single day”. Your sweet words make Junhee blush, “I-I’m grateful for you as well, love. I can’t thank you enough for the love you’re showering me with”.

-

It is now 2 hours before you need to leave for dinner. You’ve been busy looking for clothes in the walk-in closet, even going as far as asking Mr. Kang for ideas; “I suggest a white shirt, a three-piece suit in navy-blue, and an orange striped tie, sir”, he said over the phone earlier; his love for those colors is second to none. “I’ll go along with your idea today, Mr. Kang”, you say to yourself. You fetch an orange tie from the shelf and a navy-blue three-piece suit that is tidily kept in cover bag. After putting them on, you grab a box of shoes and head towards the bedroom to check on Junhee.

“Baby”, you knock on the bedroom door, “have you chosen a dress yet?”. Junhee opens the door and walks out, and your jaw drops to the floor right away; she has put on a very fancy white dress and has a matching handbag in her hands. “Dear Lord, you’re so beautiful”, you comment as your eyes roam all over her body from head to toe. “You remember this dress, don’t you?”, she asks—how can you not remember? You gave her that dress as a gift after establishing the first mine under OreQuest Co. last year. You take her hand and peck it, “I can’t wait to get married to you, baby. I love you so much”. “I can’t wait to get married to you, love. I love you more”, she says with a lovely smile, copying your line.

Mr. Kang greets you as you and Junhee walk towards the row of cars, “looking sharp, sir and madam—I see that you’ve agreed to my suggestion, sir”. You shake his hand in appreciation, “I trust your sense of fashion, Mr. Kang. I must say it’s very on-point”. Mr. Kang accepts your thanks with a smile, “may I know which car we’re taking, sir?”. You look around your collection of expensive cars, “can we take the Ghost? That’s armored too, right?”. “It is, sir, just not as thick as the Cadillac”, he says, “please, have a seat”. You open a door for Junhee before getting in yourself, followed by Mr. Kang. “The Sapphire, please, Mr. Kang”, you say to him. Mr. Kang turns on the car and starts driving out of the garage, “certainly, sir”.

During the ride, Junhee pulls out her trusty G45 from her handbag and puts it in the compartment in the center of the seat, “I’ll be unarmed tonight, Mr. Kang; we’re relying on you”. “Understood, madam. Speaking of which, I have an AR-15 in this bag next to me as well”, he says. “Is that a 16-inch, Mr. Kang?”, Junhee asks as she takes a peek. “11-and-a-half, madam; I recently came up with a new build and have been training with it”, Mr. Kang explains. Mr. Kang used to be Junhee’s subordinate during her Nighthaven days, and she was the one who convinced you to hire him as a chauffeur. “You’ve always been the creative one, Mr. Kang—I’ll need a list of the parts you used for it, by the way”, she praises him.

-

Mr. Kang drops you off in front of The Sapphire and opens the door for you with a press of a button. “Director Han”, a staff greets you at the door with a polite bow, “your reservation is ready, sir. Kindly follow me, please”. You hold Junhee’s hand as you follow the staff to your table, secluded from the rest of the visitors. You pull out some money from Junhee’s handbag (since you don’t carry much cash) and hand it to him, “thank you for your help”. “Thank you for the visit, director. Your appetizers will come out soon. Have a good night, sir and madam”, the staff bows again and walks away with a smile. “How did he know that you’re a director, love?”, Junhee asks. You chuckle at her question, “I mean, almost everyone does, whether they hate me or not. Not to mention that The Sapphire’s owners have been good friends with my parents since I was a kid”.

A waiter sets some plates with fancy food on your table while another pours some wine into the glasses. “How long is this dinner, by the way, love?”, Junhee asks as she eyes the food. “9 courses, I think”, you answer her and turn to the waiters and one of them gives you a nod, “yes, 9 courses. Thank you very much, we will be enjoying this”. You lift a glass of wine for a toast, “to us, baby, until the end of time”. Junhee lifts her glass and clinks it with yours, “to us, love, until the end of time”.

-

“Here’s your final course, sir and madam”, the waiter says. “Ah, the last one already?”, you comment, “where has time gone, baby?”. Junhee smiles at you oh-so-warmly, “time flies like a fighter jet when you spend it by talking and laughing with those you love, honey”. Truer words have never been said before and they make you realize how blessed you’ve been throughout your life; “I love you so, so much, baby, but I can’t come up with the words to express myself”, you say with glassy eyes, “I want to get you a gift right now—you know, like a symbol”. “You are my gift, honey—one that never stops giving”, she says with teary eyes as well.

-

You walk out of the restaurant hand-in-hand with Junhee and head towards the car. You open the passenger door and ask Junhee to enter first. You hear a commotion from your left, but initially pay no attention to it and keep minding your business. That is, until the source of the commotion, a man who has a shirt with your face crossed out, appears from around the corner and aims his gun at you. You scream in pain when you feel hot lead hit your left shoulder, and Junhee screams in panic and pulls you into the car. Mr. Kang gets ready to jump out and shoot back, but you tell him no; “don’t, Mr. Kang—just get us out, please”, you say before grunting from the pain.

Mr. Kang plants his foot on the gas and speeds away to get some help for you, and you hear some more shots land on the car. “Love, love”, Junhee calls out to you as tears flow down her cheeks, “stay with me, stay with me, please. Faster, Mr. Kang!”. Your eyelids feel like they weigh a quintal, and you feel powerless to keep them open.

-

You’re lying flat on your back with a bright light shining right in your eyes, and you wonder if you died and is seeing God right now. “God, please protect my fiancé; watch over her and bless her like you’ve blessed me”, you mutter to yourself. “Oppa! Oppa!”, you hear Junhee’s voice coming from God-knows-where, and you can’t help but shed tears. “I’m so sorry for breaking your heart, love. I never meant it to end like this. I love you, baby”, you say to yourself.

A higher power places your soul back into your body as if telling you that this isn’t over yet, and you jolt as if you were electrocuted. You look to your right and see Junhee sitting on a chair next to you: she’s crying her heart out with her hands on her face. “Junhee-yah”, you weakly call out to her, and she gasps in shock before rushing to you. “Love! Love, you’re awake—oh God, thank you—thank you so much”, she says in tears, “I’m so sorry, love. I-I was supposed to protect you. Oh, God, I failed you”. You try to sit, but Junhee holds you down, “no-no-no, please, just lay down. You’re safe here; Mr. Kang is guarding the door”. You wipe her tears with your thumb, “are you okay, baby? Are you hurt?”. Junhee shakes her head as she presses your hand against her cheek, “I-I’m fine, love”. You show her a gentle smile, “then you didn’t fail anyone, love; this is simply an accident”.

You take a good look around the room and the IV drip and heart monitor tell you that you’re at a hospital. “Thank you for bringing me here, love”, you tell Junhee, “I hope no one gave you trouble”. Junhee exhales deeply before answering, “this hospital is secretly owned and run by Nighthaven; they don't ask questions”. You suddenly feel a sharp pain in your shoulder area, and you let out a grunt because of it; “do you know where he hit me?”, you ask her. “Somewhere here”, she points at her own shoulder, under the collarbone, “the bullet is still sitting in your body, by the way—it’s fine, though, you’ll live”.

Junhee sits back down in her chair and texts Mr. Kang and your parents, telling them that you’re alive and well—minus the bullet wound. You chuckle while looking at her, “I was about to ask if you’re hungry, but we literally just had dinner”. Junhee pecks you in the cheek, “I haven’t even thanked you for taking me to dinner—thank you, love”. Since you can’t sit and peck her back, you opt to peck her hand instead, “happy anniversary, baby”. “Happy anniversary, oppa”, she replies with a merry smile.

-

You’re cleared to go home after spending 3 days in the hospital, and you finally see Mr. Kang since the shooting as you’re walking to the car. “Director, pleased to see you again”, he says with a bow, “my apologies for not reacting in time, sir”. You pat him on the back, “it’s fine, Mr. Kang. As long as no one else got hurt, I’m content with it”. He nods and smiles, “one more thing, sir; your secretary received a message from your parents saying that they’re inviting you to dinner on the 21st”. “Dinner, Mr. Kang? Did they forget what just happened?”, you let out an amused chuckle. “The dinner will be at their house, sir, and your fiancé has arranged for Nighthaven to guard the area—she might not be one of them anymore, but she’s still the highly-respected Head of Personnel Development in their eyes”, he explains. “Aaaah, I want to go hoooome”, Junhee whines, “love, please; can we not go home already?”. “You heard the lady, Mr. Kang; let’s go home”, you say to him.

-

Junhee drags you to the bedroom and asks you to sit on the edge of the bed, presumably because she desperately wants your cock after spending a few days without sex. “Are you that horny, baby?”, you ask Junhee, who is seemingly in a rush to strip. “You have no idea”, she says, “I would’ve sucked your cock and have you cum in me that night if it wasn’t for that fucking bastard”. She turns away from you and holds your cock as she lowers herself, “I want it in my ass, daddy—can I have it in my ass, please?”. You both know that your cock and her asshole are dry, but you don’t want to ruin Junhee’s mood, so you let her do what she wants and agree to fuck her ass again.

Hearing your approval, she starts lowering her butt until your tip is at her entrance. Once she manages to get the tip in, you pull her down roughly and fill her ass with your entire shaft. She throws her head back and screams, “ah-ah—daddy, so full—ah-ah, yes”. You then yank her hair and ask her where your cock is; “it-it’s in my ass, daddy—FUCK, YES, PLEASE”, she answers with a scream because you’re getting impatient with the slow pace and thrust up into her ass.

You feel tired after a few minutes, so you pull out and ask her to get on her hands and knees on the bed. Junhee’s arms become limp as you’re fucking her from behind, causing her to drop her torso onto the bed. You spank her multiple times as you’re fucking her ass hard and fast, making Junhee scream both in pain and pleasure. “Daddy, daddy, yes—fuck, yes—do me, daddy”, she chants repeatedly. “I hope you like it rough”, you say to her as you plant your feet on the bed to get a better posture to fuck her.

You finally blow your load in her ass with a groan, but unlike last time, Junhee isn’t squirting. She also doesn’t resist when you pull out, choosing to drop her ass flat onto the bed due to exhaustion. “You were so rough, daddy; I don’t think I’ll be able to walk after this”, she comments with heavy breaths. “I’m so sorry, love. You made me really horny, and I went off the rails”, you apologize as you pat her back gently.

You roll Junhee onto her back and cuddle her, “I know I technically didn’t go anywhere, but I’ve missed you so much, baby”. Junhee steals a peck from your cheek, “I’ve missed you too, love. I’m so glad you’re okay now”. You glance at the clock hanging on the wall and see that you still have a lot of time until bedtime, “love, are we ready to call it a night or do you have other ideas?”. She gathers her might and straddles your thighs, “you haven’t filled my pussy, love; one more round, please? I want you to make me sore”.

Her words arouse you, and you feel your cock hardening again instantly after hearing that you’ll be doing another round. Junhee holds your cock in one hand and starts stroking it, “always so hard for me, aren’t you? I love it”. You close your eyes and enjoy the handjob she’s giving you. That is, until she asks for your attention; “eyes on me, love”, she says with a smile. You look at Junhee in the eyes, and she immediately stuff herself with your cock. “Fuck, the size catches me off guard every single time”, she says before taking the entirety of your cock in her pussy, “oh, fuck, so full again”.

You don’t want to miss out on Junhee’s heavenly soft moans, so you pull her down and keep her in your arms while her hips are busy going up and down your cock at a relaxed tempo. “Moan for me, love; you know how much I love the sound”, you say to her. Junhee nibbles your ear before moaning right into your ears. “Ah-ah—honey, I love you so much”, she says softly into your ears, “everything about you is just perfect, honey—take me, honey, yes”. You want to reply to her with your own words, but your low voice doesn’t sound as sexy as hers, so you decide to do something else. You latch your lips on her neck and start sucking and nibbling, feeling keen on planting hickeys on her pale skin. “Yes, mark me, love—I’ll show them who I belong to”, Junhee eggs you on. With her encouragement, you suck on her neck harder until it’s red.

Rough sex is fun and all, but nothing beats slow romantic sex with very minimal profanity, as you’re able to rejoice in the sensations and show your significant other how much you love them, just like how you and Junhee are doing it right now. “My love, I want to cum with you”, she says softly between moans. “Kiss me, baby”, you say to her as you guide her chin towards you. Junhee plants her lips on yours and starts kissing you lovingly and passionately, adding a bit of tongue wrestling on top of it. Junhee breaks the kiss to deliver some news, “I’m so close, my love. Please, please finish with me”.

Orgasm is finally at the door again after what felt like half an hour, and your cock twitches in Junhee’s pussy. “Yes, love, give it to—OH, GOD”, Junhee cuts herself off and yelps as she reaches her peak. You follow closely behind her and blow your load inside her pussy. Junhee kisses you again as she rides her high, only breaking it after it passes. “I love you so much, honey”, she says. “How much?”, you say with a teasing smile. Junhee straightens her posture and makes a big circle with her hands, “thiiiiis much”. You laugh at her antic, “I love you more, baby”.

There are stray strands of hair all over her face, so you do your best to tidy them up for her. She lies on your body after you’re done, “thank you for everything, love”. “You’re welcome, baby. Thank you”, you reply to her, “you want to let me out, or no?”. “No, let’s just stay like this until tomorrow, that way I’ll be able to ride you first thing in the morning—would you consent to that, by the way?”, she says. You smile at her, “of course; it’s not like you’ll cut my penis off when I’m asleep, is it? What makes you want me to stay inside, though?”.

She plants her hands on your chest and looks at you, “I don’t know if other men’s penis does this, but yours doesn’t shrink; you’re just limp—you’re very big, by the way, if you haven’t noticed already. I’d love to keep your penis in my mouth or vagina all day long if it was up to me”. You laugh at her words, “it feels like you’d do a lot of things if it was up to you”. She slaps your chest playfully before resting on your body again, “I really want to be naked all day and let you do what you want to me, though”. “What about the household assistants, love? You don’t want them to see you run around the house naked, do you?”, you ask. “Oh, you’re right”, she says as the gears in her head turn, “we can give them a day off, no? That way the house will be empty. Please say yes, love”. You smile and shake your head in amusement, “sure, baby. Just tell me when, okay?”.

[knnichs]

𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨 — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡.

c.  scaramouche

character(s) are friends with reader, gn!reader, angsty-ish, scaramouche is still in the fatui, this is a work of fiction

      fluff     ,    love letter     .      word count : roughly 0.9k

t. @aventurne @tragedy-of-commons @yvnaology @nyoomiin

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s busy, constantly busy, awake even during the most ungodly hours of the night and constantly rubbing at his eyes from his exhaustion. It’s no surprise the Fatui are overworking him again. What’s funny is that he’s sitting at his desk, a pile of papers on the right side–all reports from his underlings–were unnoticed; all of it, even the chirping of the birds as the sun rose and showed the start of a new day, Scaramouche was stuck on a piece of paper in front of him with the words that reads, To my dearest.

There's no way he can capture your beauty on a cheap piece of parchment . He should’ve bought something expensive instead, like a new set of clothes he thinks you’ll like. But lately you’ve just seemed so distant. He needs to reach you somehow. You’ve been driven away by the lies his mouth spills and now, he’s suffering with the consequences, and not once will he ever say it to you, but he needs you to stick with him while he tries to better himself.

So here he is: a fountain pen in hand, wasting his time with something so.. childish. Who writes letters anyway, isn't it something you did as a child towards someone you liked? 

Call him a child then. Call him old-fashioned, traditional, and in love. Call him whatever you like, because in the end he’s yours, and he’s always been. 

He’s let his thoughts linger for too long and suddenly it's 7 am. His eyebags have never been worse and his mind is tired, not from his job, but from this stupid letter he’s made no progress on. To my dearest should be good enough, right? I mean, you were easy to please. He was sure that it would be more than enough for you. 

How tiring. He says, mindlessly scribbling on the paper, jet-black ink scattered all throughout and splattering around the words. Was he angry? Not at all. Frustrated, yes, but for a good reason–to think he did this just because you two were friends was infuriating. Shouldn’t you two be something more?

You were pretty, far too pretty for him to describe. Scaramouche thought his vocabulary was wide enough, but this letter alone has him searching for the words he once knew. Your eyes, leaving him feeling small in a never ending forest and your smile–god, your smile was intoxicating. It would give light to the things he’s been hiding from you this entire time. Your laugh–your voice, sweet and soft, loud and oh-so clear. How you’d bring it down to a whisper when you feel embarrassed about admitting something, how your nose scrunches up when you laugh or when your smile lines just seem so fitting for someone like you.

What was so special about you? 

You were like the sunset on the beaches, glowing. Absolutely stunning, ethereal, lighting everything in a bright orange, his eyes becoming a mix of brown and a dark blue. He’s different around you, he's a completely different person. From the color of his eyes to the racing of his heart, to the feeling that he wasn’t getting enough air whenever you hold his hand–but you’d do it in a friendly way. You don't squeeze his hand too tight, you let go when necessary and don’t leave any kind of touch lingering for far too long.

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s bad with words and he can’t tell you the things you want to hear;he can’t provide you with the touch you crave, he can’t make up his mind. One moment he’s thinking about just giving you a whole bag of mora for you to use for your next trip, the other he’s thinking about finishing this damn letter that has plagued his mind ever since you first whispered the fact you appreciate him.

There’s no way he can treat you right. There’s absolutely no way he will be perfect, that he’ll be the partner that’ll leave such a mark on you. But god, ask for the world and he will give it to you. Name one thing and when you wake up it's right at your nightstand. Choose the ring and its design, he’ll get a matching one that you yourself decided on as well. Just say the word because he is a child in love.

So here he is, an envelope in hand. Going to the nearest flower shop to buy something that will still wilt under the sun after a few days. He will not love, and can’t love the same way as you, but he will learn how to. 

Call him stupid;call him an idiot for falling for someone he knows is way too out of his league. But that’s all he is, and it's far too late to change that. He might lose you at some point, and that's really what scares him the most. 

Suddenly he’s standing at your doorstep, ringing the doorbell and you’d be confused who in the world decided to bring you a sunflower and a piece of envelope in the middle of the day–you don't recall ordering anything. 

He didn’t even get to sign it.  Maybe next time he can get it right… for his dearest.

characters belong to their respective companies. everything is written by staarri - do not steal, reupload, translate, modify or feed my work to ai.

[winchesterwild78]

On the Third Day of Christmas

Master List

Characters: Beau Arlen x Reader

Warnings: None, Just Fluff

A/N: Day 3 of my holiday fics. I hope you enjoy this short series. I’m really excited about it. All work is my own, please don’t take it. Reblogs and likes are welcomed. 

I do not own the rights to the characters I use, these will not follow the story lines of the series the character appeared in. This is a work of fiction.

Minors DNI 18+

Beau and I had been married for a few years, so this wasn’t our first Christmas together. This was however, our first Christmas alone. Emily was away at college and decided she was going to spend Christmas with Carla so she wasn’t alone. 

I knew he missed his little girl, but he was also excited to spend the holiday with me. Beau had booked a cabin for us up in the mountains. Today was the day we were loading up and heading up there. 

I hurried home from work and saw Beau’s truck already in the driveway. As I approached the door, the sound of snow crunching under my feet, the door swung open. 

Standing in the doorway was my handsome husband. “Welcome home, darlin’.” He smirked as he greeted me with a hug. “Hey baby. Sorry I’m late. I had a last minute patient. I’ll be ready to go soon. I'm already packed.” 

He kissed my lips before he let me go. “We are already loaded up and ready.” I nodded, “Okay, let me jump in the shower and change real quick.” 

I jumped in the shower, washing the grime of the day off. Then I quickly got ready. Beau was sitting at the table on his computer with a worried look on his face when I came out. 

“Beau, is everything okay?” His green eyes looked up at me, “Yeah, the weather shifted and it looks like the snow is moving in a bit sooner than they thought.”

“Oh okay, do you think we will make it to the cabin before it does?” “Yeah, and if not, we will be okay. I want to stop at the store in town before getting to the cabin, that way we don’t have to go back out.” I nodded my head in agreement. 

We finished loading up and hit the road. It was going to take a few hours to get to the cabin, but I didn’t mind. This was more time with the man I love. Beau held my hand most of the trip. Occasionally he would rub his thumb over my hand.

Anytime he touched me it sent chills down my spine and butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t get enough of him. 

“Beau?” “Mmhmm.” “Are you sure you’re okay with not being with Em for the holiday? I really don’t mind us going to Carla’s for Christmas.” 

“Darlin’ I promise I’m okay. Carla needs Em right now, and I think they need the time alone to help repair their relationship. Besides, that means I get you all to myself, and I can’t think of anything better than that.” 

I smiled and blushed. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure. I love Em and you know I’d do anything for both of you.” “I know you do, and that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you. I think you loved her before you did me.” 

We both laughed. 

A few hours later we’d stopped at the store and made our way to the cabin. It had already started to snow, and it was sticking. Beau and I worked quickly to unload the truck and get inside. 

Beau started a fire as I put away the groceries. Pretty soon the fire was roaring and we were unpacked. 

Beau had the owner of the cabin, a cousin of Pop’s, decorate it for us. It was a sweet gesture I was grateful for. The tree was huge and almost touched the ceiling in the cabin. It was covered with what looked like hundreds of colorful twinkle lights and decorated with different colored balls. 

The mantle of the fireplace had lights and decorations, and hanging were some stockings. The rest of the house was beautifully decorated to showcase the upcoming holiday. I had never seen something so beautiful in my life. 

As the evening progressed we crawled into bed. A comfortable silence falling between us. The moon was illuminating the snow covered ground, causing it to appear brighter than it was outside. 

Everything was perfect. From the decorations, snow and now laying in my husband's strong arms. It was more than anyone could ask for. 

The next few days were spent just relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. The snow was still falling and I was starting to get concerned we were going to be snowed in. Beau wasn’t worried, well, at least he didn’t let me know if he was. 

We had FaceTimed Emily to say hello and I know it was so Beau could see her. He missed her, but wouldn’t admit it. We found out she’d met a boy who was a med student, he came from a large family and he was planning on going to Carla’s the day after Christmas to see Em and meet Carla. 

Beau of course gave the whole “Know your worth, don’t let him pressure you, what’s his full name, birthday, etc. so he can run a background check speech.” Em rolled her eyes but laughed. He meant well, but he was still her dad. 

Christmas morning arrived with another blanket of snow covering the ground. I woke up early, turned on all the Christmas lights, and started coffee and breakfast. 

It wasn’t long until the smell of breakfast and coffee woke up Beau. He walked in the kitchen, hair a mess, half asleep with his gray sweatpants and tshirt on. I bit my lip, because damn did he look good in anything he wore. 

He placed a gentle kiss on my lips, “good morning, darlin’, Merry Christmas.” I smirked, “Good morning, Beau, and Merry Christmas to you too. Breakfast is almost done. Grab some coffee.” 

Beau nodded, kissed my lips again and grabbed some coffee before making his way to the counter seats. 

“So I was going to start cooking the ham about 10am. That way we can eat by 6pm. Are you okay with that?” Beau nodded, “More than okay. After breakfast, do you want to open gifts?”

Beau asked with a smile and a giggle. “Sure! I said laughing.” Beau and I ate breakfast, and I could tell he was excited. It made me smile to see him so giddy. Usually he was reserved, but for some reason today he was like a kid. 

After breakfast we went into the living room and sat in front of the fire. Beau started making two piles of presents, one for me, and one for him. Since it was the two of us, there weren’t a ton, but Beau insisted on piles. 

We started to open our gifts, and I saw Em had sent some to us too. Beau loved the engraved money clip she sent, and the brewery tour I had gotten for him. 

I had started to clean up the trash when Beau stood, pulled me close and kissed me. “Merry Christmas, darlin’. I have one more gift for you.” I smiled, “Funny, because I have one more for you too.” 

He smiled wide. Beau handed me a small wrapped box. I opened it. Inside was a silver locket, on a chain. Engraved on the heart was, “Forever your cowboy. XO Beau”. I smiled, “It’s beautiful, Beau.” 

I opened it and saw a picture of us on one side and Emily on the other. 

Thank you, Beau," I whispered, slipping the necklace on. "I love it."

He smiled, relief washing over his face. "I’m glad you like it. I wanted to give you something special this year."

I leaned in and kissed him, savoring the moment. As I pulled away, I met his gaze, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "I have a surprise for you too, Beau."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You do?"

I nodded, reaching into the tree and pulling out a small, box. I handed it to him, my heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

He opened the box slowly, his eyes widening as he read the words inside: "You're going to be a daddy."

For a moment, he was speechless. Then, a wide grin spread across his face. He pulled me into a tight hug, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh, my God," he whispered. "We're going to be parents."

I nodded, “Yes, Beau. We’re going to have a baby together.”

He placed a kiss on my lips and held me tight.

As we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I knew that this Christmas would be one we would never forget.

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[midnight-mourning]

Stave off the Cold

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 24❄️❄️

guhhh i went a LIL angsty for part of this, but you'll like it dw, it'll be worth it in the end ;) hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Perhaps post ruin, since its snowing so hard the power goes out. Yn and ruin snuggling to stave off the cold and are sappy together or something along those lines. ^-^

Word Count: 1313

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You're in the middle of the most delicate of work when it happens. The lights cut, and you curse, almost dropping the new CPU chip in the dark. Carefully, with another slew of curse—that probably wouldn't have been approved if they'd hear—you step back and search for your workbench, setting down the chip and pulling out your phone. 

Flashing it to the window, you can see the snowstorm blowing outside. That must've done it. Great. Just great. 

You glance over to the bot lying motionless on the table, heart twisting at the sight. You've been working for months to fix them, you knew there had to be way, knew that somewhere they still had to be in there. The fact that you'd been able to charge their body and get their limbs to move independently proved that. 

You rub your face and check the time, you could still work in this, as long as there was still some heat in here. The power had to come back on eventually, right?

You search for your lantern, finding it and lighting, hanging it from the ceiling above. Once everything's settled, towels stuff under the old door to help keep heat from leaking out, you get back to work. 

When you'd found them, having decided to take a look through the long abandoned Plex, you'd been horrified at their condition. Tattered clothes and broken parts, that's what remained of your beloved attendant. You remember cradle their cracked faceplate in your hand, tears welling up at the thought that'd they shut down alone, afraid, not knowing where they'd wake up again. 

That had been back in the fall, it was the dead of winter now and progress had been progressing best you could. You weren't well versed in this type of thing, you were relying on videos and online forums to guide your progress. And you were just hoping and praying you were doing all this correctly. 

You'd started with the surface level damaged and worked your way in, scrounging the Plex for spare parts and replacements. Anything you couldn't find you'd snatch up in eBay auctions or the likes. 

With tender love and care, you rebuilt your attendant back into the bot you loved. You just finished repairing Sun's rays the other day, but you kept Moon's hat on him, something about the look going along with their mismatched pants. 

Now all that was left was the hard stuff, the internal components. 

So much of their inner workings had been fried, smashed, or damaged in some other capacity. You'd feared for the worst, truthfully. Having to accept that they may actually be gone for good. It was something that haunted you for weeks before you finally bit the bullet and opened up their head. 

You had teared up a bit when you found their hard drive was in perfect condition, letting out a cheer loud enough to probably disturb your neighbors. 

Your hands are shaking now, you realize. Shivering, your shivering. You check the time again, it's already been two hours. But, you argue, it's not that cold yet. You can keep going, keeping working, keep fixing. Keep saving. 

You have to. You have to do it for them. 

You take short breaks every now and then, warming your hands on their casing. They may not be awake, but at least they're alive. 

Your breath is showing up in front of you now, your fingers feel stiff, but still, you keep going. You just have one final thing to do, give them a reset. 

Your legs hurt as you stand, walking up to where their head rests. You pull out the Faz wrench you'd found on your last trip to the Plex. A find that had you dancing around the abandoned building like an idiot. 

With a shaky grip, you insert it and turn, waiting with bated breath. 

Nothing happens. 

You step back, waiting a solid two minutes for the attendant to sit up, either AI greeting you like how you've been waiting six months for them to do. 

But they don't. 

You feel too tired and too cold to cry. Just a feeling of utter defeat overtaking you. Your head feels heavy, so do your eyelids. Maybe you just need to take a nap, and you can figure this out afterwards. 

You climb back up onto the table, laying down on the warm but empty shell of your attendant. Curling up, you pull your coat tighter around yourself and close your eyes. 

As you start to drift off, you swear you feel a shift underneath you, something laying on top of your body. 

You have a strange dream. 

In it, you're being carried through the snow by something. It has two bright eyes, one red, one white, with spikes coming off its head, and a blue hat. It speaks to you, murmuring sweet nothings that you can't recall. 

When you wake up on your couch, you realize it wasn't a dream. You go to get up, but a firm grip around your waist prevents you from doing so. Looking down, you realize your laying on top of Sun, or, Moon? You don't know, you don't care, because it clicks to you that his eyes are open and he's looking at you and he's awake—

"Hello, Starlight. We missed you."

Your voice is just a whisper. "You're awake... You're okay."

Before he can say anything, you wrap your arms around him, kissing his faceplate over and over. 

"I, I thought you guys were gone. That, that it wouldn't work, that I had to live without you." You're crying now. "I, I can't believe you're actually here."

"Silly Star. We never left." A shift in tone. "We were right there with you, Sunbeam!"

You realize what they mean. "Oh god. That means you heard all of that."

"You mean all your lovely conversations with us? Your laughter, your beautiful singing?" They take your hand, pressing it to their faceplate. "Because if so, the answer is yes."

You feel your face heat up and not knowing what else to do bury it against their neck as they laugh. 

"How awful." You mumble. 

They pet your hair for a few moments, fingers staying laced in it as you sit back up to look at them. 

You trace your hand down the side of their face, taking it all in. "I can't believe it, after all this time. Picked a terrible time to wake up. Can't even give you a proper tour of the place with the power out."

You start to get up, wanting to go grab a lamp, but they immediately pull you back down, arms firmly around you. 

"No leaving. Too cold. Stay here, we'll keep you warm."

You give in rather easily, especially when their hands start to explore just under your shirt, snickering at how you tense up. 

You scowl at them, taking their faceplate in both hands and leaning down so your foreheads are touching. "How did you two manage to get worse?"

Just another chuckle in response, their eyes nothing but thin, devious crescents. 

You kiss them then, soft, sweet. And then you do it again, and again. 

As you kiss, you feel the blanket you'd shoved off in your excitement be placed back over you both, adding to the warmth and coziness between you. 

You have to break away for a moment, panting ever so slightly. 

They tilt their head, watching you keenly. A thumb comes up to swipe against your lip. 

You smirk. "Thanks."

They nod. 

"I really missed you, you know?" You lay your head against their chest, listening to how with every tick and click and whirl, it's a sign that they're really there with you. They're actually home. 

Their hand comes up to stroke your hair, other arm snug against your hip. 

"We missed you too."

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Thank you @rosescarletful for the request! I had a bit of fun with it as you can see, very much enjoyed the concept your prompt allowed me to think up :)

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[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 5

Other Chapters:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15

Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Gabby gets a glimpse of what it means to date someone as popular as Glen Powell. From navigating his crazy schedule and being apart to watching him charm his way through a high-profile interview, she begins to feel the weight of their two very different worlds. Meanwhile, Glen’s unwavering determination to keep their relationship private—and her protected—reveals just how deeply he values what they’re building together. This chapter explores the tender balance of love, trust, and privacy in the early days of their relationship.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: None.

A/N: This chapter is paced a little bit slower. It's kind of more of a filler chapter. The next chapter will have a little more storyline progression, promise!

Please let me know your thoughts with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs!

Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93

Gabby’s phone buzzed on her nightstand, stirring her from sleep. She blinked against the morning light and picked it up, smiling when she saw Glen’s name lighting up the screen. 

Glen: Morning, gorgeous. Just finished my workout and figured I’d better text before you forgot what I looked like.

Gabby: Trust me, I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon 😉 How’s NYC?

Glen: Busy but good! Could be better if I was with you. What are you up to?

Gabby: Eating breakfast. What’s your day looking like?

Glen texted back, sharing a quick rundown of the interviews and meetings he had lined up, adding in funny emojis and exaggerations to make her laugh. 

Then a selfie popped up—him grinning in the studio, hair styled to perfection, with a coffee in hand and a silly look on his face.

Gabby: Looking good! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a serious big-name celebrity or something.

Glen: Don’t go putting me in that category. 😉 I’ll FaceTime you after the red carpet later, okay?

Gabby: Deal. And good luck with press today!

Gabby lay back, smiling as she held her phone. Even from miles away, Glen made her feel like she was right there with him. As she got ready for her day, her mind kept drifting back to him, feeling grateful that he was making her such a priority even from the opposite side of the country.

* * * * *

Gabby propped her phone up against a stack of textbooks on her desk, smiling when Glen’s face appeared on the screen. He was leaning back on a hotel bed somewhere in New York City, his eyes a little tired but his grin lighting up as soon as he saw her.

“Hey,” she greeted, noticing the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes. “Long day?”

He laughed softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “You have no idea. But I want to hear about you. How was your day?”

Gabby rolled her eyes, amused. “My day was nothing compared to yours. You had back-to-back interviews, red carpet events, and probably got to eat fancy food. Meanwhile, I went to the grocery store, paid bills, and folded laundry.”

“I still want to hear all about it,” he said, his voice low and warm. He leaned forward a little, as if by sheer will he could get even closer to her through the screen. “Come on, don’t leave anything out.”

With a playful eye-roll, she recounted her day, describing her trip to the mall and her struggles finding parking. Glen listened like it was the most fascinating thing he’d heard, chiming in with little jokes and plenty of encouragement. She could tell he genuinely cared about the little things, and it made her heart skip a beat.

After a few moments of quiet, Glen’s voice came through softly, a hint of excitement in his tone. “You know...I was thinking. When I get back to L.A., maybe we could plan to do something together? Just us.”

Gabby’s smile widened, and she leaned closer to the screen. “Like a date? Or just hanging out?”

“Maybe both,” he replied with a grin. “We could grab dinner somewhere cozy, maybe take a drive along the coast, or even just spend a lazy day in. Whatever you want—just as long as I get to see you.”

She laughed, feeling her heart flutter. “I like the sound of that,” she admitted. “Any idea when you’ll be back?”

“I think I’ll have a couple of days free next week,” he said, glancing off-screen as if mentally checking his schedule. “I’ll keep you posted, but I’m not waiting any longer than I have to.”

Gabby’s cheeks warmed as she bit her lip, loving the idea of him going out of his way to plan something special. “You sure about that? You might be exhausted by the time you get back. I understand if you want to rest or if you need sleep.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Glen said, his voice low but sincere. “Seeing you is worth it. Besides, something to look forward to is exactly what I need to get me through this press tour.”

For a moment, the distance between them didn’t seem so big. The way he looked at her through the screen, like she was all he wanted to focus on, made Gabby feel as though they were already together in that cozy little moment he was planning.

After a while, she noticed his head dipping slightly, eyes blinking a little longer than usual. 

“Glen,” she murmured gently, “maybe we should call it a night. You need some rest, and you’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

But Glen shook his head, fighting a yawn. “No way. Talking to you has been the best part of my day—don’t take that from me.” His grin softened, and he looked at her with a kind of adoration that sent warmth spreading through her chest.

Gabby chuckled, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that,” she murmured, her smile softening. “But as soon as you start snoring, I’m hanging up.”

“Fair deal,” he laughed. “Just… don’t hang up yet.”

They spent a few more quiet minutes together, talking about little things and the plans they’d make once he was back in Los Angeles. Gabby could feel herself getting lost in his voice, realizing that even from miles away, Glen somehow made her feel closer to him than anyone else ever had.

* * * * *

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of Gabby’s living room as she settled onto her couch, remote in hand. She flipped absentmindedly through the channels, letting the hum of morning shows fill the background. But her fingers stilled when a familiar face appeared on the screen, seated on a sleek studio chair, his easy smile lighting up the room.

Glen.

Her heart skipped as she set the remote down, turning up the volume. He looked as polished as ever, dressed in a tailored suit jacket and black tee that complemented his broad shoulders and relaxed charm. The host, a charismatic woman, leaned forward with a warm smile.

“So, Glen, your latest movie is shaping up to be one of the summer’s biggest hits. How does it feel to have such a blockbuster under your belt?”

Glen chuckled, his voice smooth and confident. “It’s been incredible, honestly. The whole team worked so hard, and seeing audiences respond the way they have—it’s just the best feeling.”

The host beamed. “And you’ve been everywhere lately—red carpets, premieres, interviews. How do you manage to stay grounded with such a demanding schedule?”

He shrugged with a slightly boyish grin. "I'm really lucky to have a great support system. Family, friends...they're always there to support me and help keep me grounded. I also moved back to Austin last year and I think getting out of Hollywood and being able to enjoy my time off back home has helped a ton."

The conversation drifted to his upcoming projects, but Gabby couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he navigated each question, balancing humor and humility. Then the host leaned forward conspiratorially, her voice taking on a playful lilt.

“Of course, fans are curious—your star is rising quickly, and you’ve become quite the heartthrob. Is there anyone special in your life right now? Or are you still single and enjoying the ride?”

Gabby’s breath caught, her grip tightening on the arm of the couch. Glen’s expression didn’t falter; his smile softened, but his eyes held steady.

“Well,” he began, his tone measured, “I think some things are best kept private in my life. But I will say, I’m very happy right now.”

The host raised her brows knowingly. “A mystery, huh? Fair enough, Glen. We’ll just have to keep guessing for now.”

As the interview wrapped up and transitioned into a commercial break, Gabby stared at the screen, her emotions swirling. His response had been perfect—diplomatic without dismissing her or their relationship entirely.

Yet the weight of what his public life could mean for her settled on her shoulders. What if he hadn’t been able to deflect the question so smoothly? What would happen when people found out about her? Would they scrutinize her every move? Would they think she wasn’t good enough for him?

The rest of the day passed in a haze of overthinking. She couldn’t shake the image of Glen in that studio, handling the spotlight with ease, while she felt like a shadow on the edge of his world.

That evening, her phone buzzed, Glen’s name flashing on the screen. She answered the FaceTime call, her heart lifting at the sight of his familiar grin.

“Hey, you,” he said warmly, leaning back against the headboard of his hotel bed.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone softer than usual.

His brow furrowed slightly, and he tilted his head. “What’s on your mind? You’ve got that look.”

Gabby hesitated, then decided to tell him. “I watched your interview today.”

“Ah, the morning show,” he said, smiling. “What’d you think? Did I embarrass myself?”

“No,” she said quickly. “You were great. It’s just…” She trailed off, biting her lip. “That question about your dating life—it threw me a little.”

Glen’s face softened, his voice gentle. “Gabby, I meant what I said that night in the truck. I want to keep what we have private for now. Not because I’m not proud of you—believe me, I am. I just… I want to protect this. Protect you. Until you’re ready for any of that attention.”

She nodded, her voice quiet. “I just worry. What happens when people do find out? Will they… approve?”

His gaze locked onto hers through the screen, steady and sincere. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I care about you. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep us strong—whether that means late-night calls, carving out time to see you, or keeping this under wraps for as long as you need. And whether people like you or not doesn't matter. You make me happier than I've been in a long time, and that's all I care about.”

His words were like a balm to her nerves, and she felt herself relax.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Don’t thank me,” he replied, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Just promise me you’ll keep talking to me if things start to be much. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

Gabby smirked before saying, “I’m not sure you want to know all my thoughts.”

“I do. I want to know every single one of them.” Glen encouraged. “Promise me that you’ll keep talking to me?”

Gabby nodded, the weight on her chest lifting. “Yes, I promise.”

For the first time that day, she felt at ease, reminded that no matter how chaotic his world seemed, Glen was determined to make her part of it in a way that felt safe and real.

Gabby stifled a yawn as their conversation began to wind down. She had curled up in bed, her phone propped up against a pillow as Glen’s face filled the screen. His voice, low and soothing after a long day, made her feel as though he were right there beside her.

“I think I’d better let you get some rest,” she murmured reluctantly. “You’ve had such a long day.”

Glen smiled softly, his eyes warm despite the exhaustion etched on his features. “You need rest too, you know. We both have big days tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but yours involves cameras and people. Mine is just chores and cleaning,” she teased.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through the phone. “Still important. Now go to sleep, beautiful.” His tone dropped slightly, tender and sincere.

Gabby’s heart gave a little flutter. She tucked her blanket around herself and grinned. “Goodnight, Glen. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous. Sweet dreams to you too." He responded.

As the call ended, Gabby set her phone down, her smile lingering. Glen had a way of making her feel cherished, even from miles away.

[player279achlys]

BOUND BY THE GAMES — Hwang In-Ho x fem reader

Hwang In-Ho x Original f! Character

Summary: in the 4th annual Squid Games of 2020 the VIPS request a tournament of champions with all the previous players. They want the winner amongst winners.

Couple: Hwang In-Ho/ The Frontman x original f!character (Achlys)

Content & warnings (if any): Angst. In-Ho is obsessed with the Original f! Character. Afab character. Love triangle (kinda?). Violence and stuff like portrayed in the tv series Squid Games. Love in survival horror games.

MDNI although there’s no explicit smut this isn’t for y’all.

- Word count: 4,3K -

First act: back in the games.

The lights flickered on, harsh and clinical, illuminating the cavernous bunkroom. Rows of metal beds loomed like skeletal scaffolding, each occupied by someone who had once defied death in the games. The atmosphere was suffocating, a mix of fear and dread that clung to every breath. Achlys, now twenty-three but feeling decades older, sat on her bed with her knees pulled to her chest. Her hazel eyes darted across the room, taking in the familiar yet horrifying sight.

She wasn't alone. "Familiar" faces were scattered among the crowd, winners like her, each haunted by their own demons. She thought she had escaped this nightmare. But the VIPs, bored and ravenous for entertainment, demanded a spectacle—the ultimate showdown: winners versus winners.

Achlys's number was 279, the same cursed digits that had marked her during her original ordeal. Across the room, a man wearing the number 001, wore a blank expression but it was his piercing eyes that held her attention—dark, calculating, and something else she couldn't place.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sound of a buzzer echoed, jolting everyone to their feet. A voice, sickeningly cheerful, announced the first game.

"Red Light, Green Light."

Achlys's stomach churned. Memories of her first game resurfaced—the bodies falling around her, the sickening sound of gunfire. She clenched her fists and steadied her breathing. She wasn't the same scared girl anymore. But as she stood, a shadow loomed behind her.

"279," In-Ho's voice was low, steady, but insistent. She turned, her eyes meeting his. "We should team up."

"No," she said, curtly, stepping away. "I'm fine on my own."

His jaw tightened. Achlys didn't notice the fleeting pain in his gaze, mistaking his cold demeanor for indifference. She moved toward a group of elderly contestants and pregnant women—people who needed protection. Her kindness was a beacon in the dark, but it only deepened the storm brewing in Hwang's chest.

"Why won't she trust me?" he thought bitterly, watching her from afar. He had protected her for years, eliminating anyone who dared approach her. And yet, here she was, treating him like a stranger.

His obsession with her only grew, an uncontrollable force that had consumed him ever since she won the games in 2017.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The giant animatronic doll loomed over the field, its head swiveling mechanically. The rules were simple: cross the finish line before the timer ran out. Stop when the doll turned around. Move, and you die.

Achlys lined up with her makeshift team, her heart pounding. In-Ho stood further back, his eyes never leaving her. As the game began, he moved deliberately, always keeping her in his line of sight.

When the doll's head turned, chaos erupted. A man behind Achlys stumbled and shoved her forward. She gasped, her momentum threatening to betray her. Before she could fall, a firm arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back.

"Careful," In-Ho's voice was a whisper against her ear. His dark eyes locked onto hers, a mix of concern and something deeper, more primal.

"Thank you," she managed, her voice trembling. He released her as the doll's head swiveled back, but his presence lingered, a shield against the chaos.

As the game progressed, the tension only grew. A contestant tried to trip Achlys again, but Hwang In-Ho, her loyal protector, was there. His sharp gaze bore into the offender, memorizing the man's number. "I'll deal with him later," he thought darkly.

Finally, with less than a minute and a half left, Achlys and Hwang crossed the finish line. The relief was fleeting as a scream shattered the air. Achlys turned to see an injured contestant, blood pooling around their leg.

Without hesitation, she ran back onto the field. "Are you insane?" In-Ho barked, his voice filled with panic. But she ignored him, determined to help.

Another contestant, a man with dark brown eyes and a kind face, joined her. Together, they carried the injured player to safety, crossing the line just as the timer hit zero. Gunfire erupted, and the injured player fell lifeless in front of them.

Achlys's eyes filled with tears, but she pushed them down, forcing herself to stay composed. "This is how the games work", she thought sadly. She wasn't like that. It wasn't in her nature to be this heartless.

But she turned to the man who had helped her. "Thank you. I'm Achlys."

"Yang Jong Hoon," he said with a faint smile, his eyes meeting hers. "You're brave."

Before she could respond, In-Ho approached, his expression thunderous. "We need to move," he said curtly, his eyes flicking to Yang with barely concealed disdain. He hated him already.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The survivors returned to the bunkroom, the air heavy with grief and tension. Achlys sat with Yang and the others from her team, trying to eat the meager meal provided. In-Ho, however, took the seat beside her, his presence suffocating.

"Stick with me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice sharper than intended.

Yang chimed in, his tone warm and supportive. "She's stronger than she looks."

In-Ho's jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped his spoon. The casual camaraderie between Achlys and Yang was a dagger to his heart. He leaned closer to her, his voice low and possessive. "You shouldn't trust anyone here."

Achlys frowned but didn't respond, feeling the weight of his words.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That night, Achlys couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, haunted by the day's events. A shadow moved in the darkness, and she sat up, startled.

"Can't sleep?" In-Ho's voice was soft, almost gentle.

She nodded, and he motioned for her to follow him. They found a quiet corner away from prying eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you care?"

His gaze softened, the mask of indifference slipping. "Because I know what this place does to people. I don't want it to break you."

Her heart ached at his words, but she couldn't understand his intensity.

That night they talked for hours, his hand brushing against hers more than once. "This is heaven. I have her all to myself", the frontman kept thinking, forgetting about the place they were stuck in, forgetting about the world. Her world was her. He only cared about her. He yearned for her, he needed her like us humans need air. She gave him reasons to be human, to feel alive.

At one point, when Achlys mentioned her failed relationships and the strange disappearances of her dates, he stiffened but said nothing.

"I guess I'm just not meant to be with anyone," she said with a sad smile.

"That's not true," he said, his voice firm. His hand rested on hers, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the horrors of the games faded.

In-Ho leaned in, unable to resist any longer, unable to stop himself. His lips captured hers in a kiss that was both passionate and desperate, as if he were pouring years of unspoken feelings into that single moment. Achlys froze, then melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair.

When they finally pulled apart, reality crashed back in. Achlys's cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "We should go back."

In-Ho nodded, though his mind was a whirlwind of emotion.

She's mine. She always has been.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Second act: mingle, a game of numbers.

The morning began with the same cold, metallic announcement that had woken them the day before. That horrible classical music that was stuck into every single contestant's brain. Contestants stirred, stretching sore muscles and rubbing sleep-deprived eyes.

Achlys sat on the edge of her bed, her mind replaying the kiss she'd shared with Hwang In-Ho—though she still knew him only as "Young-Il." Her fingers touched her lips absently, a faint warmth spreading across her cheeks despite the grim reality they were in.

She glanced across the room and caught his eye. He was watching her, his expression unreadable. She quickly looked away, her gaze falling on Yang, who smiled softly at her from the bed beside hers as he greeted her goodmorning and asked her nicely how did she sleep. His kindness was a balm, steady and comforting in this storm of chaos.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eventually, when they were gathered into an enormous room filled with doors and a strange looking caroussel the speaker crackled, pulling everyone's attention.

Achlys payed attention to the room. It looked like it was made to chage. The cracks on the floor made her think of a changing maze and the clear difference in the tiles suggested her this was not only a mingle game... It was going to be a bloodshed.

The same cheerful voice announced, "Welcome to the second game: Mingle! Each round, contestants must enter the room matching the number announced. Failure to find the correct room in time will result in elimination. You may begin... now."

The group surged toward the maze of doors that had appeared at the far end of the room. Achlys found herself momentarily separated from both Hwang and Yang as people shoved and scrambled, the countdown already ticking in the background.

"Stick close to me," a deep voice commanded, and she felt In-Ho's hand close around her wrist. His grip was firm but not painful, his presence like a wall shielding her from the chaos.

She looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat. "I—okay."

Yang caught up to them, slightly breathless. "What's the plan?"

"Stay together," Hwang said curtly, his eyes fixed ahead. "No splitting up."

Achlys nodded, grateful for their makeshift alliance, though she felt the tension radiating from Young-Il. Yang, oblivious to the daggers being glared his way, remained cheerful and optimistic.

The voice announced the first number: "3."

They ran, weaving through the maze. Achlys stumbled as someone shoved her, but In-Ho was there in an instant, steadying her with an arm around her waist.

"You need to be more careful," he growled, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the crowd for the culprit.

"I'm fine," she replied, pulling away slightly. She didn't miss the protective edge in his tone, but Yang's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Here! 3!" Yang shouted, holding the door open.

The three of them squeezed inside just as the timer hit zero. The door slammed shut, and a scream echoed outside—someone hadn't made it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The second round began immediately. "7," the voice chirped.

The maze shifted, walls sliding into new configurations. Achlys stumbled as the floor beneath her shuddered, and she felt Hwang's hand tighten on her arm. "Stay with me," he commanded.

Yang ran ahead, scouting the way. "This way!" he called.

As they approached a room, Achlys realized how small the space was. It would barely fit three people. They crammed inside, their bodies pressed uncomfortably close. Achlys could feel In-Ho's breath against her neck, his hand braced against the wall beside her. Yang was on her other side, his arm brushing hers.

"You okay?" In-Ho's voice was low, almost a whisper. His proximity sent a shiver down her spine.

"Y-yeah," she stammered, acutely aware of how close they were. She didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on her lips, though his expression remained carefully controlled.

Yang, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, grinned. "We're doing good so far. Let's keep it up."

"Young-Il" didn't respond, his gaze flicking to Yang briefly before returning to Achlys. His jaw tightened. "Why does he get to stand so close to her?" The thought gnawed at him, jealousy bubbling under his calm exterior.

As the rounds progressed, the maze became increasingly dangerous. Contestants pushed, shoved, and even attacked one another in desperation to reach the correct rooms. Achlys found herself separated again when someone yanked her hair, dragging her to the ground.

"Achlys!" Yang shouted, rushing to help, but before he could reach her, In-Ho was there. A flash of silver glinted in his hand—a small knife he'd concealed. With ruthless efficiency, he stabbed the attacker, his movements quick and calculated.

The man crumpled to the ground, blood pooling around him. Achlys stared, wide-eyed and trembling.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" "Young-Il"'s voice was sharp, his hands gripping her shoulders.

"I—I'm fine," she stammered, her eyes darting to the lifeless body. "You... you killed him."

"He was going to kill you," In-Ho said simply, his tone devoid of remorse. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect you."

"I would burn the world down for you if you asked me so".

Achlys swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She wanted to protest, to tell him that wasn't the way, but the raw intensity in his gaze silenced her. There was no malice, only a fierce, unwavering devotion.

Yang finally reached them, his eyes widening at the scene. "What happened?"

In-Ho stood, his expression cold. "He attacked her. He paid the price."

Achlys glanced at Yang, her voice trembling. "Let's... let's keep moving."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When they finally returned to the bunkroom after the game, the tension between the three of them was palpable. Yang sat beside Achlys, his presence a comforting contrast to the storm that was Young-Il.

"Are you okay?" Yang asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, though her hands still shook. "I just... I wasn't expecting this to happen again. It's like reliving a nightmare."

"You're strong, Achlys," Yang said, his hand brushing hers. "You'll get through this."

Hwang In-Ho watched them from across the room, his blood boiling. "Why does she let him touch her? Why does she smile at him like that?" His grip on the edge of his bunk tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Later that night, Achlys couldn't sleep. In-Ho knew it though. He knew Achlys suffered from insomnia ever since she played the games. He knew being back in the games would send her progress back. He knew she would want some peace, silence and privacy, but he had to protect her.

She wandered to a quiet corner, hoping to find some peace. Hwang appeared moments later, his footsteps silent.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"I needed air," she replied, her tone weary.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm. "You're not safe without me."

"Am I safe with you?" she asked, her voice laced with vulnerability. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes searching his face.

Hwang's gaze softened, his hand cupping her cheek. "You're safer with me than anyone else."

Before she could respond, he kissed her again—softly at first, then with a hunger that took her breath away. Her hands gripped his shirt, her heart racing. For a moment, all the fear and pain melted away, leaving only the two of them.

When they pulled apart, reality came crashing back. Achlys stepped away, her mind racing. "We can't... not here."

In-Ho’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. "I'll wait as long as it takes. Just... stay close to me. I won't let anything happen to you".

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Third act: the maze and the final game.

The bunkroom was quieter now, with only a handful of contestants remaining. The third game loomed, its details unspoken but its presence palpable. Achlys sat on her bed, her legs crossed and her head resting on her hands. Yang sat beside her, his dark brown eyes filled with concern.

"You've barely eaten," Yang said gently, nudging the untouched bowl of rice in front of her. "You need your strength."

Achlys gave him a faint smile, her hazel eyes shadowed with exhaustion. "I'm fine. Just... nervous."

Yang reached out, his hand brushing hers in a gesture meant to comfort. "We'll get through this together. I promise."

Achlys felt a pang of warmth in his words, but before she could respond, a shadow fell over them. She looked up to see Young-Il, his expression unreadable but his dark eyes smoldering with barely concealed jealousy.

"Achlys," he said, his voice cold and clipped. "A word."

Yang frowned, his protective instincts flaring. "Can it wait? She's trying to—"

"No," the other interrupted, his gaze fixed on Achlys. "It can't."

Achlys hesitated, glancing between the two men. The tension was suffocating. "It's okay," she said softly to Yang, standing up. "I'll be back in a minute."

Yang stood as well, his hand briefly resting on her arm in a reassuring gesture. "If you need me—"

"I'll be fine," she said, forcing a small smile. She followed Young-Il to a secluded corner of the room, her stomach twisting at the fire in his eyes.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"What do you think you're doing?" In-Ho demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.

Achlys blinked, startled by the intensity of his tone. "What are you talking about?"

"Yang," he spat the name like a curse. "He's getting too close."

"He's my friend," Achlys said, crossing her arms defensively. "He's been kind to me, something this place lacks."

In-Ho's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Kindness here is a weapon. Don't let him use it against you."

"You're wrong about him," she replied, her voice firm. "Not everyone is trying to manipulate me."

In-Ho stepped closer, his towering presence making her heart race. "I'm trying to protect you," he said, his voice low and possessive. "You don't know what people are capable of."

"And what about you?" she shot back, meeting his gaze. "Why do you care so much?"

For a moment, he said nothing, his dark eyes searching hers. Then, so softly she almost didn't hear, he said, "Because you're mine."

Her breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest. Before she could respond, the speaker crackled to life, announcing the details of the third game.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The third game was a maze, this time a proper one. Although it was massive, its walls towering and ominous. If anyone saw it they'd immediately ask how was it possible to fit such thing in an island. As the remaining contestants were herded inside, the rules were explained: navigate to the center and retrieve a flag. Only those with a flag would survive.

The group scattered as the timer began. Achlys stayed close to Yang and Young-Il, though the tension between the two was palpable.

"We should stick together," Yang suggested, his voice steady despite the danger.

Hwang didn't respond, his focus entirely on Achlys. "Stay close to me," he commanded, ignoring Yang completely.

Achlys rolled her eyes but didn't argue. The maze was a labyrinth of traps and shifting walls, and every step felt like a gamble. The countdown began, and as soon as the timer hit zero, they plunged into the maze. The walls seemed to shift and move, disorienting the contestants. Achlys ran ahead, her instincts sharp, but In-Ho was always right behind her, his protective shadow unwavering.

At one point, Achlys stumbled, nearly falling into a pit of spikes. Yang caught her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her to safety.

"Got you," he said with a small smile, his hands lingering on her for a moment.

"Thanks," Achlys whispered, her cheeks flushing.

From behind them, In-Ho's expression darkened, his jaw clenching so tightly it was a wonder his teeth didn't crack. "Get your hands off her," he thought bitterly, though he said nothing. Instead, he moved closer pushint Yang away from Achlys, his body a wall of protection between Achlys and Yang.

The maze was unforgiving. Traps sprung from the walls—spikes, pits, and gas clouds. Achlys narrowly avoided one such trap, only to stumble into another. A hidden blade shot out toward her, but Yang pushed her aside, the blade grazing his arm instead.

"Yang!" she cried, rushing to his side.

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth, clutching his bleeding arm. "Let's just keep moving."

Hwang, however, was far from fine. His eyes darkened as he saw the blood, his fury directed at the maze, the game, and Yang. "That should've been me," he thought bitterly.

As they pressed on, the traps became deadlier. In one final push toward the exit, a floor panel collapsed beneath Achlys. She screamed, her hand scrambling for purchase. Yang caught her wrist, his muscles straining as he pulled her up.

But another trap activated. A volley of spikes shot toward them. Yang shoved Achlys forward, taking the brunt of the attack.

His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

"NO!" Achlys's scream echoed through the maze. She dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she clutched Yang's hand.

In-Ho pulled her away, his grip firm but not unkind. "We have to go, Achlys. Now."

Achlys resisted, her heart breaking, but the urgency in Hwang's voice forced her to move. Together, they reached the exit as the timer hit zero.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Back in the bunkroom, the remaining contestants were too shell-shocked to speak. Achlys sat on her bed, her hands trembling. Yang's sacrifice weighed heavily on her, but another feeling gnawed at her—a growing realization of how much she relied on In-Ho.

He sat beside her, his presence grounding her. "He... he saved me," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I didn't deserve—"

"Don't say that," Young-Il interrupted, his tone fierce. He cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're here because you fought to survive. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain."

Achlys's eyes filled with tears, but she nodded, leaning into his touch. For the first time, she allowed herself to find comfort in him. She allowed herself to feel vulnerable with him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she cried.

"She's mine," he thought, his grip tightening. "And I won't let anyone else take her from me."

Later in the night, Achlys still layed awake, her mind racing with memories of the day. Yang's sacrifice haunted her thoughts, but so did In-Ho's intensity. She couldn't deny the way her heart reacted when he looked at her, the way her skin tingled when he touched her.

Unable to sleep, she slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as she splashed cold water on her face, trying to steady her breathing.

Minutes passed, and In-Ho noticed her absence. Concerned, he followed her, the guards not even questioning him when he demanded them to let him leave. His footsteps were silent as he approached the bathroom door. When she didn't return, he pushed the door open, his heart pounding.

"Achlys?" he called softly.

She turned, startled, her hazel eyes meeting his. "What are you doing here?"

"You've been gone too long," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "I was worried."

"I just needed a moment," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Everything's... too much."

Yong-Il's gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing her cheek. "You don't have to go through this alone."

His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and before she could think, she leaned into him. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as she buried her face in his chest.

"You're safe with me," he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

Achlys tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her breath hitching at the intensity in his eyes. "Why do you care so much?"

Instead of answering, he kissed her. The kiss was slow at first, filled with unspoken emotions, but it quickly deepened, becoming more urgent. Achlys clung to him, her hands tangling in his hair as he pressed her against the cool tile wall.

"I've wanted this for so long," he admitted between kisses, his voice rough with emotion. "You don't know how much you mean to me."

"Show me," she whispered, her cheeks flushing as she met his gaze.

Hwang In-Ho's eyes darkened with desire, and he captured her lips again, his hands roaming her body. The heat between them grew, their breaths mingling as the barriers they'd both held crumbled. Clothes were shed in the privacy of the small bathroom, their movements desperate and hungry.

For a moment, the horrors of the games faded away, replaced by the intensity of their connection. Achlys felt safe in his arms, his touch grounding her in a way she hadn't thought possible. They lost themselves in each other, finding solace in the midst of chaos.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As they lay together on the cold floor, their breathing still ragged, Hwang held her close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.

"Don't ever leave me," he murmured, his voice vulnerable in a way she'd never heard before.

"I won't," she promised, her heart swelling with emotions she couldn't yet name.

For the first time since entering the games, Achlys felt a glimmer of hope—a fragile thing, but real nonetheless. Little did she know, that hope would scatter next thing in the morning.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The final game was announced the next morning. Only two contestants remained—Achlys and Hwang.

As they unfolded their passion the previous night, the other contestants, three, initiated a fight during the night, resulting in the death of the three of them.

The arena was eerily familiar, the layout of the Squid Game etched into the dirt. The VIPs watched from their opulent seats, their laughter and chatter a cruel backdrop to the life-and-death stakes below.

Achlys stood on one side of the field, her heart pounding. Hwang stood opposite her, his face unreadable. She didn't want to fight him. Not after everything they had been through.

"You need to play," he said, his voice carrying across the field. "It's the only way."

"I can't," she replied, her voice trembling. "Not against you."

He stepped closer, his movements deliberate. "You have to. One of us has to win."

Tears welled in her eyes. "Why does it have to be this way?"

In-Ho hesitated, his mask slipping for the briefest moment. He couldn't hurt her. He wouldn't. In a flash of decision, he lunged—not at her, but at the ground. He fell hard, feigning defeat.

"Get up!" Achlys screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. "Play fairly! Don't do this!"

But the pink guards were already dragging him away. His dark eyes met hers one last time, filled with a mixture of regret and longing. The gunshot that followed made her scream, her heart shattering as she collapsed to her knees.

He was gone.

Achlys lost the only thing she wanted.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Weeks passed. Achlys returned to her quiet life in Greece, her soul scarred from the games. She spent her days in her small café, trying to find solace in routine. But her nights were filled with dreams of "Young-Il", his voice, his touch, his sacrifice.

One evening, as she closed the café, the doorbell chimed. She turned, her heart stopping at the sight of a figure in a tailored suit and a geometric mask.

"We're closed," she said wearily, not even facing whoever was at her door. "Come back tomorrow."

"It's not closed for me," the voice replied, deep and distorted.

Her breath caught. Turned to look at that mysterious and dangerous man, not showing fear. "What do you want?"

The figure stared at her for a few moments, seconds that Achlys thought lasted a million years. "Do they want to kill me again? I didn't break the rules"

The frontman slowly removed the mask, revealing a face she thought she'd never see again. "Achlys," In-Ho said, his voice soft. "I came back for you."

Her Young-Il? He was right there in front of her, and joy couldn't be enough to describe what she was feeling.

Tears filled her eyes, but they were a mixture of anger, relief, and love. "You... you're alive?"

"I couldn't leave you," he admitted, stepping closer. "Not now. Not ever."

She didn't resist as he pulled her into his arms, their lips meeting in a kiss that spoke of all the emotions they had suppressed.

When they pulled apart, he whispered something she thought was a product of her damaged mind: "Come with me. Be my partner in the games".

"W- What do you mean your partner?" Achlys spoke, feeling nausea in her throat. He couldn't be serious...

"Achlys, reign this little world with me, be my frontwoman, we can change the games, but I want you by my side". In-Ho answered

"But Young-Il... I-" she started.

"In-Ho. My name is Hwang In-Ho", he interrupted, with an intensity in his gaze that spoke more than words ever could.

Achlys hesitated, but the intensity in his gaze and the weight of their shared experiences left her with only one answer. "Yes."

Together, they left the café, stepping into a world they would now control. The games had brought them together in the most twisted of ways, but in each other, they found the strength to endured.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

aaaaaaaaaaaa

There’s another part called “the masters of the games”.

Just saying. I’m sure this will flop but I wanted to give it a shot.

Sending lots of love to anyone who reads this.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS!!! can i request a pietro fic where him and the reader are both avengers and they are best friends, but the reader has the biggest crush on him (she manages how to hide well) and they get assigned to a mission in hawaii and have to pretend that they're married and are there for their honeymoon? and that pretending to be the reader's husband and doing everything together like a couple made pietro realize that he also had feelings for her. one day they both go to a restaurant and have some drinks and he builds enough courage to finally kiss her (in the rain😼)

(i know it's cheesy but i just love the idea😭😭 and also, sorry if there's any mistakes, english isn't my first language hahah)

hii!! omg I love this and cheesy things hehe!! and don’t worry, your english was great! apologies, I had a nightmare writing this, I finished writing it then went to edit the next day to find chunks of my paragraphs were missing :(( but thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

fake dating

pietro maximoff x fem!reader

word count: 811

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

As you and Pietro are the two youngest members on the team -with the exception of Peter- you were often paired together for lots of missions. Being best friends had its perks, especially for trips away where it was just the two of you. 

You were both assigned to Hawaii to "collect intel", as Cap lightly put it. The pair of you undercover: smitten newlyweds on your honeymoon. Usually, you weren't a fan of these kinds of aliases, but this was different- it was with Pietro.

It allowed you to tap into your true and hidden romantic feelings towards him without over-complicating everything. Fake dating was like a compromise to you. It felt like it gave you a brief chance to date him without the consequence of doing the real thing.

The moment you boarded the plane, the mission began, and you were all over Pietro- leaning into him and stroking his arm, giggling at his jokes and sharing stories with the elderly lady beside you. 

It all felt natural, and you didn't know where to draw the line. You admit you may have gotten a little carried away, but you couldn't help it- it just felt so right to date Pietro, like you could finally be your true self without keeping a part of you locked away. 

The first several days of the trip went smoothly, completing all tasks assigned within the first few hours of the day, leaving you both together for many hours doing touristy things.

Each day was slightly different- snorkelling in the ocean for one and eating lunch with the locals for another. You both wanted to make the most of your 'vacation,' so you chose activities you couldn't do anywhere else, nor would you have time for otherwise.

As the days progressed, so did things with you and Pietro. You would find yourselves flirting and touching with no one around- no one to prove things to. He grew more comfortable being romantic with you, a lingering touch to your hand or a soft smile when you speak- just small and possibly inconsequential moments that felt too sincere to be fake.

Today was the last night of the trip before heading home in the morning, so you and Pietro decided to have dinner at your favourite quaint restaurant on the beach, much like a final farewell to the town you both grew to adore. 

Everything was perfect- the scenery, the food, the company, even. It was the best end to an already great trip. 

By now, you were on your final course of the night, sharing a desert as you chatted in your usual friendly way. 

You sit up straight, pointing the spoon at him. "You suit it,"

His head cocks to the side, evidently confused. "Suit, what?"

"Y'know... the sun— being away. You seem happy," you smile, placing your spoon aside. "Haven't seen you like it for a while." You shrug, glancing out into the ocean to avoid his fixed gaze.

"I do?" he grins, pointing the spoon at you like you did him. "Same with you... it's nice to see."

"Maybe it's the company," your smile widens, turning back to face him.

He chuckles, itching his foot closer to yours under the table, slyly bumping into it. "Maybe."

After dinner and more drinks, you find your tipsy selves on the beach, sitting in the sand, huddled together under a blanket to keep warm. Pietro's arm draped over your shoulder, holding you close to him as you look out into the ocean. It all felt so familiar, like second nature- as if this was how it should be between you. 

Sure, you've cuddled like this many times before, but this was not like those times- this was different. It was intimate- sincere. Pietro pulls away, glancing over your face as a gentle smile forms, watching the way yours mirrors his. 

"Looks like it's gonna rain," you divert, suddenly aware of how real this all feels between you. 

He hums weakly, his smile faltering as he slowly leans towards you, his low gaze focused on your lips. 

"Might storm," you whisper, adding.

"Mh-hm," he softly replies, almost as if he wasn't paying attention. He slips his hand up to cup the side of your face, his palm resting on your jaw, guiding you closer. 

"It might—"

He cuts you off with a small shush, quietening your blabbering mind before brushing his lips over yours, kissing you soft and sweetly. It felt like months of repressed longing poured into a single, beautiful moment. A moment you've long been yearning for.

As you pull away from one another, you wish you could stay here forever. Stay in paradise. 

But as much as you hated to think about it, you'd be leaving tomorrow, and all you could think about was how things would be when you go back home. 

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

pietro taglist: @astermath @thewinterv @earth-elemental18 @lunnnix @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @randomawesomeperson102 @queerponcho @selfryed @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor @mrsbarnesxxx @honestly-who-even-is-this @simplyreflected

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 14: Lovely

Ao3 | 2.9k Words | Lovely's POV

Lovely chaperones a field trip. Caelum runs out of line. Sam is tense. Vincent is attention starved. Asher entertains 30-something kids. Freelancer is trying not to indulge. Caelum has an imaginary friend.

TW: Seperation anxiety, mentions of over-medication, child with trauma, discussion of fire safety procedures.

In your three years of teaching kindergarten, you’d never had a single field trip run completely smoothly from start to finish. It was a hazard of wrangling thirty-odd kids with one other adult in a new environment that you could only prepare them so much for. They were often fun, often educational, but always chaotic.

You were very grateful that Vincent had volunteered his firehouse as your class’s location for your fire safety field trip. He couldn’t necessarily help you with the kids, but just having him close by was a comfort. You knew that, come whatever chaos or tears you encountered, you could meet Vincent’s eye and know he had witnessed it all too. 

Firehouse trips were always a good time, but they were high energy and the kids certainly showed it. You were certain that you’d have a bus full of snoring kids on the way back to school in a few hours. As you gave your final directions, kids bounced up from their seats and met you, in a shoving and pushing line, at the front of the bus. You took a deep breath. 

You loved your kids. That was what you kept repeating to yourself over and over again as you raised your voice over squeals and blurted out questions to give them directions as the bus came to a halt outside of the 10-19. You had a pretty peaceful classroom. You’d made sure of it after your particularly tortuous first year. You had heard that being a first year teacher was chaotic, but you never would have guessed just how much stress it would cause. The first thing you did your second year was drill those kindergarteners like they were in the Navy. Classroom management was still a work in progress for you, but your kids knew how to walk in a line, how to work quietly at their tables, how to ask for pencils and turn in their work all on their own. 

Well, most of them did. 

Caelum was a special case. You loved that kid, but he had had a tumultuous year with you last year. He struggled with impulse control, with sitting still, with following base directions without multiple reminders. He was a problem child, and when there was a ruckus in your classroom, it was almost always related to Caelum. 

But he was smart. He was smart and his grown ups  were doing everything they could for him. Caelum came into your classroom in January of last year and was clearly on much too high a dose of whatever ADHD medication his previous doctor had prescribed him. It made your stomach turn to think about his blank stare, his mumbled, confused sentences, the exhaustion that spread across his little features after recess. You would take this, this boisterous, loud, opinionated kid over the zombie you first met any day. 

Even when he bolted out of your perfectly formed line the second he saw the ambulance, his little legs carrying him faster than you could ever hope to. You tossed a look over your shoulder to the other teacher accompanying your class on the trip before chasing after him. 

They just couldn’t make shoes comfortable enough for a kindergarten teacher. You had very nice sneakers thanks to Vincent’s Daddy’s money (although he hated when you called it that), but when you took off after a sprinting child, you still felt pain spring up your calves and into your hips. All of the crouching and standing and walking and running after runaway children did your joints in. You were young, but you certainly didn’t feel it. 

It wasn’t you in the end that caught Caelum. He ran straight up to the two paramedics that were gathered at the back doors of the large ambulance. You’d been inside of an ambulance before, and even still it surprised you how big they seemed on the outside. On the inside, it was almost oppressively small, the metal walls and machines and paramedics pressing in on all sides.

Caelum bounded up to the paramedics before throwing himself around one of their legs, squealing out; “Buddy!” 

When they turned, face slackened with shock, you recognized them. One of Caelum’s grown ups. They had accompanied Gavin and Caelum to open house this year and to one of the two parent-teacher conferences your school had hosted so far this year. You recalled, from casual conversation, that they were a medical student. You had no idea that they were a paramedic as well, and on Vincent’s crew no less. 

You spotted Sam as he balked, reaching as though to extract the bouncing kid from around his paramedic, but they laughed and scooped him up, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Caelum,” they chided, smile clear on their features, “you told me you wouldn’t run around on your own this time.” You remembered the last field trip you’d supervised with Caelum, to the Natural History Museum. It had taken two hours to find him, wandering alone in the paleolithic exhibit. The only time you’d ever managed to get him to sit still in class was when you were talking about dinosaurs. You were terrified that his grown ups would be upset with you, but when you’d called Gavin that afternoon, he had profusely apologized. It turned out that Caelum was pretty used to being independent, and he struggled when he wasn’t allowed to move as a free agent. Walking in line had been a multi-year battle that you were still losing. 

“Hey,” Sam gave you a weary smile, bent to press a kiss to your cheek like he always did when greeting you. “Didn’t realize you taught my Probie’s kid.” You patted his shoulder, noted the tension that had eeked into his muscles. You’d have to mention it to Vincent. Maybe he could convince Sam to go to that massage place he dragged you to every month or so. 

“Neither did I!” You smiled amicably as they set Caelum back down and turned him towards you. 

“You’ve gotta stay with your class, okay Buddy?” They ruffled his blonde curls as he craned his neck to look up at them. “Your poor teacher is running around after you when you should be learning about firefighters.” 

“It’s alright,” you smiled gently, offering your hand to Caelum, which he took. He looked up at his Buddy, eyes wide, “it’s really no trouble. We have fun, don’t we Caelum?” 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, looking back over his shoulder to his Buddy, “don’t leave, okay?” He called. Their face slackened, eyes slipping to Sam before falling back to Caelum. 

“Yeah,” they said, “okay, Buddy. Go, you’ll miss your fieldtrip!” 

Caelum toddled along with you, glancing over his shoulder nervously every few paces as if to make sure his Buddy hadn’t suddenly evaporated while he had turned away. 

Abandonment issues. It was a terribly common ailment for kids who had spent any time in foster care. You’d only had one other student who had spent time in the system, and she had been shuffled back into it and away from your school a month into her stay with her foster parents. You’d seen the look on his bus driver’s face when Caelum got on in the afternoon, twisted into indifference when she met every other child with a wide smile. He probably gave her lots of trouble when separating from his grown ups. 

He was fine by the time you led him back to the group who were gathered, sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce on the floor around a tall, lanky firefighter. He was in the middle of explaining all of the parts of the firetruck when his eyes met yours and you recognized him from the handful of barbecues and parties you’d managed to drag yourself to. Asher waved softly as he continued his explanation. 

It was a glorious display, so much so that it entertained even you. Asher somehow made the idea of Stop, Drop and Roll a fun game, made calling 911 in case of an emergency a secret mission, made evacuating a burning building a fun romp down the stairs. 

When he got to that part, Analisa, the only student you’d ever had who used a wheelchair, had raised her hand, her face pinched in concern. 

“I can’t walk down the stairs.” She said. Asher knelt in front of her, his face never falling from its cheery smile. 

“Well, remember how I just told everybody you shouldn’t use the elevator in a fire?” She nodded. “You get to break that rule.” He gave her a conspiratory grin. “Make sure Mom or Dad is with you, and make sure they check to see that the elevator is safe first, then ride it on down!” 

“What if it’s not safe?” She pressed, anxiety raising her shoulders to press to her ears. Asher caught her eye again, still calm and steady. 

“Then you go to the stairs with everybody else.” He said. “Remember how we talked about calling 911? Once you’re in the stairwell, you call them and tell them right where you are. Then, when I or the other firefighters get there, we’ll come straight to you!” 

“That could take forever!” She squealed, fidgeting with her skirt. 

“Nope!” Asher laughed. “Actually, most fire trucks get to fires in five minutes. That’s no time at all.” 

“And they’ll come get me? They won’t forget about me?” 

“Of course not.” Asher smiled. “It’s our job! We always take care of people before we take care of houses.”

Asher took the kids on a tour of the firehouse, down to the fancy kitchen where snacks had been set out for them. The kids calmored into seats at the large table as you helped pass them out. Chatter and laughs filled the large space. You leaned against the far wall, apple juice box in one hand, and observed as the kids talked and ate. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” Vincent’s smooth, sultry voice caught you off guard. You turned, pulling your attention away from the kids for just long enough to confirm that it was him there before turning your attention back to the kids. 

“Same thing as you, gorgeous,” You stopped to put on your teacher voice, “Jamie, do not pull Harley’s hair. Apologize. Thank you.” You turned back to Vincent. “Working.” 

“Hard, I can see.” He smiled as he leaned against the wall next to you, a respectful distance. “Any trouble?” 

“One run away kid.” You said. “Hey, you never told me you worked with one of my kid’s grown ups.” He knew what you meant by that term. Vincent was very familiar with your insistence on never calling a kid’s guardian their ‘parent,’ or worse, ‘Mom and dad.’ You didn’t want to risk even one of your kids feeling excluded for a moment in your classroom. He blinked at you for a second before realization spread across his face. 

“I never put that together.” He said. “I even- you’re gonna think this is funny, I even mentioned to them that you work with kids his age.” 

“My little airhead.” You smiled. “Hey, is Sam okay? He looks stressed.” You shot a sharp look to one of your troublemakers until he got the point and stopped trying to crawl onto the table. 

“I… don’t know.” He sighed. “After New Years, he’s been a little… lighter? I guess?” 

“Yeah, a make out sesh with a certified hottie would do that.” You laughed. Asher had started gathering the kid’s abandoned paper plates and juice boxes as they finished. 

“Okay little dudes,” Asher raised his voice, effortlessly overtaking the kid’s noise. “Let’s go sit in the firetruck!” 

The kids cheered and followed after him as he led the way. You took up the rear of the group, trailing behind them as Vincent’s arms fell to his sides and twitched. You knew that he was itching to wrap his arm around your waist, to slide his hand into yours, to pull you into his chest as you walked. You both knew that it was appropriate in front of your kids, so he contained himself. Just barely, if his sideways glances were any indication. You’d have to give him plenty of your undivided attention when you both got home.

After getting to honk the fire truck horn and trying on parts of the firefighter’s heavy gear, you watched as exhaustion crept over the kid’s features. It had been a long day, and Asher’s endless energy had bled them dry. Having missed naptime, you were sure to have a near silent ride back to school. Thank God. 

Caelum’s Buddy met you at the bus doors, hands in the pockets of their uniform pants. Caelum bolted out of line again, ran straight into their arms as they swung him up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before setting him back on the ground. The rest of the kids filed onto the bus as they talked quietly. You watched as Caelum’s little face grew red, his brow pinching, and listened as his voice grew whiney and high. Uh oh. Tantrum incoming. 

���I’ve still gotta work, Buddy,” they said softly, smoothing their hand over his curls, “and Gav will be waiting at school to pick you up.” 

“But-” Caelum sniffled, the sound of tears tearing through his voice, “but-but… I don’t- can I stay with you?” 

“No, Buddy.” They shook their head gently. “You’ve gotta go back to school. But Gav will pick you up and I’m sure he’ll take you for ice cream if you ask real sweet.” 

Caelum began to cry, but not the loud, screeching cries of a little kid tantrum. His tears were quiet, sniffling, contained in his little chest as though he was afraid to make a single noise. You watched as their face crumbled, as they leaned down to wipe his cheeks and pulled him close to their chest. 

“Listen to me, Buddy,” they said softly, “you’re gonna get on the bus and wave at me through the window. Gav’s gonna pick you up at school and you’re gonna have so much fun with him this afternoon. I get done with work at six, that’s only four hours away! I’ll be home right after. And we can see if Damien and Huxley and Lasko will come over for movies!” 

Caelum looked up at them, tears dotting his long lashes, before he nodded once and started to march up the stairs of the bus. He stopped stiffly at the top before running back down, wrapping his arms tight around their legs, and then climbing back up and plopping into a seat at the front of the bus. 

“That was pretty good.” You nodded. You watched as they tried to sneakily wipe their eyes, but caught sight of the wetness on their fingers. 

“His therapist is trying to get us to stop indulging him.” They smiled, eyes weary. “We used to- the second he started crying, just give him what he wanted. But he has to go to school. He has to get on buses. He has to be able to walk away from us eventually.” 

“It’s super common.” You said, looking up at the bus window as Caelum stared out at the two of you. “Separation anxiety. For the record, you guys are doing great. And he’s a great kid.” 

“He’s the best.” They nodded. 

You loaded back on the bus. You did a headcount. All present and accounted for, you made your way to the seat next to Caelum. He waved to his Buddy as the bus pulled away and settled back down on to the bench seat. 

“Did you have fun today, Caelum?” You asked softly. You already heard snores from behind you, and the soft chatter that had filled the bus as you boarded was dying out by the minute. Caelum sighed heavily as he looked up at you, as though he was contemplating something very serious. 

“Yeah.” He said eventually. “I liked when we pretended we were on fire.” 

That made you laugh. 

“Well, good. I’m sure the firefighters are glad you could come and visit.”

“My friend knows a firefighter.” Caelum announced. 

“Yeah, your Buddy works with them.” You nodded. 

“No,” Caelum shook his head, his face overtaken with the severity of a kid correcting an adult in one of the few instances they could. “My friend. He comes and talks to me at night time when I can’t sleep. He knows a firefighter.” He looked down at his sparkly pink sneakers and smiled as they twinkled in the scant sunlight streaming in from the bus window. 

It wasn’t uncommon for kids to develop imaginary friends. Most kids had more creative ones, but kids with lots of trauma or super, scary smart kids sometimes just had… people. Sometimes other kids with rich, complex social lives. Imaginary moms and dads, brothers and sisters. Sometimes adults who filled out roles they were missing in their lives. 

“You’re friends with a firefighter now too.” You bumped your shoulder with his. Caelum blinked up at you as he rested his head against the bus window. 

“He just knows them.” Caelum mumbled, his eyes slipping closed. His cheeks were still ruddy from his tears. “They’re not friends.” 

He drifted off, head lolling with the motions of the bus. You watched out the window as the city rolled by. You spotted a fancy, silver car parked a few blocks from the firehouse. You’d have to mention it to Vincent. He’d know what sort of pretentious make and model it was. Hell, he’d probably know the asking price off the top of his head.

[talenlee]

My Weirdly Embarrassing Love of Spreadsheets

This is gunna be a post about like, the nuts and bolts of making big projects like ongoing writing projects like this blog, but to get there I need to talk to you about silly stuff like journals and buses and spreadsheets. We get there, please, trust me.

One of the first tools I made for blogging was a table in my bullet journal. If you’re not familiar, a common thing to do with bullet journals (or ‘bujos’ as cooler or more tedious people than I call them), is to write up a calendar at the start of each month, something that lists what you’re doing through the course of the month. When I started doing this, I had a way to look at the month, that I could scribble on, so I did, and it meant I was able to get into the habits of putting an article on a game every friday and an article on a story every monday, resulting in my Story Pile and Game Pile series.

This was back in 2017, and the notebooks are in my bookshelf, each of them a record of a year that… huh, I could go back and reread.

Anyway, one of the problems that came up with this system was the bus.

Not kidding.

I would get a bus home from the uni most days. When I was on that bus, or when I was at the uni, I would have time to write, but I wouldn’t necessarily have access to my notebook. I found myself wanting a copy of the chart that I could manage on two different computers – my laptop at the university, and my computer at home. This is how One Stone got written, too, the trips home on the bus being when I wrote the blog posts that became the first chapters of that book, eyes closed, not looking at the screen, and focusing on the road to avoid being car sick.

It is wild to consider how much of my first book I loved writing I did with my eyes effectively closed.

In 2019, I resolved midway through the year that I needed a better system, and started on a system that would handle the transport between two locations better, for the year coming where I anticipated a lot of travel between two sites.

Ahem.

Yeah, uh, 2020.

Anyway, that it wasn’t necessary didn’t stop it being useful! That led to the creation of this Google Sheets spreadsheet:

I made this in Sheets because Sheets is like Excel, which I like using, and it’s like Calc, which I now use, because the version of Excel I pirated doesn’t have access to IFS functions. Point is, this sheet, as originally conceived, did not need anything as a spreadsheet to work; I wanted a table with 365 cells in it that could show the entire year at a glance and be given a simple, straightforward tick or cross. It became something more, as the years progressed.

I’ve been using this kind of spreadsheet now, for 5 years. In 2025, the spreadsheet looks almost the same:

Being a spreadsheet, it is an array of data. You can manipulate that. You can track data in it. You can use indexes. You can cocatenate things, and that’s the stage this spreadsheet is at now. When I sit down to work on a blog post, the first thing I do is not open up WordPress to pull at my drafts, it’s to instead open up this spreadsheet and look at when I have slots available, where my next upcoming gap is, and what kind of thing that gap wants.

Blue slots are story pile, green are game pile. I have all the video article slots pencilled in already with a ‘V,’ on the working version, so I can look at the line of Xes under each date and then see the point where oh, yeah, I gotta work on one of those spots. But see, also, in that top left? That number? The 0 is a count of how many blog posts have been set in place for the year, how close I am to being finished, or on track for the number of days in the year I’m at.

I try to keep the blog progress (blogress) at around 51 posts. That is not because this is the number I’ve decided I need or anything like that, it’s just a round number that makes me happy. Just being able to look at that number and see it being reasonably high? That’s a progress number. I could make it a progress bar proper, with a pair of graphs, but y’know, not worth it. I could make it a fraction too, like, the formula it’s doing over a “/365” if I wanted.

The thing that I’m most happy with though is the cell next to it.

See that cell looks like this:

='Topics & Ideas'!A2

And oh ho what is that?

Well that leads to this:

Here’s what this is: This is a whole spreadsheet of idea categories. Each category has at the top of it, a cell that looks down in the list for a random entry in that list and just provides it. For some things this is a long list of possibilities, for some things this is a tiny list of possibilities. But that is an index function – it looks randomly up and down the list and finds something. That means any time I want something for a specific theme, I can go to this sheet and I’ll see a random selection from these ideas. If I have an idea for a thing to write about at some point, I can jam that in the list, and know that it will eventually be exposed to me at some random point.

Then, at the head of that list, there’s the cell that also randomises the other cells along that horizontal line. Which means that any time I open this blog arranger up, I get to see a random offering of just… anything I could be writing right now. That list can include really broad things, like hey, write about an OC? and sometimes it could be really narrow and specific, like here’s a real event, you know about that one, you should write about it.

Now let me be clear: This is not a tool I recommend for everyone. This is a lot of elaborate effort I put into what is essentially, a producivity toy. This lets me produce a big pile of input and get a random output, and it lets me collect long lists or short lists of things and also, along with all of that, I can just get a periodic output from that list.

The original purpose for this chart wound up being unnecessary. I didn’t need to write on the bus any more. I don’t need to track the post count like this. I don’t need the randomiser. None of this stuff is in any way necessary.

But making this tool though, and playing with it, I have ways to engage with the project of this blog, with the writing when I can’t do that. When my ability to muster words has left me, I have still a chart, a tool, I have productivity items that I can work on. Sometimes just… fine tuning formulas is still working on it.

There’s this idea, maybe you’ve heard of ‘just do a little every day.’ Well, making it so there is a little you can do is really valuable, as part of that.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!