#flaming mango is in trouble

[sparkling-ponds]

*the water constrict faded as the new one appeared right behind flaming mango*

“I guess, gummy eel suggestion to not reveal my actual self to you was a good call.”

*the water construct giggled, cupping flaming mango in the sparkling hands*

“While that was a fun little trick, I would like to know, Did you hurt raindrop cookie?

*well the water constructs voice remains sweet, it’s tone shifted when I asked the question again, the warmth that one dripped from the voice being absent, harboring instead a cold, nearly emotionless tone with hints of anger*

(this is gonna look weird because anon asks are turned off)

*flaming mango cookie flew into the water or where ever she is.. I forgot if it’s underwater or not- and walked to her*

“So.. I have a question.. are you the guardian of this place of something?”

@the-6th-ancient-hero

(I could’ve sworn I had them on. I apologize.)

“why yes I am, my friend. I am confined to this lake, so I protect the cookies who settle here and teach them patience.”

[notapradagurl7]

Miss Me?

Black Fem! Reader x Elijah “Smoke” Moore.

Summary: After those years of hearing of his disappearance, your husband Elijah “Smoke” Moore had finally returned home, and you weren't up for a warm welcome. But he wanted to speak with you, and remind you that you're still his. Only his.

A/N: Here is something for our main man Smoke, 😩 enjoy!

Warnings: dirty talk, praise, possessive!Smoke, slight back talk, stubborn reader, fingering, cursing, unprotected sex, use of the n-word, established marriage, creampie, consensual intimacy, multiple orgasms, squirting.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @secret89sblog @ranikyani

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @luckydaye777 @that-one-anxious-mango @rose-bliss @wanderingreader1 @kindofaintrovert

—————-

The rich aroma of marinara sauce mingled with a variety of seasonings and spices, enveloping the medium-sized kitchen, the walls painted in sage green and pictures of you, and Smoke.

Your deep brown eyes were fixed on the bubbling pots simmering on the stovetop, the vibrant colors of the food enticing your senses. With a gentle turn of the knob, you watched as the blue flames flickered and gradually faded to embers, silencing the hissing gas.

You moved with quickness, pulling out an array of containers, each one filled with fragrant foods. Scooping out generous portions, you layered your plate with creamy mashed potatoes, perfectly cooked spaghetti, and sautéed cabbage with sausage that glistened with a hint of olive oil.

A low rumble from your stomach reminded you to eat, prompting a sigh of relief as you finally took your first bite. The flavors danced joyfully across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum of delight as each taste unfolded, cleaning your plate, after sipping your glass of water to quench your thirst.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the air, cutting through the meal you finished and breaking your concentration. You wiped the remnants of food from your lips.

You let out a resigned sigh, reluctantly leaving your plate behind as you hurried to the front door. Peering through the window, your heart raced as the amber-orange glow of the porch light illuminated a familiar silhouette, casting a soft shadow that stirred curiosity and cautious within you.

Smoke or as you called him, Elijah. That was who stood at your door, a shadowy presence in the twilight. Also known as your husband.

He was the twin brother of Elias “Stack” Moore, a pair known for their ruthless dealings in Chicago and New Orleans, everywhere.

Together, they undertook the grim tasks laid out for them by the notorious Al Capone, their hands stained with the dirt, and blood of their illicit trade.

In a moment that felt both tender and fleeting, he had expressed a desire to marry you before he vanished into the chaos of the city.

His promises dripped with hope as he claimed he would return to you, that the day would come when you would once again find him wrapped in your arms.

But as the shadows deepened and trouble began to swirl around them like a whirlwind, each passing day drew you further away from that heartfelt vow, leaving you to wonder if he would ever return.

Your family warned you that marrying him was a grave mistake; they insisted that being with Smoke only invited trouble.

Yet, despite their concerns, your love for him and his love for you ran deep—deeper than you could articulate. Now that he was finally back home after those long years, everything felt different.

With a sigh of disappointment, you shook your head. “What the hell does this nigga want?”

You knew you'd regret this, at least a little. You were still his wife, and he was still your husband.

Turning the brass knob, you swung the door open. Your gaze fell upon the man in his gray suit, blue tie, and the hat he had removed. His brown eyes met yours, brimming with raw emotion—love, longing, and a hint of fear.

“So, you’re back?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, skepticism lacing your voice.

His expression softened momentarily before he composed himself, gripping his hat tightly. “Yeah, I’m home, back wit’chu. Just like I promised, baby,” he said, his tone laced with seriousness and tenderness, each word resonating with sincerity.

Elijah stepped into the house, and you quickly closed and locked the door behind him. The way he said “baby” sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a wave of desire within you. How could you feel this way at such a moment?

The scent of the meals you cooked filled his nostrils, his stomach rumbled as his tongue glided through his lip. “What’chu cookin’ tonight? My favorite?” he teased, smirking at you.

You should have been angry with him; he was at home, but he might have been driving for work, putting in long hours until his hands hurt and his body was exhausted. Smoke couldn't wait to return to you.

“You can always make yourself a plate, sweetie. Don't starve yourself.” You replied frimly, you walked through the hallways as he followed behind you.

You settled into the chair at the neatly set table, the crisp brown cloth contrasting with the rich, dark wood beneath. He began to fill the meal, carefully lifting the lid from a steaming porcelain dish and dishing out vibrant, aromatic food that filled the air with its savory aroma.

The utensils clinked softly against the plates as he prepared his serving, a sense of expectation hanging between you. You knew he loved your cooking, there was no need to speak about that.

Taking his seat across from you, he dug into the meal with a satisfied hum, savoring each bite and clearly relishing the flavors.

You watched him intently as he slipped off his shoes, the soft thud breaking the gentle ambiance, and unfastened his coat, draping it casually over the coat rack. “I love your cookin’ you know that?” he mentioned, his eyes on you.

Your lips curled up in a warm smile, your heart fluttered in your chest. “I know that, you tell me that shit every time I cook,”

He then moved to the counter sink, filling a glass with cool water, the sound of liquid pouring into the glass punctuating, and took a long, refreshing gulp.

His gaze wandered over you, lingering on the nightgown you wore—the delicate black fabric that clung to your figure in all the right places, a garment he adored.

The playful glint in his eyes suggested that the food was not the only captivating thing in the room, making it thick with undeniable attraction. He stood up from the table, made his way to the sink, washed his hands and his plate. Drying them off with a towel.

“Why did you come back? After all these years, couldn’t you have stayed with your brother?” You replied back, your brows knitted in anger.

“You gon’ kick me out? This is still my home. I bought this place for us, so we’d always have a home to return to, Y/N,” Smoke retorted, placing his empty plate in the sink.

You stood up from the table, walking toward your husband where the sink was, cutting the distance between the two of you. His gaze locked upon you, the closeness he missed so much was here, the intimacy beckoning for both of your calls.

He was right about that, ever since the two of you were teenagers, he vowed to do this, keep you happy and safe from the threats of his life, be with you.

He stepped closer to you, his clothes lingered with the scent of gun smoke, and his fresh cinnamon, eucalyptus cologne evaded your senses. Why don't you just speak up? Tell him.

“I…I never thought that you'd be back for good, all this time I prayed that you weren't dead, and you can't make up for those years taken from us, Elijah!” You yelled harshly, your voice broke with emotion.

His hands cradled your face, bringing you closer while your face softened at him, his thumbs swiped over your cheeks to wipe those tears away, and your hands laid on his clothed chest.

“You pushin’ me away cuz’ you think I'm gon’ leave you again? Nah, I'm a man of my word baby.” Smoke replied firmly, his voice filled with sincerity, grabbing your hand in his.

He placed your hand on his middle of his chest, feeling his heartbeat like a drum, he smiled at you before kissing your forehead and then lifting your chin, kissing your lips passionately before pulling away to look at you again.

“You feel that? My heart beats for you, keeps me alive, and strong. I ain't going nowhere, you hear me?” Smoke replied, wrapping his arms around you.

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. “You a poet now, my love? I hear you but who did you get that from? Langston Hughes?”

“I'm tellin’ you what’s on my heart, darlin’ or do I need to show you?”

“Why don't you do that?”

Following that, the two of you retreated to the bedroom, clothes strewn across the floor, with soft moans mingling with slurred words as your face was buried in the pillow.

Smoke held your hips tight from behind, driving into you with a rapid yet forceful rhythm. Making sure that you felt every inch of his dick, all you could do was scream his name and you took it like a pro.

“You miss me, baby?” He groaned, his hand delivering a rough smack on your ass, watching your wetness coat his dick completely. The sheets shocked underneath, remnants of the passion he left behind.

“I-i..missed you..fuck!” You moaned loudly, eyelids closed shut nails while your hands balled up the blankets. Tears blurring your vision, you came undone quickly which made him darkly chuckle before kissing you.

He smirked at your face contorting in pleasure, your body shaking against his as sweat covered your bodies, he peppered kisses along your spine, “Good, cuz’ I missed you more, and I told you I'm stayin’ right?” Smoke grunted after every thrust after pulling out.

He wrapping his arm around you and flipped you on your back, sliding his dick back inside you. You shudder at the warm feeling, it felt so right. With him. “Y-yes, I..I need you, Elijah. Only you,” you gasped, your words a desperate plea that only fueled his intensity.

His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned closer, his lips peppered kisses on yours. Wet noises of your pussy swallowing his dick, the bed creaked. “Sounds like your pussy ain't forget about me,” he said to you, his voice deepened. He released low groans, “Eiljahhhh..shit!” you lamented, clawing at his shoulder blades. he missed you so much that words couldn't even explain.

“That’s what I like to hear, baby. You’re mine, and you know just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his thrusts became sporadic and deliberate. Flipping you onto missionary.

Smoke’s hands roamed your body, his nails dug deep every curve as if he were tracing the stretch marks on your dark brown skin. “My beautiful wife, where would I be?” he said, His fingers tangled in your braids, pulling you closer as he thrust deeper, hitting that sweet spot.

“Elijah! Please—more,” you cried, your back arching as waves of pleasure coursed through you. You could feel his heartbeat matching the rhythm of your own, tiny cries from you spurred him on.

He chuckled darkly, his thrusts becoming more relentless, pushing you to the edge. “You think you can handle it? You’re not too sore for me, are you?” he taunted, his voice thick with lust.

“No, I can take it! I want it all, Elijah!” you whimpered, feeling yourself teetering on your climax.

“Damn right you can,” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place as he drove into you. Your knees buckling in response.

With each crazy thrust, he punctuated his claim, and you felt your body responding, tightening around him, begging for release. “Elijah…I’m gonna cum,” you breathed, your voice breaking. Your legs rested onto his shoulders.

“Can I give you some twins, baby?” he coaxed, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your moans as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes…baby,” You cried out his name, your body shaking as you came undone once more, Smoke followed closely behind, his warm cum spilling deep within you, giving you the twins he asked for.

Breathing heavily, he pulled out and collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. His hands stroked your face, “You good?” he asked, and you felt the warmth radiating from him, “Yeah…I’m good…” a comfort you had longed for during his absence.

“I missed you so damn much,” he confessed, his voice softening as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re here now, baby. And that's what matters most.”

—————-

[coquettepascal]

like tiramisu

summary: nothing beats summer vacation like a secret relationship with your dad's best friend, right? wrong! what really beats summer vacation is trying not do jump joel's bones every time you're alone.

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, beach fic, age gap (it's dbf!joel, imagine what you want), dbf!joel, misuse of sunscreen, semi-public activities (not sex), groping, massaging, reader has a dad and brother, overuse of the word pretty, nicknames like pretty___ and baby, oral sex (f!recieving), she/her pronouns for your pussy, joel gets blueballed, fluff, joel and reader are very much in love, established relationship, secret relationship, stereotypical oblivious reader's!dad, mention of food poisoning (nothing graphic), slight grumpy!joel, soft!dom joel (ish)

a/n: woo!! i did it :D this is my submission for @hellishjoel's hot dilf summer challenge (link to the masterlist.) i'm a big fan of their work so i'm just happy to participate. tysm for this opportunity!

(3.6k, not beta read.)

Every year you travel to the coast with your dad and brother, enjoying a week at the tail end of summer to really relax. This year, your brother got sick, and so Joel took his place.

Like Joel, your dad’s best friend. You know, the one that you slept with a month ago one night after everyone went to bed? Joel like kind-of-your-secret-boyfriend-Joel. Simple situation really, you don’t know why you nearly shit yourself when Joel was standing in your driveway dragging a suitcase behind him. 

But, as Joel does, he’s made this easy. It shouldn’t be easy to be separated from him, but it’s made the small moments you can get with him better. Besides, you still get to see him in his handsome glory, all tan and broad and…

The not-easy part is not jumping on him every time your dad turns around. 

—

“Why is this so much more expensive than ice cream?” Joel asks you, eyes squinted as he peers at the chalkboard that hangs above the gelato cooler.

The family in front of you orders and literally pays with a 50 dollar bill, still not getting anywhere near a justifiable amount of change back. Joel squints at the board harder and you smile up at him. He needs glasses, you’ve been telling him this whole trip. 

“Having trouble?” You ask teasingly. Joel’s head turns, face already scowling, but then the employee behind the counter is asking for your order before he can tear you a new one.

Joel is still scowling at you as he shells out 25 dollars for 2 “adult size” cones. 

“S’not necessary to spend this much money on vacation, darlin’, we’re already relaxed,” He grumbles as you walk out of the air conditioned business, back into the beachy heat outside. 

Innocently, you lick up a drip of the tiramisu flavored gelato that drips down the cone. Joel’s eyes narrow more, clearly not appreciative of your behavior so far today. His face eases up when he takes a bite out of his mango sherbet, cooling his flamed temper. 

Your hand snakes into his free one as you walk down the beach, back to where your things are. It’s a quieter day on the beach, luckily. The past week you’ve spent with your father and Joel has been a hectic race for who can find a good spot on the beach, who can find a good spot to sit and eat, and who can find a good spot where the three of you can be left the fuck alone. 

Today you’ve found a good spot, tucked away behind some larger rocks. It kind of looks like it could be dangerous to be there when the tide comes in, but it’s out far today. You’re fine, you’re with Joel, and most importantly, the two of you are alone. 

Your dad ate some bad shrimp last night at dinner and has a horrible case of food poisoning. He assured both of you that he’d be fine on his own, to go enjoy the sun. 

God knows you both will.

You hop over to the blanket you had laid out, cowering under the shade of the rainbow umbrella Joel had bought earlier in the week. He claimed it was so you wouldn’t get heatstroke, but you have a feeling it was more for the sake of his skin. 

As you kick off your sandals, Joel sits down beside you under the umbrella, slurping obnoxiously at the remnants of his mango cone. Most of yours is still intact, though a bit melty. It’s something to marvel at, how Joel can inhale any food of any temperature in the blink of an eye. But it makes up his soft tummy, the one you can rest your head on later when you want to soak up the sun. 

“Do you wanna try mine?” You ask, noting the hungry eyes he’s giving your gelato. He nods and so you lean over to him, extending the cone.

And just as he leans in to take a massive bite, you jerk your hand, smearing tiramisu gelato onto the tip of his nose. 

“Oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling back, “that’s not fucking funny.” 

But it is funny. Seeing the white cream smudged on his nose, tangled in the bristles of his moustache. You can’t help but laugh at him. 

“That’s what you get for trying to chomp half of my treat!” You point out.

Joel’s head tilts at you, as if to say “really?” 

“Okay fine, I’ll fix it,” you huff. Passing your gelato to your free hand, you lean forward and suck the tip of his nose into your mouth, slurping off the remaining mess. 

Pulling back with a pop, you see Joel’s horrified face. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He groans, wiping your saliva off his face. 

Joel gives you a look, clearly expecting some sort of repayment for the ridiculous stunt you just pulled. Begrudgingly, you hand the rest of your cone to him, but only because you really should put on sunscreen.

—

The sun beats down on you as you lay against Joel’s chest and belly, his legs spread to make room for you. He’s wearing black board shorts that cut off around his mid-thigh, leaving more skin exposed. Joel didn’t wear these ones yesterday, or any day previous. It was just the same red shorts that went down to his knees. But today, he matches you and your black two piece. His thick thighs firmly frame you, keeping you in place. 

“You need to reapply your sunscreen, sweetheart,” Joel hums, blindly pawing the blanket for wherever you tossed the bottle earlier. 

Streams of sunlight bathe you where you sit, the sun no longer blocked by the rainbow umbrella Joel insisted on. You planned on tanning anyways, so you don’t mind as much as Joel seems to. He grabs the sunscreen and his sunglasses, tossing them on. 

Your chin is tucked to your chest, crunched as Joel leans over you more, opening the cap of the lotion. The liquid is so cold in comparison to the warm sun rays that blanket the two of you, a near-pained hiss escaping you.

“Don’t be a baby,” Joel grunts, working the sunscreen into your abdomen.

His hands work your soft flesh so gently, his calloused palms spreading the protective lotion carefully. Joel’s thumbs dig a little harder as he feels your hip bones beneath his hands, making you protest weakly. You know what he’s doing, taking this private opportunity for his own gain.

“Joel,” you warn whinily, squirming. 

His hands grasp you in place, holding you while the cords of muscle on his forearms pop. 

“I said don’t be a baby,” he repeats slower this time, his voice rumbling in your ear.

“We both know you’ve taken worse.”

Yeah. Yeah you do know that. It doesn’t shut you up anymore, whining as he reaches to massage your thighs, his hands slipping to your inner thighs fast. You can barely process his touch there before he’s sliding his hands back to a more appropriate spot, your arms. He’s keeping it PG for the most part at least. The nagging fear of your dad suddenly showing up despite his illness lives in the back of your mind. 

Joel massages your wrists and the palms of your hands, thumbs pushing the flesh soothingly as he murmurs in your ear about how soft you are, how perfect. 

He was keeping it PG, but he’s getting selfish now. The orange sun is painting your skin in a way that’s making it hard for him to think, and it’s been so long since he’s had you alone. Your eyes glaze over as he drips more lotion into his palms, rubbing it between them slowly. 

“Don’t wanna forget your chest, would hate for my pretty girl to burn,” is all the warning you get.

Joel’s arms loop beneath yours, his wet palms sliding up your abdomen and then beneath your swim top. Big hands envelope the starting swell of your breasts, coming upwards and smothering your sensitive skin in sunscreen. His name slips out again, choked and surprised, but this isn’t unwanted.

You miss Joel. Even as he’s been here with you for this whole week, you miss his kisses and his touch. Sleeping in the same room as him, but in separate beds, has been awful. To hear him snore without feeling the vibration of it on your own skin has been treacherous. 

So you’re letting him have this, because as much as you hunger for him, that man is ravenous.

His thumbs rub over your nipples, most of your top bunched up on his knuckles now. Joel’s voice is low in your ears, talking soft like you aren’t in total privacy on the beach. Everything is flying now, his mouth uncontrollable as he tells you how good you feel, how much he missed you. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, all week you’ve been so gorgeous, darlin,’” 

And then the kisses start. Hot down your neck, his scruffy face trails, tongue tracing the bitemarks he leaves occasionally. 

“Joel– Joel no marks,” you remind softly.

He obliges with a grunt, clearly unhappy with the situation. Sometimes he can get away with little marks, ones like on your inner thighs or your tits. But not here on a beach vacation, not so close to your dad. 

Joel continues to kiss you regardless, tilting your head so he can awkwardly meet your lips as he gropes you, massaging the lotion in as if the sun would ever hit any skin below your swimsuit. The atmosphere is only getting hotter as he touches you, the sun blazing against your skin as Joel rolls your nipples between his fingers, making you cry out.

You want more, you need more.

You can feel him hard against you, slightly digging into your back. Sex on the beach is a terrible idea. Public indecency, sand in places it shouldn’t be… but it’s so tempting when you feel how badly he wants you, how badly he missed you. 

Desperately, you turn in his embrace, his hands slipping out of your top, leaving you exposed. You shove your face against his hungrily, feeling as his sunscreen greased hand cups your jaw, gentle even when he’s starving. You open for him easily, letting his hungry tongue taste where he wants. He tastes like waffle cones and tiramisu, you want to lick him clean. You breathe heavily when he slips off your mouth and kisses the side of your face.

“S’a good girl, lettin’ me miss her,” he says into your skin.

Your mouth feels rubbed raw, your nipples are buzzing, and the sun blazes across your back. Everywhere feels warm, his lips, his tongue, your skin, your cunt in these bikini bottoms that stick to you in the worst way. You want Joel’s fingers, spreading you open however he wants. 

Joel is so good at taking care of you, so good that he can hear the rambunctious group of people coming before you can. Hands tug down your top and flip you back around before you can realize.

“You’re alright, s’okay, just some people,” Joel says, sounding anxious himself. 

Just some people. Not anyone you know, just some people.

The two of you quickly switch back to how youwere, your head on his chest while you rest between his thighs. One of his hands rests on your abdomen as he squeezes you affectionately between his legs. It’s really frustrating, watching as the group of people sets up not too far down from the both of you. So much for your private spot on the beach, and potential sex. 

He shifts beneath you, the bulge in his swim shorts uncomfortable. Joel has settled for rubbing his thumb against the smooth skin of your tummy, catching his breath still. 

“You can sleep, baby. Jus’ enjoy the sun, okay?”

The last thing on your mind is sleep, you’re more focused on the conch shell in his pants, but whatever. The sun is warm, and you’re with Joel. His hand stills on your belly, a warm weight in an attempt to soothe you.

-

It works, you fall asleep as the sun sets, and wake up when the cool night air shivers past you. Joel has managed to snake out from under you, using an unused beach towel to make a pillow for you. He’s packed everything up, sans the towel pillow and the blanket you lay on. Everything is ready to go, he’s just been waiting for you.

You watch from where you lay, as he dips his toes in the water. His broad shoulders are covered by a white, linen, shirt, highlighting him across the shore. Something about this is so right, to be on vacation with him, to be taken care of by him. Laying back, eyes staring into the inky night, you wonder what would have happened if the two of you hadn’t stayed up late that night, chatting and flirting. How long would you have gone without feeling loved, and like you belonged? 

Being Joel’s girl is more than that, even if no one knows you’re his, you have come to know yourself through him. His hands brushed away the sands that blurred your eyes, you’re seeing clearly for what feels like the first time ever.

Your love for him crashes down on you hard when he turns, walking back to you with a soft, dorky, smile. That’s your man, that’s your stupid old man, and he loves you.

“You ready t’go, darlin?” Joel asks, clearly relieved you eventually woke up.

With a nod, you walk as a pair back to the hotel. Joel insists on carrying everything, claiming he “don’t need” your help, even as he grunts.

-

Entering  the lobby of the hotel is a reminder that you have to be normal again, you and Joel are just getting along swell, and not seriously infatuated with one another.

His eyes bear into you when you step into the elevator, you can feel his eyes on your back as you press the button for your floor.

“What?” You ask, stepping back to lean against the railing.

Joel’s mouth seems to be dry as he responds, eyes tracing something on your stomach.

“Your tummy,” he manages.

You look down instantly, concerned you’ve managed a sunburn despite Joel’s efforts. Instead though, you find a tan line. A tan line in the shape of Joel’s hand, where it rested as you slept. Ghosts of Joel’s lips and teeth on your neck from earlier murmur across your skin, misting tingles across your shoulders and chest. He wanted to mark you so badly, wanted to sink his teeth into you the way he should have been able to, despite your refusal. Now he has his mark, across your tummy in the shape of his hands, the ones that carefully nurture you. 

You can see how it’s making him tick, how his scruffy jaw is clenched as his eyes are entranced by the shape on your belly. He has to spend the rest of the evening, the last couple of days of this trip, with his mark on you. Joel has to do all of that and not jump onto you at every opportunity he can.

“Baby,” Joel breathes, but the elevator doors open, and your dad is right there.

Your arms instantly wrap around your middle, trying to hide away the Joel-hand shaped tan line. As sick as your dad was this morning, he’s looking miles better. There’s colour in his cheeks, that isn’t green, and he’s standing up.

“Hey kid,” he greets cheerfully, “I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better so I was gonna go out and grab a bite to eat.”

The elevator is so quiet, the doors try to shut and Joel slams a hand against it, to keep it open. Your dad looks a little weirded out, but just smiles. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you manage to say, sounding like your lungs have been cut out of your chest.

In the few months that you and Joel have been “together” you haven’t been caught, or even close to being caught. This tan line on your tummy could have been the cat out of the bag, but thankfully your dad seems oblivious.

He steps into the elevator between you two, gently nodding at the elevator doors.

“Y’all gettin’ out? Both of y’look kinda sunfried,” your dad asks.

Joel manages to respond this time as the two of you hurriedly leave the confined space. -

He practically dragged you down the hallway and back to your room once the elevator doors shut, leaving your dad in the dark. Joel dumped all your stuff on the floor near the door, pushing you off him when you tried to kiss at him.

“Naw. Bed,” he had grumbled, making a vague gesture to your bed.

You both knew you had limited time, your dad would be gone for an hour tops. Joel had peeled off his shirt while you shimmied out of what little clothes you had on, your swimsuit coverup falling away easily.

Now, you lay on your back, and if you could look down, you would see the sweat that’s soaking his back and the mess of hair on his head.

But you can’t look down, you can barely move as is. Your legs, which are tossed over his shoulders, shiver, toes curled. You want to ask if he can breathe down there, but your voice keeps catching, repeating his name again and again. The bristles of his facial hair might be chafing, but everything is wet right now, your cunt, his face, your thighs. He’s suffocating in your flesh, opening his mouth to sloppily make out with your pussy, licking at your clit as he sucks it between his lips. It isn’t gentle, he’s fucking famished.

“Joel– Baby, please,” you manage to whimper. 

He probably can’t hear you with the headlock you’ve put him in, soft thighs trapping his ears. Joel’s face slides down further to push his tongue into you, making you clench and gush as his nose presses to your clit. Reaching your hand down, you lace your fingers against his curls, trying to pry him away, but he just won’t quit. Your fingers slip from his sweaty strands, slamming onto the sheets as he doesn’t let up.

“Missed you, missed her,” he rasps between kisses. 

Joel loves this, loves pleasing you. This isn’t submission, this is worship. He talks to your cunt like he knows her, like he’s dating her too. Gentle as he is, he knows where your aches and cricks are, knows how to massage them with his fingers and tongue. Joel takes care of you both, it’s what he lives for. 

“I know, I can feel it, I missed you too,” you babble, hands flagrant between his hair and the sheets.

He laughs softly into you, smiling. You tug him closer, grinding onto his nose as a tease. 

Joel focuses on bringing himself closer, arms snaking up beneath your ass to curl his hands around your thighs, fingers digging in as he pulls you closer. “Been so patient all week, need you t’come for me, please pretty thing?” He groans.

Nodding your head, you start to work with him. Again and again you roll your hips into his face. The two of you are fucking on borrowed time and Joel hastily promises you that he can take care of himself in the shower later, that he just needs to focus on you.

“Just need to taste you, remember your cunt in my mouth, please?” Joel asks.

You nod even faster now, huffing out air as your hips rise and he pulls you closer, tongue and teeth and nose buried in you. Every movement he makes begs for your release, begs for you to give him what he wants. His voice rumbles around your head, a voice encouraging this selfish feeling of pleasure.

“C’mon darlin, I’ve been waitin’ all week to have you. Let go for me, I’ve been patient.”

It sends you over, the mixture of Joel getting pussydrunk on you and the thoughts of him in your head. Your thighs lock around his head even harder, and he powers through without taking a breath for himself. Thoughts of times with him previous flash through your mind as you shiver, thoughts of what he’ll do to you once you’re both home make you gush. He laps it all up, his reward for being patient. 

When he pulls away, your essence is all over his face. Slicked through his facial hair and even on the tip of his nose, like tiramisu gelato. 

Unlike the gelato, you decide not to suck this cream off his nose.

Gently, you swipe a finger over his nose, cleaning it off with your own tongue.

“Thank you, baby,” you hum.

Joel manages to drag himself up your body, caging you beneath him while he smiles. Soft kisses are shared between the two of you, enjoying the peaceful moment where you’re finally, truly, alone. His moustache prickles your upper lip as he smiles and pulls away.

“Can give me your ‘thank you’s’ in a few days time, sweet girl.” He says, pulling himself down to kiss the 5 fingertips of the hand tan line he left.

Looking down at him as he kisses your belly, you hope you'll be exchanging thank you's for a very long time.

[hummingbird24220]

May I please request part 3 of Swordsmith!reader but make it Reader x Shanks? Reader meets back up with Shanks and his crew but this time the only thing his sword can talk about is how Shanks kept talking about them. Reader is very flustered but tries to keep their cool but the red haired pirates are teasing their captain about Reader infront of them. Shanks of course has no shame about it and joins in by flirting with Reader.

(Also I have ideas about a part 4 with smut if interested)

(Keep up the great writing!)

- <3

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

Rereading this to write part 4 , i dont think smut would fit into it. Its more of a crack fic lmfao.

(if you want Shanks smut lemme know ok)

ANYWAY. Heres part 4. Enjoy!

Sharp Tongues, Sharper Blades (Part 4)

One piece x Swordsmith!Reader

You were not supposed to see Shanks again.

Not because you didn’t want to. But because your soul had only just recovered from the last time—when his sword had read your aura like a moonstone horoscope and he handed you his legendary blade like it was a fruit bowl. The man radiated Yonko energy and dad-on-vacation vibes in equal measure, and your nervous system was not designed for that kind of duality.

And yet.

There he was.

Again.

Docked on the same island you were passing through—pure coincidence, you swore—his massive ship perched like a lazy predator sunbathing on the sea.

You could’ve kept walking.

You should’ve.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you climbed the gangplank like a moth to a very smug, red-haired flame.

You were halfway up when you heard it.

“Ohhhhhh they’re back,” came the dreamy, melodic whisper of his sword. “Our little forge spirit is BACK.”

You winced. “Please don’t start.”

“I never stopped,” the blade purred. “He’s talked about you every single day since you left. It’s been adorable. And deeply concerning.”

You froze. “What.”

“Shanks this. Shanks that. ‘Do you think they’d like this mango wine?’ ‘Do you think they’re sleeping well?’ ‘Was it too much when I winked?’ And don’t even get me started on the mango carving he tried to do with a butter knife—”

You walked faster.

Too fast.

You nearly tripped onto the main deck.

And that was when you heard the laughter.

“Look who’s back,” came a familiar voice—Lucky Roux, leaning against a barrel with a grin that could split ships.

“Ohhhh,” Yasopp sang from the rigging, “the little swordsmith finally returns.”

A third crewmate gasped, clutching their chest. “Wait—is this the one he won’t shut up about?”

You blinked, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Benn Beckman said, strolling by with a cigarette between his fingers. “Every time he drinks—‘Do you think they miss me?’ ‘They’re so good with swords.’ ‘They fixed my emotional damage with one mango.’ Like, bro. Bro.”

Your face was now ten degrees hotter than the sun.

“HE SAID THAT?” you hissed.

“Oh,” Yasopp grinned, upside down now, “he said worse.”

And then—

From the upper deck—

“Hey, sunshine.”

You turned, and there he was.

Shanks.

Red hair tousled, cloak fluttering lazily, smile wide and utterly without shame.

You cursed under your breath. “No. No, no, no—”

He jogged down the steps, looking every inch like trouble wrapped in charm. “You came back.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you blurted, flustered. “This was a travel accident!”

“You accidentally climbed onto my ship?” he asked, amused.

You crossed your arms, trying to look unaffected. “Your sword’s been tattling.”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned in. “What’s it been saying?”

You pointed at him accusingly. “That you talked about me.”

He raised a brow. “A lot?”

You fidgeted. “Nonstop.”

He smirked. “Did it also tell you I’ve been practicing my aura since you left?”

“Oh my god—”

“Or that I tried to sketch you from memory and gave up halfway through because the ‘cheekbones were too emotionally complex’?”

You covered your face. “PLEASE.”

The crew exploded into fresh laughter.

“You drew them?” Benn cackled.

“From memory?” Yasopp wheezed.

“I bet it looked like a mango with arms,” Lucky Roux howled.

Shanks grinned, absolutely unfazed. “It was a beautiful mango.”

You looked up at him through your fingers, cheeks glowing. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re back,” he said softly, eyes suddenly warm. “Which makes today a good day.”

That shut you up real quick.

A beat.

Then his sword whispered, conspiratorial: “He also smelled his pillow and said it still smelled like you.”

“OH MY GOD.”

The entire deck erupted.

You turned on your heel, marching toward the edge. “Nope. I’m leaving. Goodbye.”

But Shanks caught your wrist gently before you could bolt.

His grin was cocky.

His eyes were kind.

“I missed you, y’know.”

You swallowed. Hard.

“…Yeah,” you muttered. “I missed you too.”

The crew went “Awwwwww” like a chorus of gremlins.

You turned around and hissed, “Shut up!”

Shanks just laughed, and without letting go of your wrist, gently pulled you back toward him.

“Next time,” he murmured, voice low, “just stay.”

You blinked. “On your ship?”

He leaned in, teasing. “With me.”

Your heart did an Olympic gymnastics routine.

His sword giggled. Giggled.

You covered your face again.

“I hate you,” you muttered into your palms.

He chuckled. “No, you don’t.”

“…Fine. Just a little.”

“Good. I can work with that.”

And when he looped his arm around your shoulders, leading you into the chaos of his laughing crew and smug sword, you let him.

Because deep down… you had missed him.

Even the sword.

Kind of.

Maybe.

Shut up.

You didn’t say a word.

But your smile said enough.

-

Life on the Red Force was… warm.

Loud. Messy. Strangely domestic, like a floating tavern filled with glorified uncles who could burn down a navy base between drinks. The Red-Haired Pirates welcomed you like an old friend—even the swords.

You’d spent the last few days floating between conversations and clangs of steel. Fixing a chipped saber here, oiling a dagger there, dodging sentimental serenades from Shanks’ blade (“you have the softest hands of any gremlin I've ever met,” it whispered once).

They fed you well.

They teased you relentlessly.

And through it all, Shanks was…

Soft.

Not tame. Never tame. But gentle, in the way ocean waves could be. In the way someone very dangerous lets down his guard just long enough to hand you his wine glass without asking.

He didn’t press. Not really.

But you caught the way his eyes lingered when you leaned over a blade, hair tied back, fingers smudged with soot.

You caught the little gifts.

A mango (of course).

A polished whetstone with a golden fleck (“found this on Elbaf—figured it might sing to you”).

A small scrap of folded parchment, left quietly beside your bunk: a sketch. Clearly yours. Awful. Charming.

And yet…

You didn’t belong here.

Not really.

You didn’t fight with them. You didn’t drink like them. You didn’t chase bounties or lay claim to grand schemes.

You weren’t married to a cause.

You were married to swords.

To voices only you could hear. To steel that whispered and cried and made you fix its trauma with fire and patience. Your life didn’t fit into anyone’s crew.

Especially not his.

You felt it in the way you woke up before the others, cleaned your tools, touched each blade like a goodbye.

And so—

You left.

Not without a word.

Not without a goodbye.

Just… gently. At dawn.

A small dinghy borrowed. No ceremony. No fuss. Just a note left on the deck table: Thank you for the stars. I’ll see you in the steel.

And one of his coats.

Because obviously.

You were halfway to the horizon when the bell clanged on the Red Force’s deck behind you.

Footsteps pounded. Shouts echoed.

And then—his voice.

“You absolute thief!” Shanks called from the rail, half-laughing. “Is that my coat?!”

You turned on your little boat, coat three sizes too big, flapping dramatically in the sea breeze like a cape.

You gave him a lazy salute. “I’m emotionally attached now. It’s mine.”

His grin stretched so wide it cracked into something tender. “You’re coming back.”

It wasn’t a question.

You shrugged. “Maybe. If the swords don’t drag me somewhere else first.”

“They better not.”

A beat.

Then his sword whispered—clearly intending for you to hear: “He misses you already.”

Your throat tightened.

You waved again.

Then turned your back to him, sailing into the sea, the wind carrying you forward.

You didn’t look back.

Because if you did…

You might’ve stayed.

And there were still so many blades left to fix.

-

You weren’t expecting company.

The sea had been quiet, the waves steady beneath your little sailboat, Shanks’ oversized coat wrapped around you like a weighted memory. You were headed nowhere in particular—just following the quiet tug of swordsong on the breeze—when another ship approached from the side.

Small. Fast. Flying a flag you recognized immediately.

Whitebeard Pirates.

Your stomach dropped.

You sat up straighter in your boat, every sense on high alert. You’d just come from a Yonko. Did the universe think this was a game?

The ship drifted closer, close enough to see the figures aboard: big, sun-bronzed, half-laughing, half-serious men with coats slung over their shoulders and weapons that hummed in your mind.

The tall one at the front waved. “You the sword whisperer?”

“…Depends who’s asking.”

“We are,” the man said—Thatch, if you remembered your bounty posters right. “Heard you were seen near Island X. We’ve been looking for you.”

You blinked. “You… what?”

“We need your hands,” another man added—curly hair, a big grin, twin swords at his side. “Some of our blades are falling apart. The old man’s especially.”

The pit in your stomach didn’t fade. But curiosity cracked it open.

“…You came all this way for me?”

Thatch grinned. “Every sword we passed told us where to find you.”

You squinted. “They gossiped about me?”

“Loudly.”

Goddammit.

You hesitated. Then sighed, tugged your coat tighter, and stood.

“Fine. Let’s see the damage.”

—

The Moby Dick was massive.

A floating fortress. A ship that shouldn’t sail but did, with sails like wings and a figurehead that loomed like a titan over the sea.

You tried to keep your cool as you stepped aboard, senses bombarded by everything. Dozens of blades humming, chattering, excited to be near you. A few remembered you from somewhere—a tavern, a battlefield, a dream.

But all of that went quiet the second you saw him.

Whitebeard.

He was huge. No—monolithic. A mountain of a man, scars across his chest like they’d tried to fight him and lost. He stood at the helm like a storm waiting to be born, his bisento resting nearby.

Your mouth went dry.

His aura was like gravity.

And then—

You looked at his weapon.

You saw the cracks.

You saw the chips in the edge, the fractures spiderwebbing through the shaft, the ancient steel screaming like it hadn’t been given proper care in decades.

And something inside you snapped.

“Oh my god,” you said, stomping forward without thinking. “What in all the Hells have you been doing to this thing?!”

The entire deck went quiet.

Someone choked.

Someone else dropped a crate.

You barely registered it. You were too busy inspecting the blade like an outraged doctor.

“These aren’t battle scars,” you barked. “This is neglect! This blade is crying! CRYING!”

Whitebeard raised a brow the size of your entire face. “You talk to blades, huh?”

“I scold them when necessary,” you snapped. “But this one’s too tired to argue back. This is practically sword abuse.”

You dropped to your knees beside the weapon, already tugging supplies from your pack. “I need a forge. I need a space. I need—wait, that guy.”

You pointed at Marco, who had been leaning nearby, arms crossed.

“You. Flame boy. Fire me up.”

Marco blinked. “You want me to what?”

“I need phoenix heat. That flame of yours could get the steel soft in seconds. Please.”

He squinted. “I’m not a campfire.”

You locked eyes with him.

Your gaze said: I have worked with blades older than your bones. I have rebuilt swords from ash and spite. I will not hesitate to forge a blade with your pride if you get in my way.

Marco raised his hands. “Alright, alright. Flame on. Damn.”

With a burst of brilliant blue, the forge blazed to life.

You wasted no time—laying the bisento across the supports, inspecting every scar with calloused fingers, whispering soft apologies to the ancient metal as you worked.

The crew watched in stunned silence.

Whitebeard—Yonko, legend, mountain—tilted his head.

“Got a hell of a fire in you, kid.”

You didn’t look up.

You were too busy breathing life back into a blade that had only ever known war.

But under your breath, as the steel began to glow again, you muttered, “Someone’s gotta take care of you stubborn giants.”

And if Whitebeard smiled at that—just a little—

Well.

The steel remembered.

-

The forge crackled.

Marco’s blue flames roared hot and steady, licking around the base of the makeshift anvil like a spirit reborn. You’d stripped off Shanks’ coat and rolled up your sleeves, arms glistening with sweat and soot as you hammered Whitebeard’s bisento back to life.

You were in the zone—mind focused, steel singing in your hands, ancient metal crying out then quieting under your care.

You didn’t hear the footsteps.

Didn’t register the shift in air, the spark of something new joining the forge.

Until someone whistled low from behind you.

“Woah,” came a warm, slightly rough voice. “You must be the sword-whisperer Luffy mentioned.”

You paused, mid-strike.

Turned.

And there he was.

Ace.

Freckles. Fire. That casual, sun-warmed charm that clung to him like heat haze. He had a rolled-up shirt slung over his shoulder, sweat glistening on his chest, and that lopsided grin that said he probably hadn’t intended to look cool but accidentally pulled it off anyway.

“Luffy mentioned me?” you asked, returning to your work.

“Yeah. Said something like, ‘they’re weird but cool, and they yell at swords.’ Sounded about right.”

You snorted. “I prefer the term ‘blacksmith with opinions.’”

Ace stepped in beside you as Marco ducked away with a relieved sigh, muttering something about “finally getting to sit down.”

“Need help with the fire?” Ace offered, snapping his fingers and conjuring a fresh burst of heat that glowed gold-orange instead of Marco’s blue.

You blinked. “That’s… actually perfect.”

“Told ya.” He crouched down near the base of the forge, one hand outstretched, feeding the flames with gentle control. “So. Fixing Pops’ weapon?”

“Mending it,” you corrected. “It’s more than fixing. It’s listening. Healing.”

Ace gave a soft hum. “Didn’t realize blades could carry that kind of pain.”

“They do. All of them. Yours too, probably.”

He glanced at the twin knives at his hip. “They’re not talkative.”

“They’re watching,” you muttered. “They know you’re reckless but kind. The flames make them feel protected.”

Ace chuckled. “That’s weirdly flattering.”

You smiled. “Swords like you.”

“…Most people don’t.”

You didn’t answer that.

The metal sang again. You struck it with a practiced rhythm.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

The sparks danced. The fire glowed. You worked in comfortable silence, Ace beside you, steady and present.

Then, softly, he asked, “You’ve met Teach?”

You didn’t stop hammering. “Yeah. Briefly.”

Ace’s jaw tensed.

You glanced over. “He didn’t know I could hear them. His blades, though… they whispered.”

Ace’s voice was low. “What did they say?”

You paused.

Then shrugged. “They said they’re scared. That he doesn’t listen. That he collects swords like trophies. That they remember who he’s killed.”

Ace’s eyes flickered. “Sounds about right.”

You turned the blade, inspecting the glow of the steel. “Wouldn’t it be crazy,” you said softly, “if someone like him… I don’t know… killed a crewmate before he left?”

Ace didn’t move.

“Wouldn’t it be even crazier,” you continued, your voice distant, measured, “if someone—say, a hotheaded, fire-fisted older brother—went after him anyway? Ignored the warnings? Got caught. Got dragged to Impel Down. Was set to be executed in Marineford.”

You didn’t look at him.

You didn’t have to.

“Wouldn’t it be insane if he died… protecting his little brother?”

The flames didn’t move.

Neither did Ace.

The only sound was the soft hiss of metal cooling.

Then—finally—he exhaled.

Slow. Careful.

“Yeah,” he said.

Just above a whisper.

“…Crazy.”

You nodded once.

Then struck the blade again.

Clang.

Ace didn’t leave.

Didn’t say anything else.

Just kept the fire burning steady beside you—his arm steady, his eyes far away.

And for that moment, nothing else in the world mattered but steel, flame, and the ghosts you didn’t speak aloud.

-

The days aboard the Moby Dick stretched into weeks.

You never meant to stay that long—just patch a few swords, fix a legendary weapon, maybe scream at a cleaver or two and leave—but time had a way of slipping between the cracks when you were around people who fed you, laughed with you, and handed you new blades like gifts wrapped in responsibility.

Somewhere between dodging Thatch’s kitchen knives (“Don’t critique my paring dagger, you demon!”) and dragging Vista into debates about edge geometry, you’d started sailing with them. Helping. Staying.

And Ace?

Ace stayed near.

Not clingy. Not needy. But present.

Sometimes he’d help fuel your forge without being asked.

Sometimes he’d sit beside you during sunrise, shoulders just brushing, saying nothing at all.

He’d joke, smile, eat your last mango without remorse, and keep your tools safe when you fell asleep at your workbench.

And maybe… just maybe… you caught him looking at you a little too long when your hair was tied back and your sleeves were rolled up, soot streaked across your cheek like war paint.

One afternoon, you were sitting cross-legged near the prow, a stack of parchment in your lap and scissors in your hand. Ace strolled over, flopping down beside you, shirt already unbuttoned halfway like it was a lifestyle.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

“Business,” you replied, tongue poking out in concentration. You held up a small slip of white paper, edges curling slightly. “Vivre Card.”

He blinked. “You’re making those?”

You nodded. “Been handing them out. Clients, mostly. Return customers. You’d be amazed how many swords want follow-up checkups.”

He squinted. “So, what—you’re just giving pieces of your soul to everyone you sharpen for?”

You shrugged. “Think of it like… a blacksmith punch card.”

Ace laughed. “So what, ten sword tune-ups and they get a free polish?”

“Exactly.”

“Did you give one to Teach?”

You grimaced. “Absolutely not. I like my soul untainted, thanks.”

Ace snorted, tipping his head back against the wood. “Y’know… Luffy told me you were magnetic.”

You paused, raising a brow. “Did he?”

“He said something like, ‘they just pull people in. You’ll see.’”

You smiled faintly, snipping another slip of parchment. “He’s not wrong.”

“You think that’s your Devil Fruit?”

“No. That’s just my vibe.”

He chuckled. “So now you’re magnetic and people can track you.”

You grinned. “Yeah. I’m basically a portable blacksmith GPS.”

Ace tilted his head, watching you. “You’re really giving people little pieces of yourself, huh?”

You looked at the slips in your hand. Crisp. Glowing faintly with the warmth of your spirit.

“…Yeah. I guess I am.”

Then you smirked. “Which means if I ever die, the sword world is gonna throw a riot.”

Ace whistled. “World’s most wanted funeral.”

You tapped one of the cards to his chest. “You want one?”

He looked at you, eyes flickering. Serious for a moment.

“…Yeah.”

So you slid it into his hand.

And he held it like it meant more than directions.

Because maybe it did.

-

Word always gets out.

Especially when it’s about you.

Somewhere between reforging Whitebeard’s bisento and collecting Vivre Card clients like trading cards, rumors started to ripple across the seas like waves off the Grand Line’s gossip engine.

And those rumors? They had a name now.

The Swordsmith of the Seas. The Blade Whisperer. The Blacksmith Magnet. (One poster called you "Sword Mom"—you tried not to be proud.)

So it was no surprise when the mail started arriving.

A pile of letters began to accumulate on the Moby Dick, handed off by curious seagulls, rogue News Coos, and at least one delivery crab. You opened them slowly, sitting cross-legged on the deck while Ace leaned against a barrel nearby, pretending not to read over your shoulder.

The first was unmistakably from Shanks.

Handwritten. Sloppy. Mango-scented.

“Heard you’re Whitebeard’s favorite now. I’m not jealous, just emotionally inconvenienced. Hope his sword appreciates you properly. Also, my other coat smells like you still. I’m not giving it back.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed it at Ace, who promptly laughed and held it up like evidence. “I knew you took one of his coats.”

“Sentimentally,” you grumbled.

The next was from Usopp. Neatly folded. Full of exclamation points.

“OMG YOU’RE ON THE MOBY DICK?!?! Tell Whitebeard I’m brave and handsome and amazing in battle. If he asks about my bounty, round up a little. Okay, a lot. Also, you’re the coolest. Please don’t forget me when you’re famous.”

You smiled. “I’d never forget Usopp.”

Ace chuckled, reading over your shoulder now. “He wants you to be his PR manager.”

“I already am,” you muttered. “He just doesn’t pay me.”

Then… the last one.

You turned the envelope over.

It was glittery.

Oh no.

You opened it slowly. Warily.

It exploded in a small, nonlethal cloud of confetti and sparkles.

Inside, in the boldest, most self-aggrandizing handwriting you’d ever seen:

YOU. ARE. INVITED. To witness the one and only, the legendary, the devastatingly handsome— BUGGY THE CLOWN!!! Live and loud, baby. Also I heard you’re good with blades. Come fix mine. Maybe make new ones. Bring a forge. Bring your ears. Bring respect. PS: I’m totally a Yonko now. No takebacks.

You stared.

Ace leaned over again. “…Is that real?”

You held it up. “It sparkled. Of course it’s real.”

He blinked. “You’re really going?”

You shrugged, stuffing the letter back into the envelope with a sigh. “Well… yeah. I gave him a Vivre Card once, back when he thought I was a birthday party entertainer. Might as well make good on the branding.”

Ace laughed, then sobered slightly. “You’re always going, huh?”

You looked at him. Softly. “I have to.”

He nodded, smiling just a little. “Then go do your thing, magnetic blade whisperer.”

You stood, stretching your arms, the wind catching your coat as you turned toward the sea.

“Welp,” you said. “Next adventure calls.”

And if Ace watched you for a little longer than usual, firelight dancing in his eyes as you stepped toward the next horizon—well.

You didn’t hear him.

But you felt it.

In every sword that hummed softly as you passed.

And every whisper that followed in your wake.

“There they go again.”

[yumjum414]

Subhadra-harana

The wheels of the chariot hissed over the earth, flinging dust and starlight behind them as they tore through the sleeping countryside. Dwaraka shimmered on the horizon like a dream fading at dawn; golden, distant, and no longer hers. Subhadra did not look back.

They were being chased.

Her hands trembled on the reins, just slightly. Not from weakness, but from the weight of what she was leaving behind: the palace, her brother’s trust, the silence of a role she had outgrown. The dutiful princess who never said no was gone now, her place taken by a girl running toward her own choice, terrified and alive.

Her hair whipped behind her like a banner of black fire, wild and untamed, alive with motion.

They streamed behind her like black silk caught in the wind, gold bangles chiming with every jolt. Her cheeks were flushed from the effort, her tinted lips parted in breathless urgency- but her eyes, gods, her eyes. Beautiful, dark, burning with resolve and something wilder. Something freer than Arjuna had ever known.

He couldn’t look away.

He had thought her beautiful the first time he saw her, standing on temple steps in saffron, sunlight glinting off her earrings, laughing at something Krishna said. But this, this was different.

This was fire.

The fierce set of her jaw. The way she bit the inside of her cheek when the horses bucked. The way her silks clung to her in the rushing wind, golden thread catching the light like flame. She was frightened, but magnificent. Braver than anyone he had ever known.

Because she had come for him.

“Subhadra-” he called over the thunder of hooves.

“Don’t distract me,” she snapped, half-laughing, half-panicked. “Your cousins can shoot a hundred yards away per minute, can’t they? Pray, I don’t crash us instead.”

A glint of silver flared on the ridge - armor, bowstring, pursuit. Without turning, Arjuna reached for an arrow and loosed it in one smooth motion. The shaft struck the rider’s shoulder, knocking him clean from the saddle without drawing blood.

Another scout emerged, and another arrow flew- precise, unhurried, disabling rather than wounding. He did not look back. He didn’t need to.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she said suddenly, voice barely audible. “Dau... he’s always protected me. He thinks this match with Duryodhana is a gift. He doesn’t understand it feels like a cage.”

Arjuna said nothing. His heart was too full; full of her words, her trembling defiance, her hands white-knuckled on the reins, and her gaze locked on the horizon.

“But I want to choose,” she continued, her voice steadier now. “Even if it hurts. Even if I’m scared.”

And then, she smiled- a small, wild, lopsided thing.

“Bhrata Krishna told me that freedom isn’t the same as fearlessness. I think he’s right.”

Arjuna laughed then, soft and helpless, undone. Gods, he was undone by her; by her honesty, her stormlight, the impossible strength in her fragility.

“You terrify me,” he said, almost reverently.

“Good,” she shot back, grin crooked, the corner of her mouth lifting just enough to show the barest flash of teeth. It was almost a gummy smile, unguarded and bright, as if joy had caught her off guard.

“I terrify myself.”

He looked at her then, really looked, and something in him broke wide open.

“No one will blame you for choosing your heart,” he said quietly. “But if they do... I’ll take the blame. I’ll say it was me who begged you to run.”

Her breath caught. “You would?”

He shrugged with that boyish charm she was beginning to recognize as armor. “I’ve always had a knack for trouble. Besides, it’s no hardship- being abducted by a goddess.”

That startled a laugh from her; sharp, sudden, real. And for a moment, she didn’t see Arjuna the warrior or the exile, the legend or the prince. She saw the brahmin who had offered her a mango in the gardens. The one who smiled like he knew sorrow and still chose light.

And now, he looked at her like she was everything.

The wind tugged at her dupatta, greedy and relentless, as though the sky itself wanted to keep a piece of her. But her hands were steady now- her fear still present, but no longer alone. It had found a companion. A joy.

Beside her, Arjuna turned slightly, abandoning even the pretense of watching the road behind. His eyes were on her,  and they were full of awe; something tenderer.

“Should I worry you’re better at this than me?” he said, gesturing to the reins. “Stealing chariots, outrunning armed guards, breaking a dozen royal laws... all while looking like the goddess of dawn?”

She flushed. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“So distractingly poetic in the middle of mortal peril?”

He tilted his head, mock thoughtful. “Only when I’m doomed.”

“Doomed? To what?” she asked, cheeks pink.

He leaned in slightly, voice a hum beneath the wind. “Doomed to you, Priye”

She turned away with a smile she couldn’t hide. “Well, That was shameless.”

“Was it? I was going for tragic hero swept away by overwhelming love. Did it not land?”

“It landed,” she muttered, lips twitching. “Hard.”

He chuckled, low and delighted. “You’ve ruined my judgment, you know. I used to be strategic. Focused. Then you showed up wielding reins like a sword and smiling like rebellion, and now I’m ready to duel Lord Balarama with one hand and write love poems with the other.”

Subhadra laughed, loud and unguarded. “You are the worst fugitive I’ve ever met.”

“But I’m your fugitive, aren’t I?”

She tried to maintain her dignity, and failed. “And if I crash this chariot, charming prince, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

“I’d blame the stars,” Arjuna said lightly. “For making you so lovely, that I forgot my own name.”

Her hands faltered- just slightly- because she wasn’t used to being seen like this. Like she was the only one. Like she was wild and holy and someone’s whole sky at once.

And it was Arjuna,  Arjuna, who looked at her like that.

The same Arjuna who bore god-gifted weapons and too many scars. The one Balarama called reckless, and Krishna called beloved. The one who sat beside her now, watching her like she was the thing he had been searching for across lifetimes.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, flushed.

“Can you blame me?” he whispered. “You stole me.”

“You let me.”

“I would’ve let you steal me a hundred times over,” he said, the playfulness fading to something real. “I would’ve climbed into that chariot myself if it meant waking beside you tomorrow.”

She drew in a breath- startled, shaken.

“I don’t know what tomorrow will look like,” she admitted.

“Neither do I,” he replied. “But I know I want it with you.”

And then- with the world blurring past them, the city vanishing behind, the sky wide with dawn- she reached for his hand.

He took it without hesitation. His grip was warm, calloused, grounding.

“I thought I was brave,” she whispered.

“You are.”

“I thought I was reckless.”

“You definitely are.”

She laughed again, fierce and soft. “But you... Arjuna, you’re everything I didn’t know my heart had been waiting for.”

He leaned in, close enough to taste her breath, to feel the quiver of her exhale. Their foreheads touched; a quiet meeting of storm and stillness, fear and excitement. “Then let’s go,” he said, voice low and sure, “and find a future that frightens us… and choose it anyway.”

And the chariot surged forward, wheels singing over the earth, trailing dust and starlight; two hearts running into the dawn, hand in hand with their courage, and the unknown.

A Strange Charioteer by Giampaolo Tomassetti

[universe-sailing-echoes]

To my beloved Icarias,

(2/2)

-👓

IV. Ever since that day, I visited that mango tree often, hoping to meet him again. And I did. Our idle chatter filled the silence in my life, and lifted my spirit. I loved him so, and thus I swore, “Even after the breath of life leaves us, we will find each other no matter what.”. 

Carved marble columns.

Flickering braziers of undying flame.

A fresh, gentle wind.

Donning a thick woolen cloak.

It’s always the same dream, always this place, always these clothes. 

Then…

“My Lord?”

A voice says, deep and concerned.

He turns around, a certain name on his tongue.

Yet nothing comes out, and his vision fades before he can see the person who had called him.

Ayer cannot remember anything else besides these.

Even so, each day he wakes up with tears staining his cheeks. His heart plagued with that familiar ache. Dreams should not have these effects, at least, not dreams of things he has never experienced before.

He rises, and carries on with his morning routine. 

University thankfully takes his mind off of things, in exchange for giving him stress though. Four projects were due this week, and he took his whole two days of weekends to do them. It pays off, yet he wishes it mattered more. 

It’s dismissal time before Ayer even realizes it. He packs his things and takes the bus to the museum. Considerably more punctual than yesterday.

When he arrives, he sees Mr. Xevias talking with another gentleman. This, a more rugged individual with short cut hair and a scowl. At first, it seems that they’re arguing, but judging by Xevias’ relaxed expression and shoulders, it may just be the other man’s resting face.

“Ayer,” Xev’s eyes meet his.

He feels… goosebumps?

“Yes! Good afternoon, Mr—I mean, Xev,” He makes his way to the two, bowing slightly.

“Hello,” smiled Xevias, then he motions to the man beside him, “This is Nicholas, one of our artists specializing in art restoration. He was in charge of restoring that painting in the west wing.”

“Oh! Hello, Mr. Nicholas, it’s an honor to meet you!” Ayer held out his hand, “I adore how you restored that painting, it feels as if it had been painted just a week ago.”

Nicholas stares at him sharply, before shaking Ayer’s hand, “Xevias here told me you showed an interest in it.”

“I figured that you would find it more useful talking to an expert, unlike myself,” Xevias said.

Ayer’s eyes widened. Xevias talked to the restorer himself, simply because Ayer had asked about the painting? 

“Oh, it might be a bother, Mr. Nicholas, I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I’m not busy today,” was the man’s curt reply.

He looked to Xev, who gazed at him as if to say, Well? Take the opportunity.

“A-alright then!” Ayer straightened. Mr. Xevias took the time out of his day to contact Mr. Nicholas, it would have been a waste if he didn’t take this chance to ask about the painting.

They entered the west wing, where Nicholas chuckled, leaning towards Xevias as they walked, “I thought you disliked the west wing.”

“Who said so?” Xevias replied, raising an eyebrow.

“You, duh.”

“I don’t recall having said such a thing.”

“Pf, well you’re getting old.”

“Pardon me? Who’s getting old?”

“Oh, this painting,” Nicholas said loudly as they stopped in front of the unnamed painting, “Ah, I remember this, it was really faded when we got it.”

Ayer cocked his head, “Where did you recover it from?”

Nicholas frowned, “Where? It was in a private art collection, rotting away in storage.”

“The owner was a man fond of collecting historical art pieces, he wasn’t quite sure what this one was about so he chose to donate it to us instead,” added Xevias.

“Mr. Nicholas, would it be possible that it would have a relation to another artwork?”

The artist made a face, “Er, just call me Nic. And sure, it’s possible.”

“What about the sculpture in the main hall?”

“Hm, by relation, do you mean that the two men in the painting are the same as those sculptured?”

“Aren’t there similarities to it?” Ayer pressed.

“Sure, there are. Physical features such as the hair, and the faces, in a way. The colors are impossible to compare,” Nic shrugged, “But so far, there’s nothing to link these two artworks together.”

“What about who created them?”

“The artist? Well..” Nic glanced to Xevias for a brief moment before clearing his throat.

Xevias stepped forth, “When we dated the artworks, it was revealed that the sculpture was far older than the painting. Hundreds of years older.”

“Ah… There’s… no information, not even literature describing people similar to the men in the painting?” Ayer asked, tone less excited than it had been.

“If there were, it has been long lost to time,” Xevias said solemnly.

“Then, we can never know for sure if the two men are the same?” Ayer frowned, 

Nic shook his head.

Ayer smiled dejectedly, “I see… If only we had some kind of… Rosetta Stone-like information to link the two.”

He faced Nic and Xevias, and bowed slightly, “Thank you for entertaining these thoughts of mine. I thought… I thought it would help me figure something out.”

“May I inquire as to what this ‘something’ is?” Xevias questioned, seemingly genuine.

Ayer chuckled nervously, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just dreams.”

It wouldn’t be too appropriate to divulge personal matters to your senior, right? He has no idea why Xev would take interest. Ah, it’s quite embarrassing.

Yet… he strangely appreciates the concern. 

“Well,” Nic coughed, “seems minor enough.”

“Yes! I should… probably change into my uniform,” Ayer says, squeezing the straps of his backpack.

“Oh, go ahead,” Xevias backed away.

Ayer smiled at Nic, “Thank you so much again!”

Nic blinks at him, “You’re welcome. If you want, you could always research, you know.”

He then rushes to the lockers, slightly disappointed, yet also… excited?

The origins of the art pieces were still unknown, yet it just adds another layer to the intrigue. It’s weird. Why does it feel like… they would somehow help him in deciphering his dreams? It was unlikely, yet their mysterious history…

Is it possible?

Ayer stares at himself in the mirror, and he sees that blond man from the painting. 

Was it arrogant of him to think that they looked similar? 

His dreams. They have to mean something, even as outlandish as it may be. Every night, it plays in his mind, like a broken record. It’s trying to tell him something.

“Ha… Ayer, why do you think of the dumbest things?”

He bonks himself on the head a few times, and sighs.

Time to go to work.

Walking through the museum, he sees that Nicholas and Xevias have gone from the west wing. He looks around for a while, hoping to see some glimpse of them, but he doesn’t.

The rest of his shift was alright, one person had asked him where the washrooms are and he gladly directed them. Other than that, he was free to people-watch. 

He could probably write a paper on his observations here, the phenomenon of people appreciating art, whether or not they understood what it meant. Some turn away faster than others, some avoid looking at a piece altogether. Was there some psychological reasoning for it? The colors or the subjects perhaps? Were they putting on airs, seeing as it was such a formal place?

Ah, so many choices, so little time to do something not school-related. 

When his shift ended, Xevias was still nowhere to be seen. Ayer informed the museum guests of the closing time, and walked around the different wings, west, east and south.

Each time he passed by the center hall, he gazes towards the sculpture. Displayed with spotlights, sitting in the middle of the room. He remembers the conversation with Mr. Nicholas earlier.

Perhaps, if I searched enough, I would finally find an answer. To my dreams. To the recurring two men.

But… what would I find at the end of it?

After making sure everything was still in place, Ayer went to greet the night guards. There were three of them, to cover each wing of the museum.

Ayer stopped by the surveillance room, poking his head in.

"Hello, have you seen Mr. Xevias?" Ayer asked. He usually greeted the night guards… So he would have been here, right?

"Oh! Kid. Yeah, he went over to his office," one of them said, waving his hand.

"Thanks!" 

He made his way to the offices. Ayer didn't know much about museum management, aside from Director Echo and Manager Xevias. But there were apparently a lot of staff behind the scenes.

Finally, he finds the door labeled 'floor manager'. He knocks on it gently.

"Come in." A muffled voice came from within, undoubtedly Xev’s.

Ayer opens the door, met with the strong scent of a cologne. He sees Xevias sitting at a desk.

"Oh, Ayer," Xevias stood up, "Going home?"

"Yes, I checked around the museum already."

A small smile wound up on the manager's face, "I see. Good. I'll be going home as well."

"Ah, early tonight?" Ayer asked, a bit surprised. 

"Mm, since you've already done the rounds," Xevias said, grabbing his bag that was hanging on the coat rack. Then he looks at Ayer, "Mind walking with me?"

"N-not at all!” Ayer stepped back, “I’ll just get my things.”

He rushed to the locker room, heart pounding.

Walking together?? What for? Was he in trouble or something?

Closing his locker with a clang! He shrugs on his backpack and turns to the door. But as he opens it, he nearly hits Xevias in the face, if the other hadn’t stopped it with his hand.

“Oh, sorry—!”

“It’s fine,” Xevias replies softly, “let’s go?”

Ayer gives a bashful smile, “Let’s.”

V. There came a day, that a new, tiny mango sapling began to take root. At this stage, it would take five to eight years for it to bear its own fruit. Nevertheless, it would be well taken care of. After all, trees like these are precious.

“Ah, it’s cold,” Ayer rubbed his hands together, “the snow’s gotten stronger.”

“It’s midwinter,” said Xev, holding out a hand. It seemed as if he wasn’t bothered at all by the cold, despite his breath being visible, “you… take the bus, right?”

Ayer shivers, “I do.”

Xevias then gestured forward, to which Ayer began walking to the bus stop a few ways off. 

They both kept a steady pace, he feels as if Xevias has slowed down for his sake, considering how fast he usually walks inside the museum.

“You have… something,” Xev said quite suddenly, “on the back of your neck.”

“Huh?” Ayer instinctively brought his hand to the back of his neck. He felt nothing, only his bare skin.

“I mean, is that a tattoo? Or?”

Oh, he means my birthmark.

“Ah, it’s not. Don’t worry… I’m not that bold,” Ayer said, “it’s a birthmark. It’s been there ever since.”

Xevias stares as they walk, “Ah, I see… I was just wondering.”

“I’ve had people ask me that too. My teacher even asked my parents to make sure it wasn’t a tattoo,” he lets out a laugh, “it’s gotten me into more trouble than it’s worth.”

“It does seem… unnatural,” said Xevias, “I mean no offense.”

“None taken.” He was right, it was really odd for a birthmark. It was shaped like a triangle, not at all the usual abstract birthmarks others have. Ayer’s gotten into the habit of covering it up with the hood of his jacket.

Ahead, he saw the bus taillights through the snow fall. It was heavier than the weather station predicted it to be. 

Xevias reaches the door first but waits for him. The sight makes him feel… warmer?

Ayer avoids his eyes and hops up onto the bus, taking a seat beside the window in the fourth row. Xevias follows and sits beside him. Then he’s struck with realization.

“Oh! The fare, I forgot—”

“I paid for it,” Xev replied as he looked through his bag.

Ayer stared, “But—”

“It’s just a few dollars, it’s no harm,” reassured Xevias. He pulls out a flip phone from the depths of his bag, opening it with his thumb.

“Is…” Ayer trails off as Xevias looks to him.

“Hmm?”

“Oh, nothing…”

Xev raises an eyebrow, and Ayer looks away, embarrassed. 

“You can tell me.”

Why do I feel compelled to talk??? This guy’s effect is… beyond anything.

Ayer cleared his throat, “You… you have a flip phone.” 

Xev looks at him as if it wasn’t unusual at all. 

“Flip phones… They’re pretty old, right?”

“I suppose you could say that,” Xev blinks, his tone a bit confused, “however, they still get the job done. Phones today are… too much. It’s all these ‘app’ things.” His voice is softer at the end, his expression almost sheepish.

Ayer gazes at him, then laughs.

Despite his intimidating stature and speech, Xev uses… a flip phone. 

And it looks cute..?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh!” Ayer covers his mouth, resisting a giggle at Xev’s bright, wide eyes.

“That’s funny, huh?” Xev says, but he doesn’t sound offended at all. In fact… was that red on his cheeks?

 “I just didn’t expect it from you,” he replied.

Xev gives him an inquisitive look, “Then, what did you expect?”

Ayer pauses, “I guess.. I don’t really know.”

The older man chuckles softly, “I see.”

They lapse into silence. Ayer’s stop is still half an hour away, give or take, so he makes himself comfortable. Sinking into the stiff bus chair with his bag on his lap, he looks out the window. A dark landscape, snowflakes fluttering by, his reflection in the glass.

Suddenly, he sees someone else, and the hairs on the back of his arms raise.

“About earlier.”

Xev’s voice pulls him away from the window.

Ayer turned in his seat, “Earlier?”

“You said something about having dreams,” Xevias elaborated, “pardon my curiosity, but what were they about? You thought that the sculpture and the painting were related to these dreams of yours.”

He pursed his lips, slow to answer, “Ah, it’s just… I dream that I’m in some… temple? I can’t really remember anything except pillars and braziers along the wall. And somebody calls me… ‘My Lord’? Or at least, I think it’s me they’re calling. Yet when I try and turn around… I always wake up.”

Xev’s brows knit together, “That’s certainly a strange dream.”

“Right?” Ayer sighed, “I don’t know… I even enrolled as a Psych student just to figure out what it might mean. But… I don’t think it’s explainable even by science. I think it’s… beyond that.”

“Beyond science?” Xevias repeated, “You mean… myths?”

Ayer scratched the back of his head, “It’s silly, isn’t it? Maybe it’s all just a meaningless, wild-goose chase.”

“I don’t think so.”

“..Huh?”

His eyes meet Xevias’, his expression was serious, “Perhaps, you just haven’t looked in the right places for answers.”

Then he takes out a book from his bag.

Xev hands it to Ayer.

“You’re right. It’s beyond science. But it’s not beyond you.”

Baffled, he takes the book.

The man beside him smiles fondly, “Let’s meet again, when the snow has melted.”

And the next second, Xevias is gone.

“W-wait!” 

Ayer stands up immediately and looks around the bus. Yet all he sees are other passengers, some looking down at their phones and others half-asleep. A few are looking at him as if he’s deranged.

“S-sorry…” he said before sitting back down.

Where in the world did he go? He was just here a moment ago??!

Ayer look under the seats, but only sees gross wads of chewing gum stuck to the undersides. He looks around again, just to make sure Xevias really wasn’t on the bus anymore. 

Was I… hallucinating?

No… the book was still here.

He stares at the book Xevias had left in his hands. Its outside was unassuming, plain worn leather. Engraved in gold lettering in the top-center of it was ‘The History of Mango Trees’.

How was a book on a fruit tree supposed to help him…?

Ayer turns the cover, and finds a dedication handwritten on the first page.

‘To my Beloved Icarias’.

That night, Ayer’s dream was different. He dreamt of viridian leaves, a clouded sky, and cold, familiar hands.

VI. Mango trees can live up to 300 years, and still, they can bear fruit. They can very well outlive humanity, becoming remnants of a bygone time. At least, that tree on the hill would never be lonely even as decades pass.

“You’re ready, right?”

Nic appeared beside him, his arms crossed.

“...I think so,” Xev admits, looking to his old friend, “Do you think I am?”

Nic shrugged, “I think you are. After all, all those years of waiting, you have to be, right?”

Xev remains silent, turning to the view outside. 

Indeed… it has been so long. He remembers when this place was naught but a humble village. Far from the bustling city it is today. So many things have changed, and here Xev was, immovable, timeless. He watched over everyone as his beloved had asked of him. Was it enough? He doesn’t know, but nonetheless, he has done his best.

Am I ready? The question lingers on his mind, What will I say to him? Will he remember?

“Don’t be so negative now,” Nic raised an eyebrow, “I’ve never met a stronger person than you. He’ll be proud.”

Xev laughs, “Since when were you a ray of sunshine, Nic?”

The other scoffs, “Excuse me for trying to cheer you up then.”

He smiles, and walks away. Nic follows wordlessly behind him. They enter the west wing of the museum.

…Am I ready?

Xev stares at the painting before him, of him and Ayer.

Ah, it is beautiful. He is beautiful.

“You really did well restoring this one,” Xev said, his voice barely a whisper. He remembers the time as if it were yesterday.

Beneath the branches of the mango tree, they enjoyed each other’s company. Those days of peace and tranquility that were so few, compared to the years he’s lived, the wars he’s fought over the centuries of human history.

My last war… perhaps, it is finally over. 

“Hmph, I have to give credit where credit is due,” Nic elbowed him, “this is the best painting you’ve done. I’m surprised you’d donate it.”

Xev smiled at him, “...I’ve no need for it when I have the real thing.”

“X-Xev!”

A voice rang out through the museum, the sound of frantic footsteps on marble echoed.

He turns and meets wide, cerulean eyes. Within them lies recognition and familiarity, that look he’s been waiting to see. 

“You… you’re..” Ayer stammers, voice choking, “you’re him, aren’t you?”

He stumbles into the warm light, “You’re Icarias.”

Xevias smiles so wide, he feels as though his face would split. His heart beating faster than it has ever before.

Slowly, he kneels, still gazing at Ayer softly.

I would not dare take my eyes off you again.

 He gently takes the hand of his beloved, and presses it to his lips. 

“I am, my Lord.”

Signed, Ayer

[absolutepokemontrash]

You don't need to write this if you dont want too because it's up to you but this is something wholsome

WHAT IF L!MC M!M & BBY A!MC BECOME BABIES AND THERE EVEONES HAS TO CARE FOR THEM,

I apologize for having such horrible writing and grammer. I never payed attention in school, nor could I afford to pay attention 👉😎👉

Bro I feel you on the not paying attention in school thing. Fear not, dearest asker, ask for demon babies, and since I am a merciful writer, you shall receive.

Oh Shit, Half-Demon Babies are Running Amok Send Diapers and Help-

Mini summary for the casual reader, L!MC is Lucifer’s half demon child who got summoned into the Devildom to be one of the human exchange students, M!MC is Mammon’s half demon kid, and A!MC is Asmo’s. Let’s get to the fic!

Ah, what a relaxing day... Lucifer was sitting back in his desk chair, enjoying a nice glass of Demonus and listening to one of his favourite cursed vinyls. He had done a damn good job on his work earlier and Diavolo had insisted there was no more work to be done and he could have the weekend all to himself.

Of course, his brothers were still a factor that could have ruined his me-time... on any other weekend! Satan had just gotten a new encyclopedia to read, so he wouldn’t be causing any trouble, Beel and Belphie were going to take that Devildom food tour, Mammon and M!MC were planning on spending the entire weekend shopping, Asmo and A!MC were going up to the human world on Saturday and staying until Sunday, and Levi... He got a sudden burst of inspiration for his Animal Crossing Island and most likely wouldn’t be leaving his room for the next month. Lastly, L!MC wouldn’t be causing any problems, his child would probably spend their time with him rambling about musicals or anime they had seen, and Lucifer found their intense interest very adorable.

Ah... peace and quiet...

...

...why did Lucifer hear crying?

There, standing in the entrance hall of the House of Lamentation, was Solomon, holding three screaming babies.

What, and I cannot stress this enough, THE HELL?!

“Ah, Lucifer,” Solomon attempted to wave hello, but needing to continue to bounce one of the babies on his hip kind of hindered the gesture, not that Lucifer wanted a wave at that moment. “I’m sure you have questions.”

After everyone had gathered into the living room, Solomon explained how a spell gone awry had hit L!MC, M!MC, and A!MC with the effect of turning the three into the screaming infants that stood (or... awkwardly sprawled out) in front of them.

On the bright side, the spell only had a timespan of roughly two days, so they wouldn’t be stuck like that forever.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes (save for the babies, who were still either crying or incoherently babbling) as they processed that information. Lucifer, ever the flawless older brother and leader, stood up and clapped his hands together once.

“Alright then, everyone cancel your weekend plans, we need to deal with this.”

Lucifer’s dearest little brothers all whined in protest, Satan in particular. “They’re not our kids, why do Belphie, Beel, Levi, and I need to cancel our plans?!”

“Satan,” Lucifer said sternly. “You don’t remember this, but it took six people to take care of one of you. The kids may only be half demons but there are three of them. We need all hands on deck. Besides, if you all want someone to blame, blame Solomon.”

Everyone turned and levelled their practically murderous glared at the sorcerer, who suddenly pulled baby A!MC into his lap and began to rock them back and forth.

“I have never felt more unsafe.” Solomon laughed nervously. “But you wouldn’t kill me while I’m holding my not-child would you?”

Asmo stomped over and snatched A!MC away from Solomon. “I can’t believe you- ACK! A!MC! Stop drooling!”

A!MC had a long trail of drool coming out of their mouth which caused Asmo to shriek and hold A!MC at arms length away. “Stop that! That’s gross, A!MC, you know better.”

The adorable baby continued to babble and drool.

Mammon picked up M!MC, who almost immediately stopped crying upon seeing Mammon’s watch, they began making grab hands at it. “Ah, ya want the watch?”

M!MC squealed in delight as Mammon dangled the watch above them, Mammon was delighted that his little brat still had their expensive taste, even as a baby. “Hey, look at me! I’m doin’ pretty good! Suck it, Asmo!”

As Asmo and Mammon bickered, Lucifer took the time to look at L!MC, they pulled at Lucifer’s tie and hummed to themselves. They were mind numbingly cute despite the screeching they were doing earlier. The sight tugged at the cold spot where Lucifer’s heart should have been, he had missed this part of his child’s life... maybe just that weekend he’d get a chance to-

“Solomon where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed the shifty bastard trying to make his escape. “You’re staying to help manage this nonsense.”

—————

A!MC may have been an absolute ray of sunshine normally, but as a baby, they definitely lived up to the term demon-spawn.

A!MC would scream, cry and pitch a fit if they didn’t get what they wanted immediately, not that they had any way of articulating what they wanted because they were a god damn baby! Asmo and Solomon were at the point where they were just holding stuff out to A!MC to see if it would make them stop crying.

“Come on butterfly, don’t you like this... antique perfume bottle?” Asmo asked, A!MC took one look at it, then burst into flames and started wailing again. “For the love of my father WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

Now there were two sobbing messes in the room, and one was on fire. Solomon quickly magically took care of A!MC’s little fire problem (the baby was fiiiiiiine, demon babies light themselves on fire all the time!), picked A!MC up, sat down on Asmo’s bed, and snapped his fingers. Tiny balls of light gently floated into the air around the three, Asmo looked up from his pity party upon hearing A!MC stop their crying.

“See, you still like my magic, even as a baby, right A!MC?” Solomon asked, A!MC looked around in silent wonder, trying to reach up and touch the lights.

“Oh Solomon, this almost makes me forgive you for screwing up my weekend plans...” Asmo sighed in relief, he sat next to Solomon and pulled A!MC into his lap. “Not very colourful though, is it? Let me fix that.”

Asmo smiled as his own magic added streaks of colour, it was like their very own private showing of the northern lights. A!MC had on one of those goofy baby smiles that can make even the grumpiest person smile back.

Solomon and Asmo shaped some of the lights into shapes and animals, Asmo let a pink butterfly land on A!MC’s nose, much to their adorable delight.

“And that one’s a bird, and that one’s a giraffe,”

“That’s an alpaca.”

“Sorry, an alpaca with a weirdly long neck, oh! And a sheep!” Asmo looked down at his lap where A!MC sat and tickled their sides. “Everyone likes sheep!”

He then quickly shaped a ball of light into a scorpion and made it scuttle into A!MC’s lap. “But I have to say, scorpions are the best.”

The fifth born sighed in contentment as their sweet little hellspawn continued to watch the magic show. Never in his life did Asmodeus ever think he’d be this happy holding a baby, usually babies were things he thought should be handled with hazmat suits, but not at that moment. His little butterfly truly did have him wrapped around their finger.

“Asmo, hey, Asmo,” Asmo looked over at Solomon, who had a glowing triangle over one of his eyes. “Would you like to join my secret society?”

“Solomon, you are ruining the moment.”

——————

“C’mon kiddo! Eat your damn food!” Mammon once again tried to shove the spoon into his kid’s mouth with the same result as the 50 previous attempts.

“YUCKY!” M!MC shouted and slapped the spoon away.

“Here,” Beel took the spoon from Mammon. “Maybe it’s yucky like they said.”

Beel ate what was on the spoon, then smiled brightly. “You can really taste the mango!”

“See bud..? Beel likes it.” Mammon gestured at Beel, who was eating the entire jar of baby food as Belphie watched in amusement. He was such an asset to the team. “Beel! They need to eat!”

“Fine, let me try.” Belphie grabbed another spoon, and waved it in M!MC’s face. “Here comes the airplane... whoosh... whoosh...”

M!MC didn’t budge, Belphie knitted his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, be that way.”

Levi pushed open the door to the kitchen, and upon seeing the scene before him, immediately turned and tried to leave. “Nope! Food isn’t worth getting spit up all over me-”

Mammon lunged forward, grabbed the back of Levi’s jacket and practically yanked him into the kitchen, he slapped a spoon into his hand and smiled. “C’mon, do a favour for your super great big brother!”

The third born looked at M!MC, who defiantly stared back at him, the baby had the upper hand and the little brat knew it. Babies were so much cuter in anime...

Levi nervously stepped forward and held out the spoon like a weapon. “O-okay M-M-M!MC... you need to eat your food... pls... pls eat.”

M!MC said nothing, they only did what most babies did.

...

They spun their head 90 degrees until the back of their head was all Levi could see.

Everyone in the kitchen stood in complete silence, until Mammon jumped a foot in the air and started screaming bloody murder. “MY BABY!”

He dove forward and scooped M!MC up in his arms, the baby, obviously freaked out by the sudden loud noise, had begun to cry.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Uh... uh...” Mammon looked around frantically. “Hush little baby don’t say a word... papas gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring... and if that diamond ring is brass, butitwon’tbebecauseyouroldmanwouldn’tgetcheatedlikethat-”

M!MC spun their head back to its correct position, but their crying sounds were now several octaves lower... It sounded like if someone put a baby in the Darth Vader mask but without the weird breathing sounds...

Mammon looked to Belphie. “I’m blankin’ on nursery rhymes! Ya hafta know some kid songs!”

Belphie, after being put on the spot, suddenly forgot every single nursery rhyme and lullaby any of his brothers had ever sung to him. Oh! A song popped into his head! He could sing that!

“Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks, when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty one-”

“Not that one!” Mammon squeaked, holding M!MC closer to him. M!MC’s voice had returned to normal, the next problem is that they were only speaking in infernal. “Somethin’ else!”

“There was an old lady who swallowed a fly,” Beel began to sing. “I don’t know why she swallowed that fly... I forgot the rest of the song...”

“Dammit... Leviiiiii!” Mammon wheezed, desperately trying to calm the angrily growling M!MC. “Sing! Sing anything!”

“A-anything?” Only one song came to mind. “Uh um... With the doors of heaven and Hell barred, there is no other but the guard, Master of the Hellish Yard...”

Mammon lit up and nodded like Levi had just offered him a million Grimm. “Aw hell yeah! This song!”

He handed M!MC to Beel and began to dance and sing next to Levi, who had really gotten into the song as well!

“With those sins that you've committed, If you pay you'll be acquitted, and your crimes all permitted,” the two paused for dramatic effect before both belting out the best line in the song.

“ONLY ONES WITH CASH DO WELL, WELL AT LEAST IN HELL!”

As Levi and Mammon continued to sing, M!MC became so entranced by the dance, that they stopped their demonic babbling and just watched the second and third born dance and sing the English cover of an old vocaloid song. Belphie and Beel made brief confused eye contact to make sure the other twin was seeing the same thing.

The duo finished the song and took a bow, Beel lightly tapped M!MC’s chubby baby hands together to make it look like they were clapping. It was enough for Mammon and Levi.

“Thank you, thank you,” Mammon said. “We’ll be here forever, next show ain’t free.”

“We should sing The Tailor on Enbizaka next!”

“Levi! No! That song is like... seven minutes long!”

“Hey, morons,” Belphie stuck his thumb at M!MC. “They still haven’t eaten.”

Mammon’s triumphant expression dropped right to the floor. “Ah fuck...”

——————

“Satan, where’s L!MC-” Lucifer looked up at the ceiling of Satan’s room and his jaw dropped. “WHAT ARE THEY DOING UP THERE?!”

“I can’t get them down!” Satan hissed back.

L!MC. L!MC the BABY. They were on the ceiling. They were sitting upside down on the ceiling like it was an average Friday. Lucifer was too old for this shit...

“L!MC.” Lucifer held out his arms, L!MC squinted at him, that’s when Lucifer remembered L!MC was practically blind without their glasses. “L!MC, it’s your father, come here.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried calling them down like that?!” Satan spat as he quickly ran a hand through his hair.

Lucifer shot a glare at Satan, then Lucifer heard something that nearly made his (lack of) heart stop. Oh no- L!MC was yawning-

L!MC yawned and suddenly detached from the ceiling. Lucifer and Satan both dove forward to catch L!MC, which culminated in one of Satan’s piles of books falling down, but with L!MC safe and sound.

“Damn it.” Satan grumbled as Lucifer shifted to properly hold L!MC. “This is going to take forever to clean...”

“That was clean?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow as L!MC began to fuss slightly.

Satan growled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, it was clean thank you very much. I knew exactly where everything was.”

The cat that unofficially ruled the House of Lamentation pranced into Satan’s room like it didn’t have a care in the world, it began to bat at one of the loose papers that had been scattered around the floor. Detective Toe Beans, you’re an esteemed detective, and technically RAD’s mascot, stop that!

Satan scooped up the cat and began to put the books back in the pile, when Lucifer noticed a familiar, beat-up old book lying near the bottom of the pile.

“Ah, I remember this book,” Lucifer leaned down and picked it up, showing the cover to L!MC, who didn’t seem very interested and continued petting the fur part of Lucifer’s jacket. “It’s good for a bedtime story, right L!MC?”

Lucifer tucked the book under his arm and turned to leave when Satan practically shot upwards. “If you think you can just take that out of my room, you’re completely delusional.”

“Are you seriously going to whine about getting a bedtime story for L!MC?”

“CAT!” L!MC looked over Lucifer’s shoulder and reached for Detective Toe Beans. “CAT!”

“Yes L!MC, cat.” Lucifer whispered to them, then turned back to Satan. “And if I’m remembering correctly, I used to read this to you. Do you really want to deprive poor L!MC of bedtime stories from me?”

“Pff... deprive...” Satan rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’d be saving them. You were the only one who never did any voices for the characters, I was bored to sleep.”

Satan walked forward and swiped the book from Lucifer. “If anyone’s reading L!MC a bedtime story, it should be me. I’m twice the storyteller you’ll ever be.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Ridiculous. We’ll both read L!MC a story and they can tell us who did best when they get back to normal.”

“Fine by me.”

The three (four if you count Bean) were soon seated on the couch in Lucifer’s room. Lucifer took the first story.

Satan listened along and absentmindedly pet Bean, hearing a story he had heard over and over again had managed to bring back memories of a time where he had significantly less control over his wrath. Every night he’d demand a bedtime story or he’d throw a tantrum unlike anything the Devildom had ever seen.

The eldest was always there to swoop in and read Satan a story whenever the little ball of seething rage looked ready to kill the unfortunate brother who told him it was bedtime.

It had gotten to the point that Satan could recite most of the stories in the book completely by heart. He chuckled under his breath as he remembered the time he matter of factly told Lucifer that he’d be reading him the bedtime story that night and proceeded to pretend to read the story of The Hydra and the Pufferfish. He hadn’t actually learned to read, much to Lucifer’s dismay, Satan just memorized what to say and when to turn the pages.

Though, it was apparently impressive enough at the time to warrant a head pat from Lucifer.

The fourth born leaned closer to Lucifer to get a better look at the book’s illustrations. They were always slightly off and strange looking, much like the pictures in the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark book that L!MC had given Satan for his birthday.

Lucifer abruptly stopped reading.

“Why’d you stop?” Satan looked up at Lucifer, then over at L!MC. Aw... Satan didn’t even get a chance to read...

“Our audience has fallen asleep.” Lucifer stifled a yawn and prepared to close the book, Satan quickly shoved his hand on the page to stop him.

“You started reading,” Satan looked away and grumbled. “So at least finish the story...”

Lucifer smirked and opened the book back up. “If you insist, Satan.”

————————

Yayyyyy! Babies! I’m sure the three get back to normal by Monday... hopefully...

Here’s a link to the song Levi and Mammon are singing!

I hope you all enjoyed! As of the time I’m posting this, the next set of Lessons 1-5 Headcanons will be out tomorrow at 8:30 pm EST.

[cyborg-franky]

Commission

Sorry it took a sec but for my beloved @donivanessdoodles

Commissions open

Thatch x OC SFW Word Count: 2,052

There had been a silence he wasn’t used to, his partner was usually around his ankles, hands in his pockets, lack of personal space as Willis worked around him in the kitchen but he’d not heard from his boyfriend in a few hours.

That was never a good sign, not since he got close with some of the younger more boisterous members of the crew. Before he’d joined the Whitebeards pirates he knew Willis didn’t know what pranks were, what playing jokes on one another could feel like.

Thanks to Ace, Haruta, and heaven forbid Marco, the skypian had a taste for mischief and merriment. Thatch sighed and grabbed a washcloth, cleaning off his hands, walking to the door he peered out, the deck seemed devoid of the usual suspects and he hoped and preyed everyone was actually doing their jobs.

He didn’t need to start dinner prep for another few hours, he could afford a casual stroll across the deck, maybe have a smoke, and enjoy the warm sunshine in peace. Thatch stepped out of the kitchen, leaning on the railings and watching the sea, how it glistened in the glimmering rays of sun, hypnotic and beautiful, no wonder the sea was known for bewitching men to their death he mused absently.

Blinking his eyes and focusing on finding his cigarettes and lighter, patting himself down and rolling his eyes, Had he forgotten them in his room? His plans were foiled and his dream of being able to smoke in the pleasant weather was dashed.

Annoyed he’d walked all this way just to discover his items weren’t where he’d expected he thought maybe he’d left them back in the kitchen. As he opened the door and saw Ace, Willis, and Haruta he realized how right he was. The silence was all due to these three being up to no good again.

“Please tell me your planning on surprising me with a meal with all that.” He said with a laugh, watching as Ace clutched eggs to his chest tighter, cracking one and making a fuss when it dribbled down his bare chest.

Haruta let out a laugh when he saw the second division commander make the error. Willis blinked and opened his mouth to say something, he needed to make this look less incriminating. But as he also held eggs in his arms, some fruits that had started to go a little soft he completely abandoned the idea of getting out of trouble.

 There was no way Thatch was going to believe any of them. Willis nudged Ace and poked Haruta, both commanders side-eyed their winged friend curious what he was planning. When he nodded they understood, and oh boy, Thatch understood too but it was too late for the older man to do anything as Ace grabbed an egg, screamed, and launched it across the kitchen.

“This is really unfair you little shits.” He said with a laugh, annoyed but amused in equal measure.

He grabbed a tray and held it up, feeling the eggs from Ace pelt against it with slapping sounds, the eggs oozed down the tray as Ace was handed more. Willis was the ringmaster and he felt alive, he felt so accepted and part of something at this moment.

The times when he was new, where he’d doubted he would ever fit in all flittered away in the wind. He had a crew, a family, a boyfriend who loved him with all his heart even as he threw a mango across the room at him, he had friends and it felt wonderful. 

“Sorry Thatch! If you hadn’t caught us this would have been Marco and Ray instead!” he called, hand already grabbing for another mango, mushy in his hand as he lobbed it through the air.

“Yeah, wrong place wrong time!” Ace called as he launched his own attack, Thatch was convinced the flame user had an endless supply of eggs.

“The second anything gets in my hair I am going to kill you all.” Thatch smirked and started to move, he knew he had something he could retaliate with.

It would just mean more work later, his rational mind was telling him not to fight back, to use his commanders voice and put the youngsters in their place but he couldn’t help but get carried away with them. How happy Willis looked with his friends, the way he smiled, the warmth and joy reached his eyes and he couldn’t take that away.

He would simply make the three of them clean the kitchen up after and it seemed they were at least using things that were losing life and not the best for consumption at this point. Eggs a day from going bad and fruit that he'd needed to throw away after breakfast anyway.

Willis was a terror but he was smart.

He’d never waste good food. Thatch scolded himself as Haruta managed to hit him in the side with an entire hand of mysterious pudding from the night before. He needed to focus, he was going to kick their asses. He looked at the balls of dough he’d prepped and sighed inwardly.

Well, here goes dinner he thought as he grabbed a few and threw them as hard as he could, getting Ace in the left pec and making him whine and act like he’d been shot. Haruta was next, getting one of the dough balls in the face.

Willis knew it was between him and his partner now. He managed to wriggle from the closed-in group of the three, he ran to the other side, his arm full of fruit still as he grinned. Now it was a showdown between Thatch and Willis.

“Give me your best shot, Pumpkin!” Thatch challenged.

“You got it old man..” Willis smirked and grabbed the banana he was holding, threw it like it was a boomerang, hitting Thatch in the shoulder, the skin ripped and fruit smeared across his once pristine chef whites.

This was an all-out battle. Ace and Haruta sat back, cheering for their friend, out of ammo themselves, knowing it was best to let it drop now, let the battle between the lovers be the end of the war.

The dough balls started to run out, Willis could feel his stash was depleting, he wanted this to carry on though, the way his heart hummed in his chest, the laughter that spilled from his lips and Thatch’s how they were having a moment.

It was nice, to feel such warmth and joy.

The back door to the kitchen opened just as Thatch threw a handful, his last, ball of dough as hard as he could. Marco walked in with his eyebrow raised about to open his mouth when something flew through him. The doctor stood there with blue fire over the place the dough had gone through, giving everyone a side-eye.

“I see, this is where everyone got to then yoi.” He said with a chuckle as he looked from Willis and Thatch, both utterly covered in food to where Haruta and Ace were standing.

“I guess we should call it a tie?” Thatch said as he set down the tray, watching as Willis nodded, letting out a sigh.

--

“If you'd have asked me a year ago if my shy boyfriend would be capable of staging a food fight I would have laughed in your face.” Thatch hummed as he took off his uniform, tossing it into a heap on the floor.

“You’ve come a long way Puddin’” he called to Willis as he removed his own clothes, letting them join the pile that was Thatch's.

“I know, I know, every day I feel like I am becoming the person I always wanted to be, and I think it’s because of you.” Willis could feel himself blushing, itching the back of his neck as his wings fluttered giving away his mood.

“Not just me, I just helped I was the oven that made the bread rise is all!” Thatch saw Willis roll his eyes at the bread-related pun.

Thatch turned on the water to the large tub, both needed to clean off, skin and hair covered in eggs, fruit, and other food that had been introduced into the epic war of the kitchen moments ago. He watched the water rise, a fond smile on his face as he thought about the first time he met Willis, thinking back to all those times he was too shy to even get his name out.

Stutters and stumbles, tripping over his words and he was so shy and self-conscious about everything. Thatch had taught him so much. Said man watched as Willis perched on the edge of the tub and watched the rising water, he grabbed a bottle and opened the cap, squeezing in a generous dollop of the bubble bath, watching as the foam started to form and climb the sides.

“I wish I could be more useful still but at least I’m getting there huh?” he said with a sigh, he idly stroked the damaged skin around his ear, a furrowed brow that Thatch wouldn’t allow. He reached across the rub and captured the man's chin between his fingers.

“We all have our handicaps love, don’t swell on yours, your doing your best and to me, your best is perfect.” Thatch stroked his skin gently.

Willis nodded, unable to find the words to return them, feeling complete at the chef’s compliments, feeling the soft touch he just wanted to melt into. Thatch withdrew his hand, this time dunking it into the warm water and swirling it around riling up the bubbles and making the fluff double in size. Once the tub was full enough, the water hot and welcoming Thatch moved, putting one leg in, then another, sitting down and letting out a loud pleased sigh.

“Come on Pumpkin’ waters great.”

Willis waited for Thatch to move his legs, letting him get into the bubbly water between his legs, letting out his own pleased noise as the water started to ease his ache and pains. Thatch grabbed a washcloth and started to run it over his partner's arms, and chest, slowly with a firm touch, cleaning him and removing the caked-on food from his arms and neck.

“You fit in here.” He started as he ran the cloth across his chest.

“Everyone loves you, I love you.” He rested his chin on Willis’s shoulder as he watched the man reach into the water and collect a mountain of bubbles in his cupped hands.

“Do you think?” he asked not looking back, simply blowing the bubbles watching as they glided gracefully in the air, joining those that piled up on the warm water.

“Oh yeah, for sure.” He kissed his neck a few times before he sat back against the edge of the tub.

“Your my angel from above!” he ignored the little playful glare Willis sent him, his wings fluttering at the praise despite the mock annoyed look on his face.

Thatch smiled, the wrinkles by his eyes crinkled in fondness as he grabbed a bottle of shampoo and a wooden jug, filling it up and making him lean back he dampened his partner's hair a few times, making sure the silky strands were soaked, knocking out the food that had gotten stuck there.

“I think it’s the other way around,” Willis mumbled.

“Oh?” Thatch quirked a brow as he emptied shampoo onto his hand, lathering it up before his hands dived into the others hair, fingertips massaging his scalp as he made sure he was cleaning his hair, getting everything out, making sure his partner was feeling doted on.

“Yeah,” Willis mumbled, closing his eyes and focusing on how his fingers felt, rubbing against his scalp.

“Your like my guardian angel Thatch, I don’t think I could ever be this happy if it wasn’t for you..” he sighed as his boyfriend removed his hands, getting the jug once more and rinsing his hair from the cleaning suds of the shampoo.

“Maybe it was fate we both found one another then huh. Darlin’?” Thatch wrapped his arms around him, holding him close to his broad chest and kissing the scar tissue by his ear.

Willis nodded, feeling so loved, welcomed and most of all accepted.

[unikittybigbrightworldau]

OC "Wiki Pages": Butterpearl

----

Nicknames (aka): Butterpearl, Marcie, Ella, My Flame (Spike)

Affiliations: Telegram Kids (formerly), School of Visual Arts of Golden Bay (formerly)

Family: Elena (mother), Pierre (father), Dominic (younger brother), Felicia (younger sister), Julien (youngest brother)

Friends: Cream (best friend), Whip, Spike, Waterlily, Shelltop, Cell, Eliza, Manuel

Romantic Interests: Spike (boyfriend)

Enemies: Needle

Color: Golden yellow, light yellow, butter yellow, tan, black

Special Features: Yellow spots, glasses, hair clip from her mother, pearly necklace

Character Influences: Ariel (The Little Mermaid), Puss (Puss in Boots: The Last Wish)

Likes: Film, jewelry, exploring, dancing, the color gold, collecting objects from the surface, documentaries, shiny things

Dislikes: Bee stings, wasp stings, bug bites, seeing disturbing things, having to eat vegetables

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Birthday: March 23

Quote: “Smile!”

----

Debut: TBA

Headcanon Voice: Ashleigh Ball

----

Marcella Gilden, who is often nicknamed Butterpearl, is one of the supporting characters of Unikitty!: Big Bright World. She is an explorer and filmmaker who lives in the Castle of Marevi. Her voice is raspy and sounds similar to Ashleigh Ball’s normal voice.

----

Physical Appearance: Marcella has golden yellow skin and tan eyes with squared glasses over them. Her hair is short and black with yellow tips and spots. On one side, there is a pale yellow flower-like clip with pearly jewels that are the color of melted butter. She wears a necklace with pearls the same color as this, and her body is black with yellow spots. The fin at the end of her tail is a deep gold color. In her land form, she wears her clip and necklace along with a long-sleeved black dress with the same yellow spots.

Personality: Marcella has a can-do attitude and a confident, intuitive and smart mindset. She's very passionate and emotional. She’s also the most daring of the group, wanting to toss the dice and take chances. She loves creating and editing videos and exploring new places; she documents her findings through film with a handheld video camera. She hopes to direct her own movies someday. She is a kind and loyal friend and lover who supports her loved ones through any situation. Being fearless and determined, she’s the kind of person who would be willing to go out with a bang.

She loves creating and editing videos and exploring new places; she documents her findings through film with a handheld video camera. She likes to show her recorded adventures to her friends. She collects treasures she finds around Marevi and up on the surface. 

Marcella loves discovering new things, but she can venture too far, which can lead to her getting in trouble. She is somewhat reckless about her own needs since she considers the needs of others more often. She's the one in the group that heads up to the surface the most, and she can forget to stay hydrated when she's up there. She struggles with being patient, too, since she wants to get her daily tasks done as fast as possible so she can go have fun afterwards. 

----

Trivia

When she’s on land, Marcella sometimes forgets to stay hydrated. 

Butterpearl’s species of fish is fictitious.

Coincidentally, she looks similar to the gold nugget pleco, an armored catfish that lives in the Amazon river system.

Her treasure collection consists of jewels, coins, and items she found lying around on the beach that she’s holding on to for the time being.

She actually has a missing paperclip of Richard’s. 

Her curiosity, spirit and courage is inspired by Ariel from The Little Mermaid. 

Swanna and Butterpearl are similar because they both like to explore. However, they do it differently.  

Butterpearl first met Cream when he was a kid.  

She first met Waterlily and Shelltop when her mother started designing jewelry for the king and queen. She met Spike later on.

Her favorite drink is mango juice. 

Her birthday is 5 days before Pepper’s and Jezabat’s. 

Her surname is based on the word gilded, which means that something is covered in or tinted with gold.

Marcella is 22 years old. 

She and Spike have been dating for roughly 2 years. 

Like Pepper, some versions of Big Bright World in other languages don’t use Butterpearl’s nickname.

In the Greek version, Marcella's nickname isn't used while Jessica's is.

The reason she nicknames herself the way she does is because she’s always thought that her spots look like little buttery pearls. According to her, the butter part might come from how much she loves her parents’ cooking. 

Her hair clip and necklace were designed by her mother, Elena, who designed jewelry for each of her children.

----

In Other Languages

Arabic: مارسيلا / "Marsila" (Marcela)

Spanish: Marcela 

German: Butterperle

Swedish: Butterpearl

Italian: Marcella

Swahili: Marcella 

Portuguese: Marcela

Korean: 버터펄은 / "Butterpuleun"

Japanese: バターパール / "Bataparu"

Chinese: 金色珍珠 / "Jīnsè Zhēnzhū" (Gold Pearl)

Polish: Złota Perła

Greek: Μαρτσέλα / “Martséla” 

French: Butterpearl

Russian: Марселла / "Marcella"

Hindi: मक्खन मोती / "Makkhan Moti" (Butter Beads)

Thai: ไข่มุกเนย / "Kimuknay" (Butter Pearls)

Turkish: Altın İnci

[starlightartemis]

37th Battalion (The Lucky Batch☘️)

A little bit about the 37's Jedi meeting her padawan for the first time. This is some rare Serious Kenhla content, she's usually chaotic unless it's about the Jedi council.

Hopeless cases

She was walking down the Temple's halls and her usual reckless smile had been tucked away, replaced by tight lips and troubled eyes.

Kenhla knew why she's been called here, and her fists tightened at the unspoken words bouncing in her head ever since she'd gotten the message.

Reject. Failure. Hopeless.

She knew she was not the best knight. Far from it, she was sure that although she will be remembered in the archives, part of the council would be glad that a wild card like her could be shuffled away, let it be by her own means or by some other forsaken force.

She wondered if they were finally asking her to quit, because she knew they had quitted on her a long time ago.

The togruta took another turn sharply, hand fluttering over the clover stickers in her chestplate, the constellation one near her collarbone as she tried to push down her suspicions. There were many reasons they would call her back to the temple, but this time there were no mentions of chaperoning younglings to Ilum, or giving some lightsaber lessons to the recent initiates.

No, this time the Council was calling her about something else, and there was a bitter sensation at the back of her throat as she stood outside their door. Her hands patted a nonsensical rhythm over the hilt of her lightsabers, trying to release part of the tension etched in her body, and with a deep breath, she walked in—

She saw her, and it was like a bucket of cold water that had been looming over her head had just been dumped all over her.

The girl was young, short enough that she barely reached the togruta's chest, with short green hair and monolid eyes that shone like star-filled night skies. Kenhla felt a memory scratch the back of her mind, trying to break through: she remembered having that same light in her eyes, the same restrained bounce in her step as she had stood exactly where the youngling was, waiting for the biggest news in her life.

They were assigning her a padawan.

None of the Master's met her gaze; it was as if they could feel the judgement in her eyes, the words piling on the tip of her tongue.

You think she's hopeless, don't you?

She smiled at the girl warmly, a spark in her eyes meeting the youngling's nervous ones. Kenhla listened as she introduced herself, her hands tapping against her thighs as she tried to keep her excitement at bay. Her name was Luna, and it was a word spoken so soft and sweet and full of kindness that the togruta's heart swelled with warmth.

You're giving her to me because you don't know what to do with her, do you?

The girl turned around and Kenhla gently helped her braid a small strand of her hair, weaving some beads in between and a colourful turquoise strap to tie it at the end. Luna's eyes were shining as she touched her padawan braid, and the togruta reflected the joy in her face, a wide grin tugging at her lips as she placed a hand on her shoulder with pride.

You're trying to see if these two misfits can fix each other, aren't you?

Master and Padawan bowed to the council and left the room, the door sliding close behind them as they walked to their quarters. They would stay there for the next day, and then they'd be off to the Outer Rim, the edge of the galaxy, the middle of a war.

Kenhla's stubborn resolve raised up, stronger than ever, defiance burning brighter than flames in her chest. She saw her padawan's happy smile, the excitement in her star-filled eyes, as if she couldn't believe she had gotten a teacher.

As if she'd uncounciously been told she'd never make it.

And at the thought, the togruta swore to the world, to the galaxy, to the Force itself: she was going to guide and protect this kid, and prove to everyone who had doubted the youngling now under her care that she was meant to be the best Knight the universe had ever seen.

She promised.

Tag list: @lavenderstaars @lynnpaper @letsunity @radbatch @oo-hazel-oo @maygaladon @catboy-tech @lusiawonder @foxlock @cosmicghostie @mango-peachjuice

[wreckofawriter]

Strawberries

Restaurant AU!

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Lewd language, swearing, a small mention of sexual harassment. tooth-rotting fluff.

Summary: You hate being a waitress for rich assholes, but maybe the new line cook will make it a little better

A/n: this is for week three of my Cliche Month. Sorry for being inactive. I suck at time management and have no motivation.

    You never aspired to be a waitress. You didn’t sit down in primary school on a ridiculously colorful rug and tell your underpaid depressed teacher that you wanted to wait on prestigious assholes and rich men who thought a 20 dollar tip bought them an ass grab. You never wanted to wait on entitled white women and spoiled brats. But shit happens.

   

“Yes ma’am I understand but that was last week’s special, we don’t serve it anymore.”

    The woman rolled her eyes, “I don’t think you do understand. I said I want the sea bass, just have them make the sea bass.”

    You bit back cusses, “I am very sorry ma’am but we don’t have the ingredients in the kitchen to make a sea bass. I can recommend our halibut it’s severed with a delicious mango chutney and-”

    “Shut up about the mango crap. She said she wants a seabass, give her a seabass.” The man who sat on the opposite side of the table spoke.

    Your smile almost faltered, “Sir, we don’t have sea bass.” 

    “Then get some.” The man huffed, “There are plenty of stores around.”

    You had already taken the fork beside him and jabbed him in the eye in your mind four times, “I am terribly sorry sir, we cannot do that.”

    The look on his face could only be described as disgust, “I would like to speak to your supervisor.”

    You took in a deep breath, “Sir, he will not say any different.”

    “Now girl.” He snapped, his wife’s smirk making you want to smash her champagne glass over her head.

    “I will be right back.” You forced a smile, notebook flipping shut as you turned, the click of your heels disappearing into the chatter of diners. You almost rubbed your tired eyes only to remember the makeup which coated them and dropped your hands back to your side. You walked towards the pass of the kitchen, the smell of fish and meats becoming stronger as waiters weaved around you. 

    “Denzel.” You called, the man in question turning towards you.

    He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

    “Can you pretend to be my supervisor?” You asked, “Some idiots still want to order the sea bass.” 

    “I’m assuming you told them that was last week's special.” He spoke as you began to lead him back to the couple.

    “Multiple times.” you sighed.

    He nodded smiles finding both of your faces as you stood in front of the table.

    “How can I help you both tonight?” He spoke, his voice dramatically shifting tones. 

    The woman went on to explain your complete incompetence just to hear your friend restate everything you had. She eventually ordered the halibut.

    Denzel left thanking them for their cooperation as you went on to take the man's order and pretending not to hear his wife calling you a bitch as you walked away. 

    You wanted to be a journalist, a warrior of justice. You wanted to expose the one percent, shattering their ivory towers with a mallet of words. 

Instead, you served them halibut and ribeyes with a smile as fake as their trophy wives tits. 

James had fallen in love with many things in his life but cooking had been the most prevalent. Most hobbies were tossed out windows, they became phases, leaving nothing but footprints in his life. But cooking had been different. Since he was five years old and would hop onto a stepping stool to peer into the cast-iron pan his mother would be sauteing in he had been hooked. By age 10 he was making things like meatballs and stroganoff. At fourteen he began to engage in more complicated dishes and by the time he hit culinary school he was easily the best in class. 

Now as he washed his hundredth dish of the night he wondered if all of that love had been for absolutely nothing. When applying for a line cook position at one of the most prestigious restaurants in London he definitely didn’t expect to be stuck as a dishwasher. 

James’ hands felt raw from scrubbing, his apron soaked with warm water and unscented soap. His feet were aching in his shoes, his jealousy for those putting together the night’s last desserts burning hot.

He ignored his anger and pushed on, washing plate after plate just to place them into an industrial-sized dishwasher which was supposed to thoroughly clean the dishes which he already spent hours scrubbing. Dessert plates and wine glasses seemed to replace every dinner plate he had washed, his work seeming endless as his coworkers said goodnight and walked out the back door. 

It took James another hour to finish. He felt like he could pass out on the kitchen floor. His glasses were a greasy steamed mess as he pushed them back up his nose for the nth time that evening. He sighed out in a mix of exhaustion and relief untying his apron and preparing to leave.

“So you’re the newbie?” 

James jumped letting out a small yelp as his heart leapt in his chest. 

You let out a snort hand coming to cover your mouth, a poor attempt of hiding your giggles.

“You scared the shit out of me.” James huffed his glare only holding for a moment as you came into focus. Your hair was up in a reckless bun, your waitress uniform slightly crumpled, heels held in your left hand. Yet your cheeks seemed to be painted, the smirk your visage held tantalizing. 

“I saw.” You snickered padding past him and dropping your shoes onto a counter with a small clink. You headed for the refrigerator, opening it and scorning over its contents. You finally settled on a container of cut strawberries, which were to be used as a garnish the next day, “You won’t tell will you?” You muttered peeling open the top and snatching a fork from the dishwasher.

James nodded, what for he wasn’t quite sure. 

You jumped onto the counter spinning to face him, “Sooo, what’s your name?”

“Uhh, James, James Potter.” He said leaning back onto the sink.

“It’s very nice to meet you, James.” You grinned, “I’m y/n y/l/n.” 

An awkward silence followed as you plopped a berry into your mouth, its flavor bursting as you side-eyed the man. 

“You’re a line cook right?” You asked, legs swinging in front of you. 

James pouted a bit, his cheeks puffing for a brief moment, “Well I’m supposed to be but so far all I’ve done is wash dishes and take out the trash.”

You hummed in understanding, swallowing fruit before speaking again, “They do that to every newbie. They want to make sure you can do the dirty work before they let you burn on the line.”

James started at you, “Really?” 

You shrugged, “That’s how it’s always worked.”

“That’s a relief I thought I was going to be stuck doing this shit.”  James relished in his found happiness feeling a bit more energized, “Hey what are you doing back here anyway, didn’t most of the waitresses leave like an hour ago?” 

“I just had to see if the new cook was as attractive as all the girls said he was.” You grinned.

James felt his cheeks flame, eyes going wide, “Are you serious?” 

“No,” You snickered, “I got hungry and didn’t feel like cooking.”

The heat of his cheeks only worsened, “That’s rude.”

You cooed, “Ooh poor baby I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings, are you going to be okay?” 

“I don’t know.” James huffed, “I don’t think I can take this harassment.” 

The laughter that echoed around him caused a smile to break onto his face. 

You suddenly realized he was as attractive as the other waitresses were saying. Even if his hair was a mess and his glasses were smudged. 

You hadn’t been lying. By his third week, James was helping with both garnish and desserts. His thirst for cooking finally being fulfilled even by the small tasks he had been given. He was still forced to do dishes at the end of service but usually, someone would help him or even trade-off with him so he could take part in prep. 

Most nights when he was left alone in the kitchen you would appear, always claiming to be hungry and that cooking was for “the weak.” so you would raid the fridge instead. You stated many times that veggies and leftover slices of cake were a fine dinner much to James’ distaste. 

“That's it.” The newbie announced, hands in the air in mock surrender as you opened a container of cauliflower. “This has to stop.”

Your heart sped in your chest, was he going to turn you in? 

“You can’t keep eating shit, I’m going to cook something for you.” James huffed, moving you aside and beginning to pull stuff from the refrigerator. 

You lifted your brows, “Are you sure?” 

James nodded, “You need to taste actual food.”

You rolled your eyes, “Couldn’t you get in, like, a lot of trouble.”

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” He smirked pulling out salmon and bok choy. 

“Obviously not.” You huffed taking your usual seat in the counter as James began to work, “What are you making anyway?”

“Asian inspired salmon.” He mumbled, lighting the stove and grabbing a frying pan. 

You sat in comfortable silence, watching as he cut the vegetable in half placing it into a pan and the salmon into another. James’ hands moved quickly, not hesitating with the large knives he handled and weaving through the meal as he grabbed seasonings and sauces.

By the time he was pulling the fish from the heat, the kitchen had filled with the scent of soy sauce and warmth.    

Grabbing a plate James placed on the salmon followed by the bok choy and the lemon sesame sauce. He wiped the rim with a damp rag and presented it before you with enough dramatics to earn a giggle.

“You’re ridiculous.” You spoke through a smile taking the fork from his offering hand and digging in. 

You placed the tender meat into your mouth and was greeted by an explosion of flavors that danced on your tongue like pixie dust. You hummed, a facade of deliberation on your face, “It's overcooked.” You started plainly watching as James’ face dropped. “I’m just kidding it's delicious.” You laughed as James rolled his eyes. 

“You are such a dick,” he mumbled, beginning to clean the slight mess he had made. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. James gave you a strange look, “Get a fork dumbass, you can’t make rich people food like this and then not eat it.” 

The smile that crept onto his face caused wings to erupt in your stomach. 

You had always hated teenagers. They were spoiled and greedy and gross. So when an older woman walked in with four 17-year-old boys you had fled the scene. Unfortunately, the waitress head placed you at the table anyway. The second you reached the table all four adolescence had fallen silent and you were positive it wasn’t them being polite. One of them started at your boobs the entire they ordered and you could feel their eyes on your ass as you walked away. 

You were used to the gross stares, every waitress was. It didn’t matter how expensive the food was there always seemed to be creeps asking for it. What you had not been prepared for was the boy closest to you to reach out and grab you. 

You didn’t hesitate, hand snatching his wrist before he had a chance to fully pull away. The woman the boys were with gasped. You squeezed his arm tight hoping he could feel your nails biting his skin. 

“Touch me again and I will cut your hand off. Am I clear?” You hissed, a whimper left the teen’s mouth and you released him. You placed his plate in front of him with a clatter and didn’t waste time walking away. 

Your anger didn’t diminish the rest of the night and by the time your shift was over you considered going straight home, a shower and an extra hour of sleep would serve you well.

You glanced into the kitchen, there were three chefs left, James stood in front of the sink smiling at nothing as he always seemed to do. A sigh left your lips, who needs sleep anyway?

“I’ll close up.” You called to the head waitress who shot you a skeptical look.

“You used to hate closing.” She mused, “What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

You shrugged, “Nothing in particular.”

She smirked, “So it has absolutely nothing to do with the new dishwasher?”

Pink bloomed on your cheeks, “He’s a line cook and no it doesn’t.”

“Uh-huh, sure it doesn’t.” She mocked, “If you’re gonna fuck just don’t do it in the kitchen.” 

Your face twisted in disgust and you almost dropped the napkins you held, “That is so gross.” 

She laughed, dropping the keys on the bar, “If I find any bodily fluids in my office you’re fired.” 

“You are disgusting.” You hissed, face hot and she only laughed harder.

You finished cleaning off the remainder of the tables, peeking into the kitchen occasionally as the last two cooks left for the night. 

The weight of your exertion hit hard as you entered the kitchen, legs seeming to give out as you bent down to remove your heels. 

James noticed your discomfort and let out a chuckle, “Let me.” 

You stood up a bit too quickly, head spinning for a second as you were lifted onto the counter, James crouching to slip off your shoes. You sighed leaning back onto your palms. 

“Tough day?” he asked, turning back to open the fridge. 

You nodded, “Kids are assholes.” 

James laughed, “And why's that?”

You yawned eyes watering from its force as you answered, “Well one little highschool shit grabbed my ass.”

James froze, he hand hovering midair as he processed what you had just told him, “What?”

“Oh yeah, entitled rich kids always think they can touch whatever they want. It's why I hate serving teenagers.” You complained not noticing the distress you had put James under.

“This happens regularly?” He was appalled.

    “Well not really regularly more like once a month, it’s not always teenagers though,” You explained, “Oo what’s that?” 

    James set the container of chocolate-covered strawberries in front of you. His mouth still agape “Once a month isn’t regular?”

    You huffed, “Can we stop talking about it? It happens to every waitress.”

    “Yeah, sorry,” James mumbled watching as you bit into a strawberry, lipstick smearing.

    “You going to have one of these?” You asked, holding one between your thumb and pointer finger. 

    “Sure.” James went to grab the strawberry only for you to pull it away with a grin.

    “No, no, I get to feed it to you.” Your smile was sweetly arranged. 

    Heat tingled on his neck like tv static, “Don’t be ridiculous y/n.” 

    “Oh come on James, don’t be a pussy.” You taunted waving the fruit in front of him as color painted his cheeks. 

    He glared at you in mock annoyance as his heartbeat began to run, “Fine.”

    You giggled as he took the berry into his mouth, lips barely grazing your fingertips as he pulled away. 

    James had never been more embarrassed in his life, he chewed the sweet fruit refusing to meet your eyes as you continued to laugh.

    “You’re cute ya’ know.” You giggled.

    James scoffed, a mix of bittersweet coming from your words, “Whatever.” He walked away from you hiding his flushed face. 

    You whined, “I’m not joking. You are really cute.”

    “Seriously y/n stop,” James spoke, his voice laced with disappointment and melancholy. 

    You rolled your eyes, “You’re such an idiot James.” 

    He leaned against the refrigerator as you plopped another berry into your mouth. His arms crossed as a pout you had found yourself obsessed with took his lips. 

    “A few girls actually did want your number.” You hummed watching as he seemed to perk up, reminding you of a puppy given a toy. “I was supposed to get it for them, but I didn’t really want to.”

    James scrunched his brows, “Why not?”

    “Cause I wanted your number dumbass.” You scoffed, “I wasn’t about to give it to someone else.” `

    This only confused him more, “Why would you want my number?”

    A groan lifted from your lips, “Your skull is so thick James. I want your number because you’re cute and funny and all that shit.” your voice fell to a mumble and your eyes became glued to your swinging feet.

    “Why didn’t you ask for my number?” James challenged and you felt your already warm face grow hot. 

    “I was nervous.” You muttered bitterly not liking the vulnerable position you had been put into.

    James was suddenly stepping towards you “What was that?” he grinned hand to his ear mockingly.

    “You’re enjoying this too much.” You grumbled, “Look I like you, I think you’re cute and sweet and funny now are you going to continue being a dick or give me a proper response?” 

    James continued to beam, stepping closer to you as you glared up at him with pink cheeks. 

    “Well, you’re really cute too.” James said, “And I think you were being the dick for making me try to impress you for three weeks only to say you liked me the entire time.”

    You were tempted to bury your head in your hands but considering that would mean you breaking his gaze you stopped yourself, “Oh fuck off.” you muttered heart thudding so loud you wondered if James could hear it.

    “Is that really what you want?” He questioned already knowing the answer. He leaned over you cupping your cheek.

    “Just kiss me already asshole.” You murmured.

    James tilted your head up to meet his lips. They were soft and plush, a thousand times better than you imagined them to be nights before. Your thighs parted as his own pressed against the counter between them in desperation to be closer to you. Closed kisses turned to open-mouthed ones, leaving the pleasant taste of strawberries on your tongue. 

Taglist:

@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @obsessedwithrandomthings @coldlilheart

Masterlist

[rosaetae]

stay warm this winter— three

☇ “And do me a favor. Stay warm this winter. xx.”

part one / part two / part three

➣ pairing: reader x hoseok

➣ genre: exes2enemies2lovers!au, angst, CEO!hoseok

➣ word count: 10.9k words

➣ a/n: hello darlings. thank you for reading this three-part series! it means the world to me that a lot of you found this story so invigorating and worth the read. i know you’ve been anticipating this part and i apologize on my end because i really did have trouble trying to complete the end of their chapter. i do hope you enjoy this last bit and i hope you all are doing well during this time. i hope you guys are safe and staying the fuck inside :D 

➣ summary: when a young ceo arrives in the area one winter day, everyone is falling in love with him and his charm. and quite ironically for you, you’ve already fell down that hole before.

Hoseok doesn't know how to tell you.

The night he was formally accepting the position that he has worked so hard for, he loved making eye contact with you during his thank you. The irony of the whole situation in itself was laughable from afar— if one knew that him accepting the position meant leaving and you standing in the crowd all oblivious to the entirety of the acceptance, one would snicker or stifle a laugh at the adoring look that you gave him and the one that he returned. Albeit the irony, Hoseok would rather catch the look of you in a sea of thousands.

Perhaps, it is his fault for letting himself carelessly onto you— but as always, you have this odd energy that always and successfully pulls him towards you no matter what stands in the way, however, he can't make that an excuse for not telling you what he's always known. A sorry excuse that would be.

Though, he will not deny that every time he sees you, words are physically pulled straight from his mouth and there are no thoughts left in his head— hell, when it comes to you, he can't think in a straight line. If his thoughts took a sobriety test, it is no doubt that he would not pass it, as the very sole thought of your name or the image of your face has him drunk, intoxicated, higher than under influence in the world. A burning star, a reckless wildfire, he has a flaming urge to hold you— to let the pads of his thumb caress your cheek, to feel your chest rise and fall against his, and to never let go of you. His star. His wildfire.

He, admittedly, knew that there was no absolute way for him to tell you without breaking your heart.

Scratch that.

He knew that there no absolute way for him to tell you without breaking his heart.

He knows this.

He knows that each second that he puts it off to the side, the longer he would lose you forever. A bottle in the ocean, unsure of where it goes. He knows that there truly is no easy way to tell you. Words aren't as easy to come by when it comes to you— you aren't the press waiting for one wrong thing to say or an ambassador waiting to be impressed. No, no, no, you are someone who deserves heart-engraved words. He knows that you don't make it easy either. From the way your eyes light up when you see him or the way you smile— and god, was it hard to see that smile again, especially the smile that was honourably earned by him. The rarity of the curls of your lips and the ivory pearls strung beneath your nose that make an appearance due to him is a privilege, one that he is greatly proud to announce.

Hoseok knows this, but he, being completely blindsided (because who could think properly when it comes to you), chooses not to.

And here you are— you don't know how to bring it up.

Having told the rather big news that only seemed so big to you (and only you), you knew that if you brought it up, you risk losing him again.

Simple as that.

It is an inevitable— one that circles your mind more than you realize, but it can never be brought up when your eyes meet his or his presence lingers in the same room; he, in more ways than one, makes you crazy.

Hoseok always made you crazy— the biggest tease you've ever met and the biggest sweetheart you managed to fall in love with... and to leave.

Maybe that is why you refuse to bring it up or to even mention it. He doesn't know that you know, but he sure as hell knew he was going to leave in the first place. Even this, you are so frightened of losing him again. To have to deal with saying goodbye and not knowing when to see him again— all over again—, you will not be able to bare it. At least, not when you were ready this time.

You will admit, before you were told about him moving back to Brandmont, your hopeless romantic side got the best of you and thought that maybe this was the time you both were meant to be. Maybe because he finally knew why you left in the first place, or that you were emotionally and financially stable, or that you were letting yourself fall in love with him all over again.

And that's why it is so hard to bring it up.

If you do, you are bound to lose him again. Gripping onto sand, letting the bits slip and slip and slip from your hands. 

You are bound to let your heart break once again.

Every Wednesday and Friday, you look forward to your lunch break. Before, it's never been a big deal, but once the hand hits 1:00 PM, your heart jumps, and you're immediately taking your keys to drive to the place you previously called to pick up the food you called in for.

The best part— Allen seems more peachy each day you show up and force him to chug down a new drink you get for him.

"Allen! This one's a peach mango smoothie."

"I hope you like green tea lattes because apparently this one is the best in town."

"I know, Allen, I'm amazing. I got you a power smoothie and you don't even have to thank me."

Maybe you tease him a lot, but it's what proves to you that he is capable of holding some sort of personality in the workplace. Besides, it's not like he can say no to a free drink.

In the past, when you would visit, the sole thought of Hoseok moving to Brandmont flies over your head each time you take a step into his office with his lunch. It's as if seeing his grin when he notices it's you who enters his office washes away all of the worries that has you worked up.

It's different than how he, before, wouldn't even dare spare a glance at you. As if you were something so vile that is worth saving his eyesight for. The first time you saw him again, you almost couldn't breathe or even register in that moment that it was him right in front of you. Hell, when you stepped forward he retracted so fast, it was as if you spit hellfire in his face.

And now, you see him with each living minute you can and when you do, he doesn't sneer away or avoid eye contact. He'd raise his eyes stiffly, and when his eyes focus on yours and comprehend that it's you in living form standing in front of him, you would notice that his shoulders immediately relax, and occasionally, a smile would grow on his face.

One day, Hoseok was in a middle of a meeting and instead of waiting in his office for him to come in, you sit in front of Allen's desk, a smile on your face as you place his random concoction in front of him. You got him another green tea latte, iced, because it was surprisingly warm that day.

"Are you here to bother me?" Allen presses, his eyes not tearing away from his computer as you shrug, sipping at your own coffee you had the luxury to buy yourself.

"As always," you quirk, throwing a wink at him as he lets out a dreadful sigh that leads to release a tiny laugh, amused by how annoyed he is with you. "You love it when I talk to you, admit it. I'm your only friend in this building."

He lets out a slight offended gasp. "I have other friends, too."

"Your computer doesn't count."

There, he lets out a chuckle, shaking his head before he gives you a look. "Don't you have a lap to sit on?"

And with that, you're laughing, gaping at how bluntly he let that roll of his tongue, and it seems that your laugh triggered him to laugh, and now you two were bathing in fits of loud chuckles that echoed in the room and probably annoyed other employees.

"Allen."

The respectable noise of what is Jung Hoseok's voice rang true enough to stop the laughter that elicited from you and Allen's throat. The way the silence preceded was different amongst you both, in which Allen immediately shut his mouth whereas you still had an amused grin on your face as your chuckles simply fades out into a decrescendo. You turn your head to face him, watching at his hard features flickers from you and Allen. When you glance at Allen, his head is dropped to his keyboard, making you roll your eyes at Hoseok.

"In my office, ___," he speaks as if a father scolding his child. You roll your eyes at the gravity of his command.

You grab the food that you set on the chair next to you and the cupholder, you leaning in quietly to Allen. "I got this."

He doesn't say a word as you trail behind Hoseok, him opening his door, and leaving his hand flat on it for you to enter. Your arm brushes his torso, but you ignore such contact.

If there was anything you can do, it was not to shine a fearful eye towards Hoseok, even when he is the most intimidating person in the room.

Once the door closes and you've set his lunch on his desk, you turn around to face him, raising an eyebrow. It was as if once the door closed, his previous demeanor completely disappeared because now there's a small smile on his face, completely distinct from his hard gaze towards you and Allen.

"Really?"

He mindlessly approaches his lunch, taking it out of the bag along with the forks and napkins.

"Hoseok," you begin, crossing your arms sternly at him. Never mind his statement, you were more concerned about your new-becoming friend that just so happens to tremble under this man's gaze.

"Hm?"

You scoff, narrowing your eyes at how different he easily can be. "Hoseok, you've got to stop treating Allen like that."

"What do you mean?" To that, you roll your eyes.

"The boy can't even rack up the nerve to look you in the eye," you tell him as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. "He cares about his job— do I have tell you again?"

"___," he stops, placing the plastic fork on top of the take-out box. "There's a way things work under this building, and Allen is my—"

"He's your personal assistant," you finish, dragging out the last part as if he was your own mother lecturing you. "I'm not saying be besties and drink beers with the guy, I'm telling you to stop treating him like you're about to fire him and ruin him for life. It's like he can't even enjoy one little moment such as having small talk with me or even drink a smoothie that I bought for him."

Then you pause. A dramatic one that catches his attention, causing him to look up, an eyebrow arched.

"You're jealous," you conclude.

The sheer incredulousness forming on his face in reaction to your wild accusation allows him open his mouth and close it immediately after, struck with complete awe at your insane conclusion. However, you don't let his words come out of his mouth as you open yours.

"Nuh-uh, you don't get to give me a reason because whatever excuse that comes out of your mouth doesn't matter since you're treating your one and only loyal personal assistant like complete shit." Shaking your head hastily, you wave a hand, dismissing Hoseok's next words. "You know, you're lucky you have a personal assistant. If I had one, I wouldn't be taking advantage of them and then kick em' to the curb."

"___, why would I be jealous?"

"Maybe because I actually like talking to him more than you?" You threw that in there to purposely tease him, amusement purely being evident in your tone, but by the way his face hardened and his eyebrow was raised, the road didn't exactly go both ways. "I was kidding—"

"I have a reputation to uphold, and I won't let that slip just for anyone," he interrupts, causing you to pinch your lips back into your mouth. You wanted to reply with: "You did for me", but decided against it as he continues to speak. "Besides, I have you way head over heels for me to even think that's a possible reason."

Hearing his former, you blantently blink at his words, shaking your head slightly. "Woah there, big guy." You scoff lightly at his cocky remark and the expanse of how big his ego was growing right before your eyes. "What was that? You become "boss man" for nearly a week and now you're thinking you got the biggest dick in the room?"

He lowly laughs, standing up and circling around his desk to lean against it, shoving his hands into his pockets. "More like I've noticed you warming up to me. I know you don't drop off lunch for just anyone."

Hoseok's words confuse you, but all you could do was respond with a defensive riposte. "That doesn't mean—"

"Keep denying it all you want," he cuts you off, knowing that he caught you sheepishly flustered. The words are trapped in your throat before he looks at you with a smile. "But know that the feeling is just as mutual."

You stare in silence. "What?"

"It takes two to tango," he smirks. "May I remind you that I don't make dinner for just anyone, ___."

His statement makes your heart skip a beat. You weren't sure if it was because he found out that you barely make yourself dinner the night he found out everything, but he did make an effort to show up at your doorstep after your shift at times with a bag full of groceries.

The first night he showed up after that night, you had just gotten out of the shower when he rang the doorbell. At first, to have him see you in your pajamas and wet hair, you were confused about his whereabouts being anywhere near you after your shift right before he asked to make you dinner. The question was straightforward, but it did take you aback before you ultimately agreed.

He made snarky comments about your pajamas while you watched him cook in the kitchen, offering him a variety of drinks as you felt bad that you had nothing to really serve him as a decent person who has a guest in their house, but he didn't really seem to care as he settled for water and focused on making curry that night.

From then on, it wasn't the last time you'd find him at your front step after you showered.

"So what I'm hearing is," you begin, walking towards him to forwardly taunt him. "You're crazy for me, Jung Hoseok."

You walk close enough to place your hands on his shoulders, an action that causes him to raise his eyebrows at your sudden movement, but it also had him automatically planting his hands to your hips.

There's an attraction between you two that even he can feel. It could be that your thoughts remained of him, filling your mind of that moment when he planted his lips on yours right in front of your mother and of course, you'd be lying if you said that you didn't want that moment to happen again.

"Hm, but not as crazy as you are for me," he lowly muses, purposely bringing you closer with a simple pull of your hips.

"Want to bet that?"

"Surely, you'll lose," he says, a smirk pulling on his face. You shoot him a look, challenging him before you're noticing that the space between you two had gotten extremely small.

Time is slower in your head, more anticipation than when he last caught you by utter surprise and kissed you right on the spot (in front of your mother). But this time— this moment— was achingly painful as you hoped silently he would pull back, but rather be the one to—

Your body acts to its own accord, bringing your lips onto his with. It was more gentle, something that was distinct from the way he smashed his lips onto yours, but you also don't miss the way he sighs into it, as if he had been widely anticipating it as you are, admittedly, enjoying the moment just as much.

Unsure why, but that kiss brought more nostalgia than when he very first placed his lips on yours. It reminds you of the very beginning when he kissed you when dropping you off home. That one was soft and tender— innocent. It wasn't like this where each second and each movement got more intense as if you both received rain after a drought.

Deciding to dwell in deeper, you trail your kisses from his lips to his jaw to his neck, lips pressing gently onto his skin, one that makes him release a slight groan from his mouth, causing you to smirk. You tease him a bit more, bringing yourself closer to his body while he allows you, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist.

And just before anything gets too out of hand, you pull away, a satisfied smirk pulling at your lips as you look at your artwork before you.

He looks bewildered, eyes slightly in a daze, but more worried if he did something wrong. His lips were plump and pouted from the absence of you. However, seeing your smug look as you bite down at your lip amusedly, he narrows his eyes.

"I have to get back to work," you mutter quietly, before he pulls you in again, discarding your priority. However, teasing him further, you pull back, placing your palm against his chest as a smile stretches on your face. "Your food is going to get cold."

To that, he rolls his eyes. "Tease."

"Mhm," you smirk before you feel his hands let go your body, already missing his hands on you as you took a step back, patting his chest. "Still want to bet that I'm crazy for you, Hoseok?"

He scoffs half-heartedly. "I'll give you this round."

You smile in return before you grab your bag that you placed on one of his chair before leaning in to sneak a swift peck on his cheek. His smirk enlarges a bit as you head towards his door.

Throwing a glance at him over your shoulder as you turn the knob, you notice that he's watching you with a look that nearly looks content.

"Be nice to Allen!" You call out before completely disappearing out of his office.

Yana, being the ever so concerned, makes a sudden appearance in your office right as you were getting ready to leave that night.

Her presence makes you jump, you quickly chuckling sheepishly at the realization that it was your friend. Your hand immediately slapped over your heart, you shaking your head hastily to calm yourself down while she comfortably smiles at you.

"Hi," you breathe out, regaining your steady breathing. "I was just about ready to go home. What's up?"

"Nothing much," she answers, closing the door behind her. "Just, uhm... I heard from a certain birdie that Hoseok is leaving."

Yana's attentive eyes probably doesn't miss the way you pause for a mere moment. She's usually a hawk to body language, but you try to cover it up by continuing to shove your laptop into your bag. "Did you?"

"Yes," she nods slowly. There's also a pause in between that and her next sentence, careful with her next words as if she were treading through dangerous waters. "Three weeks to be exact."

"Hm," was all you manage to say.

She probably notices how you're avoiding eye contact, and it doesn’t take her long to connect two and two together. "You know, don't you?"

Refusing to say a word towards her presumption, you grab the handles of your bag, avoiding her eyes that she wanted you to look at. "___."

"What?" You may have came off a bit more aggravated than you let yourself out to be, but you sincerely did not want to talk about it with anyone, including Yana.

"Have you guys talked about it?"

You blink at her blankly. Your blank stare causes her to make a face, pressing you to continue. "___—"

"No," you snap. "We haven't talked about it— he doesn't know that I know."

"And why not?"

"I don't know."

"Well, why haven't you addressed it?"

"I don't know!" You exasperate, setting your bag down. "I don't know why he hasn't said anything and I don't know why I haven't said anything either, but I do know that I don't want to talk about it, but I have to— we have to, I know— but I can't, okay? I can't bring myself to bare that conversation again—"

"___."

"I just got him back, Yana," you breathe out. Legs were so numb, you were so close to collapsing on the floor. "For a split second, I just want it to be fine. Where I can actually figure out where Hoseok and I are going, but it just sucks, because when things are going fine, the world just turns its back and now I am stuck in this... limbo again."

She stares at you, probably confused to see this foreign person that stands in front of her. It is true that you were never like this with just anyone in your life and you sure as hell didn't think you would be, but this wasn't just anyone.

"You are so in love, you moron. Nadine is going to freak," she tries to lighten up the mood, pointing out something that is nostalgic but nearly unfamiliar as it processes in your mind. To her joke, you let out a light-hearted, yet defeated scoff, shaking your head.

"If I bring it up, Yana... I already know where it's going to end."

She lets out a sigh. "Even then, you have to talk to him sooner or later."

"If I do, I'll lose him again."

"You don't know that. It will kill you more inside knowing that you're just waiting for a goodbye. If you talk to him soon, it doesn't have to be that way."

"It will be that way."

Yana inhales sharply before smiling up at you. "Tristian and I had conflicts back in our earlier years, mainly because of our careers. We weren't always together." She dismissed the look you shot at her, you completely unaware to such story. "Wrong timing does exist in this forsaken world, but if the love is there, if it's strong enough, you two will cross paths again."

Her last part lingers in the air for you. Adamancy is what's keeping it from letting it rest easy on your chest even when your mind is fighting to accept it. The logical part of you is yelling and begging to accept that you and Hoseok aren't meant to be, but the irrational part of you is louder. It's telling you that maybe Hoseok will change his mind and stay, or maybe that you could move to Brandmont with him— but these possibilities absurd and reckless.

The internal battle drains your through process, causing you to let out another sigh, one that you felt like you held in for awhile.

"Why is it that when we're so close, absolutely nothing goes right?"

Yana watches you, empathetically, knowing that the one thing going good for you was turning upside down. "It's never easy trying to be with someone you love."

And as much as you hate it, she's right: it never is.

Beau has recently been baffled by your presence the minute you step into the café, and that's due to the fact that you never really give a forewarning.

The times you would show up with your mother, it was always early in the morning where the sun just barely peeked from the ocean and Beau would have your mother's coffee on the table just where you both would sit, perfectly overlooking the view.

The last time you visited Kona before moving to Trinity, Beau was sad to hear, but like him and his sunshine-like persona, he has always responded with, "Kona will always be here" and bid you the best of luck. Be it in college and in life. Maybe that's why you were so fond with Beau and Kona— they would always be there waiting for you. When you came back from Trinity, of course it was like you to visit it— even with your mother. She didn't recognize the atmosphere, nor the sunrise you've watched plenty of times, nor Beau, but she did like the taste of the coffee she usually orders.

Today, you show up at a decent time in the morning where it was decently busy inside with your mother.

"Well, well. If it isn't two lovely faces." Beau was in the midst of pouring coffee for someone on the bar as he greeted you both. Your mother, having no recollection of this foreign place, stays silent beside you, but smiling for her, you cheerily wave at Beau who politely waves back.

"Do I know him?" She whispers beside you. Her voice is small and curious, as if there's this remnant of her that answers for her 'yes', but it was gone with the wind along with many fragments of her memories.

"Yes," you respond before you carefully lead her to a booth, somewhere more comfortable than a stool at a bar. It may feel different for you, but to her, this is practically her first time.

Beau doesn't need to walk over to your table to grab your orders, but with one simple glance from you, he figures it's the usual, one that begins with the signature coffee that you and your mother both love.

Your mother's fairly quiet, pointing out things aloud such as the interior design of the café or even the smell that bounces off the wall to somehow start or maintain a conversation. And usually, you tune it out, nodding with every observant statement she makes, but this time around was different. You listen intently.

"The lighting is just right for a café."

"That's nice. They have a patio."

"It smells warm."

Beau drops by, setting down the coffee in front of you both gently and flashes you a smile. It's slightly sympathetic, but Beau knows how much you've been through with your mother.

When he leaves, she's quiet, stirring her coffee with the spoon. You watch silently, your eyes following the spoon that clinks onto the brim every now and then.

"Mom, did you ever think that Hoseok and I could've worked if I had just told him?"

She doesn't respond, but she does look up at you. You always hated when she met your eyes because you forget that there's not much life in them— it's devoid of all memories and recognition pertained to you.

She would blink, and you wish that with each blink that a piece of her would come back, but to your misfortune, it never does.

Inhaling, you relax your shoulders. "I'd be a liar if I said I don't always think about it, because I do. I think about how easy it was for me to leave and how easy it was for him to let me— but I needed him to."

Not a call or a text message from him after you had left his apartment— not one single notification. It killed you at how easy it was for him to let you say goodbye and leave his apartment without putting up a fight or not even just one question of why or when.

"And just when I was in a moment of peril and complete doubt, and I've entirely given up hope, he runs after me."

Perhaps it was the worst timing of it all. Sadness took over you in one gulp the minute you entered a new foreign place of what was to be your home for the next few years and it had been a week of adjustment. The bar had saved you from that week of pure misery and it just so happened you took a souvenir home that night.

You remember something was ringing that morning, and it wasn't your hungover consciousness that made you think you were hearing that, but it was real, loud, and piercing through your skull mercilessly. Stumbling over blurry lines that weren't originally there, you manage towards the front door, fingers fumbling with the lock, unsure and completely foreign to the new lock.

Deciding to open it without looking at who it may be was the first rookie mistake, the next was opening it while the only shred of clothing you had was a t-shirt that barely covered your behind, and finally, it was letting your so-called souvenir of the night walk out of the bedroom in plain sight of your guest at the door.

It takes your slow mind awhile to realize that Hoseok, the man you drank to forget about the night prior, is in front of you. You watched, in slow motion, how his eyes turned from hope to betrayal in a speechless movement. His eyes flicker from yours to the man behind you attempting to put on his pants in a hasty fashion. It was that look on his face that—

"— I knew then that I'd lose him. I lost him once, but that moment was just a cherry on top of 'forever'."

You try to make light of your story, of that situation, but it's hard to when it, admittedly, elicits a sharp pain somewhere on your body.

"I was so happy to see him again," you bite your tongue. "He was bitter for awhile, which is— you know— understandable. But you know how there's always that silver lining in dire situations?" You smile, tapping your finger at your mug, thinking about the banana nut muffin. Sweet banana, soft enough to melt in the mouth complemented with chunks of walnuts compiled into one delicacy that was good enough to share. How a simple gesture could mark itself onto your brain.

"We had that."

You roll your lips inwards before inhaling sharply.

"Mom, I don't want to lose him. I've lost so much in my life and for once, he is the one thing I don't want to lose." As she stares into your eyes as if a stranger, you wipe your tears sloppily with the back of your hand, knowing very well that you lost her. "I love him, Mom. I don't think I can ever love anyone else but him because he's all I've ever known— and god, it's like the world is spinning uncontrollably and I can't breathe." You didn't realize that the journey of the bottom of your palms reach up to your glass eyes, your mother catches them halfway through, encasing her warm hand over yours.

"It's okay," she coaxes you, innocent eyes staring right at you. "Breathe."

Most times when you would go to your mother, she always had the right thing to say. It would come off as a litany or even a full-proof speech from the bottom of her endearing heart. But as you look at her concerned, yet confused eyes, her thumb rubbing gently just over your skin, you realized that though it is not a speech or a run-on list, it was all you needed to hear from her right now.

And who were you kidding? Hoseok was the sun and you were the moon, there have been plenty of stories and tales of how the sun and moon can never, ever be together— just as there is no way that you could ever be with him. Not in this realm, at least.

One dreary day when you drop off food once again, your timing wasn't as impeccable as before because Allen needs him for an urgent meeting.

Hoseok flashes an apologetic look at you prior, but you shake your head, silently telling him that it was absolutely not a big deal and you assured him you'd be right there when he gets back as he gets up to walk out of his office. Allen gives Hoseok a knowing nod as he walks past him, but as you watch him leave to the board room where you once barged into during a very important meeting, you notice that Allen doesn't follow or scurry after him.

Instead, he turns to you, meeting your eyes before just striding over towards you. You were in the midst of eating your salad, sheepishly wiping away the dressing on your lip as you offer him a smile. "What's up?"

He, as bland as he can be, doesn't give you an answer, but what concerns you is that he sucks in a sharp breath, as if he was going to say something that would hurt you. Before you repeat your question, he's pulling something out of his back pocket.

There in front of you, he holds out a folded piece of paper. There were indents, as if it were crumpled prior, but seeing how it was chosen to be folded, it increased your curiosity. You look up at Allen, an amused smile on your lips to lighten up the mood. "Is this your way of confessing your undying love to me, Allen?"

Allen rolls his eyes at your way to ruin an ever so serious moment easily, shoving the paper in your face until you took it in your hands. "No. This is from Hoseok."

The first thing that pops into your head is the entire ordeal of him moving to Brandmont.

It makes your face fall, knowing that you don't even need to read the letter to know what it's about. Allen's expression lowers as well, noticing how quick your amused smile had broken so fast when Hoseok's name came out of his mouth.

"I'm sure you know," he begins, your eyes falling down to your lap of where the paper you held hovered over. It really doesn't take a genius to figure out that the piece of letter addresses what has been spinning in your head and keeping you up at night restless. "You always come by and you look like you're thinking of ways to bring it up, but you never do."

Allen presses his lips into a thin line, but your mouth is shut. You didn't think it was obvious to him. You're blinking, unsure of how to respond because in your hand is a letter that addresses everything that has been running endless miles in your mind and in a moment, you're going to read it.

"It's not his first letter. He wrote a bunch, but I don't think he can find a a right way to tell you, but I guess that one was his best bet because I found it in one of his folders and I know that he can't say it. Not to your face, at least. I know I shouldn't be tampering with mail, but it was on his desk and you deserve to have some sort of closure— to talk to him about it."

It takes you a moment, but as you look up to meet his eyes, you smile, thinking about how he didn't have to do this for you, but he did. "Thank you, Allen."

"Anytime," he responds before he takes that moment to leave, leaving you in Hoseok's office with a letter that would address everything in your hand.

___,

This isn't my ideal goodbye to you.

I had it in my head. I planned it in bed and rehearsed every line knowing very well that I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing I have to break your heart the next day.

It'd start off as coming over to your apartment, and you'd be fresh out of the shower because I know you usually like to shower after you get home from work— which you were. I usually would come to make dinner for us, but I hadn't planned to that night. Then you'd smile at me and I'd think about ripping the bandage off just like that at that moment, but I knew your smile would be too much to bare at the moment, because it took awhile to see that smile again.

Then I hit the restart button. You'd get out of the shower and I'll be there to give you a kiss and take a whiff of your shampoo. This time, I planned to make dinner that night— probably one of your favorite dishes. Before cooking, I'd hold you and you'd ask me how was work and then I'd tell you about my day, while I ask about yours— but I knew that hearing your voice would be something I'd miss so much and I wouldn't be able to even ease my way into what I had to tell you.

The point is— there is no good or right way of saying goodbye to you.

And for one, I don't write letters, and I also don't send long text messages or long voicemails for you to decide whether to delete it or to keep it, so I thought I'd settle for a letter.

I hope you aren't too mad at me for leaving. It's true, I came here for the hotel and only the hotel, until I ran into you. I nearly wanted to toss myself out of that building the minute I saw you in front of me.

Then I noticed you hadn't changed. Not one bit.

You had a smile still of gold, one that could easily steal hearts because I know it stole mine. You are still as stubborn as before, one that speaks her mind and what is right. You drink the same exact coffee and eat the exact same fruit. And out of everything that could have changed, the only thing constant was that you still managed to believe in me.

I think that's why I can't say a proper goodbye. It'd be too hard to be apart from you again. And as much as I want to, I can't stay— not when I have a company that depends on me.

I have loved you since the beginning, and you made me realize that I still love you now.

So I hope that when you read this, you'll understand.

And do me a favor. Stay warm this winter. xx.

Hoseok

The water is gentle. Calm and serene as you let it tickle your limbs, carrying you away further and further without even a single doubt in your senseless mind and if you close your eyes, you'll forget how far away you're being drifted away from shore.

Hoseok is not only the sun that kisses your skin, he is also the water that engulfs you.

This is how easy it was for you to get carried away.

There are red flags and warnings that were given on a platter to you, right under your puny nose, yet you still dared to swim. It's ignorance dressed in bliss, and unknowingly enough, you are reaching the deep end— going deeper and deeper without a single thought because you've swam enough times to know how it feels when the water embraces you that you subconsciously tell yourself that this time is no different.

First, the water is gentle, as you know it to be. It's gentle enough to let you swim afloat, fooling you into thinking that it will keep you safe, but beneath the surface is the inevitable, the unknown. Yet, you still manage to swim in it, even though it will lead you to your death. You've spent more time with him more than you can count on your own hands and each time, you have been acting like you don't know a single thing. You don't think you made it obvious that you know, but you never bring it up.

The water grew unsteady each time it grew closer and closer to the inevitable day he would leave, and you allow it to toss and turn you as you don't spare yourself to open your mouth about the elephant in the rom.

But a rogue wave came over that night— the night before the goodbye.

"How would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

The question was abrupt. The question itself makes you freeze in place as you fumble with the bag of his lunch break food.

"___," he speaks to grab your attention that was still trying to think of an answer to his question. "Is that a yes?"

"Tomorrow night?" You spoke, blinking at him. He nods, awaiting your answer. You roll your lips inwards inside your mouth before looking down at the floor, your next words nearly cracking as they come out of your throat. "The night before you leave?" The words probably shook him up as bad as you let yourself say it because he's staring at you, unsure of what to say. Blank, empty, lost— you fill in the spaces for him. "I know that you're leaving."

"How long?" He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows, but his stare nonetheless hard. Like a shift, you were faced with the Hoseok who firstly threatened to kick you out after seeing you for the first time. "How long did you know?"

"Haein let it slip at the conference night."

The conference night was only a few weeks or more back, but it feels like it was just yesterday you nearly stumbled backwards hearing that Hoseok was moving back to Brandmont. You were applauding for the man you so much adored only to realize that he was leaving.

Hoseok remains silent, probably trying hard to think of a method to calm your frazzled nerves that he can probably sense are bursting through the walls. He, instead, takes a step forward.

"And we weren't ever going to talk about this?" You breathlessly snap, your voice cracking. Rogue wave. "You were going to wait until the night before to just what? Woo me over and give me one last kiss before you slip the letter in my bag and disappear?"

"Letter? Wait, ___, how—"

"I know about the letter. The one you were going to give me before you left," you answer for him. Pulled under. "It doesn't matter how, but it matters that you'd rather leave me a damn letter instead of just telling me." Trying to stay calm and collected is just as hard as taming the waters, and you're not sure why it's suddenly so hard when you've worked with clients brooding enough to make your ears steam, but this was a whole different territory. Sadly, one that was familiar.

"I wanted to tell you," he exhales. "I did, I really did. You think it was easy trying to think of words to tell you that I love you and I always have, but I have to leave because of my career?"

Of course, you knew it wasn't easy. You knew that much because you had to do the same. Own personal reasons are always getting in the way, but you out of everyone knows what it's like. A strange wave of deja vu hits you before you meet his eyes— his eyes used to hold so much light before they were shadowed by true fear and sadness.

"For awhile, I couldn't bring myself to tell you, so I wrote so many letters on how to properly say goodbye because the thought of having to break your heart— break my heart— to your face was too unbearable. And even then—"

You let out a scoff. "See, that's the difference between you and me, I at least told you that I was leaving. You weren't. You were going to leave me with a damn letter telling me to 'stay warm this winter' and all that crap— that's not fair."

"I know it's not fair! That's why I was going to tell you tomorrow night," he exhales, running a hand through his hair exasperatingly. "I was going to tell you tomorrow night. I was never going to leave you with that letter because you're right, you deserve at least that— I fucked up, okay? Can you blame me for wanting to spend every second with you instead of dwelling on the sole thought that we have to say goodbye again?" Stress hits him. He can nearly feel the vein in his neck popping as he tries to level his breathing, he is not stable.

A grace period takes place. It's enough time to have the waterworks start working in your eyes. They roll and fall and at this point, you'd rather have steam blow out of your ears in anger, or your face turn red as tomato, but heaven knows that Hoseok is the only person in your universe that can cause the waters in your world to work. You close your heads, inhaling sharply. "So what? 'Goodbye', then? 'Stay warm this winter', then?"

His eyes gaze up towards yours momentarily, but he stays silent. What is there to even say? You knew that he was leaving and you knew what he had to say— hell, you've read that damn letter over and over again trying to convince something to your subconscious. All there really is left to it is the goodbye.

The same excruciating goodbye that you both anticipated but convinced yourself enough that dragging it long enough will make it somehow disappear— but you knew better than to believe in that.

"This isn't how I wanted it to go," he mutters. It was quiet, but it was loud enough for you to hear.

Whirlpool. You're caught in a whirlpool. Spinning and spinning.

Tears pricked and your legs grew numb with each standing second. You aren't sure what the flood of feelings overwhelm you with, but it's enough to know that after a war of water that tugged and pulled, you have lost the losing game, and now you are sinking and sinking with so much of your useless arms trying to reach for the surface.

"___," he croaks, taking a step towards you.

You didn't realize that you hastily back away until you feel your own legs stumbling over itself. Eyes blink up at him, probably red and piercing with tears at the brink of your eyes. You don't ignore how your step back hurt him, a shred of pain slapping across his face.

This wasn't a damn whirlpool, this was a maelstrom and you were in the deep end, and there was no saving you.

"I need air."

As you move past him to the door, you ignore Allen's worried and concerned glance from his desk once you accidentally open the door a little too quick, struggling to get out of the building as fast as you can. You catch his glance for a moment, and he immediately stands from his desk with scrunched eyebrows when he notices that they were glassy, but before he can ask you what happened, you're disappearing and finding your way towards the elevator.

Allen's eyes meet with Hoseok's form through the small opening of his door that separated his office and the rest of the floor for a moment just before the door closed by itself. His hands were fisted, knuckles growing white— in aggravation or in pain, he wasn't sure— before letting himself walk towards his desk where the food you brought him sits, untouched.

At this time, the food you brought him was cold, just like the atmosphere that you left and just like the waters you couldn't escape.

You contemplated of calling in to work the next day and just hiding in the sole comforts of your sheets and letting your pillow soak up your salty tears, letting yourself unravel in the most nauseating and nostalgic way possible because it's not like it's the first time you've done that before— but that's what college ___ would've done and last time you checked, you weren't in college anymore.

But it sure as hell felt like your love life was.

You ended up going to work at the last begging minute, kicking at your sheets and muttering yourself some encouraging words to get your ass up and moving, and you were almost late.

Nadine greets you as usual, but there was an atmosphere that you presented because her face falls in the midst of her greeting. She frowns at you before you raise an eyebrow in question. "Are you sure you're okay to be working today?"

Assuming that Yana probably told Nadine that Hoseok was leaving, you gave her an unconvincing nod. "I'll be fine, Nadine." She gives you one more look before you go up to your office, letting impartial hello's leave your mouth at your coworkers who greeted you until you were sinking down in your seat, letting out a sigh.

For the first few hours of working, you try to distract yourself, hands being busy with your projects that you were determined to finish by the time you left to go back home. But as you pause to give yourself a break, eyes grazing up from your computer, you realize that on your desk was the bamboo tree, green and glorious, standing there. And if inanimate objects obtained human traits, this was one would taunt you, probably probe you to the earth's ends with the pain that is growing inside your chest.

That's when you decide to take your thirty, knowing that it was a risky game to tear your mind away from anywhere but work— your thoughts ready to be on full blast in your head when you decide to lie down.

Yana and Nadine walk into your office not so late after that where you're sprawled on your sofa that you barely ever use, exchanging looks with each other before Nadine decides to give a graceful nudge to your leg that hung over the arm of the furniture.

You groan, their presence irking a random nerve in your body as they bugged you at the worst time. "Leave me alone."

"If you were going to lay around all day during work, you should've called in," Yana points out as you open one eye to peer at her scolding stance before shutting it, bringing an arm to hang loosely over your eyesight.

"I'm on my thirty. Leave me alone."

"___," Nadine sighs next to Yana. She pities you. Reliving your life as a college brat with a college sweetheart to reach the same ending of the novel once again. "Just go home. You're hurting."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, you may seem that way, but you can't work on a broken heart," Nadine throws in. She didn't like scolding, especially to someone so vulnerable and especially to someone like you who has never been in a vulnerable situation like this. It's fascinating in a melancholy way.

"Who said I had a broken heart?" Denial.

"___, did you ever say goodbye to him?"

You hesitate. Maybe if you said 'yes' maybe they'd leave. "No."

"Are you planning to?"

The question makes it hard for you to answer, so instead you stick with silence. Avoidance was a tactic that you try to, and ironically, avoid. Usually, you cross the bridge when you get there, facing all problems head on, but it is so odd how one person can change that— can change your mindset completely.

"You should see him before he leaves."

"It hurts him just as much, ___. It's not an easy thing to do. To say goodbye, that is." Yana clears, reaching over to place her cold hand over your bicep. Her touch is motherly, filled with empathy and comfort. The shoulder to stain your tears with, comfort food prepared for you, words that are always just right. Her touch makes you sigh, prying off your arm from your eyes to stare up into the lit celing. "It's alright to be hurting, but it's not okay to be avoiding it.

"Look, you love him, he loves you, that's enough. I'm not going to sugarcoat it anymore, but ___, understand that you got a whole life ahead of you, and so does he. Think about it: this might not even be the last goodbye, with the way the universe worked with bringing you guys together again? You will most likely see him again, and maybe even have to say goodbye again. Point is, just know that goodbyes don't necessarily mean forever."

"And besides, it is not like you two experienced these goodbyes because you both didn't love each other," Nadine adds in, an attempt at a smile only to fall when she realized the weight of her words. Your eyes flicker from the ceiling to look up at Yana and Nadine who awaits for you to react with expectant eyes.

Nadine takes a step forward to squat next to the sofa, encasing her hand with yours. Her hand was warm and sisterly. Cookie dough ice cream with a lineage of rom coms accompanied by face masks. "You both love each other, you and him have established that. And life is just a cruel ass bitch for tearing you apart, but that shouldn't break you guys. The stronger the pull, stronger the push, right?" Nadine scrunches her nose before shaking her head dismissively. "I don't fucking know, Clarke told me that over the phone— but for now, ___, you have to go and say goodbye. Trust me— trust us on this."

You look at them, eyes flickering from sister to mother, the very two people who have made your life wonderfully sane and insane all at once. They stand before you with encouraging closed lip smiles, one that wasn't urging in rush, but a simple nudge that they so hoped you would take. Your next round of tears prick at your eyes before you're breathing out sharply, "hugs. I want hugs, please."

It's sudden and unlike you, but Nadine and Yana don't hesitate as they lean in, embracing the entirety of your body that slouches on the sofa into their bodies, all of their lovely smells thrashing with each others as you feel them squeeze harder. Laughs ring in the air as your heart becomes full with them in your presence.

They pull back ever so slight, peering over at the streams down your face and your roseate cheeks and nose being the complete epitome of a girl who can't maintain her own raging emotions. It's a sight that is very foreign to them, but it is a sight they are grateful to have seen and you were just as grateful to have them be there.

You wipe t your tears, sheepishly laughing as Nadine grabs the tissue box on the table right next to the sofa. She wiggles the tissue under your nose, a laugh resonating from your throat as you grab it and smile once more at both of them.

"I'll talk to him. Thank you, guys."

Waiting is an anticipation game.

And you hate how it makes you feel. It is like walking down a corridor and each step you take, you realize that it never seems to end, even though you desperately wished it would.

However, once you find the brown mop of hair that belonged to the one person who smelled like a sweet summer day, you immediately stand up from the bench your leg kept anxiously bouncing on, watching as Hoseok exits smoothly out of the building of his own company, a briefcase in hand.

His tracks immediately come to a halt when seeing you.

Your strides carry you enough to where he was able to see that your nose was red and puffy. Surprisingly, your legs didn't buckle under your weight when you meet his gaze. Hoseok's stomach churns as he realizes that you may have been crying all night— or all day.

"I hate goodbyes," you breathe out sharply. Everything starting from your chest was unraveling like a silk red ribbon. "I hate goodbyes with a passion."

He stares at you, eyes softening when you try to take a moment to compose yourself.

"I kept telling myself that I don't— or shouldn't— regret leaving you," you begin. "While part of me think that's true because I had my reasons, the other is completely wrong because you deserved to at least know the real reason why I left. I guess the real reason was buried under my excuses of other reasons that accumulated, but even then— you deserved to know the real reason.

"Saying goodbye to you was probably the hardest thing I ever had to do, Hoseok," you state. "And I was hurt and betrayed because of how easy it was for you to let me. I can't take back time to fix that dreadful day you found me with someone else when you finally made up your mind, but I can only tell you now that I only ever wanted the best for you and that I was never tired of you or us. I was hurt and I did the most dumbest thing that a person can do to swallow their pain.

"I love you and I was so scared of losing you again," you choke out. "And then I realized that there is nothing that I can do because as much as I'd want to fly with you over to Brandmont and witness your greatness beside you, I have greatness of my own here."

"___."

"Maybe it wasn't our time— again. And I was debating if I should even come and say goodbye to you tonight because I hate, absolutely hate, goodbyes," you state, a self-deprecating laugh following after. "I almost didn't because I knew I was going to break my own heart doing so."

"What changed?"

"I didn't come here to say goodbye," you finally state. "I came here to tell you to..."

Hoseok wants to hold you, wrap your body up and buy you a coffee at Kona's to keep you warm. He wants to take your hand and take you home. He wants to wake up in the morning beside you again and relive those memories of when he would kiss your bare shoulder and make you breakfast. Instead, he awaits your answer. "To...?"

"To take care. And that I'll see you later— whenever that'll be."

Your words take him by surprise. They were like the smell after the storm, or a dessert with water— it is what makes his gut drop, but his heart beat. His actions, in turn, take you by surprise because he takes your hand in his, his eyes sticking onto your intertwined digits before looking up at you.

"And that I love you." Finally, you have told him that and it is as if a supernova has swelled because in a complete second, he pull you into an embrace, one hand resting on your head and the other on your back. It is urgent and needy, but it is gentle and sweet. It is the burnt grilled cheese, the chicken parmesan, the banana nut muffin. "Never stopped."

"I'm glad you came," he mutters into your ear, his voice so close you easily make out the tones of his voice. One that you'll miss having near you so dear much. "That you came to see me."

"Do me a favor?" You gulp into his ear, not wanting him to see the way tears have welled up in your eyes to complement your already scarlet tainted nose. "Don't say goodbye." You feel him tense at that, only for you to hold him closer— if that was even possible. "Please."

And like that, he obeys. Not because he wanted to, but because he knew that you are trying your very best to keep your composure— a tactic he knows all too well. "Okay."

You thought that the last time you said goodbye, it wasn't meant to be. Those youthful years of being in love with someone who you even thought to be the one just wasn't meant. And maybe this time around, it wasn't meant to be either. The past recent moments where reliving the nostalgic feelings to blindside you into thinking that he really is the one just wasn't meant. And that's alright.

As Nadine had wisely once said, it wasn't like you both left each other because you didn't love each other— no, you loved him with all your heart. If there is anything you knew, it was just that. And you'd like to assume that it went both ways.

The phone rings on the desk as you put it on speaker, awaiting for the one person you really do hope would answer. Your heart jumps when you hear the sound of the phone being picked up, followed by a hello. "Hi, Allen," you gleam.

The night you clung onto Hoseok with nose stuffy and eyes being pricked like needles with your own damn tears was the last time you saw him. And that's partially because you let it unfold that way and mostly because you knew that if you saw him anytime after that and before he departed, you would've dwelled back into heartbroken college ___. And as much as a big catharsis is necessary in your supposed love story, you like your silk pillows too much to have them ruined by your own torn and raw emotions.

No kiss that night, either. Things like a kiss as bidding a farewell were cheesy and cliché, but in truth, you knew that if you kissed him, if you allowed your lips to perfectly and ineffably mold into his like a clay into a delicate sculpture, the sole reality of your former and present self would wave over you once and for all, and that sculpture you have created would fall down into its demise. Perhaps, it's for the best. Instead, you settle for a cling, embracing him as if he were the last shred of sun you were ever going to have for this long winter just before walking away with your heart weighing heavy in hopes that maybe you'll see him again.

But even as seasons come and go, the sun will always rise again.

You did, however, call Allen the next morning when you woke up, knowing he deserves a goodbye just as well— and one last infamous irritating and witty remark from you. He wasn't very amused that you called him on his cell phone that you probed Hoseok before he left to get, but you knew that under his annoyed tone, he was glad to hear your voice. You bid him farewell, one where you told him you'll miss bringing him drinks to have him try and advised him to not take Hoseok's serious, macho boss-like demeanor seriously. And baffling enough, the feeling is mutual on his end.

The office hasn't said much about your relationship with Hoseok after most of the building has come to live off of the daily juicy gossip between you two, and you assume it's Nadine's doing— probably announcing the sad end of such story that, in retrospect, could've ended perfectly if reality wasn't a harsh bitch.

In a semi-perfect world, you and Hoseok would attempt to keep in touch as much as possible, be it texting or phone calls, but the time zone and him being almighty busy, it didn't fortunately unravel that way for you both. In a semi-perfect world, you'd find yourself swimming in pools of hopeful wishing that maybe, just maybe, he'll call you while you're at work just to hear your voice or you'd send him a text every time you're reminded of him of the bamboo tree he's gifted to you. As much as it would be wonderful to have that split moment, it never happens and it remains in the confinement of your imaginary mind and wishful dreaming.

Undeniably, you still think of him. Is it a crime to think of someone who's all you've ever known? If it were, you wouldn't be too sure how orange would look on you, but you'd risk it all in a heartbeat.

Bright side, spring rolls in pretty quick and the flowers are blooming just nicely with its vibrants and brights greeting you everywhere you look. Yana takes the time to spend a weekend getaway to Cabo with Tristian, wasting no time in throwing her projects on you with ease and Nadine to roll her eyes at the lovesick couple that's her aspirational couple— aside from you and Hoseok, you suppose.

"___, what can I do for you from Brandmont?" He asks, bemused.

There's a smile on your lips as you flippantly play with the corner of the crumpled letter that was odd for you to keep in the first place. "Can you send me Hoseok's new address, please?"

Renewal, they say. The blossoming brings renewal.

Hoseok,

Usually I am the one to send long text messages or leave annoying voicemails, but I thought I'd settle for a letter.

This isn't goodbye.

I think I've spent too much time figuring out how to say goodbye that I realized I should be focusing on what I would say to you when I see you again. Obviously, it's to make up for the time that I barely even said a "hello" and you were ready to kick me out in plain sight. Hopefully, the next time I see you, it's a much more pleasant time than that.

I thought I'd tell you in this letter that I'm grateful.

I'm grateful that I had a second chance with you, even if it was short-lived. Grateful that I was able to give you that closure that college me never gave. Grateful that I was able to believe in love again. And of course, that's thanks to you— don't let that build your ego, it's big enough already.

And though these events have a tendency to unfold like this, I'm grateful that it did and I do sincerely hope you're doing well as the boss man.

Do me a favor. Take care of yourself this spring.

I'll see you later,

___.

[elisaphoenix13]

An Attempt At Normalcy

They wanted a bit of normalcy. Well, Stephen was trying to get the kids to have some semblance of normalcy so instead of eating at home with either takeout or a home cooked meal...they went out. Of course considering they were a large family of nine, they needed a large table to be accommodated and something in the back and a little private since Tony was there. Even after all these years, the paparazzi couldn't get enough of him and the family.

All of the kids were sitting and looking at their menus sans Valerie who was coloring on the paper kids menu she and Diana had been given. Diana was at the age where she could read now, and quite well so she was also trying to decide what she wanted for lunch. The place was a family establishment so it wasn't fancy and wouldn't make things extremely difficult for the kids to find, but still Stephen stared at the extra kids menu with a look like he was trying to set it ablaze with his eyes.

Tony looks up from wiping the drool off Lucy's mouth and ignores the infant as she slams her hands on the table and babble nonsense. "Honey, it's going to burst into flames if you keep looking at it like that." He chuckles.

"I'm just double checking to make sure there isn't any mango in any of the food or juice Valerie may want." Stephen sighs as he sets the menu down to pick up his own.

"Duchess, mango is hardly served at places like this. Just get her the chicken fingers with fries and a glass of milk. She'll be happy."

Stephen grunts. "Worry about your own leech."

Tony grins and tightens his hold around Lucy where she's comfortably placed on one of his legs. She had found her father's silverware and was currently slobbering all over the spoon since Tony had moved the knife and fork out of her reach and was even a little offended when he tried offering her one of her toys in place of the spoon. The glare she gave him was definitely inherited from her mother and Tony vocally said so since Stephen had been in the room the first time it happened.

The doctor was considerably less salty about her clinginess to Tony when the glare came out. All over a bottle that Tony took away too fast. He learned his lesson and let Lucy keep her bottles until she let go or she was just sucking on air. Tony endured the angry glares when it came to empty bottles.

"She has her spoon. She's happy." Tony shrugs.

"I really wish she'd play with one of her toys instead." Stephen sighs and puts his menu back down after deciding on his lunch.

"I tried. You saw the glare."

"If you keep letting her have her way, she's going to grow up a spoiled brat."

Tony rolls his eyes. "It's a spoon not a credit card."

Stephen huffs but a smile does finally grace his features as the waitress comes over with her own smile. She was a nice younger girl trying to pay her way through college and even though their trips to the restaurant were rare, they always asked specifically for her. Tony always left an enormous tip.

"Who's this cutie?" She coos at Lucy who looks up at her and babbles and drools around her spoon.

"This is the Baroness. Her name is Lucy." Tony says. "How are classes going Olivia?"

"Great! So what are we all having today?" Olivia asks.

Lunch was ordered and brought out in good time and they ate happily as they all conversed about one thing or another. Harley and Peter were talking about another possible project to work on in the lab, the twins eventually joined in on the conversation, and Diana was telling Stephen about the cookies she made with Cassie. The sorcerer listened intently as he wiped off the ranch dressing smeared across Valerie's face, and Tony alternated between feeding Lucy and feeding himself. It was about halfway through their meal when another family walked nearby to be seated but stopped and looked at them.

"So this is where you ran off to. You got Tony Stark's pity." The woman sneers and both William and Thomas freeze.

The rest of the family stop eating collectively and look up at the family that William was actively avoiding eye contact with. Thomas was glaring and Stephen...well Tony managed to catch the glint of gold that flashed in his eyes. Mama Dragon was clawing his way to the surface and Tony had to stop it. He really didn't want to pay for damages.

Tony stands with Lucy in his arms and glares at the couple and their four children. Foster kids? Actual kids? He wasn't sure at the moment but didn't care. No one disrespected his children, especially in front of him.

"Excuse you?" Tony glowers angrily. "Who are you to come in here and verbally attack my kids while we're trying to enjoy a family meal?" He snaps.

"They were more trouble than they were wor--" The lady starts.

It was then that Lucy threw her spoon, with deadly accuracy, at the woman's forehead. Tony's lip very minutely quirked up humorously but he managed to keep himself under control. Maybe it was the woman's tone that angered the baby but she was babbling angrily at her and the woman had looked both appalled and infuriated. When the man opened his mouth to say something, Tony held up a finger.

"Ah! No. You and your family go sit down and eat. I don't want to hear another word about Thomas and William or the rest of my family or I will sue you of everything." Tony threatens.

"They are not a burden." Stephen finally says. "Thomas and William are amazing kids and you among the rest of their previous homes restricted them. I'm sure you only cared for the money."

"And you don't?" The man says and Tony scoffs.

"I'm a billionaire. What the state pays you is pennies to me. I told them not to bother and they're officially ours anyway."

The woman smartly keeps her mouth shut and walks away with her family with a huff and to Tony's surprise, a couple of the kids looked at him and the twins apologetically. Tony was starting to wonder again if they were foster kids. He stamped the thought down quickly though because if he gave off the slightest hint that he might want to save those kids, Stephen would hop on the train. Not even they could save all the orphans and foster kids of New York and Tony was a little afraid that Stephen would try.

Lucy babbles angrily at the retreating family as Tony sits back down and the twins finally relax and go back to enjoying their food.

"That's my good girl." Tony grins and smooches a chubby cheek multiple times, making the baby laugh.

Stephen looks over at Thomas and William. "I shouldn't condone running away from home but I'm glad you did. I don't know what they did but you're safe with us." He pauses and frowns a bit. "You feel safe don't you? Despite the circumstances."

William looks over and nods. "We... we've never called any of our foster parents Mom and Dad."

"At least not willingly." Thomas mumbles.

Tony grunts and ruffles Thomas's hair, and they finish their food just as Olivia comes over to bring the check. He pays it and pulls out some cash for her tip and the waitress takes it with a grateful smile and a thanks before walking away to take care of the check. The family gets up and starts filing out of the restaurant and Tony follows once he gets his card from Olivia. Lucy babbles to the waitress as Tony leaves and meets Stephen and the kids outside.

"Daddy, can we go get ice cream?" Diana asks as Stephen hands Lucy a teething ring.

"I think we can do ice cream." Tony nods.

"Last one there--" Thomas starts and turns to dash away until Stephen grabs the back of his shirt.

"No running!" He says and Thomas huffs.

"Aww...no fun."

The ice cream parlor was a short walk away so the family decided to hoof it instead of driving, that way they could take the girls to the park. Valerie was carried by Stephen, and Harley gave Diana a piggy-back ride all the way to the parlor and even the park before he let her down. They all ate their ice cream before spreading out in different directions, and Stephen discreetly got a frisbee through a small portal for Harley and Thomas to use. Diana pulled Peter over to the monkey bars and Valerie quietly asked if William would take her to play on the swings which he of course agreed to, leaving Tony and Stephen on a bench with Lucy.

A blanket and a few of the baby's toys were also retrieved through the portal and Tony handed Lucy to Stephen so he could lay out the blanket for them to lay on. Lucy was content to chew on her teething ring until the blanket was spread and then the couple laid on it themselves after placing her between them with her toys.

"It took a lot of willpower not to laugh when she threw that spoon at that woman." Stephen finally says after a few minutes of calm.

Tony bursts into laughter. "Diana did it too but unfortunately I was the target." He sobers a bit at the memory. "It happened after…" he trails off and sighs, causing Stephen to sit up and look at him.

"Tony... we're home. Yes, I missed those memories and milestones but I got a second chance with Valerie." Stephen smiles. "Now we have Lucy and you've robbed me of her attention and I'm here."

Tony snorts. "Hey, I had nothing to do with that. Maybe your book decided I needed my own leech...the princess was Cassie's from the moment we left the compound."

"I don't think she minds. It might have helped her too to be honest. If it was just you and her--" Stephen starts.

"Cassie would have had no one to talk to. I...wasn't in the greatest state of mind for a while. She was heaven sent." Tony admits.

"It all worked out." Stephen says softly and grunts when Lucy chucks her teething ring at his forehead. "She is definitely your child."

Tony snickers and sits up to look at the rest of the kids before looking back at Stephen.

"Think there's a chance Harley has something to do with it?"

"I wouldn't put it past him." Stephen answers as he picks up the ring and gives it back to Lucy after checking it for dirt.

"He's looking at William again." Tony states with a smirk when he looks back over at their oldest.

He had just thrown the frisbee over to Thomas and his attention was directed to their youngest son who was pushing Valerie on the swing. Tony didn't miss the faint smile on Harley's face before the frisbee hit it and chuckles when he groans and holds a hand over his face.

"I really wish he would say something." Stephen sighs. "The pining is getting to Scott and Quill's level and I don't think I can go through that again."

"Ah, give it another month."

"It's been two years Tony."

"Then it's way past Porcupine and Thumbelina's level." Tony grins. "It only took them a few months.

"Thank the Vishanti for that."

"Mom! My nose is bleeding!" Harley says as he walks over with his hand over his nose. "Do you have a tissue?"

Stephen fishes a packet of tissues out of his pocket and holds them up to Harley. "Maybe pay attention next time." He smirks.

The blush that creeped onto Harley's face was well worth the tease.

[chaedillo]

1.Executive Summary

Burger King Corporation was founded by James McLamore and David Edgerton in Miami, Florida (USA) in 1954. Just like any other businesses, it only started with a few chains until it expanded and continued to cater its consumers up until today. As time goes by, it has expanded their menu but still managed to maintain their low costs but the quality menu. For as low as PHP 64.00 you can already get to taste Buger King’s flame-Grilled burger and with PhP 59.00, you can already enjoy having their rice meal. Up until this day, Burger King is one of the most popular, top-grossing, and flavorful fast-food chains not just locally but also internationally.

We all know that the fast-food chain industry is one of the reasons why the hospitality industry continues to arise and operational due to its high demand. People love it because it offers convenience, affordability and time-saving. Fast-food chains such as KFC, McDonald's, Jack in the Box, Wendy's and Popeyes are the top 5 competitors of Burger King. Its wide variety, effective strategy, strong franchising model, delicious taste, and etc. is what makes it keep up in competing its rivalries. Whopper, Chicken Sandwiches, Cheeseburgers are some of its product offerings and that is why Burger King is dubbed as "Home of the Whopper". In year 2018, Burger King has a total revenue of 388.74 crore in which it was the least revenue they got between the year 2018-2021. In 2019, they got 644.13 crore while in 2020, they have accumulated the highest revenue they have so far that has a total of 846.83 crore amidst the global pandemic that is happening. Today, year 2021, during the first quarter of the year, they have earned a total of 151.65 crore revenue.

This paper discussed Burger King's internal assessment wherein it states the company's corporate profile, mission and vision, product line, and its internal factor evaluation matrix. Next, external assessment has porter's model analysis, external factor evaluation matrix, competitive profile matrix and the key external factor. Moreover, it also discussed the strategy formulation wherein it has BCG matrix, SPACE matrix, GS matrix, IE matrix, and the SWOT analysis. Additionally, the researchers also provided the strategy recommendation, action plan, as well as its financial projection.

It analyzed how Burger King Corporation operates on how it managed to make it to the top and how it maintained the quality of their products. Each part of this paper is a helpful tool and contributes to the success of this paper itself. Also, it is where we will recognise how significant each role is to discuss the outcome of the paper. With that, this paper aims to elaborate, explain, and discuss the story behind the fast-food chain named Burger King.

2. Internal Assessment

2.1. Corporate Profile

5505 Blue Lagoon Drive

Miami, Florida 33126

U.S.A

According to Trefis Team (2019), Burger King is the second largest fast-food chain in the United States and Routley (2019) also states that Burger King was ranked fourth as one of the biggest fast-food chains in America. It has over 10,400 business franchised restaurant. 50 states and 56 countries, Burger King has 1000 chains of stores that totaled for more than 11,455. The company has served almost 16 million customers a day and 2.4 billion Burger King’s hamburgers are sold annually across the world.

In 1954, Burger King Corporation was founded by the two entrepreneurs James McLamore and David Edgerton. It is originally owned by Keith Kramers and his wife’s uncle Mathew Burns. Burger King was inspired by McDonald’s and formerly named as Insta-Burger King during 1953. Even with the rapid success of the Insta-Burger it experienced financial trouble that led James McLamore and David Edgerton to buy the entire company from Keith Krammers and Mathew Burns. McLamore and Edgerton decided to widen their menu in 1957 with Whopper, a burger for big appetites, but still a lower price and they took the power of the popular medium which is television. The first T.V commercial of Burger King was aired in 1958 on Miami’s V.H.F Station and after 5 years by 1959, Burger King was able to expand their outlets outside Florida by establishing its franchise system. The system worked allowing Burger King to increase quickly. Burger King Company was also pursuing to reach out children and establish Kids Club but then by 2015 Burger King had no longer focused on this area.

Despite having trouble times, Burger King still became a well-known fast-food hamburger chain. Through the years, Burger King grew as they use different strategies and form a different and unique characteristics from their competitors.

2.2. Company Vision and Mission

Vision

Burger King’s vision statement is “to be the most profitable QSR business, through a strong franchise system and great people, serving the best burgers in the world.”

Mission

Burger King’s mission statement is to “offer reasonably priced quality food, served quickly, in attractive, clean surroundings.”

2.3. Corporate Officers

Daniel S. Schwartz

Chief Executive Officer

JOSHUA KOBZA

Chief Financial Officer

AZEL SCHWAN

Global Chief Marketing Officer

HEITOR GONCALVES

Chief Information Performance & People Officer

ALEXANDRE MACEDO

President of Burger King North America

JOSE E CIL

President of Burger King Europe

JOSE DIAS

President of Burger King Latin America & Global Development VP

ELIAS DIAZ SESE

President of Burger King Asia Pacific

RODRIGO MUSIELLO

Global Operations

JILL GRANAT

Secretary & General Counsel

JACQUELINE FRIESNER

Chief Accounting Officer & Controller

2.4. Product Line

Burger King operates as a quick service restaurant business focusing on burgers as its main product.

•Burgers

•Salad & veggies

•Chicken & fish

•Sides

•Sweet/desserts

•Beverages

BURGERS

Burger King is a family of different kinds of hamburgers consisting of patties, bacon, king sauce and their american cheese. Their burgers have lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles and it is the main product of their store because of its taste, quality, as well as affordability.

SALAD AND VEGGIES

Burger King salad is totally vegetarian and comes with tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, and croutons. They have different types of salad so that the customers can pick which one is their preferred salad for their side dish. The vegetable used in Burger King salads are always served fresh.

SIDES

Burger king offers frings which is the combination of onion rings and their french fries.

CHICKEN & FISH

Burger King’s chicken & fish sandwiches are pure white alaskan pollock and it also comes with lettuce.

SWEETS/ DESSERTS

BEVERAGES

Burger King’s fruit smoothies are freshly made with low fat yogurt, real fruits and juices were blended to create tropical mango, raspberry, and strawberry banana. The coffee frappes are also made with real arabica bean coffee and blended until it’s smooth and creamy.

2.5. Internal Factor Evaluation Matrix

As you can see from the table, the strong point of Burger King is the strong brand image that they have which is equivalent to 15% in weight, 4 in rating and has a total of .60 in the weighted score; while their weak point is the market concentration which is at 5% in weight and 1 in rating that got a total of .5 in weighted score. In conclusion, Burger King’s weighted score is at 3.02 shows that Burger King internally performs well.

3.External Assessment

3.1. Porter’s Model Analysis

In the rivalry among competing firms, you can see that Burger King competes with major firms like McDonald’s, Wendys, and Taco Bell. In the potential development of substitute products, Burger King’s customers can transfer to another dining because they will have the choice to go to fine dining or prefer to just cook at home. Next, the factors such as the high number of supplies, high overall supply and low forward integration are what makes the bargaining power of supplies. Additionally, the potential of new competitors and new entrants are what Burger King should look after because that’s where they should perform low costs since they should be competing in the market. Lastly, in the bargaining power of customers, it is where high substitute availability, moderate presence of consumer organization, and etc. takes place.

3.2 External Factor Evaluation Matrix

External Analysis

As we can see in the opportunities, market share has the highest weight compare to the others and the lowest for the weighted is New supplier and Increased demand for products. The rating of Internal Expansion, Developing Health-conscious & Market share got the highest rating, “while Increased demand for products got the lowest rating." The average of opportunities only indicate the total weighted score of opportunities.

In the table of threats, we can see that New Competitors have the highest threat in Burger King while the lowest threats are Expiring of contract. As for the rating of the threats, Predicted natural disaster and Legislation for unhealthy fast food got the lowest rate while the highest are New Competitors, New Law & Expiring contract. Total threats only indicate the average of weighted score of threats.

According to the EFE Matrix of Burger King, the total weighted score of the opportunities and threats is 2.92, which indicates the organization is responding in an above-average way to existing opportunities and threats in the industry.

3.3 Competitive Profile Matrix

 Competitive Profile Matrix (CPM)

Competitor’s Analysis

As seen in the CPM analysis, McDonald's is the most competitive in the industry with a total score of 3.07, leading in the critical factors market share, market penetration, innovation, financial profit, brand name, and advertising. Burger King, having a total of 2.75, has a relative strength in store location, Research & Development (R&D), product quality, and price competitiveness, tied with Wendy's. With the equal score of 0.12, all food chains in the matrix need to value their employees more as their employee's dedication is low in rating. Burger King should maximize their strengths and improve in market share, market penetration, innovation, and advertising because these are the factors where Burger King has the lowest rating. Financial profit has the greatest value of weight as it can really drive the business to followed by product quality and customer service, both are crucial in the fast-food chain industry.

3.4. Key External Factor

According to the chart above, External Factors are divided into six (6) forces that influence and affect Burger King externally. Both opportunities and threats are equally dividing, which shows that Burger King has balanced forces externally which means they could still be able to control and identify what forces are in need of improvements, solutions or changes in a way that would not have a bad effect to the company or negative forces that they might face in the future but still be able to strategize a plan. This PESTEL ANALYSIS would help Burger King to have a good global performance that would have long-term effectiveness to the business for future decision making.

4. Strategy Formulation

4.1. Boston Consulting Group Matrix

Boston Consulting Group Matrix of Burger king

Figure 2. BCG Matrix of Burger King

● Star: Whopper Products, franchise owned outlet business

● Cash Cows: Supplier Management Service, International food strategic business unit

● Question Mark: Local Foods, confectionery market

● Dog: Ineffective market, Plastic bags, Synthetic fiber products, artificially flavored products strategic business units

In this figure, a strategic management tool will be used by Burger King to analyze the position of their strategic business unit and its market potential to offer their target markets. This BCG matrix would be helpful in a way that it will have a significant presence on deciding whether what kind of strategies can be implemented for Burger King to grow more, invest to their strengths and most especially is to consider the things that hinder their growth and success in the market.

● Star (High Growth, High Market Share)

In this aspect, it has a relatively high growth rate and high market share. The Burger King products, especially their Original Whopper Burgers have rapid growth and dominant market share. It also has 13,000 franchise-owned outlet businesses around the world and its presence in every country makes it a strong brand that is why it earned a lot of significant revenue from that strategy. However, to support their high growth and high market share, careful consideration should be given especially to their product development strategy to develop innovation in this intensive competition of the fast-food restaurants and tap the untapped areas to increase the sales or else, it will become a cash cow.

● Cash Cows: (Low Growth, High Market Share)

In this aspect, it has a relatively high market share but low growth. It is said to be high in market share, but the growth rate is declining and their competitive advantage because they manage their supplier with their own rather than outsourcing it. For them not to go beyond the decline stage, it must be taken into careful consideration of the innovation of their products, investing in research and development to be able to turn this cash cow into a star again. It will surely benefit the sales of the Burger King. In addition to this, the international food strategic business unit is a cash cow of Burger King. Within its category, it has a high market share of 30%. However, the target markets are now shifting their taste and now inclined less to the foods internationally that is why it affected the growth rate of Burger King. They must invest thoroughly to stabilize it, and if it no longer works, this strategy will now be divesting.

● Question Mark: (High Growth, Low Market Share)

In this aspect, it is relatively high growth but low in market share. Some products of Burger King are immensely consumed. However with the strong competition in the market, some customers are like the other restaurants that sells burgers as well. In this way, it is difficult to know if some of the Burger King will prosper and become a star of the brand. And most likely, it requires a significant amount of investment, especially in marketing and maintaining its market share. In line with this, the local foods strategic business unit of Burger King is considered a question mark because consumers are now inclined toward local foods. And burger king is having a low market share in this aspect. In this case, Burger King is most likely to consider and invest in this strategy in order to bring a high market share. Another thing is that Burger King is poor in reaching some areas, the confectionery market is growing for some years now. With that, Burger King needs to penetrate the market because not everybody is being targeted by their current strategy. If they include the confectionery market, surely, it will increase their sales and make it into a cash cow.

● Dog: (Low Growth, Low Market Share)

In this aspect, it has relatively low growth rate and market share. Many of their products have gone through their declining stage due to their marketing strategies and its rivals. Over the years, Burger King incurred losses and one of the reasons is the use of plastic bags. In this era where environmental concerns are being considered. They should divest this and move into an eco-friendly way. Another thing that made them in the dog category is their synthetic fiber products. It resulted from low market share and with that, it must be divested to not incur more losses. And last but not the least, is their use of artificial flavors in their products. Having to innovate products with artificial flavorings does not grow as expected because people nowadays are more health-conscious and as a result, their growth rate and market share dropped. With this, it must call back this product and free it from artificial flavorings.

4.2. Strategic Position and Action Evaluation Matrix

4.3. Grand Strategy Matrix

Burger King is internationally known and because of that, it is acknowledged as the 2nd largest Food chain in the industry, and that is how Burger Kind gained their competitive position. Burger King's strategy shows us how they gain their competitive advantage and the growth of its organization by producing and developing their products and resources. It indicates that Burger King is placed in quadrant I and reveals the Strong Competitive Position in the industry and their Rapid Market Growth. Burger King will grow and aim to continue growing their market environment and developing their products and markets to the industry and applying the integration strategies to have a great opportunity and to make the organization more successful in the industry.

4.4. Internal - External Matrix

The score of Burger King’s Internal Factor Evaluation has a total weighted score of 3.02 and placed in a cell I which reveals that Burger King’s internal environment has a strong IFE outcome of strength and weakness that represents the internal firm. While External Factor Evaluation has a total weighted score of 2.92 that place in cell IV which reveals that the external environment of Burger King identified as a medium outcome score in EFE when it comes to the external opportunities and threats.

The results of IFE and EFE weighted scores are placed under cell I and cell IV, which is the Grow and Build strategies. This segment has a division of Market penetration, Product Development, and Related Diversifications and from the other point of view, backward integration, forward integration, and horizontal integration are also strategies that can be considered and reasonable on this division.

4.5. Strength - Weaknesses- Opportunities - Threats Analysis

Strengths

1. Strong brand image

Burger King takes advantage of its well-known brand. Since 1969, the logo has hardly changed. The famous terms "Burger King," squashed between two drawn hamburger buns, can still be recognized.

2. Moderate market penetration

Market penetration is Burger King's primary expansion strategy. The objective of this comprehensive approach is to increase sales from current customers or markets in which the company already operates.

3. Moderate differentiation of products

Burger King was among the most well-known brands in the business. The company would be able to open new restaurants and introduce new products more easily. Because of the large number of Burger King restaurants around the world, higher market penetration is a strength. Burger King's mild differentiation is also an asset, allowing the company to ensure that some of its products are unique.

4. Greater franchise mix

With over 18 thousand franchised restaurants, the business has almost exclusively become a franchised chain in recent years. Just 52 units are still owned by the company. Even though Burger King has decreased the number of company-owned franchises, the total number of locations has increased every year over the last decade.

5. Strong market position

Market positioning is the method of presenting a brand to potential customers in such a way that they can easily see how it compares to competing products. Burger King targeted the young adult market, especially young males, and positioned itself as a provider of high-quality, great-tasting, and affordable food.

6. Robust financial performance

Burger King's income statement has been strong in recent years, increasing year after year, making them very competitive in their industry as compared to other fast-food restaurants.

Weakness

1. Easily imitable business

Some fast-food restaurants that also has Burger on their menu can easily imitate the Burger King’s best-seller which is the “grilled burger”. They can produce similar products and lower their price because they are the one of the most saleable products in the market when it comes to burgers.

2. Limited product mix

Burger King maintains a limited approach which is shown in its limited product portfolio. Nonetheless, by economies of scale from large-scale sales of a limited range of product lines, this product mix helps Burger King's generic strategy.

3. Low control on franchise model

Acquiring a franchise entails entering a legally binding arrangement with the franchisor. Since franchise agreements determine how you run your company, you will have a little control over the franchise model, leaving little space for innovation. There are usually limitations on where you can operate, what items you can sell, and who you can work with. You would also have a lack of privacy in addition to these issues.

4. Market concentration

This can be a flaw because high concentration means that the top companies have a lot of influence over the market's products and services. It will result in higher prices and lower consumer security because just like Burger King, which is owned by Jollibee. The top firm Jollibee can set price rules and set certain services that can affect small firms.

5. Negative earnings

Full-service restaurants dominate the Philippines fast food industry, with a 31.8 percent market share in 2017. The 100 percent home service delivery sub-segment is the fastest-growing segment, followed by street stalls/kiosks, during the forecast period.

6. Scattered marketing campaign

The scattered marketing used by Burger King can affect current and potential customers. This could result in a low return on marketing campaign investment

and the loss of existing consumers, who would turn to brands with clear and insightful messaging.

Opportunities

1. Internal expansion developing

Burger King's intensive approach has a strategic goal of targeting new consumers in new markets by offering low prices. This intensive strategy entails entering new markets or targeting new consumer segments to support business growth.

2. Health conscious

Consumers are increasingly turning away from unhealthy foods high in fat and calories, therefore introducing healthy options is a smart strategic move. Burger King Worldwide believes that by combining culinary creativity with improved operations, guest satisfaction will be enhanced, as well as the company's profitability.

3. Market shares

Full-service restaurants dominate the Philippines fast food industry, with a 31.8 percent market share in 2017. The 100 percent home service delivery sub-

segment is the fastest-growing segment, followed by street stalls/kiosks, during the forecast period.

4. New supplier

Because of expansion they will seek new supplier with lesser delivery price and product cause

5. Increased demand for products

When the price of meat and vegetables decreases, the price of the meal tends to fall as well, which increases the demand for burgers. A satisfied customer is higher, which is a major factor in the rise in demand.

6. Service quality improvement

Burger King's service quality, the use of quality dimensions such as tangible, reliability, responsiveness, assurance, and empathy is used to effectively and assess the quality service of the restaurant.

Threats

1. Expiring contract

If there was a contract it is short term only for the employees, it not a lifetime work because it is a contractual basis.

2. Predicted natural disaster

Climate and its effects around the globe can impact negatively on companies' bottom lines in several ways. Extreme weather, both in the Philippines abroad, can damage factories, supply chain operations, and other infrastructure, as well as disrupt transportation.

3. New Competitors

A company's competitive advantage is compromised when new companies enter an industry offering the same services or goods. As a result, the threat of new entrants applies to a company's ability to enter a market.

4. New Law

Implementation of tax increase because Tax cuts can boost business demand by increasing firms' after-tax cash flow, which can be used to pay dividends and expand activity, and by making hiring and investing more attractive.

5. Legislation for unhealthy fast food

If there is regulation restricting the production of unhealthy foods, the cost of food will increase so there will be an increase in nutritional value, leading to increased cost to the company.

6. Imitation

Product imitation has a significant impact on the financial results, lagged asset return, and having a good marketing campaign will significantly influence market share for the sins that people can prioritize imitation with nearly the same quality as the original product with glass market value does the aim for the great return of us it slow.

Two strategies were formulated from the TOWS Matrix: Market penetration and Production Development. Burger King needs to advertise or promote their business to stay competitive with other companies, they must improve their production and adapt to new trends in the industry.

4.6 Quantitative Strategy Planning (QSP) Matrix

The findings revealed that production development is preferable over market penetration. The two methods have similar ratings, indicating that they can both be applied by the company.

5. Strategy Recommendation

New strategy recommendations are vital for a company, especially when they are aiming for more success. These are the strategies that Burger King can use, and this includes Market Penetration, Market Development, and Product Development.

Strategy 1- Market Penetration

It is said that Burger King’s weaknesses are Market Concentration and Scattered Marketing Campaign, so the strategy of market penetration will be able to help with these weaknesses. Market Penetration will help when it comes to Burger King’s presence, and it will also help in improving their influence. Market Penetration focuses on the brand’s image like partnering with other brands, companies or even with people who have a very great image. It will help in having better marketing or branding strategies and it can also result in the company’s opportunities in the future. Market Penetration will also improve the company’s sales and it will be more recognized by more potential customers since they also need to improve their advertisement skills. Market penetration also helps when it comes to improving the company’s pricing.

Strategy 2- Market Development

Market Development is a strategy that is helpful when it comes to introducing a company’s products to new locations. Market Development will help in developing the business or market through expansions. This is a great strategy since we can see that Burger King is already very successful in their field so opening in more locations will not be that complicated for their company. Market Development is a strategy that can help Burger King in gaining more competitive advantage and it makes the business to be locally, and internationally known. The market development will help burger king to be known in every area in our country and all around the world. This can also help when it comes to improving Burger King’s Marketing Skills and Location development. If the company also focuses on opening more branches in different locations, they will have more control and it can lessen the issue that is related to their franchise models. Having more locations can also lead to the company’s increased earnings and it is a great way to compete with their major competitors which are also opening more branches in every location that is possible.

Strategy 3- Product Development

Product Development is a strategy that involves the development of the existing products, and it may also be used to develop new products that Burger King can release. This can give a new life to the company’s existing products, and this can also help with their new marketing skills that their customers will be curious about. Product development is a strategy that can provide satisfaction to the customers, improve the company’s reputation, improve competitiveness, and improve their quality and performance. Product Development is also one of the best strategies when it comes to improving burger king’s weakness which is having a limited product mix.

6. Action Plan

The action plan includes the steps or suggestions that the company can do to be successful. The action plan will help when it comes to the steps that the company needs to consider so that it can lead to the business’ improvements.

Action Plan 1- Market Penetration

This plan will involve better Marketing and Pricing Skills that Burger King should implement. It is said that Burger King’s market concentration can be seen as a flaw to the business so the best thing to do is to adjust their price range. They also have a scattered marketing campaign which can lead to losing existing and potential customers. Burger King can make their products more known or recognized, and they can compete with other companies by lowering the prices of their products and at the same time it still has a great quality. They can also partner or collaborate with famous influencers so that their sales would increase, their marketing and advertising skills will improve, and their business will be more known so it can result in higher consumer security. Burger King can also improve their location to be more known by the customers and in the market field.

Action Plan 2- Market Development

Market Development will help in maximizing Burger King’s full potential in the business industry. They already have a lot of locations that are operating but they still have a lot of potentials when it comes to opening more branches in different locations so that it will be more known, and it can also lead to their control over their products and service. Burger King can search for more great locations for their business since this will be a great advantage to be able to compete with their major competitors which has a lot of branches in different locations. Unlike their other competitors in the country, Burger King does not have a lot of branches when it comes to provincial areas so having more expanding their business in more locations will be beneficial. When they already have more locations, then they will also have more target markets who are their new potential customers. Market Development can also help when it comes to improving their weakness that is related with negative earnings since when a business is already well known and successful, then there is a high possibility that this will lead to an improvement with the company’s sales and earnings.

Action Plan 3- Product Development

Product Development will be helpful since we can also see in this paper that one of Burger King’s weaknesses is that they have a limited product mix. They have a limited range of product lines like burgers or rice meals. The action that Burger King should consider is to provide new packaging for their products and this also works for other brands. They can provide limited edition products with great packaging and when this becomes successful, they can keep this new product on their portfolio or menu. They can also release more rice meals, drinks, desserts, and new flavors of their famous burgers which they are famous for. Adding healthier options can also be a great improvement for their business because this will be perfect for the customers who are into the healthy lifestyle trends. Through product development, they can also improve the demands, and quality of their products which can result in more customers who will be loyal with their brand.

7. Conclusion

To summarize everything that has been stated so far, we therefore, conclude that Burger King Corporation is performing above the average. Meaning, this food chain is very well operating and competing with its competitors. As the years go by, it is constantly keeping up to cater its market, to meet the needs of its customers, and to be one of the top food chains in the industry.

As you have seen, the Internal Factor Evaluation (IFE) Matrix shows that the Burger King Corporation has a total of 3.02 weighted score which means that it is internally strong. Also, the External Factor Evaluation (EFE) Matrix proves that the total weighted score of opportunities and threats are equal to 2.92 which indicates that Burger King Corporation is an above-average level. Moving on, Competitive Profile Matrix (CPM) stated that Burger King is only on the second spot in competing with McDonald's which has a total score of 3.17 while Burger King Corporation has only 2.75, and lastly, the Wendy's at the third spot having a 2.30 total score.

Moreover, in the Boston Consulting Group (BCG) Matrix, you have seen that what makes that Burger King have high growth and high market at the same time is their whopper products and franchise-owned outlet business. Also, the reason why Burger King Corporation falls to this quadrant is that they have rapid growth, dominant market shares as well as 13, 000 franchises around the world. Furthermore, the Strategic Position and Action Evaluation (SPACE) Matrix of this food chain shows that Burger King falls in the "aggressive" quadrant since it has a total of 0.50 in Financial Position (FP) and Stability Position (SP) while a total of 1.00 in Industry Position (IP) and Competitive Position (CP). Additionally, the Grand Strategy (GS) Matrix proved that Burger King Corporation has a strong competitive position in which strategies such as product development as well as integration strategies will best suit this food industry. To add up, the Internal-External (IE) Matrix shows that the Internal Factor Evaluation (IFE) falls in cell I which has 3.02 and the External Factor Evaluation (IFE) falls under cell II because it has a total weighted score of 2.92.

As you have seen, the Internal Factor Evaluation (IFE) Matrix shows that the Burger King Corporation has a total of 3.02 weighted score which means that it is internally strong. Also, the External Factor Evaluation (EFE) Matrix proves that the total weighted score of opportunities and threats are equal to 2.92 which indicates that Burger King Corporation is an above-average level. Moving on, Competitive Profile Matrix (CPM) stated that Burger King is only on the second spot in competing with McDonald's which has a total score of 3.17 while Burger King Corporation has only 2.75, and lastly, the Wendy's at the third spot having a 2.30 total score.

Moreover, in the Boston Consulting Group (BCG) Matrix, you have seen that what makes that Burger King have high growth and high market at the same time is their whopper products and franchise-owned outlet business. Also, the reason why Burger King Corporation falls to this quadrant is that they have rapid growth, dominant market shares as well as 13, 000 franchises around the world. Furthermore, the Strategic Position and Action Evaluation (SPACE) Matrix of this food chain shows that Burger King falls in the "aggressive" quadrant since it has a total of 0.50 in Financial Position (FP) and Stability Position (SP) while a total of 1.00 in Industry Position (IP) and Competitive Position (CP). Additionally, the Grand Strategy (GS) Matrix proved that Burger King Corporation has a strong competitive position in which strategies such as product development as well as integration strategies will best suit this food industry. To add up, the Internal-External (IE) Matrix shows that the Internal Factor Evaluation (IFE) falls in cell I which has 3.02 and the External Factor Evaluation (IFE) falls under cell II because it has a total weighted score of 2.92.

Besides these matrices, we therefore, conclude that the Strengths-Weaknesses-Opportunities-Threats (SWOT) also come up to consider the strategies Market Penetration and Product Development to remain competitive as well as to adopt new concepts that will surely fit the trends in the industry. That is why in the (QSPM) Matrix, the methods or strategies Market Penetration and Product Development can be applied to Burger King Corporation for the food chain company to keep in the right track. To successfully achieve these goals the strategy recommendation comes up with an action plan on how these strategies will work and will help the company to be competitive as well as to perform better than usual. And so, this is the findings that this paper found.

8. Financial Projection

As shown in the chart Burger King’s revenue has a huge step up from the year 2018 which only shows that it is the best year of Burger King because their income has drastically risen and it continues to grow up until 2020 despite the current pandemic crisis situation, it somehow shows that Burger King wasn’t that much affected by the Crisis.

[razieltwelve]

The Babysitter (RWBY AU Snippet)

“I’m amazed that you’re okay with this.” Death shifted slightly as the toddler in her arms tried to poke her in the eye. It wouldn’t have done any damage to her, but the toddler would definitely have injured her finger thanks to her divine durability. “Most people wouldn’t be comfortable having Death babysit their children.”

“Most people aren’t an alternate universe version of Death,” Ruby replied. “Besides, it was either you or Crescent Rose.”

“Ah.” Death nodded sagely. “I can see why you asked me to do it then.”

“Look,” Ruby said. “I love my dragon. Don’t get me wrong. Crescent Rose is fantastic. I would totally die for her, and she would totally die for me. In fact, that’s how you and I met, isn’t it? But let’s be honest. She’s not exactly mature. If I left her to watch Luna, I’d come back to find the house on fire with Crescent Rose and Luna cackling about how quickly it’s burning.”

Outside, the red dragon snickered. She wasn’t offended. If anything, she thought Ruby was understating how bad a babysitter she would make. It was better to leave the babysitting to Gambol Shroud or Ember Celica. The shadow dragon was incredibly lazy, but she had a knack for keeping kids amused and out of trouble while the solar dragon was just fantastic with kids.

“True.” Death smiled as Luna began to rummage through her pockets for a cookie. The girl looked so much like Weiss except for the silver eyes she’d inherited from Ruby. “But you’re not the least bit worried about her being around me?”

“Is she going to die if I leave her with you?” Ruby asked bluntly. “Because you’d know, right?”

“I would.” Death grinned. “And you can rest assured that she is completely safe with me. Her time will not be for many years yet... but that’s assuming she acts sensibly. If she starts throwing herself off cliffs and in front of rampaging dragons, well, I’ll be showing up for her sooner rather than later.”

“I’ll tell her that once she’s old enough to understand.” Ruby tilted her head to one side. “Out of interest, don’t you normally have a dog with you?”

“You mean Zwei?” Luna giggled in delight as she mysteriously found a cookie in one of Death’s pockets. Ah, the wonders of nigh-limitless divine might. “He’s currently enjoying Zwei Day on one of the worlds he helped save.”

“Zwei Day?” Ruby raised one eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”

“He may have slaughtered an invading army of demons by barking at them, so every year they like to throw a celebration in his honour. It’s the hundredth one this year, so he decided to actually show up. He’ll let them spoil him rotten for a few days before he heads home. In the meantime, Drei will be helping me.”

At the mention of his name, an adorable three-headed corgi appeared.

“Okay...” Ruby leaned forward as Drei nudged her leg and then began to chew on her shoe. “I kind of expected something more menacing.”

“Oh, Drei can get way scarier. In fact, other than me, he’s probably the most powerful thing in this world at the moment. However, he’s still very young, so he usually doesn’t transform unless he has to since he kind of, well, breaks everything.” Death moved forward to poke Drei with her foot. “Come on, Drei, no chewing on Ruby’s shoe.”

The three-headed corgi huffed and then trotted over to the couch before jumping onto it and moving around a bit before finally settling. 

“That’s his spot now,” Death explained. “Whenever he shows up, you can expect him to sit there.”

“Is he going to show up a lot?” Ruby asked. Weiss was still getting ready for their night out. If she knew the other woman, it was probably Myrtenaster’s fault. Weiss was already very picky about how she dressed, and consulting with the frost dragon typically made it worse since they were both perfectionists. It was one of the reason Ruby loved Crescent Rose. Her dragon’s approach to fashion was simple: anything that stopped Ruby from dying from exposure was okay since human skin sucked compared to dragon scales.

“He’ll be in and out,” Death replied. “There are a lot of little anomalies in this world, so it might be good to have a Divine Beast poking around in case there’s anything untoward going on. If there’s anything he can’t handle, he’ll tell Zwei. And, really, if there’s anything that Zwei can’t handle here, you’re in real trouble... but don’t worry because I can handle it.”

“And if you can’t handle it?”

“Ruby, I’m Death. If there’s a problem I can’t handle, then all of Creation is probably screwed.”

“Good point.” Ruby turned as she heard Weiss emerge from their room. “You look awesome, Weiss!”

The other woman did indeed look awesome. Like most dragon riders, she usually favoured practical clothing - flying in a skirt was a rookie mistake - but there was still a vast difference between combat clothing and the sort of clothing designed for aesthetic purposes. Weiss’s form-hugging trousers, finely-fitted blouse, and shimmering, dragon-scale mantle were all designed to catch and hold the eye. The mantle in particular was striking. It had been woven from scales Myrtenaster had shed, which meant it was the same colour as polar ice, a white so intense it made the blue of Weiss’s eyes look like cerulean flame. Ruby had grown up hearing legends about the snow maidens that haunted the high peaks were only dragons dared to go. They were supposed to ensorcel climbers and travellers with their beauty.

Weiss was her snow maiden, and Ruby was most definitely ensorcelled.

“Are you two done chatting?” Weiss said. “We’re going to be late.”

“I recall Ruby being ready almost half an hour ago,” Death replied with a grin, ignoring the crumbs that Luna was leaving on her cloak as she munched on her cookie. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” Weiss replied archly.

“I’m sure that was it,” Ruby said. She took Weiss’s hand. “Shall we, milady?”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Oh, good grief.” She sketched a curtsy. “Very well, Your Highness.”

“Technically, you’re the princess,” Ruby pointed out. “Whereas I am but a mere commoner.”

Weiss snorted inelegantly. “Ruby, you’re a dragon rider. You’re nobility by default. And let’s not forget the whole war hero, living legend, and Slayer of Fell Beasts thing that you’ve got going on.”

“To be fair, Crescent Rose did most of the slaying. I was mostly along for the rider for that one.”

“Ruby you jumped off your dragon and stabbed a demonic beast the size of a whale in the eye while Crescent Rose was grappling with it in mid-air. It’s a miracle you didn’t fall to your death, and you more than did your part.”

“Yeah... I guess I am pretty awesome.” Ruby nodded at Death. “We should be back before midnight. If not...”

“Then I will assume you two have found a nice, quiet spot to enjoy each other.” Death chuckled. “Fear not, your child is safe with me.”

X    X     X

Death bit back a grin at the horrified face Luna made as she ate her vegetables. The toddler was acting like she was being fed poison as she cringed and slowly but surely finished her meal. 

“You know,” Death said. “I asked the other gods if we could change Creation so cookies were healthy, but I got outvoted.”

Luna made a disgusted sound but continued to eat her vegetables.

“But since you’ve done such a good job of eating your vegetables, I’ll have a surprise ready for you when you’re done with the rest of them.”

X    X     X

Luna’s eyes widened as she took in the giant cookies floating around in the sky.

“Behold,” Death said. “The cookie dimension... which only two worlds over from the mango puree dimension.” She pulled Luna closer to whisper into her ear. “Just don’t tell your mommy about this place. Otherwise, she’ll never stop bugging me until I take her here.” She pointed. “We can start with that one. It’s chocolate chip.”

X    X     X

Author’s Notes

Are you worried about the safety of your children? Why not have an alternate universe version of yourself with essentially limitless power watch them for you? Sure, you’ll have to put up with the occasional Divine Beast sleeping on your couch, but you couldn’t ask for a safer, more reliable babysitter than Death herself. The Ruby’s in this story are DragonRider!Ruby and Death!Ruby.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as three audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems, Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire, and The Hungry Dragon Cookie Company.  If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out!

[ladypyb]

Kiss-Me-Quick

Rating: T

Relationship/s: USUK

Note: I missed writing fanfics for my otp... I hope you like it!!!

|ao3|

Arthur is aware the duke was his neighbor. But that didn't give the blue-blood an excuse to summon him so suddenly in the morning! Even if, this has been happening for a few months... or that he's got a little crush on the man.

Something wet dripped onto his left hand as he reached for the scrambled eggs. Alfred paused for a moment, slightly irked at the wet circle on his skin before continuing on. Plop! Another dropped on his mango juice, noticeable ripples rocked against the glass. Okaaay, he was not imagining that. The young man looked at his breakfast, suspicion rising. And fear. He knew he was a sought-after bachelor (often an asshole), but no one would go that far as to--

He felt it again on his hair, wet and large. 

Alfred slowly placed his fork and knife with such gentleness and quietness that even the dowager queen would have raised a brow as nothing about him was ever that gentle and quiet (Now, that wasn't true!). He watched as a droplet fell on his barely eaten breakfast. The duke thought, 'Well, shit', and braced himself before looking up.

As he raised his head, he realized it wasn't some sort of monster or demon creeping on him from the canopy of his bed. But he still wasn't relieved when he noticed an angry cloud above him. Slowly swirling in a stormy gray as big wet drops began trailing down on him, his bed, and his breakfast. 

The frightened duke shoved aside the breakfast tray. Standing up and away from the bed, he watched as the little angry cloud followed him. "Toris!" 

The cloud got bigger and bigger as Alfred tried to cover himself from the rain inside his own bedroom. He looked at his now-soaked breakfast forlornly before yelling again for his butler. "Toris!" Alfred heard quick steps and an anxious "Sir?--"

"Toris, help!"

A brunett opened a door to a flooding room of Alfred shielding himself with a pillow from a storm inside his bedroom. Toris back away from the door as Alfred began running out of his drenched chamber with his equally soggy pajamas. "Sir, what's--?"

"No time! Call for him!" He narrowly avoided crashing down on his butler before regaining balance.

"Sir--! I'm sorry but did you mean--?!"

The duke bolted down the corridor, the large raining cloud was following him. Alfred noticed it immediately and flung open a window that faced the gardens. "Yes, him!" He threw his legs over the window, "The wizard in the backyard!" Alfred gripped the window frames, preparing for it as the rain pattered on him.

"ARTHUR!"

And the duke fell. From the window on the third floor.

Sir Arthur,

The Duke of Sableon is currently under a situation that can only be relieved by your powers of such caliber. I wish to ask for your time to identify the cause and, hopefully, cure such troubles that have befallen the lord of the house. 

I hope for you to come visit today or at your earliest availability.

Head Butler of the House of Sableon,

Toris Laurinaitis

Arthur gave the soldier that had given him the letter with a long bleak stare. The dark-haired man avoided his eyes. The wizard scoffed as he threw the letter on the pile of leaves beside him. Arthur was just having a peaceful morning watering and tending to his quaint garden of herbs and flowers when a soldier rudely interrupted his conversation with a little dryad. The soldier had shoved it to him with such 'urgency' he scared off Arthur's new friend!

He had to give some credit to Toris. It wasn't often a butler could write a letter with more formality and propriety than his master. Though, formality and propriety aren't exactly what Duke Jones is recognized for. Handsome? Yes. A gentleman? Arthur was dubious. But polite and refined? Ha, no!

He snapped his fingers and the pile of leaves with the letter was on fire. The soldier audibly gulped when the burning pile crackled. The bright red flames didn't spread nor did it smolder the grass beneath.

"Wait here," Arthur commanded the other with a finger pointed to the ground. Daring the man to follow him to his house.

Arthur took his sweet time looking for his satchel. After all, he was requested (more like ordered) to go solve another person's problems so suddenly without much thought to whether or not he was busy himself. Well, he wasn't really busy as the wizard had nothing to do except restocking a few not-really-needed potions here and there. But he was curious as to what mess the manchild of a duke had gone up to. Sighing, Arthur hopes it was not as worse as the curses he was afflicted before.

When he heard the loud yell of his name from the other side of the hedge, Arthur was tempted to peek in and sneer at who dared to scream the wizard's name so early in the morning. And, perhaps, curse the fellow that ruined the peace. The incident was strange, but he refused to break a personal oath of being someone a bit more 'proper' than his previous years.

From what was implied in the letter, it may have been the young lord that had caused him to over-water his Forget-Me-Nots.

As he locked the front door, he couldn't help but not deny himself of the satisfaction of delaying the summons to the estate that was just beside his little cottage. Just out of spite (and anxiousness to what problem Alfred had gotten himself into). So he turned the keys ever so slowly it rivaled that of how the hour hand of a clock moved. He saw the soldier shifting his feet with impatience in the corner of his eye. Click!

"Well then," the wizard grumbled as he adjusted the satchel over his shoulder, "Lead on."

Arthur has been inside the mansion of his neighbor a few times, which was a lot more than he would have liked. He can practically draw a map of the whole mansion on the back of his hand. The wizard liked the interior though, who wouldn't with such wonderful and meticulously planned furnishings, he didn't like the owner just as much as the aesthetic that seemed to vary but connect each individual room. He liked the duke's ability to connect such different pieces much more than he'd like to admit himself.

The green-eyed wizard was led to a corridor that only led to the most beautiful garden of the Sableon Fief. Huh! Arthur doesn't agree with that sentiment. 

The soldier nodded at him to proceed to the hallway. The familiar face of Toris greeted Arthur as they neared the glass doors to the gardens. Once again, the brunett's face was the same nervous mess Arthur had seen the last, what, thirteen times during this month only? And it was only the third week! The duke certainly had a less-desirable streak with curses, didn't he?

"Sir Arthur!" The butler's face was of pure relief when he turned to see the wizard calming treading down the hall. "I'm sorry that I interrupted your morning again but--"

Arthur waved his hand. "Oh, that's alright. Is it still the same case of dog slobber?" Ugh, that one was a fairly common curse. Easy to brew, difficult to make the afflicted person drink. 

The butler shook his head. Arthur drolled on. "Frog Vomiting? Blue Dues? Vampirism? ..."

"Err, nothing that has happened before actually." Toris tugged at his collar. The wizard's presence was always heavy, though it was perhaps the overly-large cloak. 

"A new one, then?" Arthur sighed in annoyance, "Was it severe enough that you had to move him outside his room?"

"No, definitely not as serious as the one from last week, though, " Toris reached for the doorknobs, "It's as equally messy-- It's better for you to see for yourself." 

The stained glass doors opened to a garden with such colorful vibrancy and a drenched man sitting on the chair under the roofed table set. A man who was... rained under the roof of the outdoor terrace. Arthur barely restrained an amused whistle. Now that was new.

The rain was falling freely from the sloped ceiling to the visibly upset man in front of Arthur. The stormcloud was a familiar sight. The wizard can't help but smirk at the soggy mess his employer had gotten himself this time. "So, " Arthur wheezed to control himself from outright laughing, "Who did you piss off this time, my lord?"

The duke pouted like the man-child that he was, not at all happy but used to the curses inflicted upon him. "How 'bout you guess, Arthur? I'm sure it won't be that hard with all the rain on me!" Alfred locked his eyes on the wizard's daring the other to even chuckle at his predicament.

Arthur coughed to hide the laughter that found its way to escape from his lips. He was getting paid a handsome amount if he was civil, after all. Still grinning in hilarity, he chided the young duke, "I take it you didn't heed my advice to not attend the party held by the Kirklands then?"

Alfred huffed, denying another mistake he made, "Your sister doesn't exactly take losing in an argument well." Thunder rumbled from the stormclouds as if to grumble along with the cursed aristocrat.

The wizard thanked Toris as the butler offered a seat and excused himself. The green-eyed man sat across Alfred with a humph and a cringe. "Half-sister. We share only the same father and the name 'Kirkland'. Nothing else."

"You forgot the eyebrows."

"Yes," Arthur hissed, "Be that as may, at least I know the right potion to help your drenched arse." The wizard vaguely gestured to the flooding side of the patio. "Lady Aisling often used the same rainstorm curse on those that pissed her off. Often enough for me to memorize its breaking potion."

The duke perked up to Arthur's statement. The man's blue eyes were filled with tired relief. Arthur understood that; he was once victimized by his older sister by the same curse years ago. The rain and thunder were very uncomfortable. And freezing his bollocks off.

Huh, this was the first time he had seen Alfred without his glasses. The duke was starting to turn red from the cold water. He must be going under a fever, too. But that wasn't his problem! Not at all. Not even when his companion's golden complexion seemed to turn gray under to the constant raining on him. Nor when the younger man almost died from last week's curse. Arthur thinks that Alfred may as well have been cursed to be cursed almost every waking moment. At least the wizard has a reason to see the duke now and then if only to remove or break said curses. Arthur will keep that to himself.

"I'll come back this afternoon with the breaking potion."

"Oh thank the gods. I don't think I can handle being wet any longer."

The wizard scolded himself to not think about something that would rather like to be wet in the presence of a sculpted young man. "Hm. Oh!" Arthur looked around to the multitude of flowers and plants in the garden recalling that he didn't have a particular ingredient that was needed for the removal but was present behind Alfred, "You don't happen to mind if I ask a Kiss or two from you, my lord?"

Alfred suddenly slipped in his seat and spluttered in surprise, "Wha-what! ...I think I, uh,  misheard you... ?"

The wizard rolled his eyes, "A Kiss. I'd need one for the breaking to work." Arthur raised a regal brow at the flushing and squeaking man in front of him. The rain was pouring buckets now. At this rate, Alfred is definitely going down with a cold. 

"Uh, I- Wha..." The duke adjusted himself on his seat. Alfred was being difficult again, was he stingy about plucking a single flower? Arthur admires a person that takes care of their garden but this is actually important!

"I only need one Kiss."

"Now?! As in, right now?"

Arthur pursed his lips. "No, it's alright if I take one when I'll come back in the afternoon."

The other was silent as if his life depended on the choice he'd make. Arthur watched as his companion took a deep breath and raised a finger, face, and neck a flattering shade of pink. Oh, he wasn't actually furious, was he? 

"One kiss... Just one."

"Yes. Kiss-Me-Quick and nothing else. Just that." Arthur gathered himself and stood up. "I expect it to be vibrant and not messy this afternoon, my lord. I'll see you then." He turned and walked his way back to his cottage, reminding himself to not forget to put a few sunflower seeds this time.

The wizard was completely unaware of the crimson mess he'd left the duke in. Muttering and covering his face with his wet, wrinkled hands.

"... He, he actually...! Expecting me to--! A kiss! ... My first...!"

The wizard speed-walked his way to the back garden, absentmindedly shaking the contents of the bottle in his nimble fingers. Today's problem was easier to break compared to the other curses. Granted it was because it was Aisling's most-used spell. And that he had lived in the same household as her for over half of his life. 

Nonetheless, an early breaking meant early payment. And a saved blond blue-eyed hunk of a duke. Though, Alfred really should his mouth shut half of the time. If Arthur wasn't living nearby, the aristocrat would have a hard time finding a competent magician and herbalist in the area. The fief was known for its industrial strength, not a heavy reliance on magic. The young Duke of Sableon was both lucky and unlucky at the same time.

Arthur twisted the stained glass doors open. Alfred was there, standing near the multitude of flowers. As the wizard got closer, he saw the duke pluck a bundle of Kiss-Me-Quicks from its bushes. 

A large cloud was still situated atop the golden hair of the lord of the house and almost half the overly-huge beautiful garden. Arthur watched the big and hurried way the droplet hit the sun-kissed skin, now turning a pale tan due to the cold rain, and on his nearly-transparent shirt. Even in the distance, he could make out the other man's musculature. The wizard felt the tips of his ears heating up and Arthur was sure it wasn't because of the three o'clock sun.

He marched over to the cursed duke, pulling the hood of his cloak as he did so. The cold drops of rain were cold as it began to soak through the think fabric of his cloak. "Good afternoon, my lord. Are you ready?"

Arthur didn't mean to be near soundless when he made his way but the younger man flinched at the sound of Arthur's voice, dropping the flowers in his hands before facing his neighbor. Arthur groaned as he bowed to pick up the bunch. He plucked a single flower and mixed it inside the potion in his hands.

"Uh-Um, Arthur... ?" Alfred had said it so quietly, Arthur could have not have heard him if it weren't for their close distance. When the green-eyed wizard rose and looked back up, he was greeted by a wonderfully cute side of Alfred. Flushed and soaked with rainwater from the tips of his hair to his bare feet on the ground, twisting the fabric on the edge of his sleeves. Blue eyes that not shrouded by his thick glasses were staring back into his own greens. 

For a moment, Arthur stood there blinking and unmoving as Alfred fumbled with his words. Suddenly, he couldn't hear the words from the lips of the other man but only the pitter-patter of the rain on the grass beneath their feet. And then, under the unforgiving storm on their heads, Arthur heard a: "If-If you won't, then I will!"

Strong arms had gripped his waist and shoulder and he was promptly pulled into cold but soft lips. 

Wha- What...

It took him the whole kiss to process that Alfred, the duke who was also his neighbor and employer was kissing him in the middle of the gardens where cursed rain was pouring down on both of them. And he responded by leaning onto the drenched form of the taller man. Arthur wasn't sure when he closed his eyes but when those cloud-soft lips left his own, his grip on the glass bottle of the potion slackened. Its dull thud on the grass went unnoticed to him and Alfred as his hands reached to the nape of the other's neck to cut the little distance between them for another touch of those sinfully sweet lips. Their teeth knocked into each other but both neither gave a damn. The wizard titled his head and their kiss deepened. 

For a moment, they just stood under the cursed storm cloud, kissing, and just feeling. The fact that the rain on their bodies was a curse and the potion to break it was on the wet grass was ignored. Eyes half-lidded and lips covered by the other, Arthur wouldn't have this kiss from the man he'd wanted for months any other way.

Something wet and rough suddenly swiped across his bottom lip. Arthur jolted in the realization that he was kissing the Duke of Sableon and pushed the other away.

Oh. Oh, Alfred kissed him. He kissed Alfred.

"... Arthur?"

The wizard back away from the duke, mumbling, and crimson red from the events. 

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

...

Arthur crouched and reached for the potion he dropped earlier and shoved it to Alfred's hard chest. He kept his eyes on his rained-on sleeves as he shouted in embarrassment. "Here! Drink! You idiot!"

The wizard turned away and ran faster than he ever did in his whole life.

That stupid git! Kissing him out of the blue, he really was a player. He shouldn't have let his guard down. Arthur took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose as he exited the sprawling estate. 

Confused and embarrassed and still feeling tingly all over from the kiss, he wonders what was going through Alfred's head when he was about to give him the potion.

Certainly, it wasn't because the other felt the same-- No. Arthur shook his head, there was no way Alfred would. Perhaps it was because of the Kiss-Me-Quick flowers? The name must have confused him! Yes, that was probably it.

Inside, he hopes it wasn't that at all.