#meticulous man they said and i took it seriously

[harmonysanreads]

Tell Sunday to peel an orange for you and he'll diligently pick apart the tendrils until the orange is clear enough to see your reflection on.

[thevirtualvalentine]

Challengers

Plot: three young tennis stars find themselves in a sticky love triangle, or, satosugu x reader x Challengers!au, but if you were tashi and had stayed in the hotel room that night in 2006.

Warnings: threesomes (mfm), afab!reader, competitiveness, cunnilings, handjobs n’ oral, switch!gojo, fingering, porn with plot, missionary prince gojo, doggy king geto, they both have a massive crush on reader, banter, praise, degradation, multiple orgasms.

authors notes: I got super carried away and it’s such a long read (6.6k), enjoy! 😇

There was one thing two of these complete opposites could agree on. Y/n L/n was the sexiest tennis player either of them had ever seen. On and off the court.

Satorus' big bright eyes stared at your recent brand campaign on social media in awe as he scrolled through his phone during downtime before practice.

“Can you believe that? Look at this Su” Satoru shows his friend in utter disbelief like you just cheated on him or something. His eyes haven’t left his screen in over five minutes, he looks pained yet fascinated knowing you have no idea who he is. Additionally, he’s oddly defensive over his phone even though he offered to show the raven-haired male.

“Like she’d fuck with a guy like you,” Suguru mumbles quietly under his breath in annoyance, rolling his eyes and leaning further into his stretch. Sometimes he wishes Satoru took this a little bit more seriously considering upcoming dates.

While their favorite thing to talk about outside of tennis was you, they had serious work to do before an upcoming competition that the two of them would be competing in.

“But you know, Masamichi said we got invited to a party of hers before the match..” Satoru makes his way to the lined court, serving some while waiting for his companion.

“Shut up and just do your drills Satoru,” Suguru muses while grabbing his racket, making a face while returning a stray ball right at the white-haired man. He quickly ties his long hair back in a low ponytail before gearing up for practice.

“Ouchie!! Suguru be careful where you aim those,” he pouts, running frantically around the court before dramatically grabbing the net to state his grievances. He can only hear his partner darkly laugh with his back turned to him. Suguru has always had a tendency to be a meanie!

But, before they went to your party, they had wanted to watch you play a match in the exact upcoming competition. Suguru was the most inquisitive to see your infamous backhand the press can’t seem to shut up about in various headlines. Satoru would never pass up the opportunity to see you in motion.

Later that week at the match, the two of them arrive together and wave off various paparazzi looking for interviews before finding their seats. “Look look— is that her?” Satoru voices as you enter the court, they’re watching from their meticulously purchased stand seats as a woman with dark skin and a matching set begins to stretch. Your long curly hair is pulled back in a keen style as you showcase your limber frame.

“Unbelievable,” Suguru cannot ignore the sly smirk that graces Gojo's face as he observes you. There were visible glimmers in his friend's blue eyes that clearly shone for you.

Suguru isn’t sure if he’s jealous about it all, but he interjects nevertheless. “Again, like she’d want you over me.”

The match commences with your serve. The two of them instantaneously manspread in their seats, gazes glued to your every movement. You had absolute domineering control of the court, causing your opponent to run around like a chicken with her head cut off. Even as the ball was smashed to either side of the court, their yearning was fixated on Y/n L/n, the tennis prodigy.

During a particularly electrified set, Suguru rests his hand on Satoru's thigh. He can feel the stiffness of his friends' pants, he recognizes it because of his own growingly awkward condition. Fuck, he knew they were both whipped as they exhaled a long-held breath simultaneously. Neither of them realized they’d been holding it while watching you in the first place.

You ultimately win the match, exclaiming your victory boldly. “Come on!” Satoru doesn’t know if there’s a word for it, smitten maybe? Gobsmacked? Horny? Is he in love? He doesn’t know. He just knows you’re beautiful in that moment, emulating your joy with a smile of his own.

Later on that day, a party was held in one of your family's villas, the two of them couldn’t help themselves from gawking at all the decorations dedicated to you. Their jaws were practically on the floor seeing precisely how successful you were. Satoru’s dick hurt with how hard it was sitting in his pants, khakis aren’t really great for boners.

The duo finds you on the dance floor with your friends, a nice fitting electric blue dress hugs your curvy body while you sway and dance to the beat. It’s effortless, “wooow,” Suguru says downing his bitter drink. They’re not doing excellently to camouflage themselves with hard-pointed gazes, just standing there watching you at a nearby event table.

Their attire pales in comparison to yours, simple slacks with a nice suitable polo. Colors befitting the two of them respectively. Satoru sporting a pretty pale blue shirt and Suguru in muted navy (no doubt stolen from Satoru). You see the two of them watching you, but you don’t really mind. You know they’ll find their way over to you eventually.

In fact, it doesn’t take long. They scamper up to you in a hurry when they spot you sitting down to take a drink in a less densely populated area of the party.

“Satoru Gojo,” the man with short white hair and big bright blue eyes conveys.

“Suguru Geto,” the one with mysterious allure and long black hair articulated.

But, it comes out indistinguishable as they decide to speak in unison. “Yin and Yang, I know you two.” You take an interlude to catch your breath and sip your drink. Their hungry eyes track your hasty mouth to the straw with a similar thirst.

“So, which ones which?” they gulp, but Suguru is eager to bite first.

“Guess,” and it comes out how you would imagine. Flirtatious with a dynamism of sarcasm, you can spot the growing shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

“Your match today was incredible, it was like an entirely different game. I almost felt bad for Mei Mei” Truthfully, in his heart of hearts, Satoru Gojo cannot and will not be beat. Not even by his best friend. His pride runs too deep to face a reality in which he does not win.

You look down at your hands and smile before replying to him, soaking in the compliment. Just like a flower, he thinks you’re beautiful. “Thank you, but don’t she’s a freak, honestly. You should hear the rumors about her and her little brother.”

Suguru almost spits his booze across the small table, he didn’t think you of all people would be the one to say such gossip. Beautiful, athletic, and very witty. He likes it, at least that’s what he’s concluded.

“Hey, come hang out with us down by the beach later. Do you smoke?” He has also decided that he’d act upon his feelings. What’s the worst that could happen? Getting to spend time with you would be fun.

“Uh,” you dart your eyes between them considering your options, “Yeah, sure. I’ll come by.” Not a moment sooner though, your parents call you over to oversee some of your financial business partners at the party. You are whisked away by eager hands, quickly forgetting about the two of them as they’re left to watch you mingle with a sense of want in their chest.

“She totally wants me,” Satoru says full of blind confidence, not even bothering to look at his friend to confirm his thoughts.

And again, there’s that sparkle in Satoru’s eyes. “For the final time, like it’s you she wants. She was obviously flirting with me.” He is always full of fire and smacks the back of Satorus' neck in compensation.

Later on, when most of the attendees have trickled out one by one, the pair finds themselves plotting incessantly once more. Neither of them is able to help themselves in their delusions, discussing to share you like pieces of pie.

“Still here?” You say when you find them sitting off to the side by their lonesome. They always seem to be together, attached at the hip like a husband and husband.

“We were waiting for you. Come down to the beach with us.” Even though it was a question, one which you didn’t have to answer, Suguru's raging confidence speaks volumes making it a statement. smooth, a little too smooth.

You look back once more at your surroundings to ensure your family didn’t need you for any pictures, it would be awkward if they found out you were sneaking around with two guys. Yet, you indulge them, “Uh,” hesitation finds you biting down on your bottom lip slightly, “Sure.” you say, shaking any negative thoughts from your head. this was a party after a great win today, go have fun.

As a trio once more, the three of you make your way to the grainy shores, doing your best to avoid steep drops. Both of them engaging you in conversation simultaneously, almost talking over each other with their boyish charm. “One at a time please, I can’t understand you both when you talk like that,” you say with a huff, sitting down on a dry rock while the twins find themselves perched in chairs.

Soft waves scurry against the sand in droves painting a scenic backdrop for your conversation against the dark blue sky littered with stars. Suguru lights a smoke and the sparks ignite the air around him. He offers it to you and doesn't mind your inevitable rejection. You do have an image he supposes.

“Lemme ask you something,” he says huffing smoke, passing his cigarette to Satoru. You nod, letting your body face the water as the unclear and mysterious man talks.

“What’s your angle about the whole Jujutsu College thing, you’re too good for the collegiate league.” His eyes find yours, awaiting your answer as he leans further back into his seat.

Satoru, unlike his friend, knows the value of education. He also knows you’ll be attending the same institute as him to play tennis alongside your studies.

You answer him in a smooth tone, sure of your answer, “It has classes y’know. I don’t want my only life skill to be hitting a ball with a racket.” Despite the will of Mother Nature, neither of them could hear the sound of the waves over their heartbeats. Hearing you tell them exactly how it is makes them admire you as a player even more.

“I get it, you’re making us wait for you.” He finds himself grinning lightly. “The tennis phenomenon who cares about her education.” You’re exactly the woman they knew you’d be. Smart, cunning, and ambitious. There’s nothing you couldn’t do, and there’s absolutely nothing that could make either of them want you more in that moment. Satoru drones out the rest of your conversation as Suguru gets into morals and life goals on the ethics of tennis.

Satoru takes this time to really study you. He notes the smoothness of your skin, the enunciation of your collarbones through your strapless dress, and the silver hoops that dangle from your ears and sway with every word you say. He can feel himself almost begin to salivate and glow red.

“It’s a relationship,” you assert. That’s when Satoru has half a mind to pay attention again to the conversation instead of ogling you. Suguru has seemed to hit a nerve with you about whatever you were discussing.

“Is that what you and Mei Mei had today? A relationship?” Suguru throughout his career has found himself asking these confounding questions. Wanting to know the true essence of why he plays his sport. Your conversation and mind have intrigued him, he’s going to push you further just for the sake of intelligent conversation.

“Yes, it was like we were in love like we were the only ones there. Maybe somewhere far away.” Still confused, he wants to chatter more but Satoru seems quick on the uptake.

“When you yelled,” the gears in his mind flip to that exact moment during the match when you hit the winning shot. It was electrifying and infectious.

You’re touched he was able to examine your game like that. “Yeah,” you smile at him tenderly over your shoulder. Maybe they both weren’t so bad, a bit rough around the edges you suppose. “Okay, I gotta go before my parents need me. I’ll see you at school Satoru,” you reveal while grabbing your shoes and patting the sand off your dress.

“Do you have Facebook?” Suguru interjects before you can disappear into the night, only to be seen in another brand campaign on their phone before practice. If he didn't seize this chance, when would there be another opportunity?

“What?” You dig your heels in the sand and spin around to face them. There is a moment of silence as the wind gently blows your long curls into your lipgloss.

Satoru decides he’ll be brave too. “He’s asking for your number, and so am I.”

“You both want my number?” A look of incredulity transits your face at the implication. A pair of best friends, seemingly more, who both want you? It seems a little far-fetched.

“Yes.” Quick, concise, unanimous.

“Ok, well, I’m not a home wrecker.” Whatever is happening between them, stays with them. Your eyes are on tennis and your future.

“Whatttt, nooo. It’s an open relationship. Come hang out with us later. We’re at the same hotel. Room 206.” Satoru proposes to lighten the mood. Suguru only chuckles in his chair at your words, coughing up pools of smoke in the process. What a dope.

“Bye,” is all you leave them with, making your way back up the beach to your party with your friends and family. You can audibly hear boo’s following you from the shore from the two boys.

after leaving the party, the two make their way back to the hotel. Coming up with new ideas on how to win your affections. Going as far as to stake their match tomorrow on it. The room's AC had been broken since the two boys got there. Suguru needed the window open anyway if he was going to smoke.

“So, what are the odds you think she’s coming?” Satoru asks for the sixth time this hour alone. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers feeling the heat, he's lying upside down on the bed observing Suguru chucking cards into the trash can in between punching the AC unit in hopes of it working. They’ve shared a few drinks between the two of them while yearning desperately in their shared hotel room.

Suguru, in typical fashion matching his friend, dons a shirt of his Satorus' with boxers. “She’s not coming,” he says with a mix of disappointment and longing as a way to console himself. Perhaps the two of them had glazed it on too strong.

“Besides, if she came how would that even work? Do we just wait till she kisses one of us and kicks the other out?” The thoughts that have been plaguing his mind now reside in the blue-eyed beauty’s.

Then, three knocks at the door rouse them from their depressive slump, they eye one another to confirm what they both just heard. Had you really come? With another three knocks the adrenaline starts pumping gas.

Fuck. Dumb and dumber run to clean the room, throwing the all cards in the trash can, straightening up the bed sheets, and most importantly putting on a proper pair of pants and a shirt. They practically trip over one another to open the door.

“Hey!” But Geto’s just a little faster.

“Again with the speaking in unison thing. Stop it.” You had been listening to them clamber around in there before opening the door. they laugh before showing you around the room and settling down in a circle on the ground.

“So, did you guys like grow up together?” They snicker and laugh with each other as you join them on the carpeted floor in conversation. “What! I just mean, it seems like you guys are brothers,” you say correcting yourself a little nervously. Now that you’re alone with the two of them it’s all setting in. Your eyes catch their adam's apple as they talk, the bobbing making you swallow hard.

“Well, we went to boarding school together. Been bunk mates since we were 12 years old. That kind of thing.” Suguru answers your question as an excuse to eye you longer. Tiny black shorts strangling your muscular thighs, a hot pink zip-up jacket with probably nothing underneath it, and you have your long natural curls flowing down your back and face. You’re just so tantalizing no matter what you’re in, and he’s sure Satoru feels the same way.

“Oh, and how often does this happen?” You pause, sitting up on your knees making your hips extra plush as you query, “Going after the same girl?”

Yin and yang eye each other before answering as if in deep thought, “Never.”

“Not as often as you’d think. We usually have different types” Truthfully, they wanted to sound sincere.

“Oh, so should I feel special?” but that honesty stung nonetheless. While they didn’t mean to, it came off a bit rude. Why even entertain these two freaks in the first place?

Satoru answers your question to soften the mood, “Aren’t you everyone’s type?” he has a strange threshold of emotional intelligence, more than Suguru. That's what you like about him though, his eyes that see everything.

Both of their stares pining you in place, while they are nice, you can sense a lingering intensity in their terminology. It ignited something in you, sending a tremble through your spine thinking of what they could do to you in the security of these four walls.

Your eyes flicker between the two of them but then fall on the bed, noting the fact the two once separate beds have been forced together. You face back to the pretty pair feeling the tension amidst you all reaching its climax.

“And what about the two of you,” your hands point back and forth trying to say the obvious without saying it. “I’m not a home wrecker.”

“Us?” They ask in unison almost comically. When they realize you’re dead serious they shut up and consider it for a second.

“Well..” Suguru starts, but Satoru stops.

A flush of red overtakes his face immediately, “no, Su, not that.”

He snickers to himself lightly in a teasing manner, but your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Tell me please, I feel like you two at least owe me that.” You can practically feel yourself digging your nails into the skin of your palm in anticipation of their little secret.

“Fine. Ok.” The confession begins. “Suguru taught me how to jerk off when we were 12. I think I was a late bloomer or something,” he says avoiding eye contact still beet red from the neck up. It’s honestly kind of cute but you still find yourself giggling slightly.

Much to Satoru’s dismay, Suguru only joins in on the laughter. The white-haired man places his head between his knees trying to think of some sort of rebuttal in the middle of his embarrassment.

“Whatever, you wouldn’t be the one laughing if it happened to you.”

Suguru attempts to console him to no avail and you slam down the rest of his drink when he isn’t looking, wiping the excess off the corners of your mouth. Shitty beer never sits right with you, but if you were going to go through with your plan you’d need liquid courage.

Rising from the floor you place yourself in the middle of their pushed-together beds. Sitting with your legs crossed eyeing them both from the floor. “C’mere,” you say softly, patting the bed to signal their attention.

Like a moth to a flame, they scurry over, settling themselves on either side of you.

You can feel the heat radiating from them just by being sandwiched between them, their knees confining yours. Their torsos completely turned to face you, waiting to see what you’ll do. Neither of them could face your rejection, who are you going to pick?

You lean towards Suguru giggling, twirling the hair that lays on his shoulder around your fingers. His face light pink as he looks at you expectantly, waiting for anything. It’s like he looks lost, confused as to what to do. It’s cute for someone who always seems so sure of himself. It suits him, you think.

Then, you turn to Satoru, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours with gorgeous white lashes. You’d never really seen them till now, then you noticed how well defined his cupid's bow was, and the light shade of his lips… you couldn’t help it, your mouth was meeting his with unexpected need. You felt him physically relax into you, his enormous palm resting on the fat of your thigh as you held his face. He was kissing you like he was familiar with your taste.

Suguru didn’t know he was going to be this turned on at the site before his eyes, not particularly sore that you kissed his friend before him. Bygones. It’s just thrilling to him how good the two of you look while doing it, he almost forgot he was in the room with you.

But you didn’t forget about him, of course, you have to peel yourself off of the needy man next to you to get to him though. “Can I kiss you,” you ask him.

And he nods, “More than welcome sweetheart.” You simply roll your eyes, what a charmer.

He’s all teeth and tongue, his mouth and hands trying to suck you closer to him. You felt like you couldn’t breathe and it was sending heat straight downwards, making you draw your knees together.

Though Satoru separates them, letting his appendage creep up your bare thigh trying to test the waters. You drag it up further to encourage him, he shows his gratitude by kissing the skin of your neck. He can feel you moan as you kiss his friend and he doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life. There’s just no way this was really happening.

You try kissing them at the same time, but it’s just overwhelming. The roughness of their fingertips makes you groan into their touch. It’s a battle of will and you can’t compete with their hunger as they devour you, greedy hands trying formidably hard to claim you as their own.

Satoru tows you into his lap, placing the plush of your ass directly on his boner. You can see the light pink hue coating his face as he watches Suguru slot himself between your legs, it makes you feel drunk to be between their immense frames like this. He grabs your legs as they dangle off the bed, letting his shoulders hold the brunt of their weight. His dark eyes find yours as he smiles, kissing your soft inner thighs with pepper-light praise.

It almost feels like you’re not yourself, witnessing your chest rise and fall so sporadically in anticipation of what his mouth is going to do next. Satoru's breath hitches as his partner slides your flimsy shorts down to your ankles, eyes locked on the translucent slick connecting you to your underwear.

Your face feels hot knowing they’re both looking at your indecent cunt, but instead they praise you.

“Pretty girl with an even prettier pussy,” Suguru says. Smug bastard.

“No fair. Do something or I will.” The blue-eyed beauty pouts, twisting your nipple from underneath your jacket. It elicits a whine from deep within your chest, their attention making you grow hotter and more ravenous every second.

Congrats, you just made their dicks 12x heavier in their pants. More of that sweet noise, they agree.

Su plants his face in your hot pussy with no shame, licking long stripes up your folds. “Fuck, Satoru you wouldn’t believe what she tastes like,” he remarks wiping your slick from his lips and directly into his mouth.

“Let me try,” his tone is different, all silliness gone, and it's quite dominant. He grabs Suguru by his dark hair, raising the male from his kneeling position to kiss him so he can get a taste of you himself.

The sight makes warmth shoot right to your guts, they’re making out so intensely it almost feels like you’re intruding, but you can’t stop watching them.

“You’re right,” he says with a wicked grin and blown-out pupils, “she tastes fucking incredible.”

You can see the look on their faces, they’re sick and you’re worried you’re going to become as fucked up as them by the end of this.

Continuing their ministrations, Suguru is back to kissing your thighs while Satoru massages your breasts in his large palms. But something’s different, their energy has changed. It’s been replaced with something you can’t quite yet place your finger on.

You start to feel teeth graze your supple skin, on both your neck and inner thighs. They smirk in unison feeling you twitch lightly in their hold, taking it as a sign to continue. “What’s wrong? You’re so shy all of a sudden. Where’s that on the court ferocity baby?”

His voice is smooth and low in your ears, you open your droopy eyes to find him already looking right back at you. “Shut up.” What a bunch of jackasses.

He laughs, pulling your cunt flush to his eager lips. “Fine then,” and damn does it feel good. His wet muscle rolls on your clit in steady waves, never breaking his pace. Suguru's warm breath and open-mouthed pants into your pussy have you crushing his skull between your toned thighs, but his iron grip stops you.

He alternates between flicking and sucking but you can’t follow because Satoru is making you feel limp in his arms. For all his cuteness, he’s really a beast; rutting his cock into your ass as he bites into your shoulder for a better grip on you. You have half to mind to tell him to not be so rough, it’s too hot outside to wear a turtleneck.

It just all feels so good, you didn’t think it could get any better till you feel a finger prodding at your entrance. It’s thick, and you welcome it with no fuss, sighing as you grind down on his worn hand.

“Her pussy is so soft, fuck I need to put my dick in this.” And there’s another finger, it burns but the calloused ridges feel much better than your own hands.

“You are disgusting,” you bark back, but it sounds pathetic as his friend pinches your dark nipples between his fingers mid-sentence.

“You’re the one twitching on my fingers, talk about disgusting.” His words sting and make your face feel hot, but he beams, delving in for more, making out with your sensitive bud as his fingers pump in and out of you.

Satoru feels this is all unsportsmanlike. He doesn’t get to taste you, but he guesses he should be grateful to just touch you. Something in him wants more, and needs to be selfish, “I get to fuck you first, understand?”

Your small face rests in his hand, your head tipped upwards to meet his infinite eyes that tell you he’s not asking. “Please S’Toru, mmn— need you now,” spit pools in the corners of your mouth and he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked sexier.

The darker-haired man merely chuckles, knowing he’s been beaten by the way your pussy is gripping his fingers right now. Only Satoru could do something like that.

But in the meantime, he’ll stretch you out just how you need.

You can only assume there are three fingers knuckle deep inside you, you honestly can’t tell because your eyes are rolled back in satisfaction. They’re caging you, bringing you to a threshold of pleasure you didn’t know before. “Gonna— ah! Wai- gonna cum,” his three digits curve upwards, jamming that spot as he sucks your clit within his velvety lips.

White hot pleasure clouds your vision as you come undone in front of them, their eyes watching every jolt devastate you. If they could make you cum like this, what else could they do to you?

“You’re so perfect for us, jus’ keep cumming princess.” You’re a moaning heaving mess in his arms but Satoru thinks he might be in love with you. He can’t take his eyes away from your face as you writhe so helplessly.

They let you catch your breath a moment before getting into the next position, removing any extra clothes that might prevent them from fully feeling you, kissing your face and thighs whenever you shiver. Despite all the shit you gave them, they were actually kinda sweet.

You let them move you to the center of the bed, Satoru slotting himself between your legs while your pelvis rests on his hips. Suguru innocently sits close by next to you waiting for his set of instructions.

“Do you trust us?” He asks.

“Of course not.” You joke, arching your eyebrow in defiance to them. Satoru slaps your clit with his cock for misbehaving, and you had not realized it before but he’s big. It’s almost to your belly button and you have no idea how you’re going to be able to take all of him.

Like a predator, he senses your fear, “kiss her,” he briefs Suguru.

His mouth and tongue still taste like you, warm and lithe as it seeps into your mouth. You’re distracted flat on your back as Gojo thumbs your still-sensitive clit, wanting to give you a little pleasure for the impending pain.

It’s like him to pick missionary, you think. You can’t see him but he’s biting his own lip to the point it could draw blood as he works his long cock into you inch by fucking inch. It’s torture not just fucking you to the hilt but he’ll be nice.

“So good baby, this pussy’s real fucking good,” he hisses through his teeth. You can only moan into Suguru's mouth, he drowns out and swallows up every cry of pain and pleasure.

They’re shallow and steady strokes that make you impatient, you respond by grinding yourself onto him with fervor. “Stop it, you know I can’t take it if you do that,” he whines, you feel his weight fall close by on the bed. “You’re just so damn tight.”

With his hand propped on the mattress, Satoru hits somewhere deeper inside you, making you reflexively close your legs around his small waist. It’s all a blur, Sugurus' snake-like tongue and Satorus' cannon of a dick.

They’re relentless. You feel like he’s carving a new hole in your insides with how thorough he’s maiming you. “You like it huh, love when I fuck you hard like this?” It’s all but enunciated with a potent stroke behind each syllable.

He knows you can’t answer him with his best friend commandeering your mouth, the sight before him was beyond enthralling. But he doesn’t need you to, each squelch of your cunt providing him with enough proof.

Plap, plap, plap. His heavy balls hitting your ass over and over again. He doesn’t even need to do anything unique with a dick like that, he might be too prideful to use it correctly.

“Su, I-I want you to eat her out as I fuck her, please,” even though Satoru was the one in control of this situation, you don’t miss the submission in his voice to his equal.

He hums, leaving your mouth to pick up where he left off earlier. Memories of your pussy sweet like candy on his tongue flash in his mind as he tucks his long black hair behind his ear to not get in the way of his feast.

It’s so fucking sexy, you moan out a mix of their names too far gone to differentiate at this point. They could be your god for all you care. “Don’t s-stop.”

“Of course sweet thing,” Suguru replies, they’ll service you however you need them to.

Satoru sits on his feet to give Geto space, inching his cock in you deliberately slow. Coupled with Su's stellar oral, you’re good as gone. Twitching and arching off the bed as you’re spread and fucked.

You didn’t know sex could feel this good, they’re so intently focused on your pleasure it’s overwhelming. That familiar fire kindling in your tummy. “Oh! I’m- I’m gonna—”

“Already?” They say in unison, watching as you cum for the second time tonight. Satoru grabs Suguru in support, your cunt is sucking him in so tight that he’s probably going to cum himself if he doesn’t calm down.

Suguru swallows your loud whines, wanting to be a little mindful of the late hour. That has his friend coming undone, “Me too— fuckkkk.”

You’re shivering in aftershock as he shallowly pumps his load in you. Letting you milk his tip as he rocks his hips lightly. It’s the most he’s ever came, and he just can’t stop cumming because it’s started to leak out of you. A foamy mix of him and yourself now coating his frosty happy trail.

“Well, that’s just not fair,” Suguru says, wiping his face and putting his fingers in your mouth. You obediently suck, feeling a tad bit remorseful. After all, he didn’t get to cum, and he’s been so good to you and your cunny.

You weakly grab his wrist, trying to speak with your mouth stuffed. “What?”

He withdraws, letting his hand drag down your body, squeezing your tit in his warm palm before resting on your tummy. The sensation of him tapping his fingers against your flesh lights you on fire all over again.

“Fuck me, I can take it. Or what? Are you too pussy?”

What a damn brat, you’re just like Satoru. At least, that’s what he thinks. After all, you both give him this nauseating sense of frustration to put you in your place for your sheer arrogance.

He just rolls his eyes, amused nonetheless, “Okay.”

He pulls a limp and exhausted Satoru from out between your legs, informing him of his next intentions before they have to go to sleep for their match tomorrow. You watch the two of them converge from on your stomach, trying to collect yourself. The feeling of something new is still so exciting even if you’re acting confident.

After what felt like forever one of them crawls back over to the bed. “Ass up hun, c’mon I wanna see it.” Suguru is hot in a different way than Satoru, as you get into position he starts pumping his cock from somewhere just out of reach. “Wow baby, beautiful arch,” he sneers, but it is genuine. He’s leaking pre just toying with himself while watching you.

“Clean her up,” he commands. Satoru obeys, giving your ass a light smack before positioning himself behind you. You’ve never had someone eat you out like this before, whatever their fetish was with tasting you was; it was heaven.

He spits in your pussy before dribbling it back up gain. Like a dog he’s responsible for cleaning his own mess, groaning at the taste of himself and you coating your thighs and folds. You’re sure it’s been gone for a while now but he doesn’t stop, neither does Suguru. Just standing there, stroking himself with a pink hue coating his face.

It’s mind-shattering at this point how diminutive you feel to their impulses. Incoherent babble about how good it feels and how it’s too much slip past your lips as you’re forced to watch his abs tense and flex in tandem with his sharp v-line, but he’s slow. Just edging himself over there as Satoru devours you. His tongue cooling your worn cunt.

“Careful, don’t make her cum again.” Enough watching, he honestly can’t take much more himself.

Satoru begrudgingly stops and sits on the bed by your head, waiting for further instruction.

“You think you’re ready?” His features are shrouded in a dark halo, raven hair cascading down his collarbones as he mounts you.

You deeply want to say yes but you can feel your pussy clenching questioning it, his broad shoulders looming over you. “Yes..” maybe you bit off more than you can chew. He would be the type to love doggy, you think.

He grins, lining himself up with your slit and coating his tip in your excess juices. “Good.” It knocks the wind out of you with how girthy he is.

If Satoru was length, Suguru was girth. You white knuckle the bed sheet as he fucks the sense out of you. Starting from the tip of your toes to the crown of your scalp he rearranged you.

“Nghhh—” You can’t say or do anything, just accept his intrusion. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, bracing yourself as Suguru picks up speed.

He’s exact, precise, and doesn’t waste a single ounce of energy in his stroke. It’s deep and punctual, powerful in your guts. “Fu-u-uck,” he has you stuttering over your words and the tears begin to spill from his mean dick.

“Aw, you cryin’?” Satoru says, wiping the tears from your face as you look to him for some sort of mercy. You should have known better, his icy eyes and tone betraying any semblance of pity to the brute pounding you’re receiving.

He just grunts behind you, hands bruising your sides surely from his grip alone. That’s the only thing keeping you up, the sheer power in his thrust makes the sound and smell of sex pungent.

Satoru takes your hand and places it on his shaft, he himself is a little envious of the sight and needs tending to again. Your sense of perception becomes needier to please and oblige his wishes, jerking his fat dick as his best friend pounds you.

It’s cliché, but you didn’t expect it to be this good. The two of them totally ruining you in their shitty hotel room, two arrogant rising tennis stars sharing you greedily.

The tension in the room builds, barreling towards completion as desperate moans and groans erupt from you all. A hedonistic sight indeed, chasing after your ends.

It’s Suguru who causes the domino effect, picking up speed and hunching over to rest his body on top of yours. You buckle under the weight which has him even deeper inside you. “Just like that, stay there,” it’s firm.

He’s moaning, driving himself in and out of you with reckless abandon. His hair wild as he mutters obscenities about your pussy. His hips begin to stutter, causing Satoru to follow suit hearing you both scream like animals.

Your hand works over just the top half of his cock as he cums, overstimulating him but he can’t help but buck his hips into your hand for more. Next thing you know, you’re finishing too, the rest of it being a blur from his spent you were.

A disgusting pile of sweat, cum, and spit coats the three of you on that bed. Catching your breaths and seeking warmth from each other after what you just did. “Are you sure you guys haven’t done that before?” You break the silence with a joke.

“We could do it again,” Satoru mumbles, half joking half serious.

“We have a game. Shower then sleep,” Suguru says matter-of-factly, removing his forearm from his eyes.

The three of you stumble to the bathroom, sticky and hot as you pile in the bath. It’s quiet, but it’s nice.

You talk about what went wrong and what went right as you wash each other, even talking about strategy for the game tomorrow. Oh, and of course the infamous bet.

Whoever wins gets to have your heart, right?

[dcartcorner]

a fantasy/dnd au because i can't help myself and the thought of ancient blue dragon simon who disguises himself as a human brings me joy.

please enjoy this small one shot ft. s1 adventuring crew (please excuse any errors, writing is not my strong suit!)

Rumours at the Tavern Characters: Tim, Simon, Sasha, Martin, Jon Ships: none

It wasn’t what Tim would consider a nice tavern. He had performed in nicer ones, ones where the counters were meticulously cleaned and the patrons were at least passably polite to the serving staff, and a mug of ale would set you back a silver piece. This place was not quite like that.

Then again, Tim had been to worse sorts of dives.

The Lazy Storm sat right smack in the middle of the two kinds of taverns, perched on the cliff side overlooking the choppy seas of the western coast, amidst the fjords in the town of Killn’s Rest. Not a bad place, not a good place. Just a place, somewhere to  find some warmth, a quick meal, and something to drink. It was also the sort of tavern that didn’t take fire hazards all that seriously, if the number of people making merry that evening within its walls was any indication of the owner’s outlook on safety. It was busy, to the point where crowds spilled out onto the street even though the summer had come to a close and the winter, with its biting chill, was fast approaching.

Perhaps that’s why Tim noticed him - the old man. Because he was sitting on the bar top. 

There were few other seats around. Sasha had managed to charm their way to a table of their own earlier in the night while Martin tried to see about rooms, and their party had stayed planted at said table all night as the crowds slowly but surely filtered in for the evening. They were lucky, in this regard, as many other people were forced to stand shoulder to shoulder. Not that old man, though. Perched on the edge of the bar like a bird, smiling kindly at the person next to him.

And his choice of seat was not the only peculiar thing about him, Tim thought. He wore clothing that Tim could only describe as ornate. If this was one of those nice taverns Tim had played in, he might have expected that sort of the look, but this wasn’t one of those places. This was the Lazy Storm, and that man was incredibly overdressed. 

“It’s weird, right?” Tim said aloud. Martin looked up, then glanced around. Sasha craned her neck to look at him. Jon didn’t look up from his book. Tim nodded in the direction of the old man. “Someone dressed like that in a place like this. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Sasha shrugged.

“Where?” Martin asked.

“Good on him, getting dressed up to go out for a night,” said Sasha. 

“I think it’s weird,” said Tim. Because it was. 

“Where?” Martin asked again. “Oh. Him? I mean. I suppose it’s… well, it’s a little odd.” The twist of a frown at the corners of Martin’s mouth. “Someone should offer him a seat.”

“Seems happy enough where he is,” Sasha said with a huff of a laugh as the other man at the bar leaned closer to the old man and whispered something to him. 

“Could we please focus,” Jon finally interjected, shutting the book. 

Tim rolled his eyes as he took a swig of his drink. It wasn’t silver coin ale. This was a copper-piece-per-tankard-ale, and it tasted like it. Which was to say, it tasted like a good night in the making.

“Have any of you actually asked anyone about any jobs yet?” Jon said.

“Asked just about as many people as you,” Tim said. By this, Tim meant: none. 

“There’s a rat problem in the sewers,” Sasha said, “according to one guard. Doesn’t pay well, but at least it pays.”

“There are bandits, too,” Martin added. “Uh, just out east of here. Somewhere. Apparently they have a den in the woods? But I think someone might’ve already taken that one.”

“Mm.” Jon was not impressed. He looked over at Tim. “Anything?”

Tim raised his hands. “Don’t look at me, I can get a job whenever.” Plenty of people out there who were willing to pay for some good music. “Or did you forget who bought the rooms and drinks?”

Jon leaned his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands momentarily. Then looked up at Tim and said, “Could you please just. Ask.”

“Jon, maybe we should just… take a night off?” Martin suggested. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing…”

Jon shot him a look and that was the end of that conversation.

Well, didn’t matter. Jon didn’t have to join them in having a good night if he didn’t want to. Tim wasn’t going to let it bother him, and he got up to go order another drink with his own hard earned money, ignoring how much lighter his coin purse was compared to earlier that day.

Why was it his problem anyway, that they didn’t have much in the way of coin? He wasn’t going to let it get to him. It wasn’t getting to him. He and Sasha and Martin were just some poor souls dragged along on Jon’s pointless quest to find some answers that had nothing to do with any of them. So why did it matter?

It didn’t matter.

Dammit. 

The old man was not the first person he asked that night about a job. As he waited for a drink he asked the person to his left and to his right, but neither of them were keen on talking - and it took him a little too long to realize they were part of their own adventuring party based on the matching bands on their arms, and wouldn’t be sharing any information with him. He tried to ask the bartender as well, but she was too busy to give him any answer that was not a look of inconvenience. 

Tim sighed. And he kept asking, until finally his route around the tavern brought him to the old man at the bar. Sat there, dressed strangely, looking for all the world like he should be just about anywhere else. 

“Are you quite alright?” the old man asked him. Tim blinked. “Not that I mind, but I’ve been told it’s rude to stare.”

Had he been staring? “Sorry,” Tim said. The old man smiled at him.

“Something I can do for you?” the old man asked. 

Tim looked around briefly. The other person with whom the old man had been speaking earlier that night was gone. “Don’t suppose there is,” Tim said. “Unless you know of any get rich quick jobs around this place.”

The old man chuckled. “Well now, I can think of a few, but I’m not entirely sure those are the type you’re looking for,” he said, resting his hands on the head of his cane which he had propped up on the empty edge of one of the bar-stools. “Tough times, out there. Or so I hear. Something about the supply and demand of it all, I think. Too many adventurers, too few problems that need solving! At least around these parts.” The old man sighed thoughtfully. “This coast isn’t what it used to be. Time was you couldn’t take two steps on the road without running into bandits or cultists or a proper mountain troll. Now you’d be lucky to find a good sized rat nest to clean up.”

“Yeah, well. Killing rats doesn’t pay well,” Tim said. 

The old man smiled, watching Tim over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were sharply blue, Tim noticed. “No,” the man agreed. “No it doesn’t.” He tilted his head. “Terribly sorry, but I’m afraid you’ll have to go further afield to find anything.”

“Thanks anyway,” Tim said, defeated. 

“Although,” the old man said as Tim was turning away. Tim paused and looked back at him. “I’ve heard a rumour. There have been a few ships that have come into the harbour with some particularly strange news out of the Shivering Straight. Up north. Word is there have been a handful of whaling ships that have gone missing around Helkelson Bay. Only a couple of survivors. Those that do manage to best the frostbite say… well. You know how sailors can be, always creating the most fanciful stories. A ghost ship, they say! The mayor of Helkelson isn’t altogether convinced it’s anything so peculiar as that, though I hear he’s offering a handsome reward to anyone willing to… solve the problem. Whatever that problem may be.”

“Helkelson?” Tim said. 

“That’s right,” the old man replied with a smile. “Ask around the docks, I’d say. Plenty of merchant ships coming and going that way. Of course, it’s only a rumour.”

Tim smiled back. “Better than nothing.”

It was at that moment the old man’s companion returned and gave Tim a wary look. Tim took it as his cue to leave with a nod of thanks and an imaginary tip of the hat before he returned to the table to join his companions. 

“Let me start,” he said to them, “by saying you’re welcome. Now, any of you been to the Shivering Straight?”

[inkspiredwriting]

A Proposal Through Time

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves was fearless, nothing scared him, except the anxiety he felt as he prepared to propose to his girlfriend, Y/N. He wanted the moment to be perfect, something as unique and special as their relationship.

Five had meticulously planned every detail. He wanted it to be a mix of their shared experiences, filled with both humor and sweetness. The Hargreeves siblings had offered their assistance (some more enthusiastically than others), and Five had finally agreed to let them help.

It was a sunny afternoon, and Y/N was on her way to meet Five for what she thought was just a casual day out. She arrived at their favorite park, a place they often visited to escape the chaos of their lives. As she walked through the park, she noticed something unusual—a trail of clues, each one a playful nod to their adventures together.

The first clue was attached to a small tree. Y/N recognized Five’s neat handwriting: “Where do we always argue about what year it is?” She laughed, recalling their many debates, and made her way to the vintage clock display nearby. There, she found the next clue.

One by one, she followed the clues, each leading her to different locations within the park. Every clue brought back a memory: the bench where they had their first kiss, the fountain where Five had accidentally splashed her during a particularly heated argument, the gazebo where they had shared countless conversations.

Finally, the last clue led her to a secluded garden area. Y/N’s heart raced as she pushed open the gate and stepped inside. The garden was beautifully decorated with fairy lights and flowers. In the center stood Five, looking as dapper as ever in a sharp suit, a nervous but hopeful smile on his face.

“Five,” Y/N said, her voice filled with both surprise and joy. “What is all this?”

Five took a deep breath, stepping forward to take her hands in his. “Y/N, we’ve been through a lot together. Time travel, apocalypses, my dysfunctional family… But through it all, you’ve been my anchor, my constant. You make me want to be a better man, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes, a mixture of happiness and anticipation.

Five dropped to one knee, pulling out a small, elegantly designed box. “Y/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and delight as Five opened the box to reveal a stunning ring. She couldn’t help but let out a laugh through her tears. “Of course, Five! Yes, a thousand times yes!”

Five’s face broke into a wide grin as he slipped the ring onto her finger and stood up, pulling her into a joyful embrace. The moment was perfect, everything he had hoped for and more.

Just then, there was a loud cheer, and Y/N looked around to see Five’s siblings emerging from behind the bushes, grinning and clapping.

“You guys!” Y/N laughed, realizing they had been hiding there the whole time.

Klaus, always the life of the party, was the first to rush over. “Congratulations, you two! We knew Five could do it!”

Diego clapped Five on the back. “Nice job, little brother. You didn’t screw it up.”

Allison hugged Y/N tightly. “Welcome to the family, Y/N. Officially, I mean.”

Even Luther, with his usual seriousness, couldn’t hide his smile. “We’re really happy for you, Five.”

Five shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Thanks, guys. But you can stop hiding in the bushes now.”

Viktor smiled warmly at Y/N. “You’re really part of the family now, Y/N. We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Y/N beamed, feeling the love and support from Five’s siblings. “Thank you all. I couldn’t have asked for a better family to be part of.”

As they celebrated, Five pulled Y/N aside for a moment. “Sorry about the surprise entourage,” he said with a smirk. “They insisted on being part of the plan.”

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s perfect, Five. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They kissed, sealing their promise to each other amidst the laughter and cheers of their family. In that moment, everything felt right. Despite the chaos of their lives, they had found a love that was timeless and true.

[bro-atz]

calm down [bro's 500 — yunho]

[forced proximity, suggestive, ceo!au, ceo!yunho/gn!reader]

requested by: 🥐

word count: 2k

content: suggestive, drunk!teez (except for yunho), tension oh the tension, yunho forces the proximity oop, singular kiss, completely consensual!

Somehow, one thing led to another, and you ended up being the one to escort the CEO of your company to the international team meeting. You weren’t his secretary or his assistant or even the receptionist— you were some menial employee who worked on one of the bottom floors of the company just inputting numbers all the live-long day, and yet, you were supposed to be side by side with the CEO as you attended a meeting you had no business attending? Unreal.

What was more surprising to you was that it wasn’t a mere coincidence or anything that brought you to this moment— the CEO had apparently asked for you by name. You didn’t think that he even knew of your existence, so why the hell was he specifically asking for you?

You checked your reflection in the hotel mirror once more, making sure your attire was crisp and sharp. You didn’t want to look shabby standing next to the CEO, and you couldn’t exactly afford high-end clothing just yet with your entry-level salary, so you had to make do with what you had. After one final glance over, you took off for the meeting.

“Y/N?” the CEO asked immediately upon seeing you, his eyebrow arched in slightly surprised.

You forgot to breathe. You had seen pictures of the CEO online, and you sometimes got a brief glimpse of him as he walked into the building or stopped to visit your floor, but you had never seen him up close in your entire time working for his company. You were amazed at the length of his legs and how he could even find pants that were long enough and also snug enough at the waist to keep from falling— he probably got them tailored, you justified to yourself, since he’s filthy rich— and he was wearing a loose-fitted jacket on top of his button up (which you thanked your lucky stars for because if you saw him with his sleeves rolled up, you probably would have fallen over).

“Yes, sir. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Jeong,” you nearly choked while responding and bowing.

“Please. Call me Yunho. I only go by Mr. Jeong with strangers.”

Strangers? Other than you working for the man, Mr. Jeong—Yunho— was still technically a stranger. Nevertheless, you nodded in acceptance before leading the way. You couldn’t help but feel more and more insecure about, well, everything as you took each step towards the conference room. You could feel the CEO’s intense gaze nearly burning a hole through your shoulder blades as the trek to the conference room persisted, and you were only able to breathe peacefully when you finally entered the room. Well, first, he brushed past you, making your entire body jolt with excitement, then you were able to breathe.

“W-what would you like me to do, s-sir— I mean, Y-y-yunho,” you quickly caught yourself yet still struggled to let his name roll off your tongue.

“Take notes, yada, yada, yada— It’s just a normal meeting, Y/N. Don’t overthink it.”

Yet, that’s all you could do; easier said than done. You took the most meticulous notes you had in years, and you paid close attention to the presentation being given. Granted, Yunho was right. It was a normal meeting, but you were just on edge due to everything: the location, the fact that the CEO invited you, the fact that you were sitting in a room filled with ridiculously attractive men, and Yunho telling you not to overthink it really just made you overthink to the point where you braincells felt like they were flying out of your ears.

“Any questions?” the presenter asked.

“The margins aren’t making any sense—”

“Save it, Wooyoung,” the presenter immediately interrupted. “You’re just trying to mess with me.”

“No, Yeosang, seriously. The margins are off,” another man sitting next to Wooyoung added.

“What? Really?” Yeosang turned around to check the margins, only for the man and Wooyoung to start giggling. “Jung Wooyoung and Choi San, I swear to God—”

“Alright, what else is there,” a very charismatic man slapped his hand on the table several times. “Let’s get to it.”

“Thank you, Jongho,” Yeosang sent a weary smile his way.

“I’m liking how everything looks…” Yunho spoke up. “Hmm… Y/N, what do you think?”

You, meanwhile, were taking a sip of your water and nearly spat it out at the man across the table— Jongho. Wiping your lips with the back of your hand discreetly, you looked at the board and said, “The margins are favorable, but I think you forgot to take into account some of the amounts that you brought up earlier.”

“I did?”

“See, we told you the margins weren’t making sense!” Wooyoung pointed and laughed at Yeosang.

“Jung Wooyoung—”

“Y/N’s right. The margins are slightly off, but it’s not to a horrible degree. Fix it before we take this to the pitch, though,” Yunho said, keeping the two men from fighting. His eyes flitted to you briefly before returning to the presenter and saying, “I think everything else looks good. Team?”

A weak chorus of agreement sounded from the team. Yunho stood up and clapped his hands together before saying, “Alright, meeting dismissed. Take the rest of the day off, but be at the restaurant for dinner.”

“Do we have to?” a member you hadn’t heard from started complaining.

“I’m giving you a free dinner out of the kindness of my heart, Mingi. You better bring your ass there.”

“Yeah! Don’t say no to free food, Mango!” San cheered.

On that note, the men filtered out of the room. You decided to take your sweet time thinking that everyone would have disappeared, giving you a moment to clear your head and restore your sanity. That happened for about two seconds until you felt someone approach you from behind.

“Nice catch, by the way,” Yunho said in a soft voice. “I didn’t even see it until you brought it up.”

You were clutching your chest— the man nearly gave you a heart attack, geez— and bowed your head while uttering a thanks.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight, okay?”

“Yes, sir— I mean Mr. Jeong— I mean Yunho!”

Yunho chuckled before waving and laughing and leaving the room as you stood in spot with your face flushed bright red just thinking about how much more embarrassing and awkward you could get around your CEO.

Dinner was definitely not what you were expecting it to be. You knew that the team would drink, but you did not in your wildest dreams think they would get completely shit-faced. One of the oldest members of the team— Hongjoong— got so drunk he nearly face-planted into his bowl of soup, sending the other oldest member— Seonghwa— into a fit of giggles.

You were watching the team unfold before your very eyes while taking timid sips of your own drink. You were so busy watching them, in fact, that you didn’t realize that there was a pair of eyes locked on you with sweet intensity. The eyes kept following you even as you got up to use the restroom.

Upon exiting the restroom, you decided to take a step outside the restaurant for a breather. You felt like you were on high alert ever since you were invited— more like summoned— on this work trip, and you finally had a moment to yourself where you could just relax. That moment disappeared as soon as you heard a door behind you open and shut, Yunho walking through the door and into the night to stand on your side.

“You okay, Y/N? You didn’t come back to the table,” Yunho checked in with you.

“Yeah,” you breathed out while trying your best not to hiccup— Yunho truly startled the shit out of you. “I just needed a second.”

“Yeah, the guys can be overwhelming.”

There was a silence that lingered in the air. You looked at Yunho from the corner of your eye and saw that he was no longer wearing his suit jacket. It was just him, his button-up, and his beautiful pants that made every aspect of his legs look stunning. You had to quickly snap your attention back to the view in front of you when you saw Yunho begin to look in your direction, your face heating up slightly as you felt his presence near you even more. Then, you flinched, but that was because you heard something loud crash inside the restaurant.

“Do you want to head back to the restaurant? I think we should collect the drunk children and leave for the hotel soon,” Yunho said with a slight chuckle. “Otherwise my bill will be way more than I want it to be.”

“Yeah, good idea,” you quickly agreed before shuffling back into the restaurant.

Yunho wasn’t kidding when he said collect the drunk children. Mingi, Hongjoong, and San were all passed out on the ground, and while you could handle Hongjoong, San and Mingi were definitely impossible. You watched Yunho lift them with ease, Mingi slung over his shoulder and San’s waist tightly in his grasp. Your eyes wandered as you looked at the man— he had rolled up his sleeves, and his arms were flexed as he carried the two men, the sight of his veins nearly making your legs buckle. Luckily, drunk Hongjoong was enough of a distraction because if you spent one more second ogling the CEO, you would have for sure lost your mind.

Within half an hour, you and Yunho had herded the sheep back to their rooms, and just as you were about to bid adieu to the man to retire to your own room, he caught your hand and silently invited you to his presidential suite for a nightcap.

“I have a question,” you told the man.

The two of you were sitting in the couches— he was in the one across from you. You felt the buzz of the wine slowly start to creep through your veins and make your body warmer, making you a lot more bold in front of him.

“What is it?”

“Why am I here?”

“It’s a business trip, Y/N. I thought that was obvious,” Yunho couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yes, but why me? There are thousands of employees, and honestly, I didn’t even think you knew me, so I’ve been… I’m really confused.”

You shoulders hunched as you admitted your feelings to your CEO. Sensing your insecurity building at an exponential rate, Yunho moved to your side and placed a reassuring hand on your kneecap. It wasn’t sensual in the slightest, but that didn’t stop your body from getting hotter.

“You know,” Yunho started. “I handpick my employees.”

“Y-you do?” you were surprised. “All of them?”

“Yep. I make the final call in each person that works for my company. So, I know everyone that works for me, and yes, I do know you, Y/N.”

His hand took the wine glass you were cradling out of your hand and set it on the table before slipping into yours. His large hand and warm palm made your fingers tingle, and the action itself made you snap your head up to look at him and gaze right into his serious eyes.

“That’s…” you breathed out. “That’s really cool. I’ve never met an executive who cares so much.”

“I care way more than you think.” His fingers laced with yours. He set aside his own glass of wine and cupped your cheek with his newly freed hand before continuing in a softer voice, “You know… I stop by your floor all the time to just get a look at you.”

You were speechless— the CEO came to your floor to see you? Impossible.

“You always look stunning when you’re focused on work, and I wanted to bring you here to see that look even closer… It was so worth it. You were so worth it.”

“Yunho…” this time, his name slipped off your tongue with ease, but your voice still faltered as it was overwhelmed with his unbridled honesty. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Then don’t say anything,” he murmured while leaning in until your foreheads touched. “Just feel.”

With that, he closed the distance between the two of you, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly as he captured your lips in a tender yet fiery kiss.

bro's 500 event | bro's 500 event masterlist

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[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 9

Propaganda:

Shinpei -

"Has a tendency to ignore his emotions in high stress situations in favor of looking at everything logically, even when it is detrimental for him to take that approach. Keeps meticulous track of everything that happens around him."

Sunny -

"Sunny has been told that his face is not expressive. He doesn't talk a lot and he often gets lost into his imagination. He is a great listener and recalls a lot of information being told he has a great memory (he is able to remember a whole speech about flower symbolism that his friend told him) He is compared to a cat."

Yuki -

"He has difficulty communicating with other people and suffers from extreme social anxiety, feeling like he's drowning when placed in uncomfortable social situations or scenarios where she doesn't know how to respond. This also causes him to go red in the face and clench his jaw, which other characters wrongfully interpret as him becoming angry. Through meeting Haru (and getting pulled into his plan to save the world), he becomes friends with him and Natsuki and develops his own strong interest in fishing."

Meursault -

"not only is he based on the character from camus' l'étranger who has actual scholarly debate on him being autistic, meursault is just… so autism. hes this stoic, terse guy with resting bitch face who doesnt really seem to fully process that he isnt showing any emotions and that that offputs people, and hes very blunt and literal with things. once another character asked if he had metal for brains as an insult and he responded by telling him the exact chemical composition of his brain to show that it is not metal. once the other characters made food so bad that when he tasted it he went on a minute straight long monologue about how much it sucked. he then proceeded to cook his own food which the giant evil chicken monster man that was judging the food tasted and said was so intensely done to the letter of the recipe that it was too boring. hes like if autism was a guy and that guy was french."

Zack -

"does things based almost solely on whether or not he wants to, at one point in the series, he doesn't tell the rest of the cast that he can fly a spaceship because he doesn't feel like it. he also take everything everyone else tells him seriously, such as when another character he knew as a kid said they were going to get married one day, he took it very seriously and was confused when said character tried to confess her feelings again and he said he thought their promise from when they were kids was still on."

Joujirou -

"This boy is autism incarnate. No social skills, no normal pain perception, complete weirdo. He even has a special interest which becomes a mild issue when he joins the main cast lol."

Alus the Star Runner -

"He’s a three-armed wyvern gunslinger with cool goggles and a lightsaber. Need I say more? …Okay then. Alus was born as a mutant cripple and rejected by his kind but managed to overcome this and rise up to become Flying Reptile Indiana Jones. He’s famed as the greatest adventurer in the land, but also struggles to keep up a conversation and prefers to remain on his own (which is especially unusual for wyverns, who usually gather in giant flocks). He has exactly one (1) friend, whom he completely fails to understand as a person but still values and respects immensely. Despite his difficulties with social interaction, he’s repeatedly shown to be incredibly resourceful and intelligent, with a single-minded drive and persistence unmatched by anyone else in the series. (Also canonically asexual, because who needs a family when you can fight dragons perfectly well on your own?)"

Mamoru -

"the ORIGINAL autistic magical boy."

Shizuka -

"he's the most emotionally intelligent & mentally stable member of the cast & he's in love with the least emotionally intelligent & most emotionally volatile character ever. he's constantly got the vibe of looking into the camera like he's in the office while he's dealing with everyone else's bullshit. he's so steadfast & loyal that it makes me want to cry. he's so bad at expressing himself in a way that other people understand that for the longest time the boy he's in love with thinks that Doumeki doesn't even like him."

Idia -

"He’s a shut-in weirdo with long messy hair, a sleep deprived look in his eyes, and one of the few students to have a hoodie as part of his school uniform. He’s a prodigal tech genius with the vibes of burn out and depression. He’s usually quite meek around people, but when he clicks with a conversation topic, he gets all energetic and fired up and sometimes a bit haughty too. To avoid going out of his room and interacting with people face to face, he invented a mobile tablet with text to speech. He stays up all night playing video games and while he has trouble with IRL relationships, he’s made a genuine friend out of one of his gaming buddies (who he doesn’t realize is actually one of his classmates). He stans an idol group and once got into a hacking war against some dorm mates over it. He rebuilt his dead brother as a robot who has become somewhat of a therapist to him. The only reason he went out on a holiday vacation with school acquaintances is due to the location being featured in an anime, then bonded with the one guy’s grandma when he realized his favorite girl was based on her. For the Halloween celebration, he convinced his dorm to theme themselves after his favorite B horror movie, constantly infodumping to people about it and going all out in recreating the special effects. In Book 5, he has a minor background arc of being forced to do public speaking. In another Halloween event, he was forced to be a back-up singer and managed to pull through despite the social anxiety. He’s the most autistic student in all of Night Raven College and possibly in all of Twisted Wonderland too."

[vinnieswife]

Hi :D, I'm sorry to bother you, but I just found your page and I love it!, so I was thinking of a story of Macgyver.

When the Reader is recruited in Phoenix, and she is as intelligent as Mac, and have similar skills. So Mac is amazed and he starts to feel attracted to her because he have never met a person that understands him.

Idk if I'm asking to much, if so, I'm SO sorry. :c

Btw english isn't my first language I'm from Argentina so I'm sorry if my grammar sucks :'(

OMG I LOVE THIS, it’s so short tho, i’m from Spain no worries amor <3

Angus Macgyver x fem!reader

wc: 357

warnings: none

At Phoenix headquarters, the air is charged with anticipation. You've been recruited for a crucial mission, and as you meticulously review the documents, MacGyver, a seasoned maverick from the agency, enters the room with his characteristic calm yet alert demeanor. “who’s this matilda?”, she smiled looking at him “y/n she will help us with a couple of missions her occurrences match yours so having both on our team will be great”

Your gazes meet, and he, with his ability to read people, immediately recognizes the spark of ingenuity in your eyes. Intrigued, as matilda leaves you two, he approaches you, and you begin exchanging ideas about the upcoming mission. Amid improvised schemes and creative solutions, the spark of a unique connection ignites.

The more they work together, Mac noticed surprising similarities between them: creativity in problem-solving, the ability to improvise, and a passion for exciting challenges.

As time passed, the connection between you and Mac strengthened with each mission successfully tackled together. On a quiet night after a triumphant operation, as you shared experiences in the break room, he couldn't help but express his growing feelings.

“you know y/n, every time we work together, I realize how incredibly compatible we are. Not just professionally, but also... personally."

You, with a knowing smile, nodded, feeling the same connection. “Seriously, have you turned your feelings into a compatibility test between us?" you laughed, his face grew red. “I wouldn’t word it like that but…yeah”

As you shared more moments outside of missions, Mac gathered the courage to take the next step.

"And what if she rejects me, Jack? It'll be catastrophic," Mac was so stressed, but he needed to give it a try.

"Come on, Mac, you know her. We both know she's going to say yes. Be a man and get the girl."

Mac nodded, approaching you after the mission. Your hair was disheveled, and your clothes were dirty, but to him, you were the most polished girl in the world.

"Hey," you looked up. "Oh, hi," you could see he was nervous. "Are you okay?" you asked. "Oh, yeah, don't worry. Um, can I talk to you for a moment?" you nodded and Mac glanced at Jack, who smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

"How about we celebrate something more than paperwork after this? How about going to dinner with me?" he said, smiling while scratching the back of his neck.

You, surprised but pleased, enthusiastically accepted the invitation.

Suddenly, a shout was heard, "I told you!" and right after that, Jack was hugging both of you.

"Took you long enough huh.”

That night, amid laughter and confidences, you and MacGyver discovered that your connection wasn't just professional; it extended to a romance that flourished with time and shared experiences.

[justalost4girl]

Three

word count: 3323 one two

Luke's POV

Luke stared at the phone with a growing sense of discomfort as he tried to distract himself from the smiles of the lovers before him. The previous night had been strange, with Alex calling and arranging everything with meticulous precision. The plan seemed simple: make Natasha believe they had an important meeting while he would go out to meet Alex.

Knowing he would have to kill Natasha, Luke was consumed by a mix of fear and guilt. The knowledge of this obligation troubled him throughout the day, and despite the crushing weight of the decision, he decided to let Natasha and Newton enjoy themselves as much as possible, as a final indulgence.

He watched the two of you leave hand in hand and sighed, going back into the room and opening a bottle of whiskey while waiting for a signal from Alex. Memories of the early days of his life flooded his mind: when he was just Luke, your best friend, the kid you annoyingly clung to because he had the same name as your favorite Jedi, the son, the father, the brother, and everything he always wanted to be. A good man, God forgive him, and may you forgive him as well.

Before sunset, the phone rang, and he had to focus to find Alex. During dinner, Luke's nervousness was at its peak. He wondered if he would ever be like Alex and have the stomach to patiently cut the meat while planning an execution. Alex seemed to sense the tension in the air and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Do you know how you're going to do it? What's your plan for them?" he asked seriously and without expression.

"‘What do you mean, them?’ Luke asked, almost choking on his food and looking incredulously at Alex.

Alex, with a cold and distant smile, replied, ‘Luke, you need to understand. For this to seem real, you have to be fully committed. Natasha and… the other one, your friend. You know what needs to be done.’

Alex's words were a harsh blow to Luke.

‘I… understand,’ Luke murmured, his voice laden with tension. ‘I’ll do what needs to be done.’

‘The Agency suggested an accident,’ Alex said, looking deeply into Luke's eyes. ‘A car crash, quick and painless. The same old excuse—drunk driver who fled the scene and so on. We have eyes on the police, and within a week, no one will remember the accident. My method involves a gun and two clean shots,’ Alex added, ‘or three if necessary.’

With a tense nod, Luke turned back to his plate, the weight of the decision crushing his shoulders. Alongside the fear and guilt, he knew he was about to make an irreversible decision, and there was no turning back.

Luke sat in his room, holding the photo you had given him some time ago. Tears welled up in his eyes as he silently apologized for what he was about to do. He took the laptop and opened the email he had saved—a letter he had written to you, meant to be delivered when he traveled. It was a formal apology, saying he would always be there for you and that you shouldn't be surprised when he left. An apology for bringing Romanoff into your life.

As he read his own words, Luke made a difficult decision. He knew he had gone too far and hurt someone innocent who had nothing to do with these organizations. Instead, he decided to attach the folder he had been compiling from the beginning to the email, containing all the evidence he had gathered against Hydra. He knew that if you joined forces with Natasha, you could dismantle Hydra together.

He scheduled the email to be sent to both your address and Natasha's, closed the laptop, and took one last glass of his favorite whiskey while saying goodbye to the starry city sky."

-- The rain has stopped falling on your head, but it continues on the pavement. But you were on the pavement, and now you're not. Nothing makes sense. You blink several times, trying to focus your vision. Everything looks blurry, and your head is pounding. You look at your hands—they seem like your hands. There's a car against a pole a few meters away from you. "I'm sorry for bringing her into your life." The words echo in your mind, confusing. Where is Natasha? She was in front of you. A moment ago, you were at the restaurant, so why does your stomach hurt?

Did she say she loved you?

Your heart races. You taste the metallic tang of blood in your mouth and realize you bit your lip too hard. You try to stand, but your legs are trembling. Everything is shaking and wet. Your thoughts are scrambled, and everything around you is spinning. You call out for Nat, but your voice comes out weak and trembling. Every second feels like an eternity as you struggle to understand what happened and why Luke's car hasn't moved from its place against the pole.

Nat appears in your field of vision, wet and radiant. How can someone look so beautiful in the rain? She seems serious on the phone, murmuring words you can barely understand before rolling her eyes and hanging up. Is she… speaking Russian? Since when does Nat speak Russian?

She gently holds your chin and whispers, "Love, look at me, okay? Just at me, it'll be okay, I'm here. Breathe."

There's a clear worry in her eyes, a tension that wasn't there at the restaurant. You furrow your brow, trying to focus as you watch her. Natasha always smiles when she talks to you, but now her lips are tense, and you miss that familiar curve.

Her fingers snap in front of you, grabbing your attention. "Newton, are you listening to me? Look at me, say something, please. It's me, your Nat, I'm here, okay?" She caresses your face and pulls you into her chest.

You hear her heartbeat, and it calms you, helps you ground yourself.

Gradually, you begin to remember the last minutes: Luke’s message, Natasha saying she loves you, his car coming towards you, and his body in the vehicle. Luke is dead.

You cry uncontrollably in Natasha’s arms, her embrace anchoring you as her heartbeat offers a familiar comfort. You don’t understand why Luke would do something like this. Drinking and driving were things he always warned you to avoid. He warned you and will never be able to do so again.

Luke is dead, and it takes you a week to say anything. You follow Natasha as she takes care of everything you should have been doing. Luke’s body hasn’t even cooled yet, and Luthor Corp is already publicly accused of selling sensitive client data to a pharmaceutical company. You don’t pay attention to the details, as you spend most of the week sleeping or crying in the hotel room, avoiding the press and listening to Natasha talk about body transport. Sometimes, she murmurs in Russian during a late-night meeting and comes to your room whenever she can.

The flight was finally booked, Natasha announced. A mix of relief and sadness enveloped you as you began to pack your things. The process of packing your suitcase had turned into a ritual of farewell, a blend of acceptance and sorrow. One suitcase should have been enough, but suddenly, you found yourself dealing with more than you had anticipated: Luke’s suitcase, his personal computer, and clothes that now seemed like mere mementos of a life that had changed drastically.

You were exhausted, the fatigue showing in every movement, but you continued because Natasha was already overwhelmed. The days following the fateful night had been a whirlwind of emotions, and now, with your open suitcases and the clothes that needed folding, reality felt even heavier.

You picked up Luke’s computer and carefully placed it in your suitcase. The idea of using the computer to track your lost cell phone had appeared as a glimmer of hope. The phone had vanished the night of the accident, and its location was a mystery you were determined to solve. Not that you hated what Natasha had given you; in fact, the gesture had been more than generous, but there was something deeper you needed to understand and resolve.

The computer was a key piece, a connection to Luke’s life and what he had left behind. It was a way to find some order amidst the chaos, to connect the dots and understand what had really happened. It was a way to try to make sense of it all.

Natasha’s phone rings for the fourth time that day, and, as with the others, she ignores it. The fall of Luthor Corp brought unexpected relief but also a void of uncertainties. Natasha has taken on the role of guardian and protector, offering not only safety but also the emotional support needed. She has been congratulated by all the agents at the agency, but she avoids the boss, knowing that Nick Fury would not support her plans to keep you by her side.

Abandoning you after your friend sacrificed himself to keep both of you safe is inconceivable to Natasha. However, she can’t prove that Luke sent the folder with evidence to the only email she still had access to on his own accord. She sees you sitting across from her, and her heart races. After the return trip, you became a bit more receptive, vulnerable and Natasha wouldn’t give that up for anything.

Seeing you cry as you got off the plane was an emotional blow for Natasha. The rain falling seemed like a reflection of your inner state, and she knew it had been a trigger for you, evoking painful memories of that night. The sound of the rain and the sight of the overcast sky brought the weight of the past back with intensity, and the only thing that calmed you was the sensation of her heartbeat.

From that moment on, Natasha made a silent promise to herself: never to give up on orbiting by your side for the time they still had available. It was a promise of support, of constant presence, even amidst pain and confusion. The weight of the decision to hide your phone that night continued to trouble her. She almost felt guilty for taking that action, considering how much it meant to you. However, the truth was that if she hadn’t hidden your phone, her disguise would have been uncovered.

The restaurant seems crowded, but Natasha knows there are agents watching. This terrifies her, but as she feels your hand touch hers, she wishes, for a moment, to forget the world and lose herself in the way your hair falls on your face and how your hands are still soft despite you spending the day typing.

She squeezes your hand across the table and smiles at your smile. ‘Can I ask you something?’ She notices the tension in your voice and gestures patiently, encouraging you to continue.

‘Do you love me? Like, really love me, not just to keep me by your side or something like that. Do you truly love me, Nat?’ You ask, your voice trembling with emotion, and Natasha realizes she doesn’t like that tone. She squeezes your hand again to make you look at her.

‘I love you, Newton. From the heart and on purpose. In some parallel universe, there’s a version of me that misses a part of herself because she never met you,’ she says sincerely. She has learned to love you and wants you to know that.

‘You wouldn’t lie to me about this, would you?’ You lean in and return the gentle squeeze of her hand, your doubts crawling in the back of your mind.

‘Never, not about this,’ she responds, and immediately regrets it as the phrase implies she might have lied at other times. But before she can explain, you lean back with a half-smile and ask for the check.

A message from Nick Fury alerts Natasha about a meeting the next morning, and she decides to open a bottle of wine to spend the night with you. The mood seems lighter and more relaxed, and you share a soft conversation as you draw closer. The night progresses, and as you enter the room, Natasha pulls you into a passionate kiss.

While giving in to the moment, Natasha feels that something is different. There’s an intensity in you that she can’t explain, an energy that seems out of the ordinary. She tries to ignore these feelings, immersing herself in the kiss and the caresses, seeking comfort and closeness. The touch is familiar, but the emotional connection feels different this time.

Despite the strange feeling, Natasha allows herself to be lost, ignoring the unease that disturbs her. Her thoughts clear with the sensation of your lips on her skin. She feels a sense of calm washing over her, her muscles begin to relax, and the world seems to fade around, her focus on the warmth of your touch.

You continue to kiss her neck softly, your lips grazing her soft skin. She lets out a sigh, a slight shiver running down her spine, your touch causing her to melt into it. As you continue, you can feel her body pressing slightly closer to you, her hand grasping the hem of your shirt.

Your lips continue to move up her neck to kiss her jawline, her skin warm beneath your touch. She sighs and tilts her head, giving you more access. Your fingers gently cup her cheek, and you can feel her lean into your palm. You can hear her heartbeat beginning to quicken as your touch continues.

You move away from her neck and look into her eyes, seeing the dazed and wanting look in them. You give her a smirk before your kisses move down her collarbone and to her chest. She lets out a shaky breath, her fingers going to your hair, gently pushing your head further down.

The night passes, the hours melting away as passion and desire take over. You and Natasha spend the evening in each other’s arms, losing yourselves in each other’s touches and kisses. The rest of the world outside the room seems to disappear, the only thing that matters being each other’s presence.

Natasha wished she had looked at you a little longer

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Four months ago - SHIELD headquarters

Nick Fury looked at Natasha with a stern expression. The environment around them was somber, with the office lights casting heavy shadows on the walls, reflecting the weight of the conversation about to unfold. The room was silent except for the distant sounds of keyboards and the murmurs of other agents working out of sight.

Fury sat behind an imposing desk, his posture rigid and his piercing gaze fixed on Natasha. He knew what he was about to say wouldn’t be well received, but there was no other choice. He had to be direct.

“Romanoff,” Fury began, his voice cold and relentless, “the mission is over. You need to end it now.” The words were like a sentence, laden with authority and a tone that allowed no discussion.

Natasha stood tall, trying to maintain a façade of firmness, but her heart sank with the weight of Fury’s words. She was aware that Hydra had been hit, but leaving you was difficult.

“She still needs me, Fury,” Natasha argued, her voice revealing a hint of desperation. “I can’t just disappear. It will cause more harm than good. She only has me.”

Fury shook his head slowly, his expression unchanged, as if the decision was beyond Natasha’s reach. “Collateral damage, you don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice as unyielding as a rock. “If you don’t end the mission, I’ll make sure she discovers the whole truth. That you approached her only because of the mission. That you killed her boss and hacked everything within your reach.”

Natasha felt a chill run down her spine. The idea of losing everything she had built over the past few months was almost unbearable. She knew Fury was right; he had the authority to do this and was known for following through on his threats.

"You don’t understand," Natasha tried to explain, her voice a little quieter but laden with emotion. "I… I didn’t do this just because of the mission. I care about her. And now, this is much more complicated than any operation."

Fury looked at Natasha with a mix of skepticism and resolve. "Complicated or not, the mission has rules, and those rules must be followed. And you know that by breaking them, you’re risking not only the mission but also her safety."

Natasha felt the pressure mounting, her mind racing as she tried to find a solution. "Give me more time," she pleaded, her tone now more desperate. "I can fix this without her finding out the truth."

"I’ve already waited long enough," Fury replied with a firmness that left no room for negotiation. "Your mission is to end it now. And if you don’t, I’ll have to intervene. I don’t want to do that, Natasha, but I won’t let personal interests interfere with SHIELD’s security and objectives."

Those words hit Natasha like a punch to the gut. She knew Fury was committed to enforcing the rules and that his threats were not empty. The weight of the decision hit her with full force, and she began to consider the pain you would feel if you found out.

Natasha Romanoff hated herself a little more now.

With a defeated sigh, Natasha nodded and started walking toward the door. She knew she needed to follow orders, even if it meant facing the end of something precious to her. But as she took the first step, her gaze met Fury’s once more. He looked almost sad, as if he understood the gravity of the situation but also comprehended the need to move forward.

"Go home and do what’s necessary to end this cleanly; I’ll get you a week," Fury concluded, his voice softening slightly but still firm. "And remember, Natasha, work comes first."

With those words, Natasha left the room, her heart heavy and her mind tumultuous. She knew that the task ahead would be one of the hardest of her career, but loyalty to the mission and to SHIELD had to prevail. She needed to find a way to protect you, even if it meant breaking her own heart.

Natasha felt a lump form in her throat. Fury’s words were a painful blow, but the reality was even harsher. She didn’t want you to know that her love had started as a mission, that her intentions, at first, were not pure.

The tension grew in her chest as she drove back to the apartment she shared with you. The conversation with Fury echoed in her mind, and she knew that any action would break both your hearts. She parked the car and entered the elevator, her legs almost faltering with each step. The journey home seemed endless, and the weight of the lie was crushing her. She was determined to make the seven days count, but she didn’t want to face the end of you both.

Natasha walked toward the bedroom, absorbing the touch of each part of the apartment that had until now been merely standard to make you interested in her. Your sandals at the door, thematic keychains that complemented hers, your scent in the house—everything was overwhelming.

When she opened the door, what she saw made her heart stop for a moment. You were sitting on the bed, Luke's laptop open on your lap, an unreadable expression in your eyes as you stared into the depths of her soul. The room was silent, except for the sound of your heavy breathing and the dim light illuminating your tense face.

___________________

Part 4 comes out this week. Comments are appreciated :)

taglist: : @langedelalune @esposadejoyhuerta @scarlettbitchx

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 3 (Mastermind)-MOTA Fic

A/N: We've got some introductions, some sassy moments, and some more insights into Ruth :) As always, let me know what you all think!

Ruth took her time sight-seeing all that Thorpe Abbotts had to offer.  She was nothing if not a meticulous memorizer of information.  Seeing the place was just as good as reading about it, if only for memorization purposes.  For instance, she learned that the mess hall wasn’t far from the Red Cross quarters—and there was a shortcut in between the barracks towards the mess hall if she really wanted to take it. 

She also learned that the base was spread out enough to warrant long walks every day or at least some sort of transportation.  Especially if she was to be going between the main building and the barracks to deliver summons and act in a secretarial position unless a court martial arose.  

After making two rounds of the place, Ruth was confident that she had the place down in her mind. Ultimately deciding that another lap towards the runways would do her some good, Ruth’s sharp gaze caught onto the field crews.  They were the unsung and silent workers behind everything that went on up in the skies—and you’d have to be crazy not to trust them with your life. 

Man wasn’t meant to fly, Ruth was absolutely certain about that.  If he was, then God would have blessed him with wings rather than gangly limbs.  Seeing as how Ruth didn’t have any sprouting wings or amphibian gills, she’d opt for staying on dry land and ground.  So for any man to put trust in another man and his ability to fix a rickety hunk of metal was something awe-inspiring and God-fearing all at the same time.  

Counting each of the spots for the planes, Ruth’s gaze fixated on a particular black spot on the ground where something had clearly gone wrong with an engine.  She wondered if the plane was still functioning or if it had been one of the planes to go up in the air—or if it was just gone, erased from existence and no one would know that it had been there, save it be for a few paper trails.  

“Earth to curls!” 

Ruth nearly tripped, spinning around and eyes going wide at the sight of a jeep pulled up to a stop behind her.  She hadn’t even heard them pull up behind her, let alone the tires or the engine.  She must’ve been seriously locked in her thoughts to not have noticed or heard them. 

“And by curls, do you mean me?” Ruth questioned, narrowing her gaze and tipping her chin at them.  

“Oh, a lady with an attitude!” One of the boys in the jeep piped up.  And that’s all they were—boys. 

“This lady has a name and a rank.  It’s Lieutenant Ruth Sharpe,” Ruth replied, straightening up her back and looking at them with a stern gaze.  It was channeling all of the sternness she had when she dealt with her younger siblings back home.  

“Well, Lieutenant,” One of them drawled.  “It’s great to meet ya!  You’re standing in our spot for the planes!  They should be getting back here soon and we wanna be ready.  Don’t wanna run you over, you know?” 

At that, Ruth let a smile spread across her features.  “I understand perfectly, thank you…” She trailed off, giving an expectant look at him. 

“Sergeant Ken Lemmons, ma’am!” Ken answered, tipping his cap at her.  “And these two scallywags with me are Jenkins and Conrad!” 

“Well I thank you for letting me know and for not running me over,” Ruth replied, stepping out of the way and onto the grass.  “You said that there’s a mission on now?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Conrad replied quickly.  “We ought to be hearing the sirens any minute now.” 

True to Conrad’s words, not even before he had finished his sentence, sirens began blaring loudly throughout the camp.  Ruth had never seen anything like this before—never been present at such an event.  It was entirely for that reason that her gaze was transfixed on the skies and on the planes that were flying in. 

Ruth could scarcely believe her eyes as the planes came rocketing into the runway—and sheer chaos spread across the entirety of Thorpe Abbotts.  Nurses and doctors were rushing to get men out of the planes, and the amount of blood that was spilling onto the tarmac nearly made Ruth’s knees buckle.  She felt a wave of nausea and dizziness roll through her as she stared—unable to rip her gaze away from the horrific sight in front of her. 

She wasn’t sure she had ever been this close to the war before.  And it made a shiver crawl down her spine.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruth hadn’t had much of an appetite after seeing the gruesome sights on the tarmac.  Her mind was wandering in all sorts of ways, tangled up in her own ideologies and wondering about the why.  Ruth was a strange amalgamation of pure and simple logic and science mixed with religion and faith. 

War was senseless.  It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t logical in any sorts of ways, it just existed.  

Still, Ruth found herself being rallied by both Helen and Tatty into heading to the pub for the night, seeing as how the mission that the men had run was considered a success.  If every mission that went successfully ended in a pub night, Ruth was certain she’d end up having an alcohol problem or something.  She had full intention of observing and watching the dynamics at the pub tonight, not partaking in festivities herself. 

She had been to plenty of pubs here in England and they weren’t the same as bars back in the good ol’ US of A.  In fact, she found the pubs in England to be far more inviting and less unsavory than that of bars in the states.  There was something about the hospitality that was extended, the way that the social sphere seemed to revolve around them, and the way that everyone just seemed more at ease together here.  

By the time that she and the Red Cross girls got to the pub, it was already packed full of pilots and Brits, meaning that the dynamic was decidedly not as peaceful as Ruth would have preferred.  She had no sooner been waiting near the front counter than someone was sliding up next to her. 

At this point, Ruth was an expert in shooting men down and trimming their egos down to size.  And she wouldn’t lie, she found a particular satisfaction in watching men get torn apart verbally and being humbled by a gal such as herself. 

Ruth turned, nearly rolling her eyes at the grinning man beside her.  He seemed over-excited for someone who had clearly just flown a mission earlier that day.  Perhaps a side effect of adrenaline rush or wanting to feel it again—but whatever it was, she wasn’t all that sure.  He had distinctly blue eyes and a mustache that was just near enough to Clark Gable’s to be considered attractive—though Ruth had never really considered Clark Gable to be all that attractive anyhow. 

He was chewing on some sort of gum as his gaze washed over her—not in a rakish way, but certainly in an interested one.  “What’s a pretty gal like you doin’ in a place like this?  You must be new here since I know pretty much every girl on the base and you’re not one of them.”

The lines were as tired as her patience levels were, quite honestly.  “That’s not a real New York accent,” Ruth replied, looking at him innocently.  “So where are you really from, hotshot?” 

For just a moment, the man stared at her with nearly a gaping mouth—trying to decipher if she was really calling him out on his entire shtick.  “What?” He replied lamely. 

“As a real New-Yorker, we can spot fake ones miles away.  So where are you really from?” She asked, giving a teasing smile back in reward. 

At that, his shoulders deflated.  “Not impressed then?” 

“Unfortunately not.  But the effort is appreciated,” Ruth retorted as a drink was finally placed in her hands.  “And yes, I’m new.  I’m Lieutenant Ruth Sharpe—” 

Recognition dawned in his eyes.  “Oh shit—” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.  “You’re the new JAG Corp lawyer, right?” 

“And if you know that then you’re one of the air execs and there’s four of those—so that narrows it down.” 

He finally gave a sigh and grinned wearily at her.  “Bucky Egan.” 

“Do you always hit on people who deal with court martials for a living or am I just special?” 

His cheeks burned red as he let out a breath.  “I suppose asking you not to court martial me on account of my ignorance would be a poor move?” 

“Considering Huglin’s no fraternization rule and that it’s only my first day AND you really had no idea who I was, I suppose I can let you off with a warning,” Ruth said pointedly.  “But I intend to clean this place up, and if that means shutting down flirtatious pilots such as yourself, then I won’t hesitate.” 

“Cutthroat.  No wonder Huglin likes you.” 

“Which begs the question why he puts up with you, given your track record and consistent erratic behavior—I must be the fifth or sixth woman you’ve flirted with tonight.” 

“Oh so you were watching me.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.  I’m watching for problems.” 

“And am I one?” 

“Undecided at the moment,” Ruth retorted.  “I’ll be sure to let you know though.  And if you’re looking for someone else to flirt with,” Ruth’s eyes swept over the crowd, landing on a girl with curly hair watching them closely.  “That girl over there hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you came over here.” 

“You’re helping me?” 

“Redirecting your efforts towards someone who you might actually have a chance with,” Ruth corrected sharply.  

“Backhanded help,” Bucky murmured, eyes locked onto Ruth for a final time.  “You’re an interesting one, Sharpe.” 

“So I’ve been told. I hope to not see you in court.” With that, Ruth took her drink and made a beeline for both Helen and Tatty, who were chatting in the corner. 

Upon her arrival, Helen had grasped at her arm.  “What did Egan want?” 

“Is he always that brazen?” Ruth grumbled. 

“Usually,” Tatty stated dryly, taking a sip of her gin. “You sent him away like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs.  It’s good for his ego.” 

“Well if there’s one thing my father always prescribed for men and their egos, it was a dose of time with me,” Ruth grinned.  

“You didn’t find him charming?” Helen pressed. 

“As charming as a snail in its Sunday best,” Ruth murmured.  “I’m not here for men like him.” 

“You’re here for other men?” 

“Men who are problems, yes.  I’m the solution.  Or the thing that breaks the camel’s back, proverbially speaking.” 

Helen and Tatty exchanged a wide-eyed grin. “Oh you’re fun.  We’re gonna love watching you tear them apart, aren’t we?” Tatty questioned.  

“I certainly hope so.” 

[juminies]

null hypothesis

jumin week day 6, physical touch

@juminweek2019

jumin x reader, 1250 words

♡

Jumin would have not have so much as considered before meeting you that he could even potentially be touch deprived. The idea of craving touch simply didn’t make sense, anyway — too much of the touch he had experienced before was uncomfortable and unwanted. A grip like a vice around his wrist to drag him to a basement. Women trying to make advances on him since he was too young to even grasp it properly. Drunk business partners’ arms haphazardly thrown over his shoulders at corporate parties, as if they’re friends.

It practically goes without saying that when a man of almost thirty has never even been hugged properly he tends to miss the mark on physical touch altogether. And it didn’t bother Jumin, not being touched. He didn’t want to touch others just as much as he’d rather they didn’t touch him; he felt no need to instigate it outside of situations where good manners called for it. Frankly, he couldn’t even begin to enlighten someone on how to initiate human contact in a way that doesn’t feel awkward or misplaced, nor did he care to find out.

But like with every other aspect of his meticulously planned daily life, you completely threw a spanner in the works. Before he knew it you were holding his heart in your clutches — simultaneously so ruthless and so gentle. Like a glass so full that the surface tension is at risk of breaking, one tiny movement held the ability to send him spiralling (in the best way, he’d tell you).

Even still, in the very beginning he didn’t touch you much outside of what he had predetermined to be expected for a relationship. Him wanting to kiss you had been a given from the day you met in person; a craving to taste you, to leave you breathless. Yet, lingering hands and cradling arms were not something that came naturally to him. Efficiency and independence had always stood at the forefront of his life, and his logical side subconsciously assumed the stance that touching for the sake of touching merely added time and introduced complicating variables.

You had opted to stay mostly on equal footing when it came to physical contact. He was walking on unknown territory and it was only expected that it’d take time for him to find his way; if he wasn’t touchy you wouldn’t push the boundary of touch. Still, sometimes you’d fall into resting your head against his shoulder or holding onto him just to hold onto him.

Your contact was never unwelcome, he found.

In fact, with passing time it almost became too infrequent. And with the lack of your warmth (just to be warm) came an urge—a longing—that took Jumin some time to be able to place. To be touched. To relive the memories of you, or your hands, or your lips, pressed against him.

So it started with subtleties. A test. He’d purposely brush your fingers together when you passed him something. Reach for something you were reaching for just for the chance to feel your skin against his when it wasn’t necessary. Nonchalantly slide his palm into yours when you sat close to him or he, himself, sat too close to you.

One day, his left hand in yours and a cup of still-too-hot tea in the other, Jumin tells you, “I have a proposal.”

“Another? So soon? I already said yes,” you tease.

He chuckles. “Indeed. This is not a second request for your hand in marriage, though I guarantee that I would be overjoyed to marry you ten times over. Rather, I was curious if you’d be so kind as to assist me in something.”

“Anything,” you tell him. “Though it’s nothing nefarious, I hope?”

His brows furrow slightly and he looks to where your hands are locked together. “You do not take me for a criminal, do you? In that case, it’s rather irresponsible that you should stay so contentedly in my company, let alone accept my request regardless.”

A smile breaks your feigned seriousness. “I know you’re a good man, Jumin.” The concern fades away from his eyes as he looks back to you and fondly shakes his head. “But hypothetically, I never said I wouldn’t help you commit crimes,” you add.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says through an amused exhale.

“Good. Then tell me, what’s my assistance needed for?”

“An experiment.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Then allow me to explain,” Jumin says. “I have deduced over the last several weeks of us spending time together that I find my desire to touch you, to be touched by you, increasing substantially.”

“In what sense?”

He raises an eyebrow and a smile threatens the corners of his lips. “I am simply speaking in general terms. Though I would not be opposed to more sex, too.”

He doesn’t miss the twinkle in your eyes (and he does smile, then).

“Ergo,” he continues with a giddiness uncharacteristically present on his tongue, “I hypothesise that an increase in physical contact between us, in any and all forms, would lead to an increase in my quality of life. Only if that would be something you may also enjoy, of course.”

“You know, I never had you down as much of the type to put the fate of something as precious as your quality of life in someone else’s hands.” You lean in and kiss him in the way that always leaves him half-dizzy and wanting more; chaste but playful; almost saccharine. “But I’ll take good care of it.”

Truth be told, Jumin is not the type to give away his vulnerability easily. Not at all. But if he feels the need to explain himself further (and he does), it never comes. His need for you is not something he can effectively vocalise. Just because — that’s at the crux of it. Just because.

So subtleties shift to blatancies. When you drag yourself out of his bed in the mornings that you stay at the penthouse to greet him brewing tea or coffee for you both in the kitchen, you wrap your arms around his waist and sink into his back with no hesitancy or resistance. He lets you take the first cup and holds onto it longer than he needs to just to feel the way the heat passes between his hands and the ceramic and between your hands and his. He tucks your hair away from your face as you take the first sip, and revels in the way you gently rest your head against him with your eyes closed while trying to properly wake yourself up. The way you make a point of straightening his tie and smoothing out his jacket before he leaves for work, how you linger with your hands pressed to his chest, is something he savours. It means he kisses you with just a little more fervour than had previously been typical in the morning, and he won’t complain when you keep his mouth to yours for just a few moments too long. When he has the honour of coming home to you after an exhausting day he will happily lay on you as you run your fingers into his hair and listen to him talk. He will let himself be pampered and held and kissed silly. And he will reject that pesky null hypothesis: There is no significant relationship between physical contact and my quality of life.

Because it’s you.

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 35 || Harry Styles

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

masterlist

word count: 1.7K

The day of the prenatal appointment arrived, and Harry and Y/N found themselves sitting side by side in the waiting room of the obstetrician's office. The atmosphere was hushed, the anticipation palpable as they exchanged glances filled with a mix of nerves and determination.

Harry's fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh, a manifestation of the tension that had settled within him. Y/N, on the other hand, took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. They were navigating uncharted territory together, and the upcoming appointment was a significant milestone in their journey.

When their names were finally called, they rose from their seats, the weight of the moment pressing upon them. Harry reached out and gently squeezed Y/N's hand, offering her a reassuring smile that masked his own apprehensions.

Together, they entered the doctor's office, where they were greeted by a warm and friendly obstetrician. Dr. Williams had been recommended to Y/N by her mother, and her gentle demeanor put both Harry and Y/N at ease.

Dr. Williams, a middle-aged man with a warm smile, addressed Y/N first, his tone professional but kind. "Good afternoon, Y/N. How have you been feeling since our last visit?"

Y/N answered, sharing her thoughts and any concerns she had about the pregnancy, her gaze never leaving the doctor. However, as the appointment continued, Dr. Williams seemed to become increasingly friendly with Y/N, his mannerisms shifting from professional to overly familiar. Harry had also found it incredibly rude and unprofessional for him not to greet him yet he abstained from saying anything. The last thing he wanted was to upset Y/N.

Harry couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in the doctor's behavior. He watched as Dr. Williams playfully flirted with Y/N, offering compliments and personal anecdotes that were unrelated to the appointment. Harry's unease grew with each passing moment, his protective instincts kicking in.

When Dr. Williams addressed Y/N's pregnancy and casually mentioned, "So, you're doing this all on your own, then?" Harry felt a surge of anger and frustration. It was clear that the doctor assumed Y/N was a single mother and he was just a friend. He was done playing nice. It was time he let his presence be known.

Before Y/N could respond, Harry spoke up, his tone firm and assertive. "Actually, no. We're doing this together."Harry's eyebrows shot up in mild surprise as he took Dr. Williams' hand. “Harry Styles”.

Dr. Williams raised an eyebrow in surprise, his gaze shifting between Harry and Y/N. "Oh, I see. My apologies for the assumption. I presume you must be the father?”

“That’s right” He dryly said.

As the appointment progressed, they experienced a mix of emotions. They heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time—a moment that left them both awe-struck and teary-eyed. Dr. Williams shared important information about the pregnancy, discussing the upcoming milestones and what to expect in the months to come.

Just before the appointment ended and as Y/N wiped the gel off her bump, Harry cleared his throat, his tone earnest. "Dr. Williams, we wanted to discuss something important with you."

The doctor's demeanor shifted slightly, sensing the seriousness of their tone. "Of course, please have a seat."

Once they were settled, Y/N began, her voice steady. "Harry and I have decided to do a paternity test to confirm the biological father of the baby."

Dr. Williams' expression remained professional, his gaze shifting between them. "I understand. It's a significant step, and it's important to ensure clarity."

Harry nodded, his tone firm. " We want to get it done as soon as possible."

Dr. Williams leaned back in his chair, considering their request. "I can provide you with the necessary referrals and information for the test. It typically involves a blood sample from both the mother and the potential father."

Y/N and Harry exchanged a look of acknowledgment, gratitude evident in their expressions.

"Thank you, Dr. Williams," Y/N said, her voice sincere.

Outside the doctor's office, in the corridor of the medical center, Harry and Y/N shared a moment of quiet reflection. The weight of their shared experience hung in the air, a reminder that they were united by the life growing within Y/N, a life they would both cherish and support, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

Leaving the hospital behind after their prenatal appointment and discussions about their unborn baby, Harry and Y/N stepped into the fresh air of the city, their steps carrying them away from the medical center.

As they walked down the sidewalk, Harry's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what's on your agenda for the rest of the day. Do you have a lot of work ahead?"

Y/N's gaze wandered to the bustling city around them before she replied, her voice calm. "Actually, I'm heading to the new apartment to receive some furniture that's being delivered."

Harry's brows furrowed with concern. "Are you doing it all on your own?"

Y/N's lips curved into a small smile, appreciating Harry's thoughtfulness. "No, Patrick is helping me, but he'll only be available after he's done with work."

Harry's worry didn't dissipate. "That's kind of risky, isn't it? Carrying heavy furniture and all?"

Y/N nodded in understanding, acknowledging the validity of his concern. "Yes, it can be, but we'll be careful. I can't leave the furniture out in the hallway, and Patrick offered to assist once he's available."

Harry's protective nature kicked in as he offered an alternative solution. "I could help you. I'm free for the rest of the day, and it's better than waiting for Patrick."

Y/N's gratitude shone in her eyes, and she shook her head gently. "Harry, you've done enough today with the appointment and everything. I don't want to take up more of your time”

Harry's concern for Y/N's well-being was unwavering, and as they continued their walk down the bustling city streets, he couldn't shake the nagging worry about her handling heavy furniture on her own.

"Y/N," he began, his tone gentle yet resolute, "I can't just stand by knowing you're handling all that furniture on your own. It's not safe, especially during your pregnancy."

Y/N glanced at him, her expression a mix of appreciation and a hint of protest. "I know you want to help, but you've already done so much today. You don't have to—"

Harry interrupted her, his voice firm. "I want to help because I care about you and the baby. I can't let you take unnecessary risks. Please, let me come with you."

There was a pause as Y/N met his determined gaze, recognizing the sincerity in his words. After a moment, she relented with a small smile. "Alright. I don't want to argue about it. Thank you for being so thoughtful."

Harry's lips curled into a relieved smile, his hand finding hers once again as they continued walking. "I promise it won't take long, and I'll make sure everything is set up safely."

As they approached Y/N's apartment building, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had successfully convinced Y/N to let him help, and he was determined to ensure everything went smoothly.

Y/N's new apartment was a charming and intimate space, radiating personality and warmth despite its smaller size compared to Harry's more lavish abode. Nestled in a bustling city neighborhood, the building itself had an old-world charm, complete with a wrought-iron staircase and a vintage elevator with a metal gate.

Stepping through the front door of the apartment, one would find themselves in a welcoming living area that doubled as her lounge and dining space. The open-plan design made the most of the limited square footage.

The living area boasted a cozy sofa in a rich, earthy tone that begged to be lounged on. Overhead, a stylish pendant light cast a warm, golden glow. Beside the sofa, a rustic wooden coffee table held a few well-chosen decorative items, including a vase of fresh flowers.

“The couch is being replaced. All the furniture here is just temporarily” She explained to Harry as she allowed him to explore the apartment. “Except for the barstools. Those I got a few days ago”.

The walls of the living room were painted in soft, soothing colors, which made the space feel more expansive than it actually was. A large window allowed natural light to filter in during the day, revealing a charming cityscape view.

Adjacent to the living area was a compact kitchen, where Y/N could whip up her favorite meals. It featured modern appliances, sleek countertops, and a breakfast bar with a couple of stylish barstools.

Down a short corridor were the bedrooms. The bathroom, while not overly spacious, was functional and clean. It featured a standing shower, a sink with a mirrored cabinet, and a few shelves stocked with toiletries.

“There is no bathtub” Harry pointed out to her. “How are you going to bathe her?”

“Her?” Harry smiled and looked away. “I was hesitant to get it because of it. I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

Overall, Y/N's apartment exuded a sense of coziness and personality. It was the kind of place where you could easily curl up with a good book or share a glass of wine with friends. While it lacked the grandeur of Harry's home, it was perfect for her—a space where she could express her individuality and create new memories, especially as she awaited the arrival of her child. Harry couldn't wait to see it fully furnished, knowing that it would only become more charming with each added piece.

SNEAK PEAK OF CHAPTER 49 ON PATREON

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LINKS

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TAGLIST

@0oolookitsme, @happycupcakeenthusiast, @kennedywxlsh, @hsfics, @stylesbrock, @cuddlingwithharry, @sucker4angstt, @bluemoonedwings, @cherriesrae, @vornilla, @mellamolayla, @harryscurls21, @stilesissaved, @be-with-me-so-happily, @harryssattelitestomper, @jerseygirlinca, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @lomlolivia, @stylesfever, @daphnesutton, @n0vaj3an, @breezykpop, @kathb59

[kitwasheree]

And Then They Were Roommates

【Summary】 : Iris, a tired college student just trying to get by his mundane, day to day life, has been having a frequent visitor. Who has been breaking into his dorm room frequently. To ransack his fridge. No one none other than Lilia Vanrouge, and Iris figures that if he's here this often, under his roof and eating his food... He might as well make him his roommate.

【Warnings】 : Mentions of alcohol, drinking.

【Word Count】 : 2.5k

【Notes】 : i know this is an art blog, but i wanted to write something for valentine's, and i didn't really want to draw a comic. forgive me if lilia comes off as ooc, i've never written something like this before, nor have i written lilia before. ty to my friends for beta'ing ily guys ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 (on the next blue moon probably)

【Tags】 : @1dont-really-know @fumoandinsanity @thehollowwriter @boopshoops @distant-velleity

Iris groaned as he heard a racket coming from his kitchen in his dorm room, eyes fluttering open in the middle of the night. He got up from his bed groggily and sighed, as if this wasn't the first time this had happened.

" It's two in the fucking morning.... " He grumbled, as he forced himself to get up.

Iris exited his room and walked into his kitchen, clicking on the light. There, at his fridge, stood Lilia Vanrouge, who had broken into his dorm room again somehow, and was currently rummaging through his fridge in the dead of night. Again. Lilia froze as the lights clicked on and his eyes narrowed to adjust to the light, before he turned to look at Iris with a sheepish grin.

Iris sighed as he pinched his forehead. He's too tired for this, he thought. This had happened before. Lilia had been breaking into his dorm room even though Iris keeps the door locked, and even then, he had checked the locks and all of them were intact, with no signs of lockpicking whatsoever, so Iris simply cannot fathom how Lilia kept getting in.

Iris gave Lilia a long, deadpan look, long purple hair dishevelled and eyebags present, having been rudely awoken in the middle of night due to a certain pink-haired someone. You’d think that after a stranger broke in, one would be shocked or panicked, but instead all Iris had was an unimpressed expression on his face. This was the third time this had happened this week. The worst part (to Iris at least) was that the red-eyed night gremlin didn’t even have any ill intent. The most he had done was mildly inconvenience him. Which also annoyed Iris. Seriously, this guy was like some sort of bat… Some… Vampire that comes into his dorm room in the dead of night, to what? Mess up his kitchen and look through his fridge?

" ...Vanrouge. Again. How did you get in? I swear, it's two in the morning...! '' Iris scowled, half-awake as he glared at the mischievous other.

“ Ah, Iris. Apologies, dear. “

Lilia said nonchalantly as he continued to rummage through Iris’s fridge, jars and bottles clinking, Iris's meticulous organisation of his fridge quickly being destroyed by one mischievous man. Iris watched with dismay as all of his condiments and ingredients got mixed up with each other.

“ I simply stopped by for a midnight snack as I felt quite peckish. I’ll be out of your hair in a jiffy, don’t worry, “ Lilia hummed as he glanced over to Iris for a moment, before turning his attention back to the fridge.

“ Oh my, tomato juice. Don’t mind if I do,“ Lilia grinned as he took a chug straight out of the carton. Iris cringed at this. There goes his hygiene.

“ …A midnight snack. At my dorm. Out of all the other people you could have chosen. And you keep coming back, too. “

Iris commented in a monotone voice, sighing as he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“ Indeed. You always have the most delicious food after all, I may have developed a taste for it. Is that a slice of cake? Oh! And a bottle of wine! Could I have a sip of that? “ Lilia chirped as he noticed the wine cabinet.

Iris glared at him even harder.

“ Do not touch my wine, “

“ How the hell did you even manage to get in!? The door is locked, and you clearly didn’t lockpick it, nor should you have a copy of my key. “ Iris asked with exasperation as he walked over and snatched the bottle of wine out of his cabinet.

He decided, fuck it, he’s already awake and too tired to deal with this, so he’ll just have a drink to ease his headache. Whether the headache was from the lack of sleep or the presence of Lilia, he didn’t know, nor did he care. Iris was rather glad that tomorrow was the weekend, that way he wouldn’t have to deal with getting to class while running on four hours of sleep. He took a swig straight from the bottle of high quality and imported wine, as per his picky tastes. He’d always been rather finicky about his wine, never settling for anything less than the best.

Logically, Iris knew that he should be calling the police by now to report Lilia for breaking and entering, but he considered firstly, he was too tired to deal with this, and secondly, nothing was broken. He also thought that it would be too much of a hassle, so he decided that if nothing was broken even though someone was entering, it did not count as breaking and entering, and therefore he wouldn’t need to go through the trouble.

Lilia snickered as he examined the slice of cake in the fridge with interest.

“ I do believe I’ve already told you how I got in, Iris. I just so happen to have a copy of your room key,“ He smiled as he continued to rummage through the fridge, to which Iris frowned.

“ …How did you even get that? And why do you decide to come into my dorm room out of everyone else’s? Vanrouge, I swear…! “

Iris paced around the kitchen, too dumbfounded with Lilia’s antics to genuinely be mad anymore. He supposed he was used to it at this point. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? He didn’t know, and quite frankly was too tired to think about it. It would be a problem for future Iris to think about, he supposed. He leaned against the kitchen counter next to Lilia, taking another sip of wine. Lilia seemed to have gotten his hands on a bag of potato chips — wait, he had potato chips? Iris didn’t even know where Lilia had found that. The menace crunched on the chips with a cheeky grin as he spoke.

“ Iris, dear, I break into your dorm simply because you are an interesting guy that I have yet to understand. And you also happen to have a wonderfully stocked fridge. Khee hee hee, don’t you feel rather special that I chose you? “

“ And yes, I know it’s illegal, but have a little heart, dear. It’s not as if I’ve ever stolen anything from you! “

Lilia said, as he feasted on Iris’s stolen potato chips and helped himself to Iris’s kitchen like it was a five-star buffet. Lilia seemed to not be bothered, though.

“ You are, quite literally, stealing from me right now, Vanrouge. “

“ And for the love of god, do not get crumbs all over my floor! Do you have no manners? You are lucky that I’ve gotten past trying to incapacitate you for the first two weeks that you started to break in. Otherwise I would have hit you with a baseball bat or frying pan. Again. “ Iris sighed, narrowing his eyes.

“ Ah! You are right, where are my manners? My apologies, Iris. I assure you I’ll clean up after myself. I’ll finish these chips and be out of your hair, “ Lilia gasped. He chuckled amusedly as he continued to snack, seemingly unfazed.

“ I suppose I will ignore you leeching off my groceries and instead, go back to bed, in order to forget you were even here, “ Iris retorted dryly.

“ By the way, do you have a spare toothbrush by chance? I happened to lose mine due to a little… Incident, at my house, ” Lilia admitted sheepishly as he turned to Iris. Now was the time to use his boyish charm, of course. If he just made his eyes a little bigger, maybe tremble his lip to look as pitiful and cute as possible… Truly, it worked every time, so surely his adorable face would convince Iris.

“ …What incident? Nevermind, I don’t want to know. With the way you’ve been consistently breaking into my dorm room, I simply assumed you were homeless, “ Iris said in a sarcastic tone as he rolled his eyes lightly. He took another sip of wine so that he wouldn’t be sober enough to deal with Lilia Vanrouge eventually. ‘Eventually’ would unfortunately be for a while, though. Curse his high tolerance for alcohol.

“ Why yes, my house is located in the middle of the woods. It’s quite the trek to campus, so technically, you are right to assume that I’ve been homeless here and then! I figured it’s more convenient if I simply stop by for a snack or two, and it just so happens that you have a dorm here, “

Lilia then noticed something in the trash bin. He fished out a half-finished bottle of wine, holding it up to examine it.

“ Oh my, what is this doing in the trash? “

“ Your house is what? “ Iris blinked incredulously, before giving up. He was so bewildered he could almost laugh. Almost. Maybe Lilia isn’t that much of a nuisance. It was never boring whenever Lilia showed up, an almost nice change from his mundane life, he supposed. One thing he had learnt was to not question the things Lilia would say, and to just accept it. He frowned in disgust when Lilia took out the bottle from the trash.

“ Eurgh. Why are you rummaging through my trash now? Do not drink that. It’s trash wine. “

Iris looked at the half-finished wine bottle with a repulsion like it had personally offended him, and he took it out of Lilia’s hands, tossing it out the open window carelessly. A loud ‘CRASH!’ could be heard somewhere downstairs, which probably could have killed someone and woken up his dorm mates, but judging by the lack of a scream, Iris should be free of murder charges. Even if he wasn’t, well, that would be a problem for future Iris yet again.

Lilia watched Iris toss out the bottle of perfectly good wine with shock on his face, frowning. His eyebrows raised when he heard the loud crash, quickly peering out the window, down the building, before he turned back to Iris.

“ Good grief, Iris! That was unnecessary, someone could have died down there. “ Lilia scolded. He pouted as he gestured out the window. “ There’s no need to toss out perfectly good wine! “

“ I disagree, if the bottle is in the trash, then it simply is trash wine. No, it is not ‘perfectly good wine’. I could practically taste the factory it was manufactured in. “ Iris shook his head in disapproval.

“ Anyways, you still have not answered me. Why do you keep breaking into my dorm room? “

“ I happen to have a soft spot for you, dear. And I’m curious on how you would react each time I show up, “ Lilia laughed as he gave Iris a soft smile, propping his face up with his hands as he leaned on the kitchen counter.

Iris stopped scowling for a moment, averting his eyes when Lilia did that. He didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to look at that soft smile, feeling a bit strange. Whatever, it’s nothing. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“ You are here so often, and yet I don’t see you on campus. Or maybe it’s because I simply haven't noticed you, “ Iris commented.

“ Well, since I’m here so often, may I stay the night? It’s quite late, and as you know, my house is quite far away! “ Lilia grinned as he patted Iris on the back, to which he had an unamused expression as he glanced at Lilia.

“ Come now, it wouldn’t be so bad to have me as a houseguest. Of course, if you really don’t want to, then I’ll gladly leave, “

Lilia smiled, hoping for a yes, but his grin turned into a serious expression when he said the last part. He didn’t actually want to overstep Iris’s boundaries too much, not wanting to cross a line. If Iris really didn’t want him around, he would gladly leave. Albeit with a little sadness.

Iris sighed as he gave Lilia a very long look, pondering his decision, taking in Lilia’s appearance. He supposed that he and Lilia were acquaintances by now, with the amount of times they’ve seen each other for the past few months. And he supposed that maybe, Lilia's presence has become a welcome one, after the first few weeks of breaking in. Maybe he's even a little bit fond. And he supposed that yes, Lilia has not shown any ill will towards him, nor done any harm. And perhaps, maybe, just maybe, he could use a little company sometimes — not that he’s lonely, though.

Lilia’s face seemed to fall a bit as the silence dragged on from Iris’s lack of response, and he started to doubt himself. Maybe he really wasn’t welcomed, and that Iris didn’t care about him at all, nor had Iris started to like him at all in the first place. He could have sworn Iris liked him, though. It’s why Lilia kept coming back to see him. Did he read Iris wrong this whole time? Lilia felt hurt and guilty, but he supposed that it’s his own fault for overstaying his welcome, anyway. It was stupid of him to think that Iris would let him stay for a ‘visit’, let alone stay the night, in hindsight. Maybe it’s time for this little charade to end. Lilia shifted uncomfortably, sighing as he closed his eyes, and then he opened his mouth to speak.

“ I understand. Perhaps I have misjudged the situation. I- “

“ Alright, fine. Do what you want, just make sure not to make a mess, “ Iris interrupted, covering his face as he finally caved. He stopped taking sips from the bottle of wine, placing it back in the wine cabinet.

“ You’re here often enough, anyway, so I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm. “

Lilia immediately perked up, breaking into a wide smile. Good, good! He didn’t read him wrong after all! His adorable face and youthful energy must have worked its magic. Deep down, he’s rather relieved.

“ Thank you. I assure you, I will be on my best behaviour, “ Lilia winked. “ Think of it as a slumber party, if you will. “

“ A slumber party? Don’t get ahead of yourself, “ Iris shook his head and rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips.

Iris exited the kitchen, with Lilia following behind him. He clicked the kitchen lights off, and disappeared into his room, re-emerging with fluffy blankets and pillows in his hand. Iris dumped them into Lilia’s hands, figuring that this was the least he could do for him. Lilia snickered in response as he caught the mountain of blankets and pillows. It practically covered his small stature, so much so that one would think they were looking at a walking pile of comfort.

“ Here you go, “ Iris said, figuring this was the least he could do for his impromptu houseguest.

“ Good night, Iris, “ Lilia beamed at him. “ Say, it’s not so bad having me around now, is it? “

“ I suppose not, “ Iris admitted quietly, as he walked towards his bedroom. He stopped in the hallway, and turned around for a moment, giving Lilia a small smile.

“ Good night, Lilia, “ He nodded softly, before he retreated into his bedroom, clicking the door shut behind him.

As Lilia wrapped himself in blankets on the couch, the sound of the clock ticking away into the night, he buried his warm face into the pillow.

He called me Lilia.

[drmaddict]

Gray Hair

Summery: Napoleon reveals his biggest fear

Trigger warning: mention of Alzheimer's

English is not my first language so be gentle.

(gif is not mine)

Napoleon Solo is a man who paid insane attention to his appearance. He paid meticulous attention to his clothes, his hair, his shoes, the watch he wore. His hair knew its place. None would just jump out of place for no apparent reason.

His skin was well-groomed. His face always shaved.

He didn't overeat, never drank too much, and trained his body with an iron conviction to mold it to the image he deemed appropriate. Every morning without fail before the rest of the world even got out of bed.

Napoleon was a man who knew how he affected others and how to act to change that effect. He was a born manipulator. So it wasn't unusual for him to take longer in the bathroom than I did. But today it went too far even by his standards.

I sat on the bed, bored, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. I was used to waiting. Napoleon took his missions more seriously than I would have thought possible at the beginning of our partnership. He proved me wrong. He let me into his world, into his heart. Which led to me to also opening the little locked door to my heart for him.

I had learned over time to love and respect this man. With all his quirks, but even I had my limits.

Annoyed, I stood up and walked to the bathroom door. "Napoleon?", I knocked at the door.

No response. "I know you take your appearance very seriously, but you've been in there for over an hour now. What are you doing?"

"Just... Just 5 more minutes... I'll be right there," I heard the frantic reply before a muffled clink sounded. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

He was stuttering. He never stuttered. Even when a gun was held to his head, he still had a casual line on his lips. The clink. With him, every move was spot on. He wasn't the best pickpocket in the world for nothing.

"Are you sure about this? You sound kind of... confused? Should I tell Illya and Gaby? Should we cancel the mission?"

"NO!.. No. I... I'll have it in a minute."

But after five minutes, still nothing was happening, so I grabbed the hairpin from my hairstyle, which was purely for decorative purposes, and stuck the deliberately sharpened end into the door until I heard a soft click. I pushed the door open just as quietly. What I saw was definitely not what I expected.

Napoleon clung to the sink and looked in the mirror in panic.

"Napoleon?", I asked timidly.

His head shot around to me and big eyes start at me. His right hand shot up and abruptly rested on the right side of his head, where it covered his hair.

I drew my eyebrows together in irritation. "Napoleon what's wrong? Talk to me!" I walked toward him. He stalked away from me until he bumped into the toilet behind him and sat down surrenderd on the lid. His hand still pressed to his head. I squatted in front of him and gently tried to dislodge his hand from his head. He refused at first. Did not look me in the eye. I pulled on it jerkily and I had a clear view of the covered area underneath.

My face reflected more confusion. No wound. His hair laying as it always did.

I looked irritated at his face, but he just had his eyes squeezed shut and his face turned away from me.

"Napoleon you have to talk to me. What's wrong? I don't understand? Are you hurt? What? Napoleon are you crying?"

I gently turned his face toward me and wiped away the tears.

"Napoleon what-"

"How can you not see it?" he snapped.

"See what?"

He looked at me out of wet, hysterical eyes. "The hair!" he said, as if that explained everything.

I glanced at his strands of hair. At the part he had been so panicked to cover. There it was. A delicate silver shining hair in a sea of black. THAT was the reason for this reaction?

"Leon.", I sighed. "That's just..." I stroked his cheek with my thumb. "Honey I know you... You know you're only human. An outstanding, talented, insanely good looking humanbeing, but still just a humanbeing. That's perfectly normal."

He shook his head. "I need more time. I... This can't be happening already. I still have so much to do. I still have so much to show you. I need... I need more time." He clung to my wrist hysterically. He was completely out of it. I reached for the mic on my garter and turned it on. "Illya Gaby? We can't go with you... I sprained my ankle. You'll have to go on your own."

"Understood." came the short and practical reply from Illya.

Napoleon was still in his own world. "Honey you... you're not going to die tomorrow. It's just a gray hair."

He shook his head. "I'm going to forget everything. I'm going to forget you. The paintings. Me. That's... That's how it starts. First comes the gray hair

and then..." he shook his head to stop himself.

I reached for his face again. "Look at me. Napoleon come on. Look at me. Good. Now breathe with me. In and out. In and out. Good... Good."

He was slow to calm down, but it worked. "Now, I need you to tell me what's going on."

He took a deep breath. "My father...he was the smartest man I knew. He... hell he was a janitor, but always the smartest man in the room. He was one step ahead of everybody. Until the gray hair came. Until he forgot who I was. Who he was. He was in a wrong time. He didn't know what world he was in anymore. Age took away everything he was."

I looked at our clasped hands. "Alzheimer's?", I asked. He nodded.

I stroked the top of his head. "Gray hair doesn't make you old. I know a girl who went gray at twenty-two." He rested his head against my shoulder and I continued to stroke his strands of hair. "Not every person who gets old has Alzheimer's. I can't promise you it won't affect either of us, but you have more than enough time before that could even be an issue. Leon. You still have time. For the world. Your paintings. Me."

He was silent. "If you find out, you'll have to take me away." He lifted his head and looked me straight in the eye. "I don't want anyone to see me like this. Not even you. If it starts and you notice, you'll take me away under a fake name and leave me behind. I want people to know me as a man. Not...not as a decay."

I was literally struck by his fear, but nodded bravely.

He dropped his head back against my shoulder. "What am I going to do now? I'm supossed to be the young bachelor out there. I can't have gray hair."

"I'll just get hair dye. You're in luck as usual my good man. Black is an easy color."

I scratched the back of his neck. He put an arm around me and pulled me closer. He smelled my scent. "I love you. I can't imagine ever forgetting that."

[legorumii]

" I don't wanna tell you

But if I did that would be useful. "

╰╮Fixing It , Lord Garmadon x GN Reader.

disclaimer(s) ; Sh mention, comfort, garmadon comforts the reader after finding out they self-harmed.

You don't know how you got into this situation. One minute you have a knife In your hand, ready to cut again and the next thing you know you're sitting on the floor with Garmadon by your side. Staring at your arm. He continued to stare at it, you shifted uncomfortably in the awkward silence until he spoke, voice low and quiet, "What happened? Who did this?" You glanced at him from under your hair. His face was expressionless, like always, his eyes locked on your arm. You didn't answer for several moments, trying to find the words, and then you broke down.

You started to cry. His eyes left your arm to look at your face. You kept crying as you talked, words spilling out of you as if they had a life of their own and not some kind of filter. "I decided to cut…I couldn't-" You choked out another sob. Garmadon's eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"I couldn't stop myself." That was all you could get out before you dissolved back into tears again. You were so tired, you didn't know what you wanted to do with your life anymore. You wanted this to end. You heard the male huff besides you, "Stay here." He muttered. And with that he stood up, leaving you alone. Alone in a dark room with no one but yourself for company. It felt like ages until he came back with a med kit in hand. He sat back down besides you and placed the kit beside him. You watched silently as he opened the kit.

He grabbed some gauze and disinfectant, and without further discussion, he began cleaning the blood off your arm. His hands were warm and gentle but still managed to work efficiently without hesitation.

He cleaned your cuts carefully and meticulously, and after he finished he gently pressed bandages over them. He gave you an odd glance when you looked down. You hadn't realized you had been clutching onto your arm. He seemed to think nothing of it and instead took the chance to ask a question. "Why would you do something like that?" Your eyes widened and you looked away, not meeting his piercing gaze. "Because I just think I deserved it-" Your words were interrupted by him grabbing your shoulder firmly and turning you so you were facing him again. He looked at you like you were crazy. "How can you be so sure you deserve that, (Y/N)? Tell me."

His tone was demanding, yet gentle at the same time. You flinched under the intensity of his gaze.

He seemed to sense that because he softened his grip slightly, leaning more into his commanding manner, and let go of your shoulder. "You don't deserve that, so don't ever tell yourself that." He said seriously. His tone was firm but there was a hint of concern underlying it. You felt like your heart skipped a beat. Was it real concern? You weren’t really good at reading people. "That was selfish and stupid." The man scolded you softly. His voice was soft, caring even, and you relaxed almost imperceptibly. You knew he wasn't going to tell anyone about this. Garmadon was loyal to a fault. He'd probably take this secret to the grave.

“Do you feel better now?” He asked, his red eyes studying your face intently. You nodded hesitantly, feeling embarrassed and ashamed, but you supposed that he wasn’t going to press. “Good.” You blinked and he turned back to packing the kit up. “Now, let's get some dinner. Shall we?" Garmadon stood up and offered his hand to you. You accepted it gingerly and he pulled you up as well. You both stared at each other for a moment, then you spoke. "Thank you, Garmadon." You whispered, looking at him with sincere gratitude shining in your eyes. He smiled and held you tighter for a moment. When he let go of you, he walked forward briskly towards the exit.

“Come, we’ve wasted enough time here. Let’s eat."

" While you're crying in your bedroom.

I would do the same too. And I have. "

all content belongs to @legorumii do not repost or translate on any writing website!

[cas-kingdom]

I’d love it if you could write

“Well, this went horribly wrong…” And “Idiots. They are all idiots.”

With Chicago Fire pretty please ❤️

The atmosphere of Firehouse 51 was one of absolute secrecy. The majority of the house had crammed into the common room, some filling food dishes while others strung up decorations, each person adopting a very temporary and absolutely rare attitude of quiet.

"Hey, Kelly, grab that," you whispered as loud as you could. Balancing on the edge of an armchair, you had been attempting to stick a Happy Birthday banner above the doorway.

Kelly put his stack of party hats down and rushed over to help. "Where am I going?" he asked, taking the end of the banner. He pulled it over to the other side of the room, standing on the tips of his toes to stick it in the corner. "Here? Hey, Stella, pass me the tape?"

Sylvie slapped Mouch's hand as it reached for the bowl of popcorn. "Uh, no! Hands off the party food, Mouch."

"Oh, come on, there's more than enough here," Mouch sulked.

Sylvie stared. "Off."

"Guys, where am I putting these party poppers?" Violet called, slapping a hand over her mouth when a chorus of hushes came her way.

Cruz pointed towards the pile of presents on a table. "I think Y/N said over there."

Hermann cursed. "Damn, I think I forgot my present."

"No, no—" You turned momentarily away from the birthday banner, which you were still struggling to hang up the right way, to point Violet in a different direction— "By the cake."

Stella, about three party hats on her head, frowned. "Did that personalised birthday sash every arrive?"

"Mouch, I said off the food!"

"Please, Sylvie?"

"Y/N," Kelly said, "this is impossible." The birthday banner did not want to stay up, its finicky material ripping and slipping every time you and Kelly tried to stick your respective ends to the wall.

You, ever the tenacious one, set your lips in a tight, determined line and frowned as you concentrated. "Nothing's impossible Just—reach a bit more—"

Ritter's voice, riddled with nervous laughter, broke through the quietude of the common room. "Uh, guys?"

"What in God's name are you doing to my firehouse?"

Your head swung around so fast you lost your balance on the edge of the chair and fell, only saved from falling in a heap on the floor by Cruz, who caught you and steadied you.

Chief Wallace Boden stood inches in front of the open doorway, stern face surveying the common room's new features. Behind him, Capp and Tony lingered, the we fucked up looks absolutely at home on their faces. They escaped not a single glare from the occupants of the room, who stood scattered, each with their own job that they took one hundred percent seriously.

Capp leaned over Boden's shoulder. "You said twelve!" he hissed.

"We said half twelve!" Stella hissed back.

There was a general silence and very little movement that lasted approximately three seconds before Sylvie stepped forward, hands clasped in front of her and smiling as wide as she could without it looking too forced.

"Chief!" she said. "Surprise?" At the ensuing silence, she spun on her heel and glared until everyone shouted "surprise!"

The birthday banner fell on Kelly's head.

"Well," Hermann said around an awkward cough, "this went horribly wrong."

On any other day, in any other circumstance, you might have laughed about the upheaval. But this was a party you had been planning for three shifts. Each detail had been meticulously thought out, greatly desiring the man who'd been there for you since you were toddling around the firehouse to have a good birthday despite working. Now, that plan had plummeted downwards.

You sighed and your shoulders slackened in defeat. Noting this, and finally grasping what this was, Boden let himself smile and picked up a party hat from one of the tables. "On the contrary," he said, putting the hat on your head, "I think it's wonderful."

A chorus of cheers rounded the common room and Cruz struck up the music player.

"Thank you, guys," Boden said as he pulled you, finally grinning, into his side, "truly."

Chicago Fire Masterpost

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

Make sure to read Part One before this, or it won't make sense. Huey took a solid thirty minutes to concoct a meticulously crafted, step-by-step plan. Meanwhile, in Dewey's world, he'd already played bodyguard for Louie against the likes of wrecking balls, piranhas, booby traps, a sneezing house, a cursed medallion—you name it. Had adventuring always been this dangerous? He's sure his past self would probably through a fit at the mere thought of it, but, frankly this was just ridiculous. 

The thrill of adventure used to be about adrenaline and excitement, but now, with every close call Louie had, Dewey felt like wrapping him in bubble wrap and calling it a day. Seriously, had Louie always danced on the brink of death like this? Dewey made a mental note to have a few words with Uncle Scrooge about it later—once he confirmed with Huey that, yes, this had always been the case, that they had been in this level of danger all the time. 

Dewey used to love adventure for the sheer rush, but watching his younger brother take hit after hit made him contemplate putting a permanent pause on the whole adventuring gig. Oh, if Uncle Donald could see them now. His uncle would probably keel over from a heart attack.

He found himself deep in the throes of a debate, caught between the options of buying bubble wrap or investing in a full-fledged plastic bubble, scrolling the website and contemplating which one would offer greater protection for Louie when Huey strolled up, a weary grin on his beak, and declared, “I have a plan.” 

"Your plan better include enough bubble wrap to fill a swimming pool,"  Dewey grumbled, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "This is getting ridiculous."

Huey's gaze shifted to where Louie was hunched over, cradling his wrist. Dewey hadn't noticed when he'd managed to sprain it, missing the moment it had happened. "Tell me about it," his older brother mumbled, scrutinizing the bandages around Louie's wrist, undoubtedly analyzing and critiquing the way they were tied. "Has he always gotten hurt this much?"

"You tell me," Dewey said, frowning at Louie, who was hunched over. He fought the urge to go and wrap his younger brother in a blanket, knowing that it would spook Louie and draw attention, something Louie probably wouldn't appreciate. "You're the one who keeps a tally on these mishaps. Though, if the answer is yes we're having a serious talk with Scrooge."

"Agreed," Huey said, finally tearing his eyes away from scrutinizing the bandages. Dewey was willing to bet that the second they touched down—or well, crashed would be the more appropriate term, Launchpad was the one flying the plane, after all—and reached home, Huey would be on a mission to rewrap that bandage.

"Anyhow," Dewey chimed in, a tad bit impatient. He'd been clocking Louie's weird vibes for days now, only finally concluding that whatever Louie was feeling way beyond ‘just a bad day.’ He couldn't stand another moment not actively fixing the glitch. 

"Right," Huey straightened up, whipping out his notepad like they were gearing up for battle. Granted, their luck often dipped into the wild side, but Dewey was really hoping it wouldn't come to that. "Post-bedtime's the prime time to make moves. Fewest interruptions, and any potential disruptions can be dodged. Plus, Louie's been pulling an all-nighter marathon for what seems like eons, so let's kick off with tackling that snooze situation."

Dewey shot a quick glance at his younger brother, but there wasn't a hint of panda resemblance. He looked up with a questioning expression. "Concealer?" he asked, well aware that Louie could be meticulous about his appearance.

"Yep," Huey confirmed, offering a sad smile. "Only found out last night. Got up to use the bathroom, and there he was, just lying on the floor, staring blankly at the wall. His eye bags could rival moon craters, Dewey."

Dewey cursed internally. Man, he hated how deep he slept sometimes. They were all light sleepers, but lately, after exhausting adventures, they practically collapsed into their beds.

Louie struggled with sleep, often settling for short naps during the day. That's probably why he seemed so lethargic on certain days. Usually, he'd sneak into one of their beds, snuggle up, and maybe manage a short doze.

"I reckon the best approach is to ease into it," Huey suggested, snapping Dewey back to the here and now. "Stick with those little gestures; they seem to be comforting him. We'll start with a light topic and then gently steer the conversation—no bombardment. He's, well, he's fragile right now, Dewey."

Dewey glanced at their brother once more, small and hunched, almost fragile. He resembled how they'd all looked when Uncle Donald lost his job during a bad time, and they struggled to make ends meet. Dewey could vividly recall that period—the stormy weather, turbulent waters, and the days when cereal was the only meal on the menu. Fear had gripped them all, but Louie had borne the brunt of it. If Dewey closed his eyes, he could see Young Louie in his mind's eye, small and clutching his stuffed rabbit. Those same hands had scoured the house for spare change hoping to help the bills, the very hands Dewey had held.

"Yeah," he mumbled, hating the way his voice cracked. Huey reached up to give his shoulder a comforting pat. "I know. God, do I know."

At that moment, Louie looked up, and Dewey met his brother's tired, scared eyes. It felt like encountering a stray cat in an alley, trying to coax it gently while it watched you warily, aware that you were a stranger.

And that's what stung, didn't it? They were the Duck Boys, brothers with inside jokes and embarrassing memories no one else knew. They were the ones who'd drawn a mustache on Uncle Donald and stitched his new uniform. They had history, and yet, it felt like they didn't know each other anymore.

He mustered a hopeful smile, small and gentle, and felt something in his heart mend as he received one in return. Fragile, like the delicate strands of a spider's web, but it was a start, and it was better than nothing.