#( hell is empty; queue )

[signetrings]

my unattainable dream is to have zero drafts

[unhxngxd]

// Hi, yes, hello - I'm not dead. 2024 Has just NOT been my year so far. //

[hellfollowed]

MUSE:  Daiyu Ma

STATUS: open to m and f, enemies to lovers, enemies, lovers to enemies

PLOT: we were in rival gangs and i started dating you to get information for mine and i got caught but i only realized i was in love with you when you were jamming your knife into my stomach. ( source ) tagging / @indiestarter

Daiyu isn't shocked, not really. She would've done it if they hadn't, or at least she thought she would've. Perhaps it was the rapid loss of blood or something really did spark between them during the many months of acting. There was a warmth in her chest and a knife in her gut. What a strange time to be alive. The absurdity of it all brought a smile to her face.

[my-username-goes-here]

I'm aware again

[idoiising]

saja boys meeting you at a fansign

genre : fluff

contents : reader is not a fan of theirs and they take it as a challenge , mild beefing with jinu, baby saja aegyo im sorry,

you couldn’t believe you’d given in. your friend had been bugging you for days about this new boy group that had debuted and you were getting tired of it.

she had been blowing up your phone with edits, memes, and variety show clips of these guys non stop from the moment she caught wind of them. you didn’t understand what the fuss was all about at all. where did they even come from? no big company behind them, no obvious ties to the industry. you were convinced something fishy was going on.

totally not because they were charting higher than the groups you loved.

regardless of your opinion on them, you had ended up in line for their fansign and would have to act interested for the next hour.

“you’ll fall in love with them after seeing them in person y/n, i swear!” your friend had exclaimed, her phone in your face displaying the results of the fansign lottery she had entered god-knows how many times to win these tickets.

you looked around at the others in the queue as she tried to predict which member would be your favourite. god, everyone here is obsessed. every single person other than yourself was completely dripped out in saja merch. not a causal fan in sight.

that thought became solidified when the doors finally opened and security began to allow everyone in. utter chaos erupted from all around you. screaming, crying and shaking fans pushed you from every direction. all you could do was allow yourself to be moved by the crowd into the building.

the building was a decent size but the sheer energy of the fans was taking up a lot more space than the room was set up for. you’re pretty sure your feet got stomped on twice and your hair got yanked out of the style you’d put it in this morning amidst the chaos, as well as losing your friend in the crowd .

after around fifteen minutes of elbow-jabbing hell you managed to squeeze yourself through to your assigned seats only to find your friend already sitting there “jeez, that was insane” you laughed as you sat down, hoping your friend would joke back and make fun of the crazy people too.

she didn’t respond. her attention was glued to the empty table up front, her hands nervously playing with the lion keychain on her purse. your eyes widened a little in shock. you had never seen her like this; so wound up over celebrities that she’d only known of for a few days.

before you could tease her, the room erupted into crazed shrieks once again.

the saja boys had arrived. they walked out in a line, hair swooshing perfectly and jewellery swinging just like in all the ads. yeah, they were hot. you couldn’t deny that. but you live in the city, there’s hot people everywhere! you weren’t convinced to join the mass psychosis of the pride just yet.

the boys bowed and thanked everyone for coming before taking their seats and setting up for the signing. security started to choose people to line up, your friend being one of the first.

you could’ve sworn you saw the light leave her eyes for a second, shock overtaking her at the thought of being one of the first people to go see them up close. you put your hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“you’ve got this, go see them!” you smiled. as much as you thought she was overreacting, you knew she would beat herself up if she didn’t go up there. she nodded anxiously and let security guide her to the front.

you pulled out your phone and began recording her as she went along the line of idols, it was the least you could do for her after not being very enthusiastic about this whole thing.

once she finished chatting to the last member, she quickly skedaddled back to you and threw herself back down on the metal chair. the feet screeched across the floor a bit but no one noticed over the sound of her hyperventilating.

“oh my god, y/n……oh my god” she repeated, face in her hands.

you laughed nervously, worried that she would work herself up into a serious panic attack or something.

“mystery touched my hand…i can’t wash it ever again.” she choked out, showing you her very normal looking left hand.

“yeah…glad you enjoyed yourself” you said.

before you could show her the video you took, you felt a tap on your shoulder. a tall security guard stood over you in a defensive stance. he looked like he was expecting you to pounce on him.

“your turn”

your heart almost fell out of your chest, making you panic for a completely different reason. you couldn’t go up there, you weren’t sure you even remembered all of the members names. you weren’t a real fan, surely it wasn’t fair that you should meet a group you don’t even care about when there were thousands of people who would kill to be in your position right now.

“oh no thank you, i’m just here for emotional support. she can go again though!” you pointed towards your friend who was still cradling her hand like it had been blessed.

the security guard relaxed his muscles and stared at you as if you had just grown a second head.

“you don’t want to go? you need to go. it’s unfair if one fan gets double the time with saja boys. you have a ticket, you see them” he stated plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

you looked to your friend for a second and mouthed a ‘i tried’ before reluctantly getting up from your seat and joining the line to meet the saja boys.

it takes you far too long to realise you don’t have anything for them to sign other than a crumpled napkin that’s been living in your back pocket for god knows how long.

jinu

the first member at the table is jinu. you know his name since he’s the one speaking in most of the promos and ads you’ve seen. he’s still finishing up talking to the girl in front of you but once she moves away he locks his attention onto you.

you look away awkwardly and sit down opposite him, only looking back up once you’re settled in your seat.

���hi” you say quietly, not really sure what to say to him. you’ve been to fansigns before but you’ve known the groups well and had so much to say to them that you’ve never had to worry much about there being an awkward silence before. this was a first for you.

he sees that you’re looking around a lot, not saying much, and assumes that it’s nerves. that’s the case with everyone he’s seen today. and the day before that, and the day before that.

“hey, no need to be nervous, what’s your name?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to try and meet your gaze.

your head shoots up, oh no he thinks you’re having a total fangirl freak out. you need to let him know that you’re chill and that he doesn’t need to do the whole loving idol shtick for you. it’ll make this a lot less awkward for both of you.

“oh nonono im not nervous, i just don’t have anything to say to you really” you start, laughing awkwardly.

“my friend dragged me here, i don’t even know all your names if i’m honest, i’ve only seen you guys do some ads and stuff and i’ve heard the song but i’m not too crazy about it so don’t worry about doing the whole ‘i care about you so much i love my fans’ act. i’m chill, you’re just some guy to me” you smile, genuinely hoping that it’ll relieve some tension from the situation and he can get a five minute break from being an idol while he chats to you.

jinus face completely drops. he looks a little disgusted even. he definitely didn’t take any of that as friendly and genuine. if he lifted a hand and asked for guards to seize you, you wouldn’t be surprised. shit.

“oh” he says, dumbfounded.

you stare at each other, both completely shocked by each others reaction. before the silence starts to make you itchy.

“my names y/n…by the way…” you blurt out, realising that he did ask your name.

something changes in him and you see it. like he’s been switched back onto regular programming. your slight moment of awkwardness reminds him that he does have the upper hand here. you’re not totally disinterested if you’re at least trying to make him comfortable–he can win you over. he smiles sweetly, relaxing his eyebrows.

“nice to meet you, y/n. i’m jinu, the leader of saja boys” he gestures over to the rest of the boys along the table.

“i would give you a heads up and tell you the names of the rest before you speak to them, but i think this is pretty funny” he says, his smile turning a bit sinister now that he’s switched his tone to teasing.

your mouth drops open. what an asshole.

you reluctantly hand over your napkin for him to sign, and he shoots you a confused look before flattening it out the best he can and signing his name with a little ‘:P’ next to it.

you narrow your eyes at him as you move over to the next seat, sticking your tongue out at him in defiance.

not like you care about the stupid beautiful saja boys names anyway

(you absolutely do now)

abby

you step over to the next chair and place yourself on it. sitting across from you is the second saja boy on the line up, one of the pink haired ones.

“hi” you say, meeting his eyes.

he says hello as he shifts in his seat, stretching his arms out behind him. you had watched him pull this move every single time someone new sat down in front of him so you were prepared to be met with his muscles up close.

what you weren’t prepared for though was for his shirt to come untucked from his jeans in the process, the waistband of his boxers daring to peek out from behind them and the shadows of his v-line revealing themselves to you.

the force it takes for you to wrench your eyes back up to look at his face could hold back an army. looking away feels like a sin. but you succeed. he grins when he makes eye contact with you again.

“want a copy?” he asks, pointing a finger to his stomach.

you don’t answer, but your face does. eyebrows screwing together in confusion.

he takes that as a yes and rips off a fresh piece of paper from a notebook he has on hand before slapping it across his lower torso and creating a tracing of his abs.

you can feel yourself gawk. who on earth does that? he seems so pleased with himself when he hands you the paper, signed.

“i won’t charge you any extra” he winks at you.

you can’t help but feel a twinge of admiration. he’s looking at you like a labrador that’s super proud of the hole it just dug in the garden. he doesn’t seem like he has any thoughts in his head at all.

you kind of like that.

“thanks.” you smile.

mystery

you slide into the seat across from saja number three, who’s already waving at you with both hands.

“hello” you say, waving back at him.

he’s wearing a longsleeved shirt that has thumb holes, giving him permanent sweater paws. it’s cute.

you decide to comment on it since he seems shy and being the first to speak might make things a little less awkward.

“i like your shirt. i used to cut holes like that into my school uniforms.” you admit, smiling at the memory. although yours was the result of crappy d.i.y. and his definitely cost most than your months wages.

he nods excitedly before creating claw shapes with his hands so you can see better. maybe he just doesn’t speak at all?

you stare at him for a little bit before snapping out of it and sliding your napkin over to him for him to sign. he takes it from you and goes to reach for a pen, but there’s none on this part of the table.

you start searching too once you notice what he’s looking for, but there are none on the floor or in the pen pot that’s sitting right next to him.

he grabs your attention quickly by waving his hands around frantically before raising a single finger to his lips in a ‘shhh’ motion.

next to him abby is posing, muscles on display for the fan in front of him. he’s so busy checking himself out through the fans eyes to notice mystery stealing his whole pot of pens.

you share a mischievous giggle with mystery as he triumphantly signs his name.

they all seem pretty close, maybe they aren’t a perfectly manufactured cash grab group after all.

romance

by the time you reach the fourth member he is covered in a ridiculous amount of hair accessories, necklaces and bracelets that have been gifted to him by fans. you scoot over to the seat across from him and try to keep a straight face as he removes a pair of huge sparkly pink sunglasses that were given to him by the last person.

“ah there we go, i can see your sweet face properly now” he says casually, placing the glasses down on the table.

you almost gasp out loud, the image of him looking so silly completely wiped from your memory. god that was smooth.

he takes the napkin you’ve been getting signed straight out of your hand, letting his fingers brush the back of your hand briefly.

“what’s your name, love?” he asks slowly, with the confidence of someone that knows his face would send poets mad.

“y/n” you stutter out. you aren’t sure how to speak to this guy who’s flirting so heavily with you, even if you suspect that he’s definitely like this with everyone.

he nods, as if it’s obvious.

you watch him as he signs his and your name together in a heart with a little plus in the middle.

he doesn’t comment on the napkin, you’re not sure if he even notices. he’s looking at you as if you’re the only thing that matters in the world, his dopey, loved up gaze piercing through your soul.

you reach to take the napkin back and he takes your hand as you grab it, flipping your hand over and kissing the napkin on top of your open palm.

there’s a faint lip gloss kiss-mark on it now. you didn’t even notice he was wearing any. he looks as if he wakes up in the morning with perfectly shiny lips.

god y/n snap out of it.

you don’t know how long you were just staring at each other for but before you could keep track you were being ushered to move to the next seat.

it takes you another hour until you notice the phone number daintily written around the heart.

baby

you finally reach the last member of the group and notice that he looks super young. he’s definitely the scary rapper that your friend always talks about, you remember something about his ‘crazy duality’.

he had been watching you as you were talking to the other members, unbeknownst to you. its not often they come across people that don’t care much for them already so he’s interested in speaking to you.

“this your first time seeing us?” he asks. it wasn’t a question really. he knows the answer, he just wants to see what you’d say.

you’re taken aback a little by how deep his voice is compared to his youthful face and the way he is styled. the fluffy pastel jumper doesn’t exactly scream baritone.

“uh, yeah. didn’t know a thing about you guys until today actually” you laugh awkwardly, sliding him your napkin to sign.

he takes it from you and nods, signing his name with bejewelled fingers.

“are you a fan now?” he asks cheekily, looking up at you with sparkling eyes. you try not to pay attention to his dimples and the way his cheeks seem to puff up like dumplings when he smiles.

“ah, i’m not sure. i’m just here for my friend” you say, trying to sound as polite as possible even though your words aren’t the kindest.

he scans the crowd briefly before locking eyes with who he assumes you came here with. you look over your shoulder too, towards your friend. she has her phone in the air, recording. yeesh.

the cogs start to turn in his mind, if he cant make a fan out of you now he should at least give you something to watch over and over until you become one.

“aww you’re not a fan of baby saja?” he pouted, grabbing your hands and placing them on both of his cheeks. he keeps his hands on top of yours for a good few seconds, running his fingers over yours while he holds them there.

you stare, shocked. this level of fan service is crazy, you think. you won’t be surprised if security come in and wrestle you away from him right now. surely this isn’t allowed.

“i might be…” you trail off, struggling to find anything else to say when you’re holding his face in your hands so tenderly.

“good!” he chirps, letting your hands fall away from him. he slides your napkin back over to you and waves you off “thank you for coming !”

he knows you’ll be back.

[playboths]

@heygutlcss liked for a starter!

“Some people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes.” He’s proof of that. He won’t ever admit it, but he is. He thinks Grazi might be, too. Both of them falling for the same wrong person. They might be able to laugh about it years later, but he doubts it.

[feardrummed]

@trapton: just take some deep breaths. in, and out. you're going to be fine (glitchtrap)

prompts for angsty conversations / accepting

If he wasn't inside her head, she wouldn't hear him. She's knelt on the ground, shaking, eyes on the ground to avoid looking at...everything. The knife, the blood, the body. She's fine physically, at least, but...someone else wasn't. Because of her. She's had an idea of what this was all heading towards, what he'd tried to get her to do before, but any worry for that or objections to it had been so effectively pushed from her mind, swept up and thrown out as soon as they surface. Still, the dismissal of what she knew was coming wasn't enough to stop her reaction once she finally killed someone.

She draws in breaths as he instructs. Even through the panic, listening to him still remains instinctual or perhaps, forced. "He's dead," she says quietly between breaths, "I killed him. Fuck, I killed him."

[timetravellingkitty]

GET SIRAJ TO 50K IN 2 DAYS!!

If you don't know by now, Siraj Abudayeh is a writer and journalist from Gaza. He is currently fundraising to survive through the genocide. He has a dream of rebuilding his home - this is his resistance against the settler state because he refuses to let the colonizers take over the city, the home, he so loves. Siraj and his family need to live through this difficult time. Everyday is a struggle where his family has to put in herculean efforts to acquire even the basic items of life. No one, who is from outside of Gaza can know how truly hellish these ten months have been. To provide you with just a glimpse of this hell, Siraj has asked me to share this message with you:

"Everyday, my children have to stand in a line to get 10 loaves of bread. You also have young girls, pregnant women, and the elderly. . . They all wait to purchase for their families, but the bakery is a wrestling ring! We quarrel with each other, scream until our throat hurts, and faint from the blazing heat! And the queue does not move while all of this is happening. . . Not even a prayer will save you from this misery!

For 3 straight hours, Muhammad, Siraj’s son, stood, counting on his fingers how many people will it be until it is his turn to receive the bread and return to his family. His turn has finally arrived.

Suddenly, an ear piercing sound slices through the the air!! It is heavier than an exploding F-16 missile: Children fled in fear, the bakery was hastily closed and Muhammad returned with a heavy burden of an empty stomach."

As of writing this $46,268 out $50,000 CAD have been raised. We have $3,732 left to go!

Please don't let it stagnate! As it has been mentioned before, Siraj is supporting more people than ever. He cannot afford the fundraiser to slow down. Every second counts! So please donate and share! Every bit counts!

Tagging for reach:

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[fxrina]

tag dump

[melminli]

BANG BANG BANG

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, death, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

prev. l next.

"I ask for your attention. The first game will begin shortly. Each player will have their picture taken, then they will follow the staff onto the pitch."

You eyed the confusing and pastel-colored building you were standing in as you listened to the instructions. It wasn't too loud although, there was a bit of whispering from the crowd, the line to the photo booths was pretty organized as well. That was until you suddenly noticed a commotion from a corner, and look who was at the center of it. You just rolled your eyes when you saw the purple-headed guy standing casually between his fans and looked away annoyed after he winked at you charmingly.

Thanos didn't let your subtle rejection bother him. He called out your name and gestured with his fingers to indicate that there was an empty spot next to him - you know, for the group photo. "Hey, you can join the photo, too. Come on."

You continued to ignore his voice and moved forward as the gap between you and the others in front of you widened. Eventually, the loud voices faded into the background, and it was your turn to take the photo. However, while you stood in front of the camera and looked at the smiley face before you, all sense of happiness vanished. If only you weren't so desperate for money, you wouldn't feel compelled to remain in this strange place surrounded by these people.

The flash went off without you even realizing it and caught the absent look on your face. You continued to follow the moving queue like a grazing animal following its herd, lost somewhere in your thoughts until suddenly a person grabbed you by the shoulder.

You instinctively started to defend yourself with widened eyes. "What the hell dude?!" you screamed silently in a panic until you saw the grinning perpetrator in front of you. "Su-bong? What's your problem, I told you to stay away from me asshole, are you stupid?" you grunted angrily and tried again to catch up with the person in front of you so as not to block the way any further.

Thanos just shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly while he casually climbed the stairs behind you. "You really talk a lot, so don't hold it against me when I tune most of it out," he replied, which made you walk a little faster and made him pick up a little more speed to keep up with you.

"Hey, wait a second, woman!" he called out and followed you. "Besides, you know what? You should just call me Thanos, everyone does - it's the name I go by, you know? Not that I expect someone like you to understand the creative thought behind it, but come on. At least try."

You raised your palm to stop his flow of words and perhaps also to put up an imaginary wall between the two of you. "You can explain it however you want, but that's not your name, it's stupid, and I'm definitely not going to call you that." you laughed at him. "Only someone like you could watch every single Marvel movie there is and then identify with the ugly mega villain, really."

That's why I'm not listening, he thought to himself, running his tongue through his teeth in annoyance. "Can you like not be a bitch for a second? You're killing the mood," he spoke out before leaning over the railing and shouting. "The mood is dying!"

"Shut up!" you whispered aggressively as you dragged him away by the arm and rubbed your face in frustration. "What did I do wrong in life besides being born to deserve this..."

Su-bong shook his sleeve from your grip as he sighed himself. "Don't be so dramatic. Are you really still angry about that thing with -"

"Yes," you answer without hesitation, not needing to know how he finished his sentence. Why? Because ever since you knew him, this guy had only made decisions that made you angry. When you thought of the reason that finally broke the camel's back, you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath. "Whatever, someone like you isn't worth it," you declared and then walked with several others through some gate, into the open. No, you were still surrounded by walls, even if they disguised themselves as the sky and clouds.

"Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field. I repeat -"

You continued to look around and noticed people entering from two more entrances. Thanos stood in front of you to block your view. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now? You women are all the same."

You only confirmed his statement with your silence and by averting your gaze from him. Before he could object any further, the gates suddenly closed behind you and the voice from the loudspeakers started talking again. "The first game is called: Green Light, red Light."

A game for children? You repeated perplex in your head and tuned out the voice explaining the rules of the game. You often played this game as a child anyway, you knew how to play it. Do we really earn money by playing this?

"Listen to me! Listen carefully, everyone!" A man suddenly shouted out, attracting the attention of the crowd by trying to explain that losing in this innocent game would mean death.

Unconsciously, your heart began to beat faster as various thoughts raced through your mind. What is this crazy guy talking about? You get killed if you lose? What nonsense. But on the other hand, there must be a catch, who else would give out money for something like this? Maybe -

"Don't worry, that guy just has a few screws loose." Su-bong's voice suddenly spoke out next to you as he turned his index finger next to his head to visualize it. "I can see that there are a million completely unnecessary thoughts running through your little head right now because you always have this funny look on your face when you do," he explained and you just tried really hard not to pay attention to him. He just had to make life difficult for you.

Your eyes wandered again and you looked at the disbelieving faces of the others, who were also just looking at the front man strangely. I'll just be careful and see what happens. Someone will probably lose and then we'll see if it's true or not, simple as that.

There was an announcement that the game was about to start and you saw the stopwatch at the front set to five minutes. You took a deep breath and finally, the robot girl moved to look away. "Red light, green light."

Your concentration was fixed on watching her movements so that you could stop at the right moment. You didn't want to rush, but the time pressure was real. You found yourself glancing at the time too often and subconsciously started to count the seconds you had left. You usually weren't a person who could work under such circumstances, but you had to manage the whole thing somehow. You really didn't want to lose, especially not be the first to do it.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

Shut the fuck up. This guy was seriously getting on your nerves. Your eyes were looking forward while you just stood still and then, a bee flew in front of you. Stay away you stupid thing, you thought as the distance between the insect and your face grew smaller and smaller.

A female voice next to you finally spoke out. "Is this guy on drugs?" She asked when the strange man started to scream again, you didn't know if it was that which caught the bee's attention or her sweet perfume that was suddenly being carried through the wind in your direction, but it didn't matter. You were just glad that it wasn't your problem anymore. Though, you couldn't breathe a sigh of relief since you didn't dare breathe at all when that creepy doll was turned in your direction. The thing looked like it could shoot lasers out of its eyes at any second or something.

"Nope, that's not how you act when you're high." Thanos replied from beside you, and even if you could hold your breath for as long as you needed to, things looked a lot different when it came to a petty comment. 

Your mouth didn't move when you spoke, like that of a ventriloquist's. "Of course, you would know best, you fucking drug addict." was all that came out of you while you looked at his back. 

Thanos grunted as several ideas popped into his head about how he could twist your words, but he tried really hard not to say any of them. I could really take some pills right now. "I'm about to really hurt your feelings, sweetie."

"No! Really?" you let out as you pretended to be really scared of what was about to happen before your tone changed back to being monotone. "I'm pissing in my pants, please don't."

Ignoring your argument, the little innocent bee finally landed on the neck of number 196. "Hey, what's that?" she uttered as she felt a slight tingling sensation on her neck.

Thano's eyes turned to her figure beside him as he answered her. "Don't freak out, it's just a bee."

"A bee?!" She exclaimed in a panic and started waving her arms around wildly to scare the insect away as quickly as possible. You watched her, as many others probably did right now, but the girl herself realized her own mistake far too late when she finally stopped moving and looked up at Thanos. "Shit." she laughed out. "I just moved."

As soon as she finished her sentence, a bullet flew straight through her skull and dropped her body motionless to the floor. You felt a cold shiver run through your whole body and your heart suddenly stopped before it started beating like crazy in your chest. That didn't just happen. Your head automatically tried to calm you down with some kind of slander, but your eyes couldn't help but move to the dead body on the floor, which was now smeared with fresh blood. No, it really did.

next.

[unhxngxd]

// The reason the Phantom talks in such a old-fashioned way is soley because she learnt English from old, victorian books. Dracula, Jekyll & Hyde, and Frankenstein shaped both her vocabulary and, sadly, her ability to purely see herself as a 'monsterous other entity'. //

[hellfollowed]

told myself that i gotta stop being so shy! so like this if ya want me to check out your wishlists and opens! hit you up with some plot ideas! all of it!

[ozzgin]

In the post mentioning flashing horny mantis there was meet and greet. I have a question how other monsters would behave in meet and greet (assuming that they will show up)

(Sorry for my English ;^;)

Also I love your work

POV: Your monster followers meeting you

content: gender neutral reader, mentions of stalking

LizardKing5 vehemently denies his attendance in the chatroom. "What, you think you're some celebrity?" he types, claiming he has better things to do than follow around some pathetic human.

Coincidentally, he's the first monster to greet you, standing tall at the very front of the queue.

"Whatever," he'll mumble, pulling out his merch and shaking your hand with feigned indifference. "I just happened to be in the area."

"What were you even doing before this," you ask, raising your eyebrows at the enormous backpack looming behind him.

Is that camping gear?

His clawed, scaly hand quickly ruffles your hair. Mind your damn business.

SharkMan is rather polite and reserved in his mannerisms. Don't misunderstand, he truly is excited to see you again, but he'd rather not add more to your plate. Besides, if we count the milestone event, he's already gotten way more than a handshake from you.

"Are you staying hydrated?" he asks, placing a bag of goodies on your table. "Here's something to eat during your break."

You smile and thank him for the thoughtful gesture. Hard to believe the same monster left you nearly crippled after a night together. You're sitting on the same cushion you needed for weeks after the affair.

DefNotAStalker will show up just to mess with you. He's watched you prepare for the event, he carefully observed you getting dressed; hell, he even ironed your outfit the night before! You swear the shirt had wrinkles last time you checked.

He'll shake your hand with an innocent grin and ask for an autograph. He's picked the perfect photo for it: to the unaware, it looks like a blurry print screen taken during one of your livestreams. In reality, he cheekily snapped it while hanging right above you, off-screen. You sign it with a chuckle.

"Thank you for coming, it was such a tiring week for me," you say, lowering yourself back in your seat.

"I can imagine. I hope the apartment complex will fix it soon."

You nod, distracted, and the monstrous creature slithers away.

Wait, did you ever even mention this to your followers?

Y/NSimp is elated to meet you. He's been carefully planning this for months, constantly daydreaming about the fateful encounter. His bag is filled to the brim with the required equipment: a fat stack of love letters, a marriage certificate, Photoshopped photos of the two of you together, an engagement ring, and a list of potential names for your future children.

He can already see it: he'll hand you the bag and the flowers, and you'll gasp, surprised by his romantic gesture. You never thought someone would care this much. Without hesitation, you jump into his arms, and promptly cancel the rest of the event. You'll be too busy with your husband-to-be.

Unfortunately, he has omitted one vital detail in his elaborate schemes: the correct address of the meet and greet. By the time he reaches the actual location, the doors are closed and the venue empty.

[Monster Streaming Series] | [Meet and Greet Part 1]

[rrysbabydoll]

Pairing: harry styles x reader

CW: explicit sexual content, public sex (club stall), alcohol use, age/power imbalance.

Synopsis: a sweet, shy fashion student catches harry styles’ eye at a wild club night, leading to a tender, unforgettable hookup behind closed doors.

A/N: after finishing this i realized that it’s such a classic 2014 y/n wattpad plot lolllll

The place is packed. The lights are strobing above your head, painting everything in sharp flashes of pink and violet. The bass hums in your ribcage, loud enough to feel like it’s inside you, not around you. Your hair smells like someone else’s perfume and your lips are sticky from a cocktail you just finished. You’re tucked into the corner of the booth, giggling into your drink as one of your friends mimics some awful dance move she saw on TikTok, your eyes squinting with laughter.

You feel yourself tense slightly when a familiar voice passes by your booth.

You don’t even need to look.

You know that voice.

You’ve never heard it in real life before, but there’s a warmth to it that matches interviews you’ve watched alone in bed at 2 a.m., the ones you didn’t admit to watching too often. That voice belongs to someone whose face is on posters and album covers. And now, he’s walking past you in a club that smells like tequila and too much cheap perfume.

Harry Styles.

You don’t stare. Not really. Just a glance. Just long enough to know it’s him.

He’s not trying to be subtle about being here, not hiding behind security or ducking his head in a hoodie. No. He’s laughing with his friends, clearly tipsy, one hand twirling a lime wedge in his empty glass. His hair is loose and messy, and he’s in a simple white t-shirt and trousers, nothing flashy, but he still glows somehow. There's something about the ease of his presence, like he belongs here more than anyone else.

You don’t say anything. You just turn your attention back to your friends and your half-melted drink.

But then, maybe ten minutes later, when your friends go to the bar in a small stampede, leaving you alone to scroll aimlessly through your phone, someone walks over.

And stops in front of you.

You look up.

It’s him.

You feel your body freeze in the way it does when you're caught off-guard. Not nervous from the crowd or the noise, but from him. From his presence.

He’s smiling.

It’s not cocky, not flirtatious. Just warm. A little sleepy. A little amused.

“Hi,” he says simply, leaning a bit so you can hear over the music. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just noticed you weren’t with the others anymore.”

You blink. “Oh. Yeah—they went to get more drinks.”

His brow lifts slightly, like he’s pleased you responded. “Good friends. Didn’t drag you with?”

You shake your head with a little smile. “I volunteered to stay behind. The bar queue’s hell.”

He chuckles softly. You’re surprised by how calm his energy is. You expected...you don’t know. Something cooler. Cockier. But he feels like someone’s older cousin you’d meet at a wedding, polite, mellow, easy.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he says, offering a hand.

You hesitate just a second before shaking it. “Yeah... I know,” you admit sheepishly.

He hums, almost like he expected that. “Right. That’s fair. Didn’t want to assume.”

You laugh under your breath, dropping your gaze quickly. Your fingers feel warm where his touched yours. “I’m Y/N.”

He nods, then glances back at the booth like he’s about to sit, and does, casually sliding into the seat across from you, his long legs folding in. You blink, surprised he’s staying.

He notices your expression.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” he asks, not teasing. Genuinely.

You shake your head, biting a smile. “No. I just... didn’t think you’d sit.”

“Bit tired,” he shrugs. “Also you looked like you weren’t gonna make me do shots or dance with strangers. Thought I’d be safe here.”

You smile at that, but your face warms fast. “I’m not very... club-aggressive.”

He grins. “I like that. ‘Club-aggressive’... is that a real term?”

“It is now.”

He laughs again, the sound low and nice. He rests an elbow on the table, leaning in a bit. His attention is full, but not overwhelming. It makes your stomach buzz.

“So,” he says. “What brings you out tonight?”

You blink. “Um. I mean, the club?”

He grins, tipping his head. “Right. Fair. But you seem like you might be... I dunno. A student?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Just finished my last year actually.”

He whistles softly. “Congrats. What were you studying?”

You pause. “Fashion design.”

His eyes light up a bit. “Ooh. That makes sense.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Why?”

He smiles, glancing at your outfit. “You’ve got an eye. I noticed earlier—everything you’re wearing fits you like it was made for you.”

Your cheeks warm. “Well… I kind of did alter this top.”

He grins, clearly impressed. “There you go. Knew it.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t seem to be humoring you. His expression is gentle.

“So what about you?” you ask, trying to level the conversation back.

He blinks, smiling slowly. “What about me?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you do?”

He laughs, delighted. “Wow. What a mystery I must be.”

You grin, eyes narrowing slightly. “Thought I’d try and play it cool.”

“I noticed,” he says. “Was wondering if you’d pretend not to recognize me all night.”

You shrug, your voice quiet. “Didn’t want to be weird.”

“You’re not,” he says instantly. “You’re really not.”

Your cheeks are definitely pink now.

“Alright,” he says, leaning back a little, gaze soft. “So you’re not club-aggressive, you like fashion, and you’re clearly not a creep.”

You squint. “You’ve got me figured out already?”

“Almost,” he says, lips twitching. “Just missing one piece.”

You tilt your head.

“What’s your favorite drink?” he asks.

You laugh. “That’s your missing piece?”

“It’s a crucial one.”

You smirk. “Whiskey sour. But only when it’s made right.”

He puts a hand over his heart. “A woman of taste. Impressive.”

You smile again, eyes briefly flicking over to the dance floor where his friends are still swaying and laughing.

“You can go back to your group if you want,” you say, a little shyly. “I’m okay.”

He looks at you, unmoving. “I want to be here.”

Your eyes lower.

You nod.

It’s not flirtation. Not exactly. It’s just comfortable. Curious.

He watches you like you’re something interesting, not because you know who he is, but because he doesn’t know who you are.

It makes your heart ache in a way that’s both slow and fast.

The booth stays tucked around the two of you like a little world of your own, far from the sweat and flashing lights, but eventually, the night around you starts to lean in. The music gets louder. The lights dim further. Your friends are still somewhere in the crowd, but the weight of Harry’s attention keeps you exactly where you are.

He’s still close, still talking to you softly between sips of whatever new drink someone brought him, his voice a bit warmer now. You’re a little buzzed too, but not enough to mistake the way you feel. You’re smiling too much. Your cheeks hurt.

He leans in again. “Hey,” he says gently. “Do you wanna come with me for a sec?”

You look up at him, blinking.

He nods toward the back, where the bathrooms are. His tone is casual, but quiet. “Not far. Just wanna be somewhere a little less loud.”

Your breath catches.

You nod.

Your hand slips into his, and he closes his fingers around yours like it’s the most normal thing in the world. His grip is warm, grounding. He walks slowly, carefully, weaving you through the bodies until you’re at the edge of a hallway near the back of the club.

He tugs open the door of a large single-use stall and pulls you in with him. It’s not glamorous, nothing about it is, but somehow you don’t care.

The door shuts. The sound of the music fades into a dull hum behind it.

It’s quiet in a strange way. His presence fills the space, but it doesn’t suffocate you. He doesn’t press you against the wall or try anything immediately. He just turns and looks at you.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Mhmm.”

He watches you for a second, eyes flicking down your face like he’s memorizing it. Then, slowly, he steps closer. Just enough that his chest almost brushes yours. His hand lifts and very gently touches your waist. You suck in a breath, shy under his eyes, even though you’re standing here alone with him and clearly not planning to leave.

You’re just overwhelmed by how much he feels like him. And by how small you feel next to him. In a good way.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice low.

You nod so quickly it feels stupid.

But he doesn’t tease. He just murmurs, “Okay, sweet girl,” and leans in.

His lips meet yours softly, slow, not rushed. His hand stays on your waist, warm through the fabric of your top. He kisses you like he means to taste you, not swallow you. You melt into it slowly, your hands hovering awkwardly in front of you like you don’t know where to put them.

One of them lifts, you try to set it on his shoulder, but halfway there, you stop, suddenly self-conscious. It hovers in the air, trembling just slightly.

He pulls back a breath, lips brushing yours. “Put it on me, baby.”

You hesitate.

“I want it,” he says. “I want you to touch me.”

Your fingers land gently on his shoulder, barely there. He notices how light your touch is, your whole body shy in a way that makes his chest tighten. His hand leaves your waist and lifts to guide your hand, pressing it firmer against him.

“That’s better,” he whispers, brushing his nose against yours. “There she is.”

You feel like you might melt into the tiles.

His kisses deepen. One hand strokes down your back slowly, while the other cups your cheek. He’s not messy. Not hasty. But his mouth becomes firmer, more demanding, until you’re clinging to him without realizing it, a soft sound caught in your throat.

“You’re such a sweet baby,” he murmurs, nuzzling along your jaw. “So soft for me. Just needed to be touched, huh?”

Your head nods helplessly. He hasn’t even taken off your clothes yet and already your thighs are pressing together.

“You want me to take care of you?” he asks, voice like warm syrup.

Your eyes blink up at him, pupils wide.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He smiles softly, like he already knew.

Then he moves.

He turns you gently, walks you back until your shoulders bump the stall wall. His hands skim down your sides, warm and patient, before tugging up the hem of your skirt. He groans when he sees your panties, pale pink, lace trim.

“Course you wear these,” he murmurs. “Fucking precious.”

You squeak as he drags a knuckle down the front of them, feeling how warm you are. How wet.

“Mm. All this from a few kisses?” He grins. “You’re already dripping, baby. So ready for me.”

You squirm, overwhelmed. “Harry—”

“I’ve got you,” he says, voice firm but sweet. “You don’t have to ask for anything. Just let me.”

He kneels.

You gasp.

“Hold your skirt up for me,” he says, and your hands obey before your brain catches up.

He presses his mouth to the damp fabric, groaning when he tastes you through it. Then his fingers tug them to the side and he buries his face between your legs like you’re his first meal in days. His tongue flicks over your clit slowly at first, then faster, firmer. You whimper, struggling to stay quiet, one hand flying to your mouth, the other trembling as it holds your skirt bunched at your waist.

He hums into you. “Don’t hide those sounds. I like them.”

You shake your head, trying not to fall apart.

When he finally stands, his mouth wet, your legs feel like jelly.

“Can you take me now, baby?” he murmurs. “Need to be inside this sweet cunt. Bet she’ll squeeze me so tight.”

You nod, helplessly.

He pulls a condom from his wallet, rolls it on quickly. Then his hands go to your hips, lifting you effortlessly. You squeal as your back hits the cool tile wall and your legs wrap instinctively around his waist. He lines himself up and pushes inside with a groan.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he gasps. “You’re perfect. Fuck.”

You’re so full you can’t think. He starts slow, dragging himself out until only the tip is in before pushing back in all the way.

You whine. “S’too much.”

“No it’s not,” he coos. “You can take it. You're doin' so good. Just relax for me.”

He kisses your neck while he moves, his hands firm under your thighs. You feel your body stretch to fit him, your fingers clinging to his shoulders now without hesitation.

“There she is,” he murmurs when you finally clutch at him like you’re scared he’ll leave. “There’s my baby.”

His pace picks up, still controlled, still sweet, but deeper now. Rougher. Every thrust rocks you against the stall wall and you gasp each time, overwhelmed but craving more.

You cry out softly when he hits that spot, and he groans, “Yeah? Right there?”

You nod, babbling now, too far gone to be shy.

He chuckles against your neck. “So cute. Can’t even speak, huh?”

You whimper.

“That’s okay,” he breathes. “Just let go for me.”

You do.

You fall apart with a cry, clenching around him so hard he chokes on a groan and follows seconds later, thrusting deep as he spills into the condom. His whole body shudders, his head dropping against your shoulder.

After a moment, he sets you down slowly, making sure your legs can stand. He tugs your panties back in place gently, smoothing your skirt. His fingers brush your flushed cheeks.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

You nod, still panting.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “You were so good for me.”

He kisses your forehead softly.

You let out a little breath, clinging to his shirt for just a second longer than you mean to. He doesn’t move away. He stays close, one hand stroking your lower back gently while the other brushes a strand of hair from your flushed cheek.

“Alright, sweet girl,” he murmurs, voice low. “Let’s get you sorted, yeah?”

You nod slowly, your legs still a little wobbly. He helps you step back into your shoes, crouching like it’s nothing for him, steady hands guiding your feet into them. He checks your skirt, adjusts it gently so it sits right, and tugs down the hem of your top where it rode up.

“Look at me for a sec.”

You do.

His fingers come up and softly cup your jaw. “Y’feelin’ okay?”

You blink up at him, dazed but honest. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“Mm. You did so well,” he murmurs. “Wanna splash some water on your face? Cool off a bit?”

You nod.

He takes your hand again, soft, not rushed, and opens the door, shielding you a little with his body as he leads you into the hallway. The music surges again, loud and distant, but you don’t feel overwhelmed with him next to you. The bathroom is empty, and he guides you to the sink, turning on the cold tap.

“Here,” he says, grabbing a few folded paper towels. He wets one gently, then presses it to the back of your neck, holding it there with care. “Good?”

You hum softly, leaning into the coolness. He wets another and passes it to your hands so you can dab your face.

He watches you the whole time, steady and quiet.

Once you're finished, he takes the damp towel from your hands and tosses both in the bin.

“Thirsty?” he asks. “I can grab you some water.”

You nod shyly. “Please.”

He disappears just for a minute. When he comes back, he’s holding a chilled water bottle and a mini pack of sour candies someone must’ve handed him along the way.

“These too,” he says, nudging them into your hands. “Sugar helps.”

You smile a little, peeling the bottle open slowly while you lean against the counter.

Harry stands in front of you but gives you space, like he knows you need a second.

“You have a ride home?” he asks gently.

You blink. “Yeah—my friends are still here. We’re leaving together.”

He nods. “You want me to wait with you until you find them?”

You glance up at him, surprised. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he says, smiling soft. “But I want to.”

You look down, cheeks warm. You feel safe.

He watches you sip your water for a second before speaking again. “You feeling steady enough to walk out there?”

“Almost,” you whisper.

He leans in, hands braced beside you on the counter, but his tone stays soft. “No rush. We can wait right here ‘til you’re ready.”

You nod and take another sip, letting the cool water calm the last bit of buzz in your head.

When you’re ready, he offers his hand again.

“Let’s go find your friends, baby.”

And you let him walk you out, his hand never leaving yours, like nothing in the world matters except making sure you’re okay.

Later, you’re leaving the club.

Your friends are already outside, buzzing about food and taxis and whatever the hell happened inside. You spot him from across the street. He’s still with his group, laughing at something someone said, his hands in his pockets.

You should keep walking.

But your heart does something stupid and soft. You glance back at him, smiling shyly, and give a little wave.

He notices.

His eyes catch yours and his face changes, gentle, surprised, charmed.

He grins wide.

And waves back.

Like you’re something he wants to remember.

[usagimygoatfr]

the staff?! - lara raj x reader

synposis: lara raj found down bad for a staff

☆ミ fluff, crack, down bad lara

wc: 1.7k

"you have got to be kidding me." lara groans, her bodypack transmitter wasn't picking up her voice for the fourth time in the span of an hour. yoonchae, the ever so observant maknae, sees lara fumbling with her bodypack transmitter for what felt like the hundredth time during soundcheck for gnarly.

the girls sat down on the empty stage. manon and daniela were taking selfies, while yoonchae and megan were bickering about what they should have for dinner.

while the girls were occupied with what they were doing, sophia walks back with a staff. "lara, can you stand up for a sec?" sophia asks. before lara could move an inch, a voice intercepts, "no, it's fine. please stay seated, i'll be quick."

lara's eyes meets the staff's kind eyes, her breathing hitching as she does. "hi, i'll be fixing your bodypack transmitter." she says, offering lara a smile. she kneels down behind lara, the warmth of her body enveloping lara like a hug. lara can smell the perfume that you're wearing from the proximity, and it was making her heart beat faster no energy drink could ever surpass.

lara feels you fumbling with the transmitter, but your touch was gentle. the way you angle your fingers were deliberate, as if you were scared of making her uncomfortable if you accidentally touched her exposed skin because of what she's wearing. she was in a dazed that she didn't hear what you said.

"w-what?" her stuttered words echoing throughout the empty arena. oh she knows she's getting teased later with the amount of stares she's feeling on her.

you smiled, "i see your mic is working now."

oh god, kill her now.

"so..."

"don't start."

"..."

"manon, i swear to god if you don't shut your mouth i will kill you in your sleep." lara threatens, her piercing eyes finding manon's teasing ones. manon raises her hands, "what? i was simply going to ask what you wanted for dinner." she says, like fuck she is. "like hell you are. just get it out while they're not here." lara sighs in defeat. she knew this was a losing battle so why fight it?

"okay, first of, stuttering in the big 2025? the rizz is not rizzing, miss rising global popstar sensation. second, a staff? our manager would kick your ass when she hears this, i'm calling it."

"okay, calm down. our manager has no reason to kick my ass because i was simply..." lara pauses, trying to find the words that could possibly make her situation a little less sticky.

"simply what?" manon teases.

"tired! do you have any idea how many times i had to adjust my transmitter because it wasn't picking up my voice? more times than i should've." oh she was quick with it, "i was just relieved that she fixed it. the performance went smoothly and i couldn't have been more thankful."

manon raises her eyebrow, "sure, let's go with that. i think our manager just might let this one pass."

lara exhales a breath she was holding, "it's the truth!"

manon laughs, dusting off nonexistent dust off her pants as she stands from the couch and walking towards her room. "i would so stutter in front of a pretty girl too, lara raj!"

a week has passed after the 'staff x lara' incident as the girls call it.

they were in the dance practice room, on queue to film the dance practice for their new song gabriela. sophia and yoonchae were doing some warm-ups, while manon, megan, and daniela were goofing off. lara is sitting near the camera equipment having her touch up. she was on her phone scrolling on instagram when she smells the same perfume she smelled last week. the one that made her stutter in front of her members.

lara nearly whipped her head at the direction where the scent was coming from but she stopped herself. her eyes zeroing at her members. from where she is, they won't be able to see what she's up to thanks to the lights in front of them. a quick peek wouldn't hurt, right?

and as if the gods where on her favour today, her makeup artist made her face the left to work on her eyeliner and eyeshadow. her eyes immediately locking in to the person that's been occupying her mind for the past week. the person who's the reason of the endless teasing and the sudden nickname change in their group chat. from 'rising global popstar sensation' to 'miss stuttering mess' real quick.

y/n y/l/n.

lara will be damned if she says you're not her type. beautiful, caring, sweet gentle voice, great with your hands, maybe has no clue that she exists, and an alluring aura. what else could she need?

maybe the balls to ask you out? but she doesn't have balls! and lara will also be damned if she's the one who asks someone out. she's the lara raj for crying out loud. people will literally kill for her number, but you? you're not even aware that she's practically burning a hole in your head with how hard she's been staring at you, and you're here fiddling with the equipment like she's not a few feet away! oh, you are so her type.

"and we're done." her make-up artists says, breaking her out of her trance. lara blinks, begrudgingly peeling her eyes aware from you.

the dance practice went smoothly. they did a few more takes just in case and after they were done, the girls have the rest of the day off.

"guys, can we please have sushi? i want to try out the new sushi place that opened last week. the reviews said they have really good california maki rolls." megan pleas to the group. the girls gave each other a look to see if they were down, "oh, come on! please, guys." megan whines, "lara! if you agree i'll help you get y/n's number."

lara's eyes almost popped out of her head when she heard megan's deal, "sure!" she coughs, "i mean, i have been eyeing that place for a while now. we should go." she says, her voice a lot more calmer compared to her first statement.

megan cartoonishly pumps her fists in the air in celebration.

"sophia, help me!" megan shouts from their her shared room lara, followed up with a loud bang. "sophia, please!"

sophia, always used to such chaos, lazily gets up from the couch, "what, megan?" she shouts. "lara is trying to kill me!"

sophia rolls her eyes, opening the lara and megan's door. "okay, that's enough. yoonchae is asleep and you two are so loud– lara put that vase down!"

megan dashes towards sophia and hides behind her back. "what the hell is happening to you two?" sophia asks.

"that bitch lied to me!" lara snarls, still holding the vase menacingly.

"no, i did not! i said i'll help! i never said i have her number. our manager said you should ask her instead!" megan protests.

"exactly! you said you'll help me, not let me fend for myself!" lara argues, putting the vase back to megan's side of the room.

sophia rubs her temples, feeling her age drastically increasing from being the peacemaker of the group. "alright, everyone calm down. lara, we'll be shooting from seven am to 5 pm tomorrow. why don't you take that time and ask y/n for her number?" she offers.

lara sighs, "fine. this isn't over, skiendiel."

megan audibly gulps, "can i sleep in your room tonight, fia?"

a sighs breaks out from sophia's lips, "go get your pillow."

tomorrow comes around and lara is all dolled up per usual. the studio was filled with staff and directors preparing for the shoot. the six chairs in the center had their names in it.

the girls sat on their respective seats. lara's eyes were trying to find where y/n could be. there were so many staff behind the camera that it made her dizzy from all the movement; so much so that she didn't realize that y/n was behind them, removing the paper that had their names on the chair.

"excuse me, lara. i need to take this off."

lara's eyes widened at the voice, she craned her head so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. "yes!" was all she said, leaning forward so y/n can take the paper off. that earned a cackle from the girls, making lara nearly fall off her seat from embarrassment.

--

after the shoot, lara nearly dashed out of the building. she made a fool of herself in front of you twice! oh lord, she doesn't have any face to show anymore. she was walking so fast she bumped into someone, sending her butt on the floor.

"shit! i am so sorry, lara." y/n scrambles to her feet, offering you a hand.

"n-no, i wasn't looking where i was going. i am so sorry, y/n." lara replies quick, grabbing your hand to leverage herself.

the mess from the collision were everywhere. the papers y/n was holding was drenched in lara's water. lara's eyes widened at the sight. "oh my god! i ruined your... your..." truth be told, lara had zero clue what she ruined. it could be contracts, it could be scripts, hell, it could be the lyrics to their new EP for all she knew.

y/n's chuckle broke her out of her panicking inner monolog, "it's fine. those are just timetables your manager needed a copy of. i have the file with me."

lara sighs, thankful that it wasn't important. "still, i wasn't looking where i was going and look what happened. what can i do to make up for all these." she motions at the puddle of papers.

"you could give me your number."

lara's eyes widened, "my what?"

"your number." y/n repeats. "i-i mean, only if it's okay! i didn't mean to make it sound like you have no choice and you should give me your number even if you don't want to–" and you're a loser too? oh you are so her type. lara grabs your hand, stopping you from rambling.

"do you like matcha?"

an: chat, i lowkey zoned out whilst writing this. also, is it obvious that lara's 'yes!' is stuck in my head?

[the-librarby]

IN THE RING II

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

Jealousy brews outside the ring.

Part I Part III Part IV

The blaring alarm was hell on earth to hear first thing in the morning. Exhaustion was a severe understatement for how you felt as you trudged through your morning routine, and threw yourself out the door before the ideas of skipping class took over.

The brisk air was a harsh wake up on the walk to campus which encourages you to duck deeper into the scarf around your neck. The only grace is that the grounds and surrounding streets are still empty due to morning classes being severely unpopular. You quickly step into the coffee shop neighbouring the building of your first class and step into queue. It's still remotely empty, the crowd being those few students that got stuck with a morning class, and workers that belonged to surrounding offices.

With the line moving quickly you find yourself back out the door in no time. You look down to check your phone out of habit while you walk, cautiously taking a sip of your coffee as you do. Out of your periphery someone walks up the opposite side of the footpath, narrowly you avoid smacking straight into them but your elbow clips theirs causing your coffee to spill.

You lean your arm out to keep it from splashing against your clothes, "Shit," you curse, turning around to apologise when you see Ghost of all people standing there, equally confused at seeing you, "Ghost?" you whisper unsure.

He's not wearing his skull mask today, its been swapped out for a black surgical mask instead, but the way he responds in recognition to the name makes it undoubtedly him.

He shoves his hands deeper into the front pocket of his hoodie, "Careful sweetheart," he warns, "Sure you want to be seen in public 'round me?"

You pause at the out he's giving you, you suppose the smarter option would be to take it and move on, I mean if someone you knew were to see you how would you explain this?

"Christ you really are a student," he comments, judging based off the backpack hanging off your shoulder, "Didn't believe it at first,"

You roll your eyes and suck the excess coffee off the side of your thumb that spilt, "Yes, a mature age student," you defend, "Do you live around here?"

He drags in a lazy inhale and thinks for a moment, “No,” he eventually settles on, “Job in the area,”

You frown, wiping your hand on your jeans, “What you do at night isn’t your job?” You ask quietly, looking around in case anyone is within earshot of the conversation.

“What I do at night?” He repeats, leaning in closer in mock of your own careful movements, “Makin’ me sound like a whore darlin’,”

Blood rushes to your cheeks in an embarrassed flush, immediately you backtrack, “No!” You shout, stepping back, “No,” you repeat quieter, “That’s not what I meant,”

The way he’s looking at you in amusement makes you squint in accusation, “You’re an asshole,” you shake your head in disbelief, “Teasing me like that,”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Funny to see you squirm,” is his explanation.

You scoff but shake it off, “If that’s not your job then what is?”

“Nosy,” it’s almost chiding, “Security.”

The alarm blaring from your phone cuts the conversation short, when you fish it out of your pocket you can see it’s your warning alarm reminding you that you have ten minutes to get to class.

“Fuck,” you silence the alarm, “I’ve gotta go—class and all,” you explain.

“Don’t let me keep you,” he mutters.

You smile politely, “Well,” you say, slowly stepping back, “I would say it’s been nice, but then you had to open your mouth,”

He chuckles, a satisfying sound that makes you internally beam, “Off you go, back to school with you,” he waves.

“Oh fuck off,” you spit, but lack venom, “I’ll see you ‘round.”

He watches you for a moment longer before turning on his heel. He’s got his sight set on you and it’s not going anywhere.

It’s hard to keep your eyes open in class, not even the coffee you bought—now cold, can keep you awake. It’s clearly evident by the way your friend elbows you more than once to stop your head from smacking against the table. Thankfully you managed to make it the whole way through without making a fool of yourself, but with minimal content learnt.

While packing your bag your phone buzzes with an unknown number flashing across the screen. You shut it off, dismissing it as some scam call and continue on, eager to get home and sleep. But then it calls again.

“Fuck me,” you mutter, silencing the ringtone once more.

“Avoiding someone?” Your friend asks.

“Scam caller,” you huff, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “Let’s get out of here.”

Your friend follows behind, filling in the silence with small talk about all the assignments she’s barely started and convinced she’ll fail this time.

“You never fail,” you comment, looking at her knowingly, “Too anxious to and we both know it,”

She clutches the straps of her bag and throws her head back with a groan, “But there’s just so many to keep up with, I hate end of season assessments. They’re always due at the same time,”

You nod in agreement, equally unexcited to get through this, “Yeah, agreed.”

You’ve barely stepped out the building when your phone buzzes again from your back pocket. When you take it out of your pocket you can see it’s the exact same number from before.

“Maybe it’s not a scammer,” your friend muses and then gasps, “What if it’s someone contacting you for a job? Answer it!”

Your eyes widen, immediately your stomach drops and you hurry to answer it, “Hello?”

“Jesus Christ girl, do you want this job or not?” Mark’s irritated voice filters through.

You close your eyes and sigh, of course, how did you not consider that? “Sorry, Mark, I was in class and couldn’t get out,” you lie.

Your friend tilts her head in question, curious as she mouthes the name Mark. You hadn’t told her about the job you accepted, yet.

You turn on your heel to face away from her, pressing your phone harder against your cheek to hear Mark’s muffled voice, “I need you in tonight,”

“Tonight?” You repeat, “I thought it was next week?”

“Yeah, well, things change,” he huffs, “In or not? Need to let James know,”

You soften instantly, “Yeah I’ll be there, eight?”

“See you then.” The line hangs up.

You clench your phone in your hand, immediately trying to map out what time you could put aside for a nap and some assessment time before leaving. Then there’s a tap on your shoulder, you turn around seeing your friend looking at you expectantly.

“Uh?” She draws out, “Who is Mark?”

“My boss?” You reply, unsure of yourself.

“Your boss?” She repeats, “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me? That’s great!”

You laugh, scratching behind your ear, “Yeah, I know. Finally landed something,” you agree, briefly thinking back to the way you had to yell at Mark for a trial, “It just happened last night. Bartending gig,”

“Bartending? Do you even have a licence to serve liquor?” She inquires.

Oh. You hadn’t actually thought of that, and you doubt Mark had either, “Yeah, duh,” you lie, “Wouldn’t apply if I didn’t,”

You fall back in step on the footpath, walking towards your apartment, “Well that’s exciting, maybe I can come visit you, what’s the address?”

“No,” you cut in too quickly, “I mean, it’s not that type of venue,” you explain, laughing nervously, “There’s no hot guys, the crowd is older and kinda gross,”

Except Ghost, but he doesn’t exactly count as a customer does he? More like the entertainment of the night.

Makin’ me sound like a whore darlin’.

Everything he says sounds filthy in a way you can’t quite place, “It’s also kind of further out,” you tag on, “Not really worth seeing,”

Your friend deflates a bit, “Oh well. Maybe you can just make drinks for me some other time, I’d love to see what cocktails you learn,”

The mental image of serving the men there cocktails almost makes you laugh, “Yeah, sure, some other time.”

Once you stop in front of a local cafe you bid goodbye to your friend, usually you two will study together for a couple hours but you’re way too tired, you explain as much and thankfully she lets it go with minimal concern.

When you make it through the door of your apartment you collapse on the couch and fall asleep instantly.

It’s just ticked over into evening when you arise drowsily from your deep nap. Your hair is askew and plastered to your face, and your pants have somehow rolled way up your leg. You blink several times waiting for the dizziness to dissipate in the falling dark of your apartment. Instead of closing your eyes again like you want to, you reach over and flick on one of the nearby lamps in your lounge room.

Hands scrub at your eyes, clearing away the crusted sleep. You take one last deep breath and sit up properly on the couch, looking around as you try to collect your thoughts. The clock display on your oven tells you it’s 5:30 pm, much later than you’d like it to be but with the hours you now work you know it’ll just have to be a rough adjustment.

You rummage through your bag for your laptop and hoist it onto your crossed legs, might as well try to squeeze in some kind of research for your assignment before you head off.

It’s about 7:30 when you leave the apartment, rugged up more than usual against the cold wind. When you make it to the venue, it’s already busy with men idling around with smokes and drinks in hand. You make a beeline for the bar where James is already serving others, you make quick work of shoving your things down somewhere safely before jumping into service.

When there’s a moment for downtime James takes a deep breath and leans back against the bar as you put glasses away, “Don’t scare easily do you?”

You smile and laugh, “Nah, nothing to be scared of really is there?”

James shrugs, “There are some questionable characters here, if Ghost wasn’t a clear indicator already,”

The mention of his name makes you perk up, you hadn’t seen him yet and the fight had already started, “Not on tonight is he?” You try to inquire carelessly.

James looks over at the ring, “Nah,” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest, “Unpredictable that guy, never know what he’s thinking, does what he wants,”

You frown at that, “He’s not a regular?” You ask, “But so many people talk about him,”

James tilts his head from side to side as he mulls over your question, “He’s here often,” he settles on, “But it’s on his terms, can’t give him a time slot because he only comes round when he wants,” he scoffs, “Mark always makes space for him because he brings in the money.”

You nod and think over the information James just dropped. You’re more curious about the clear distaste he has for Ghost than anything else, it builds a curious picture in your mind. Ghost clearly keeps this place open for business, that you can tell, but he doesn’t seem to care about it judging by his willingness to be flaky. James thankfully announces he’s going on a smoke break before you can ask anything else and ruin your air of carefully built nonchalance.

With the fight on, you finally have space to breathe and catch up on the prep work. You’re crouched down in front of mini fridges below the bar top stocking it with drinks, when you hear knuckles rap against the surface alerting you of a customer. You quickly abandon the box of beers and stand up, before you is Ghost once again, sitting at the same stool from last night.

“You’re here,” you frown.

He raises an eyebrow, “That a problem?”

You quickly shake your head, dismissing your initial shock, “Sorry,” you start, “I meant— I’m surprised is all, you’re not meant to be on tonight are you?”

“Who said that?” He questions.

You hitch your thumb in the direction of the door behind the bar that leads to the alleyway outside, “James,” you readily give up, and then point to the ring where the current fighters are, “And clearly you’re not in there,”

“Clearly.” he agrees.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, unsure if you’ve touched a nerve or not. After a moment of awkward tension, his shoulders seem to deflate.

“Beer, please sweetheart.” he asks.

You nod and grab the same one from last night, when you hand it to him he hooks the top of his surgical mask and drags it down under his chin giving you a full view of his face. He’s got a blooming bruise against his cheek and two noticeable healed scars, one is a small one that cuts through his top lip, while the other runs from his jaw well into his cheek on the other side of the bruise. His nose is crooked in a way that has been reset one too many times.

“Here to watch the fight then?” You ask, snapping yourself out of your staring.

“Fuck no,” he grunts, picking up the bottle, “Pickin’ up my pay,”

You tilt your head with a teasing smile, “No sportsmanship for your fellow fighters?”

“Don’t deserve it,” he mutters, “Condescending pricks,”

The slap from the opposing fighter last night plays clearly in your mind, “I’m sure you’ve bruised lots of egos.”

The swig he takes of his beer is response enough, you shake your head and continue about your work. Can’t afford to slack off, no matter how tempting the distraction is. Ghost fills the space with small talk every now and then, asking about your classes, despite his initial teasing about you being a student, it becomes a quick talking point that draws you in.

Fifteen minutes flies past and James makes his way in, stopping mid step when he sees the scene of you and Ghost before him, “Ghost,” he greets with a forced laugh, “Still here? I thought Mark already gave you your pay,”

Ghost lifts his drink, “Pit stop,”

James nods, “Right,” he replies and then turns to you with a grin, grabbing your upper arm in an overfamiliar gesture that makes your eyebrow raise, “Great job getting everything ready, fight has about five minutes left, let’s finish stocking the fridges.”

You nod and look back at Ghost, he’s watching the way James grips your arm. Instinctively you shrug him off with a polite smile and follow his lead, stocking the fridge he points out to you which is furthest away from the bar top and facing away from the crowd. What you don’t see is the way Ghost and James stare down each other for a moment longer until the bell of fight rings out, signifying the end.

Ghost lifts his mask back over his nose when men start to file around the bar, you meet his eyes one last time and smile apologetically before serving. Ghost takes that as his signal to leave, bitter taste left in his mouth that’s not from the beer.

James doesn’t speak to you until after service is over. Despite your attempts at starting conversation or sharing a quip like you usually would, he shuts you down under the guise of being busy with customers.

“Have I overstepped?” You finally ask when the venue is empty.

James hums questioningly, “What do you mean?”

You cross your arms over your chest, “You’ve been standoffish all night—actually since Ghost left,”

The mention of his name makes his shoulders tense, he sighs and puts the glass he was drying down, “Does he talk to you often?”

“No,” you lie, “That was the first time I’ve seen him,”

You’re unsure where the urge to protect him came from but you stick by it. Your response seems to put him somewhat at ease.

“Good,” he nods, “Be careful around him alright? Nothing but bad news that guy,”

You frown, “Has he done something in the past?”

“Just got a bad reputation,” he explains vaguely, “Nothing good about him.”

It’s not enough to deter you like James surely wants but you drop the conversation before your favour starts to show through. Mark sends you home about about two thirty, it had been quieter than when Ghost was in the match the night before so you left with a bit more energy than last time.

One the way home you think James’ weird behaviour against Ghost. There’s something there that you haven’t seen, an argument or maybe just a bad taste in James’ mouth. You can see why Ghost wouldn’t be very popular amongst others, he’s got a prickly edge that is off putting, especially at first glance. But he’s been nothing if pleasant towards you.

Is it favouritism? The idea makes you laugh as you get undressed for bed, it seems far fetched that a guy like him would show preference for a server. You try to dismiss the thoughts altogether as you lie in bed.

You’re getting in way over your head.